I am the Slayer

Looking into the darkness, I see a dim reflection of my self, but it is not me. It is a forbidden form, locked away in my soul, to protect me, the innocent half, the half who hates blood, the being who wishes well for all. But what is innocence? It is mere ignorance of the truths of the world.

The dark half I dare call it, the one who slays the wicked. For all men are truly wicked in their hearts, minds, desires. We lust for death, we relish in it. We bathe in the blood of our common man, we grin, we laugh as those who are no different then us are slaughtered and strewn about the land, let their life blood flow and let us feast on it in laughter.

I will let the dark side take over, the slayer of the wicked, the benevolent, ridding these mere fodder of their life that they waste, and want not. Let me take the life, and free this world of wickedness. I will let my weak side, my wicked side fall away. I am the slayer, the slayer of demons, the demons that live in this world and call themselves men. This will be a genocide of evil, and I will be the hand that does so. Let my soul rise in triumph as I free this foolish world of life, and let it be purified.

As I ride upon the lit streets, the light stings my eyes. I have to wonder how long my quest will continue. They haven’t even noticed yet, or if they have they care not. Thus is the ways of the wicked human. I will show them all, that my efforts are not in vain. I will make a lasting impression on the wicked ones. They will know my presence. And they will fear it, naught for death, but for meeting their true selves, and know of their wickedness. I will reveal it to them, and make them pay for such.

I turn into the tunnel, relishing in the darkness. This darkness hides me, relieves me. It is ironic, how the ones of the dark live in the light fearing the darkness. While me the slayer of the wicked, stalks in the darkness. The darkness protecting me and covering me in a warm blanket of self-confidence.

I park my bike to the far side of the tunnel, in a old work area. Walking to the middle section of the tunnel, leaning against it casually. Smiling, I always smile at these times. I can not help it, to slay the wicked, to make my self one of the light, while all my life I have been one of the dark. I thrived off of it, washing away my sins.

I saw the car coming towards me, I recognized it, the one I have been stalking. I smirked pulling forth my banisher, a 13mm Jackal, it was the banisher of the dark ones. I aimed my sights, letting my self get caught in the euphoria of it. And I let the shot fly, then another, squeezing the trigger. Each time I did so I felt a sin leave my body.

Nine 3inch diameter holes appears on the man’s chest, the car refusing to a stop, smashing into concrete tunnel wall. I walked to the car slowly, kicking open the door, letting out my self rage. I smirk, seeing the man wheezing in his car. His breath slowly slipping away.

I pull forth Slayer, my oldest friend. Running the blade over my face slowly, feeling the cold metal. I grinned, licking the blade lightly, tasting the blood of those I had slew. I smirk and in a blur of motion draw it over the man’s neck. Blood spewing forth and running over his chest. Another demon had died, and I am the slayer, the slayer of the wicked. I am the banisher of evil, I kept telling my self; I needed to know this to get on with my life; to make sure that I would stay alive. I needed to know, I wasn’t like all of them. I was good.

I wiped away the blood from Slayer on the man's coat. Slowly walking to my bike, still contemplating if I was but one of those demons, as I always did. I turned the bike on, riding it over to the body. Pulling a large metal hook attached to a length of chain out of my saddlebag. They will know of the slayer, they will fear me and what is coming for them.

I slide the hook into the body, pulling it over my shoulder and the back to it my bike. Putting the chain on a hook that was connected to the frame of my bike.

I spit on it, unable to stand the sight; but truly I relished in it. Though I will never truly admit this to my self. I drive off into the darkness with the slain devil. They will know, they will know I am here.

I sat in a small coffee shop across the street, smirking at the commotion. The newscasters crowded around the police station. I looked up to the T.V. in the small coffee shop, the news being broad cast live.

“Here at the police department, officers found Dan Smith the chief of police. Hanging dead from a wall outside station. Police are angry, they have no idea who did this. And have no current leads, but they swear they will catch the monster who did this. Only a pathetic desperate man, is capable of this,”

I would let out a snarl at the reporter. Eyes filled with malice staring at the image of the Asian woman. How could she call me those things? I would teach her tonight, I would teach her who was the true monster. I paid the tab, standing up stretching out my muscles. I grabbed my helmet, slipped it on walking to my bike, the whole time the single word rang through out my head, “monster."

I stalked through the house, eyes seeing through the darkness well enough. I walked up the stairs not making a sound. I would here a slight laughing sound, and someone excused them selves. They were coming towards me, I would quickly hide in the shadows. Once Again they had saved me.

