2025-04-16, 05:05 AM - Word count:
Ashworth silently entered the garage behind the FC Kaapstad stadium, making sure he hadn’t been followed. It was small and secluded from the rest of the ground, with many assuming it to be abandoned. The rusty makeshift doors clanged loudly shut behind him, sending an echo bellowing through the garage. He retrieved a number of darts from his pocket which he spun around in his hand as he stared ahead lifelessly. He arranged them uniformly in his palm, then produced a lighter from another pocket. Lighting the ends of each dart ablaze, he fired the first at the dartboard in front of him, hitting bullseye.
He repeated this for every remaining dart, each hitting bullseye with pinpoint accuracy. He looked at the dartboard, now alight, watching the plastered-on photo of Badrick Blackwood V crinkle and burn at the mercy of the darts. Within seconds the whole board was in flames, the Jamaican’s face hardly recognisable. Turning around, Ashworth recovered an old, worn-out football alongside a large tub of gasoline. Moving quickly, he generously doused the ball with the gasoline, using the lighter to set the ball alight. He hammered the fireball at the dummy that the dartboard was fastened onto, hitting its chest and immediately knocking it over. The dummy raged fiercely with flames as it laid lifelessly on the floor. Ashworth approached the bonfire, glaring into the heart of the dartboard to just about make out the face of his foe. He then emptied what was left of the tub of gasoline onto the board and the dummy, eagerly feasting his eyes as it completely engulfed itself in flames.
Ashworth’s trance was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. It was his teammate, Juozas Kupinas.
“Hey, where are you? It’s kickoff in a few minutes.”
“I’ve been busy.” He kept undisturbed eye contact with the pyre beneath him. “Will be there.”
He repeated this for every remaining dart, each hitting bullseye with pinpoint accuracy. He looked at the dartboard, now alight, watching the plastered-on photo of Badrick Blackwood V crinkle and burn at the mercy of the darts. Within seconds the whole board was in flames, the Jamaican’s face hardly recognisable. Turning around, Ashworth recovered an old, worn-out football alongside a large tub of gasoline. Moving quickly, he generously doused the ball with the gasoline, using the lighter to set the ball alight. He hammered the fireball at the dummy that the dartboard was fastened onto, hitting its chest and immediately knocking it over. The dummy raged fiercely with flames as it laid lifelessly on the floor. Ashworth approached the bonfire, glaring into the heart of the dartboard to just about make out the face of his foe. He then emptied what was left of the tub of gasoline onto the board and the dummy, eagerly feasting his eyes as it completely engulfed itself in flames.
Ashworth’s trance was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. It was his teammate, Juozas Kupinas.
“Hey, where are you? It’s kickoff in a few minutes.”
“I’ve been busy.” He kept undisturbed eye contact with the pyre beneath him. “Will be there.”
![[Image: Screenshot-2025-07-13-130408.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/4dD4Rs1R/Screenshot-2025-07-13-130408.png)
