"Dammit!" Was one of the only words I could muster as I found myself, held at gunpoint by the four mopey stragglers that decided to push for the long haul, rather than die at my hands like their friends.
Goddammingmotherfuckingshittickets! I was so fucking close, and these four (finally, after all this time I might add) got around to figure out that I was the one fucking everyone over. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly as I stared into their cocked barrels.
"It's like, four of these losers. They couldn't dare take me on now, not while i'm at my strongest. Why don't I just fucking waste 'em all? Shit would be so easy-peasy!" I thought with arrogance at my most present situation, a debate with my inner self beginning to brew from within.
"You know damn well that's not how the game works. The higher ups said so. Despite the errors, they finally caught up to you, fair and square. So you gotta give up." Another part of my psyche squabbled. He was right. I had my fun, and now I have to give up the mantle. I managed to make one last glance up towards my crackling fireplace. Above the mantle was a expertly painted...painting, adorned with a frame crafted from solid gold. It was a painting of a slightly rubenesque man, standing upon a tower of familiar faced corpses. He wore a loose fitting sports jersey, with a matching toque, and was chugging a beer in the most majestic of ways. A light shone from behind his bearded face, as if he were God's half-Canadian bastard son. A message was sloppily engraved at the bottom of the frame, put there with a soldering iron I managed to acquire (and kill with) in my free time. It was only two little words: 'My Motivation'. I got so fucking close Ryan.
"So. FUCKING. CLOSE!" I yelled, shaking an agitated fist in the direction of the painting. Those last four vigilantes looked at me like I was insane. Which, when you consider all the initial guilt and paranoia that goes into being a murderer, I'm sure I wasn't too far off (seriously, I'm like a half-step away from breaking into a maniacal laughter, 's crazy).
A Few Weeks Prior...(Really thought I wasn't gonna have a flashback? Didja forget who was the one typing this? Yeah, no, fuck that.)
So okay, some time ago, I was 'presented' (as they called it) with some 'magical algorithm' shit that chose me to go around killing a bunch of people that I didn?t really know, but kinda did(?)...it?s a long story. Anywho, with me being all fresh faced and impressionable, I briefly considered not going through with it. But within that split second, I figure I?d stop being a ***** for once, and go through with the shit, y'know, gain some brownie points or whatever. I figured, hell, if anything, I?d be able to kill all the motherfuckers that decided to fuck with me years before.
...I never got around to scratching any names off my blacklist, but hey, whaddaya gonna do, eh?
So I'm going around the city n' shit, just murdering people in strangely creative ways (for some unexplained reason, like I was trying my best to become the Machiavelli of the serial killer world or like I was trying to make some type of real life Final Destination movie...now that I realize it, I should've carried around a camera with me, got this shit on tape. Swear to god, that shit would've been worse than A Serbian Film and The Human Centipede put together...wait, fuck, I'm getting off subject), y'know, just riding though on cruise control, fucking jamming out to the music (just this music happened to be the screams of those that fell at my hand). But what those bright-ass motherfuckers failed to tell me was that I was being tailed, as well there being another force in the city, killing people that they thought were the ones that were in charge of the murders. So in a way, along with the people that I actually did kill, I was inadvertently having other people killed too! Holy shit, I laughed my fucking ass off when I saw that shit in the news. Like, really guys? Y'all got so scared of me, that y'all started killing off others at my expense? Making my job easier? Goddamn. There was even this one girl, fucking self-destructed in some dude?s house because she thought he was yours truly, like on some straight-up terrorist attack shit (I wonder if she got her 72 virgins...that would be hot...). Crazy world we live in, huh?
So, it's getting down to the wire, and I'm like, making the home stretch. Some guy gets a clue to me, and gives the whole fucking city a fighting chance to find me. Half of me is cursing this douche's existence, while the other half's just taking this shit in stride. My death toll were already in the fucking double digits, and I'm feeling like Tony fucking Montana at this point. Like, I felt like I was top of the fucking world, and was strung-the-fuck-up, and I wasn?t even on the white girl like he was. Damn, I felt fucking spectacular!. But in retrospect, I should've taken that clue a bit more seriously. It was only one fucking clue, but it all they needed to finally weed me out. So there I was, caught with my pants down (literally I might add, these dudes caught me while I was on the toilet and just busted the goddamn door down, like no manners, no consideration, no nothing. I figure, shit, y'all took this long to find my ass, y'all might as well have knocked and waited for me to finish) and at the hands of the four that managed to survive.
Ok. The flashback's over, and I'm this electric chair. Wait...they still have these things in commission? I had no fucking clue, I could?ve swore everyone did the lethal injection thing nowadays. I'm not even gonna try to struggle out of this or anything, imma just ride this shit out like a boss. That guy at the controls is asking me if I have any last words. I don?t even reply. My eyes just get real wide, and then I start laughing. Like I just heard the best joke in the whole fucking world. I look towards those that managed to catch me, and I laugh even harder, like, tears are rolling down my face right now.
"IT'S NOT OVER! THE CYCLE WILL BEGIN ANEW!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!" I yell at the four through my hysterical laughter, saying words that were beyond my grasp. Like, full-on spaz mode right now. Shit. I think I really did go insane. I keep laughing, up until that guy other there pulled down on that metal lever thing.
I must?ve fried up real good.