I watched as the man walked towards me, wearing a pair of light shorts, he had a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Anger shot through my body, and I fought to keep a low growl hidden. I slowly fell in step behind him, “Indulger of the flesh," I said the words filled with venom.

He turned around quickly to see who had set the words. He watch as I plunged Slayer into his neck, severing his vocal cords. He let out a soundless scream, my head met his in a instant. And he feel into sweet oblivion, I caught him lowering him to the ground slowly.

I walked into the room on cat's feet. I saw her laying on the bed, naked in a would be seductive position. Her breast bare, legs spread showing her moist slit. Long black hair covering her body. Deep brown eyes half closed in expectation.

I became slightly aroused at the image of her. I cursed at my self silently, how could I fall to lust for a demon! How could I allow my self to feel lust at all, I was a pure soul. I was not one of them, I needed to remind my self of that; always I must know that.

I slowly approached her, she looked out me and let out a scream. "Who are you! Where is Caleb? What are you doing in my house?" I growled and moved like a animal, fast and sure, delivering a hard back hand to her face, causing her to roll off the bed.

I would let out a feral animalistic growl, my long brown hair covering my face as I spoke to her, "I am what you called a monster, I am the so called monster. I am the slayer of demons, I am the one who shall liberate you from evil. And as for the man, he is on the stairway, he may live. But I seriously doubt if he will be able to speak again."

I watched as she shriveled back, tears bursting from her eyes as her arms went around her knees. I couldn't do it, I knew it in my heart. She seemed so human right now, so very innocent. I knew that she wasn't, but also I knew I couldn't kill her this night. I let out a sigh, and walked out of the room

As I walk by the man the bleeding man, crawling down the stairs. I could tell he would die. I raised up my foot and slammed it down on his skull, crushing it and killing him. I walked outside then; I climbed onto my bike and switched on the ignition, I pulled my wrist back. Throttling forward on my bike.

While I road down the brightly lit street, I would wonder to my self, why hadn't I killed the woman. I knew it was because she looked so pure and innocent at the moment. But I should of been able to see through it. For the moment I would let her live. Next time I would kill her, and I wouldn't let her fool me.

I pulled into my parking spot and climbed off the bike. Slipping the keys into my pocket, I walked up the stairs, opening the door shutting it behind me. I took off my black leather coat and threw it on to the coat rack.

I would lay down on my coach. I tended to sleep here instead of my bed. For I just loved the way the leather contoured to my body. I reached over to my coffee table and grabbed my stereo remote off of it. I have always loved music, it is my escape out of life. It was how I gained my peace.

I had a quite nice stereo system, I made decent enough money to afford it. I was a architect and worked out of home, I drafted blue prints for major companies who made condos, apartment buildings, and reproduced homes that existed in most suburban neighborhoods.

I pressed play, the music starting off filling the room, washing over me making everything but it fade away. I love Lost Empire, listening to the lead singers high notes. And their unreal lead guitarist. I let my self get lost in the notes and fall into sleep. Where the demons could not reach me.

I looked around, where was I? I looked around, then I saw her. She was running, from a man, in black. I ran after him, jumping on his back. He grabbed my arms and through me off, making me skid across the ground, the rocks biting at my back. His hair covered his face, I could not see who I was fighting. My foot shot up and caught him in the throat, he staggered back holding his throat choking. I stood,” Leave the woman alone demon!" I slammed my fist into the middle of his spine, snapping it.

As he fell down I saw his face, it was my own. What did this mean! I could feel it! He is a demon, I could sense it in my mind. I cried and slammed my fist into the dead bodies face, the bones snapping under the power. I cried, what did this mean!?

I woke up in a scream, cold sweat covering my body. I sighed and looked at my hands, quivering, shaking. I walked to the bathroom. Washing my face with the water, hitting me like a cold shock. I looked at the mirror, running my hand down the image. Which side was I, was a man, or a demon like the rest of them?

I walked to my kitchen; flipping on the light switch. It seemed to soothe and comfort me and make me feel better. Like a safe sanctuary from the dark. As I would reach into the fridge and pull out a water I reminded my self; I was not scared of the darkness. I used it to my own advantage.

I brought the bottle to my lips. Letting the liquid pore down my parched throat, bringing life to the dry muscles of my throat. I gave a little cough as water caused a shock to my system.

