Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Rage (violent, uncontrolled hatred and anger) (02/05/15)
- TITLE: Mistake
By alan kane
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I quickly stride with determination toward the tram station. If you get discovered here, you would be killed on the spot. Retribution is swift: the law of the jungle has been superseded by turf law.
Here, you live by kill or be killed. It's a harsh, terrifying way of life for the many who live in Hell's Armpit.
Six years ago my loving, although strict, parents and brother were detoured by road works, ending in the wrong part of town, into a surveillance black spot.
Their mutilated bodies were discovered twelve days later by a fishing boat. They had been silenced in the way of this place. Dad had been a famous editor, and they think that it was a contract hit. He had made some powerful enemies. His last investigation had been about corruption in Hell's Armpit, the area I now stand in.
I was not left destitute after their death. If anything I will never want financially having inherited a sizable trust fund.
I live a private, violent vendetta against the people who exterminated my family. I am no superhero; I just want blood. Yes, I want a blood feud that will probably end with my own death. At the moment, I don't think they know who is doing it. I suspect they just think it's some rival, out to gain the upper hand. I eventually, surreptitiously obtained the identities of the animals who heinously slaughtered my family. I bided my time, then they died the same grotesque way my family did. I left them in open ground so they could be found. My motto, 'Live by the sword, Die by the sword,' was inscribed on a card. and attached to a red rose and placed over their bodies. The rose was Mum’s favourite flower. It was what my family had been out to buy when they were murdered.
It did not stop there. I guess I wanted more revenge: I wanted the boss.
I am now twenty-two and have silenced twelve individuals permanently. I am very careful about my targets. My public service might be perverse, but I'm a human refuse collector. These people evaded prison and judgement, having walked away from prison due to bribes. No one walks away from me. I am the executioner, the exterminator of vermin, the righter of wrongs.
Initially, I was full of guilt and remorse when I ended someone's life. But now, I feel like a law enforcement officer, just doing a job. I used to burn with rage, now its been replaced by a cold calculation, like a surgical operation.
I meticulously plan to the nth degree, so nothing goes wrong. Nothing must go wrong., I still have work to do; there are other destroyers of life out there.
Jumping off the tram in downtown plaza, I enter my two-floor penthouse with extra security, as you just never know when you might need it.
'Good evening, Mike. Welcome home. Your heart rate is slighty elevated.' states the virtual intelligence unit. 'You have two calls and seven emails awaiting responses. Do you want to see them?'
'No, thanks. Just bring up the news feed.'
'This is the twelfth murder by the rose vigilante.'
‘Murder?’ I rage, ‘Murder? They were the murderers! I was only clearing up the garbage.’
‘Police believe tonight’s murder was a copycat. The target was an upstanding member of society, a deacon at St John’s church and active in the community outreach program.’
I can't move. I am totally shocked. How could I have got the wrong person? For days, I struggle with my confusion.
I cram into the back pew at St. John’s on Sunday morning. The place is packed to the rafters; many must be here due to the deacon's death.
As the minister talks, I see my target alive – how could that be? My God! He had a twin. One good, one rotten. The minister, reading a statement from the family, asks ‘for no retribution because God is a God of forgiveness.'
Afterwards, I walk up to the brother, my target, and pause as I look him in the eye. “I am sorry for your loss, and I mean it.”
With that one comment, my bitterness and rage vanish.
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