literature

Justice

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Literature Text

I could hear the screaming from here.

I wasn’t really sleeping anyway, never do.  I grabbed a pair of shorts from my dresser and jumped into them as I dashed to the closet.  There, I grabbed my sword belt and teleported.

Two short ‘ports later, I found myself in front of a grocery store.  I could hear crying, and pain filled moaning.  Then I heard the crack of a gun being fired.  With a snarl I stepped through an open door into a hellish scene.

Immediately inside the store I found a victim who had been shot in the back, he wasn’t suffering.  Nor was he breathing.  I drew my swords as I surveyed what I could see of the store.  Before me was the magazine and book racks, just to my left were the deli and eating areas, and just to my right was the Starbucks coffee kiosk.

No living people were in sight, but the smell of blood and gunpowder was everywhere.  I listen carefully; there was a faint sound of sobbing coming from my right.

Quietly, I tracked the sound past Starbucks.  I stopped at the corner of the coffee stand, and peered around.  To the right was an exit from the store; to the left was the main store area.  Directly ahead of me, the customer service area.  I could hear the sobbing coming from ahead and right, the general area of the video rental place.

There suddenly came a sound of running feet from my left.  I drew back behind the coffee stand and waited for my prey.  Just as the person's shadow crossed my path, I struck with both blades.

A frightened stock boy halted in his tracks, two razor sharp swords pressed to his neck.  I quickly scanned the area behind him.  He was not being pursued.

“Where?” I asked.

“I, I, I think he’s in the produce section”, the kid stammered.  His eyes shifted to his right, and his head jerked slightly backwards.

“Get the hell away from this building”, I said withdrawing my swords, “and call the cops, tell them everything you can.”

Without waiting for a reply, I sheathed my swords and darted towards the customer service area.  Jumping over the counter I heard a sharp intake of breath and a stifled cry.  The sounds came from inside the counter.

“I’m here to help.” I said, trying to sound reassuring.  “The gunman seems to be in the back of the store, it’s time for you to get out of here.”

One of the cabinet doors crept open and a young lady’s head poked out.  “Are you sure it’s safe, we’re terrified,” she whispered.

“The coast is clear for the moment”, I said.  “Get out of here now, and don’t stop running until you are with a police officer.”

The lady climbed out of the cabinet, closely followed by another.

“I said run”, I snapped.

Both women dashed towards the exit.  I marveled, for a second, at how two such large women were able to fit in that cramped area.

Suddenly, shots rang out.  I could tell the scum is using a shotgun, and he was definitely in the produce section.  Drawing my swords again, I vaulted the counter and started making my way toward the area, fast and quietly.

I heard someone begging for mercy, and then another shot rang out.  The begging stopped.

With my back against an isle end, I peaked into the produce area.  I spied a figure striding around the corner at the opposite end of my isle.  I quickly looked back around to my left, down the isle.  The person I saw earlier wore camouflage pants, and a light brown tee shirt.  He carried a shotgun in both hands, obviously hunting for more victims.

He was about 6 feet tall, had blond hair cut high and tight (military style).  His face was set in a grim smile; he seemed to be enjoying himself.  

“I will enjoy slicing that smile off his face”, I thought.

I made a noisy dash between the isles, in the general direction he was heading.  A shot boomed behind me and some canned goods died horribly.  Timing it as close as possible, I turned right just as he entered the corridor of isles I was in.  Another shot rang out; blowing toilet paper off the shelves behind me.  When I got to the end of the isle, I was back at the front of the store.  I turned right again, running back toward the deli/produce section.

I could hear his heavy boots running up the isles toward the front of the store, in an attempt to get in line with me (or where he thought I was anyway).  Just as he cleared the isle, I caught him in the face with a flying kick.  He slammed against the head of the isle and pitched to the floor.

I made a quick left turn and ran between the Starbucks coffee stand and the deli seating area.  The punk got back to his feet swiftly and fired off another shot at me.  There was an explosion of paper as the shot slammed into the magazine racks.  I pitched head long onto a table with a “slightly” loud grunt, and slid over the side onto the floor.  The gunman ran toward where he saw me go down, thinking that he must have hit me.

The moment he rounded the corner I sprang up in front of him, my swords cutting through the barrel of his shotgun.  I finished the move with a roundhouse kick, knocking him backwards.  His automatic firing of the shotgun was knocked high due to my strike.
He staggered back and brought the gun level with my chest.  I made lightning fast strikes with my blades.  My first strike split his shotgun barrel, then his left hand.  Before the pain even registered to his brain, my second strike clove through the chambered round inside the barrel, the trigger mechanism, and half his right hand.

The “ex-gunman” fell to his knees, as pain finally rushed over him.  He held his ruined hands in front of him, staring in shock.  When he opened his mouth to scream, I put the bloody blade of my right hand sword in, all the way to the back of his throat.  Fear overrode pain, and only a squeak was issued.

I applied upward pressure to the roof of his mouth.  “Get up”, I growled at him.

He slowly rose, according to the pressure issued by the sword in his mouth.  I ordered him to hold up his right hand.  He painfully raised the ruined hand, bringing it in front of his face.  The look of horror on his face was almost satisfying.

The hand was split from the middle finger, to an inch into his forearm.  His eyes started to roll up into his head so I applied a little more pressure on the tip of my sword, pricking the back of his throat.  The pain snapped eyes back into focus.

“Small compensation for the lives you took”, I said coldly.  

Without warning, I slashed across his raised right hand, cutting through the palm.  He tried to scream again, but I applied a little pressure to the back of his throat.  When he looked at me, he could see by the look in my eyes that I was on the verge of killing him.

“Crush them”, I ordered.

He looked back at me, uncomprehending.

“Step on your severed fingers, and crush them”, I growled.  I directed his head down, so he could see the floor.

Dazed, he lifted a boot and stomped on the remains of his right hand.

“Now the others”, I said, directing his head to his left with a little more pressure.

Using his left foot, he stomped on and crushed what remained of his left hand.

“No doctor will be able to reattach those for you now.  Your days of shooting people are over”, I told him.  “I won’t take your life just now, but I will make sure you don’t get to enjoy it.”  I withdrew my sword from his mouth and then struck him on the head with the pommel.  After he dropped to the floor, I drove both blades through his kneecaps.

“No more hunting for you, bastard.”  I wiped my blades on his chest, not being careful about the edges cutting him.

Hearing police sirens approach, I teleported back to my room.
Where does the cycle of violence end? At the tips of his swords.
© 2005 - 2024 heartwing
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HuntOfWolves's avatar
whoa, wait... WHOA

Bloody in an awesome king of way, like it doesn't get to the point of grimacing, but it gets really close to snapping the line