I pushed open the door to my room. Tearing open the closet door. I pulled out a pair of my jogging shorts and quickly pulled them on. I hastily pulled on a shirt, and grabbed my gym bag; throwing it on the bed and quickly unzipped it. I went back to my closet now, moving so fast it seemed as if my very essence was at stake.

I slowed as I saw the back wall of my closet, a blank stark white. Every time I saw that very color it seemed to convey a message to me. Like a link to the pureness that I was filled with. Not touched in this foul world; pure as an element.

I set my hands on it, slowly opening the hide away door that I had made appear like a wall. It was not hard to change the walk in closet into a much smaller one with a room behind it. I smirked as I saw him. I did so every time I saw his image. The angel of vengeance, my guardian angel as you would say.

I bought it from a grand cathedral who had been destroyed by a satanic activist group. They had put ten pounds of C4 on a trip wire trigger in the ministers office. The explosion had literally shook the foundations of the city.

To raise money that had sold many of the surviving relics of the ancient building. Including the blackened statue. I had spent months with a pad of steel wool cleaning it. Now the steel statue was in better shape then it had been originally.

Across his body many weapons hung or were strapped on. I grabbed a brace of throwing knifes and my twin black Tyrant M27s and a extra few clips. I grabbed a short thick blade, easily hid on the body. I walked out of the room, taking one back look to the one who guided me from the darkness. I gave a nod to the statue, as i carefully shut the door behind me.

I put the items in my gym bag, grabbing my bike keys and swinging the sports bag onto back so it lay across my back. I then quite literally ran out of my apartment. I almost didn't bother shutting the door. But I had far to much to hide. After swinging around i kicked it shut, and it collided with the frame with a loud crack. Then proceeded to jump over the railing landing on my feet at the ground. Causing a woman who was heading up the stairs to drop her groceries.

I jumped on my bike and tore away. The wind rushing through my hair and against my face. It felt great to just get away from the place I called my home. I let go of the handle bars and reached back pulling my MP3 player out of the front pocket. Slipping the headphones on and shoving it into my pocket.


Then I stretched forward and took hold of the bars, reach back into the pocket and hitting play. I followed the highway for a long while before pulling off in the wilderness. I headed straight for the tree line. Weaving in-between them easily. Then at last I reached the small clearing. Reaching down and flipping a switch that activated the lights that were hooked up to a generator I had moved here.

I wasn't to worried about anyone finding the place. It was in the middle of the wilderness half way across the highway. I looked to the martial arts training dummies, each set on a swivel. I had changed the bars to steel instead of wood.

But more to my attention at the moment were the large concrete tables, 5 feet at the top. A self every foot and 2' by 2'. I walked over them grinning as I did. The adrenaline pumping through out my body. Muscles contracting ever so slightly. The grin of a child on at play on my face.

I walked to the few scattered box behind the two plat form tables and pulled out a few wood block and then a black Sharpie drawing a small circle on each of them. I set 2 on each shelf of both of the tables.

I jogged back to my back and pulled put a belt that was always kept in there. After buckling it on to my waist I reached in and pulled out my guns, slipping the brilliant silver tools into the holsters on the belt after I had checked if they were loaded.

Then strapped the throwing knifes to my mid thigh. And walked back so I was standing 50 feet away from the tables. I stared at the black dot on each block. Eyes concentrating on all at once.

I was suddenly reminded of the reporter. Her long black hair, seeming to absorb every thing else around it. Giving attention to her and no body else. It had a stunning effect; at least to lustful fiends I told my self. She was tanned obviously Asian; though of what race I couldn’t be sure.

Her almond shaped eyes seeming to draw you in. Her voice stern but so lyrical at the same moment. Like I nymph’s voice while dancing, mixed with that of a commanded about to send his soldier's to death. It seemed to clash against the senses.

I quickly shook my head suddenly pulled out of the trance. I wondered how long I had been standing there thinking about her. A visage of anger appearing on my face. She had done it again. Brought feelings of lust and want to me, to me!, a pure soul.

Without even thinking I pulled out both of the guns. Changing my stance slightly to absorb the kick. I squeezed the trigger as soon as they were level, blowing apart one of the blocks as the bullet hit the circle on the middle.

But even as I had let fly the first bullet the second gun fired. A symphony of hate and death. There was bang after bang, each seeming to rip a part the peace and tranquility of this place. Each time further drowning out the sounds of the wind and water of the creek; instead just sounds of death.

