Quicken My End

(Inspired by "Criminal", by the Metal band, Disturbed)
WARNING: Vulgar language used. Adult Reading only.

Part I - The Taker of Blood

Prelude, The Murder at Twenty-Third Street

Let me clue you in on something - I highly doubt you know what it's like to break into someone's house. That said, you don't know what it's like when things get totally fucked. It's one thing to set off a small house alarm. Even a dog isn't intimidating when you've got a .45 Colt - the silencer puts it on a relative "easy-mode". The yelp doesn't help, of course…

No, it's when your group of seven guys is met with an ex-military marine with a sawed-off shotgun - and he gets the jump on you. We're now down to three - four of our own dead without question, and the marine's on the floor with a bullet through his head. We were just planning on burglarizing the place - no one else thought of bringing a gun but me. The two running after me were treating me like a hero, despite the fuckin shock of watching four of our own get their guts and brains splattered on the walls.

It was a few seconds right after I placed the killing shot that it dawned on me… I had just signed my death warrant: I was a killer now. What the hell could I say in court, especially to the defendant of the marine? "I shot defending myself while breaking in to someone else's home?" Yeah, fuck that. Seven against one, and the law says here that if shit likes this goes down, the marine was in full rights to do what he did.

But we got it. After killing the fucker, we dug through his house office. Our boss said that there was a small briefcase with folders and documents that we could use to blackmail the government… We could get anything we wanted. Then we'd release the documents anyway and get treated like saviors… But you know what? I really didn't give a flying shit about any of that - if the pay for this job was truthful, this would be the last deed I'd ever have to do for the guys… I could pay to keep my little sister in school. Family first.

I didn't expect these guys to let me go - they were an obscure sect of organized crime, but they did pay well. I told them this would be my last job… and that I'd make it go right. Despite the dog, the marine… now the distant but closing sound of sirens… we had the files Dr. Frazier wanted.

I stopped and tore off by black cloth mask, letting long brown curly hair shield my face instead of this vision-killing piece. I pulled the small briefcase I had tucked under the arm of my leather jacket and passed it to the nearest groupie accompanying me. I told them to run for cover, and I'd distract them so they could get the case to safety - even if Frazier paid bail with my money, I'd still have enough to get my sis through school, so long as that evidence made it to the doc.

Once they accepted, I ran for it - Colt withdrawn and firing the remainder of my clip into the air like a madman. It was a few seconds later I was on the ground and then in the back of a speeding police car, handcuffed… and then upside-down.

Though I consider it an act of hell rather than god, something shattered the windshield to the car. A something that killed the driver and passenger cop at the same time. We overturned in an old abandoned part of town… with no one around and no one to call in the accident, I was free, in a sense. I didn't know what to do…

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