I dropped the weapons, breathing hard not out of exhaustion but out of deep emotional upheaval. I let out a primal scream, my vocal chords cracking at the attempt, it ranged from high to low and guttural. And passed through a array of emotions; from hate to loathing, pain, love, denial, and shock. I screamed out at the top of my voice, vocal chords scorched from the scream that seemed to last hours "I am not one of you!"

I collapsed onto my knees shaking my head and then my fist struck my stomach, the my head and I buried my self in a fury of blows. At the same time burrying thoughts of her with the pain that resulted. I got up wiping the blood from my lip and snarling.

I stood up quickly as I did grabbing the guns. I pulled off the belt and the brace, throwing them into my bag and zipping it up. I kicked the switch off. The lights clicking off leaving me consumed by the night, the canopy of trees blogging away rising sun. I calmed down nearly instantly. I could not let them get get to me, I knew better then that.

I reached into my pocket turning the volume up to max on my Creative. Walking to my bike I rode out onto the highway. As my eyes stared forward to the rising sun. I sang along to Slipknot ,"One more time mother fucker!". Thoughts of her crowded my mind. I sang out in denial, “PEOPLE EQUAL SHIT!" And she was gone from my mind.

As I rode into the sunset, t seemed as if I was riding away from the darkness behind me that the light had not quite reached. And as I rode into the light, it comforted me. And I knew in my heart of hearts that I would bring the light to the darkness.

I zoomed into the parking lot. Shutting of my bike climbing off and heading up the stairs. On my way up I heard loud screaming and crying. I looked to the apartment across from mine. On a normal day I would of ignored it, but for some reason this day I was curious. As I approached the window something was threw it and I heard the yelling.
“You fucking slut, what right does a bitch like you have to leave me!?” a coarse voice yelled out, filled with anger and threatening.

I opened the door slowly taking in the scene. A large man stood above a woman kneeling against the wall. Tears streaming down her face like a rain that seemed to never stop. I saw from the look in her eyes this wasn’t a new occurrence. One of her eyes blackened from a blow. My hands began to clench as the anger began to build, eyes studying the fiend.

He was tall around 6’2, a heavy frame mix of fat and muscle. His face was red, wether it was from alcohol or screaming I could not be sure. Eyes half closed turned to look at me, he gave a sort of snort or snarl as he regarded me. The woman also gazed up at me confusion and hope in her eyes. Like a rope of hope had been lowered to pull her out of the abysmal life that she lived.

I turned my attention back towards to the man. Obviously not thinking much of my lean frame in the old short and gym shorts. He turned to me a bit confused, thus making his little mind work all the harder, only increasing anger. “What the fuck do you want? Get the hell out of her before I put you through the damn wall!” His anger building with every word, muscles bulging as he yelled. Spittle flying out of his mouth as he spoke,” Mind your own damn business you little fucking bastard! Ill tear your damn nose off if you don’t get it out of my business!”

My eyebrow rose at this, he was obviously drunk and angry. He looked slow, but looks could be deceiving. “Please leave this woman alone, there is no need for violence. Just leave.” My voice came out raspy and quiet. As if I rarely used it and when I did it wasn’t for very long.

He didn’t answer in words, he rushed forward bringing his arm back into a fist. But to my eyes he seemed to be moving in slow motion. Then it suddenly flashed into my mind. I had seen this all before.

I saw in front of my eyes a lithe woman on the ground crying, a angry lank man with long hair yelling at her. They both looked at me both stopping slightly at my appearance.
“Chris! Go To your room and get out of here!” She said in a shaky voice, trying to hold back the tears, wiping her hand over her bleeding nose.
“Go to your room brat,” the man said turned back to her. The small child ran in front of her holding out his arms.
“LEAVE HER ALONE,” he cried out in a voice unsure but defiant. The man growled and delivered a backhand to the boys face sending him skidding into the wall. Chris slowly coming to his knees head dizzy as if in sudden maelstrom the room spinning around him, tears running down his face. But his face stern and sure, the boy couldn’t be more the eight years old.

As the man reached for the woman, she was know crying out for him to leave the boy out of it. The boy grabbed a fork off the table he ran to the man fearless. Stabbing him in the leg with the fork; then wrapping his arms around the leg and biting down into it.

The man screamed out in rage and pain and shook his leg kicking it into the wall. And furniture; but the boy refused to let go. Blood began to stream down Chris’s body from the scratches and cuts that had been made from crashing into and breaking chairs tables. Still he refused to let go.

The woman was up on her feet and she grabbed the man slapping him hard scratching at his face screaming “Stop hurting him!” her voice shrill like nails of metal. He turned suddenly and punched her hard in the face; she flew back into the wall. He punched her again and then again and he continued to beat the woman who no longer had the will to stand up but simply leaned against the wall.

After the first blow Chris let go of the man’s leg and ran to the table grabbing a knife. He looked at his mother’s bloody face and hate began to spread through out him. He ran at the man stabbing the blade into his leg and he pulled it turn the flesh shredding. The man fell to his knees and then to the ground letting out a gasp of pain. The boy crawled onto him and began stabbing the man in the stomach again and again.

He could not know when he stopped he was covered in blood. The man letting out his last gasp and fell into death. Chris turned to see his mother, seeing the look of horror on her face at her eight-year-old son standing on a dying man covered in blood.

She crawled away from him scared. What terrified her more then anything was the look in his eyes. Full of hate and contempt but with no sadness or fear of what he had done. Her body rejected her the choice of movement. The last sight she saw was her son walking towards her calling out “mommy”.

Suddenly I snapped back to reality as the fist struck his face and sent him onto the ground rolling, even as I hit the ground I regained his footing and launched forward striking the man in the stomach, the blows strength increased by the hate and anger that was reeling within me. The man suddenly coughed and fell to his knees. Even as he did my foot connected to his jaw and he flew backwards into the wall.

I walked to him and grabbed him by the throat lifting him off the ground so he was eye level with him, pushing my thumb into his throat. I looked to him, death was promised in my eyes. I spoke lightly, quiet then before. Voice filled with malice and spitting malice and poison,” leave if you wish your life you fiend, or I will rid you of it,”

The man could see in my eyes this was no idle threat. He was thrown down and he crawled out the door. After that I cared not what he did. I walked over the woman. Her eyes still filled with fear. I offered her a hand and she took it and we walked out of the apartment both with out words. I looked back and remembered when my mothers friend came over two days later and found me sitting next to my mother, staring at her with a blank face.

We looked across from each other. Both of our minds filled with a swirl or emotions, like a warped and twisted world. Me with the sudden remembering of my pained past, and her with the emotional roller coaster of dealing with the man.

She looked at me with dead emotionless eyes. Like that of the canary in the coal mine, expecting to fade away into death but never knowing how. Stuck in a cage, except hers was formed by her life. She reminded me of somebody. Seeming so similar it was like a slap to the face. But I could not be sure of whom it was.

I liked to her, a beautiful small frame in baggy ripped clothing. Soft blonde hair falling cut short to her neck. But stained with dirt and disheveled as if it hadn't been washed in many days. She had a beautiful tanned complexion marred by bruises and cuts. She was like a beautiful statue tainted by something no fault of its own. I saw blood on her knee soaked through the pants, sizes to large for her. Obviously she had been injured.

I stood up and walked away. Suddenly she looked up. As if her anchor to the dream like coma she was in was released. And she was forced to return to the real world. Flinching as she did, the memory of what had happened blooding back over. A tear formed at her eyes, like the initial crack on the damn before it breaks.

I walked into the bathroom, pulling down the First aid kit from the organized shelves. I walked back to her and kneeled down. She looked a bit afraid. As if any physical contact would cause he immense pain. The association between touching and pain had been burned into her mind.

I pulled out the scissors and cut the fabric of the pants exposing her knees and the large gash across it. I shook my head slightly; no attempt to clean or bandage it had been performed.

I pulled out an antiseptic cloth and opened the packaging pulling it out. I reached forward and she visibly flinched but then calmed down. I ran it along the wound. Small Goosebumps rising from the cold cloth. I cleaned it as best I could.

Pulling out a bandage and putting it over the wound making sure it was tight. I looked up to her staring at her face for a moment then stood up throwing the packets from the band aid and the cloth away then returning the kit to its proper place.

I sat down next to her and finally spoke,” Are you okay?" I asked the question in my usual soft voice.

She nodded slightly and looked up to me,” Why did you help me?," her voice unstable and weak, but devoid completely of any emotion. As if her eyes were speaking to me.

"Because I could not just let that happen, no one could call them self a human if they did so," I spoke as if it was obvious, as if helping someone should be first nature.