Page 7 of Spitfire

His dark blue eyes widen with a dramatic, hollow shock as I slash the blade once more, creating another beautiful ribbon of flesh and fabric. I shift a fraction of an inch away to avoid the mess, and his gaze drops in absolute devastation toward the dark, spreading stain ruining the front of his trousers, and the blood seeping from his wounds. The stark reality of his vulnerability has stripped away every ounce of the wealthy, untouchable monster he pretended to be.

His face crumples with devastation and terror, and it brings me so much pleasure that my core constricts, and my own breathing ratchets up. The blade slickens with trickles of his blood, and it's as if he no longer feels it. The fear has taken over all his senses.

"No..." The word escapes broken and childlike. As if he realizes the monster under the bed was always real.

I smile wider, allowing him to see exactly how this exquisite intimacy affects me. I slash at his thigh, and tears slide down his miserable face, as his lips blubber with pleas I don't care to hear. A violent, intoxicating heat floods my veins, a dark arousal blending hypnotically with my fury. Goosebumps break out across my flesh under the damp fabric of my clothes, and I have to swallow a low moan.

Death is the ultimate lover's embrace, and in these final moments, I will be his entire universe, and he will merely be a fond, bloody memory long after his warmth has faded. "There you are, Georgie," I whisper against his skin.

Not the respectable businessman.

Not the charming volunteer.

Not the wealthy pillar of the community.

All that is left of him now is fear, perfect, raw, and completely honest. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

His question brings me pause as I draw a slow, deep breath, letting the scent of his terror settle inside my chest like an exquisite prayer. "I am death. I am justice that was not served. I am their retribution." This right here is the only honest thing monsters ever give back to the world. The only thing they possess of any worthy value.

Fear.

"You know," I whisper, driving the point of the blade into his shoulder, a deep, precise bite to anchor him against the wall. "Every child you cornered prayed someone would come. Every single finger you laid on them, they beseeched for a savior." I pull back and drag it down to where his neck meets his collarbone.

"They waited." Stab. "They hoped." Stab. "No one ever came."

I grab for the syringe in my pocket, stabbing it into his crotch and depressing the plunger without hesitation, as he tries to fight against the pain and shock of the wounds. His shoulders shake as screams rip from his mouth. He tries to fight my hold, the bastard even attempts to headbutt me, but I grab onto his flaccid cock and squeeze the offending lump. The very tool of his violence against so many others. His tears mix with rain until neither can be distinguished from the other. I stab his shoulder again, allowing the blade to plunge deeper. Bleed for me, Georgie.

"I'm sorry!" Snot trails down his face to his quivering lips, the words broken and utterly useless against the rain. His false words should offend me, but I've heard the same script from every single demon I dispatch back to hell. There is nothing remorseful or truthful about them; creatures like Georgie are entirely incapable of it.

"No, Georgie. You're just frightened," I murmur, my voice low and steady as the chemical begins its quiet work, binding his muscles and stealing his strength. "Just like they were, but it didn't help save them, did it, Georgie? It didn't stop you from beating and raping them. It didn't halt you from ruining their lives forever. Changing them until their past was gone, and their dreams lay tarnished and broken, just like their trust. You stole everything from them, and for that you must pay with your life."

The paralytic spreads swiftly through his veins, heavy and absolute. I watch as the realization blooms behind his eyes. No longer panic or denial, somehow, he already knows that I won't accept either. Perhaps George is smarter than those who have preceded him. I can almost see the rushed thoughts racing through his corrupt mind before his body ultimately betrays him.

No bargaining will change his fate here tonight. No lie will save him from me and my divine justice. No witness will interrupt us and cause me to fail in my mission. Hope doesn't vanish all at once. No, it bleeds out slowly, breath by miserable breath, until all that remains is the absolute certainty now reflected in his hollow stare. He isn't leaving this alley, not now, not ever.

His breathing is becoming more and more shallow as the paralytic does its job, and his body sags, unable to hold itself up any longer. I withdraw the blade and allow his body to sag to the ground, the rain now mixing with the crimson river flowing from his body.

I crouch down, pulling my bag off my shoulders, and slice through the material of his pants and underwear, cutting it away from his body until his limp cock lies nestled in dark hair between his legs. His fingers move, as if attempting to raise his hand to stop what's about to happen, but there is no point. There's no stopping this. A garbled noise tries to leave his lips as he begins to choke on his own air and saliva. I reach forward with the knife, grab onto the meaty part of his cock, and begin to slice through the tissue. Blood pours down his legs as I hum a hymn I learned long ago, one I've all but forgotten the words to, but the melody has remained.

Somewhere beneath the roaring pulse in my ears, beneath the cold rain and the distant putrid city beyond the brick walls, I feel the familiar fracture inside myself widen. The part that still remembers justice whispers that this is necessary. The part that no longer recognizes where justice ends and obsession begins simply smiles. The truth is that monsters have always believed the dark belongs to them, and that they are completely safe in it. That is, until something darker smiles back.

I stare down at George, his form growing still beneath the shadow of my hood, his breath hitching a final time before the void claims him. This is the art of the purge. I am the executioner, the savior, and the nightmare all at once. The rain continues to fall, washing away the superficial grime of the alley, but leaving the holy stains of my work untouched.

I finally release the lumpy flesh from his body and, with my bloody fingers, pry his lips apart, past his teeth, and force it down his tight throat. The pools of his midnight blue irises stare into mine, and I smile, knowing that I'm the last thing he will ever see before he meets the devil. "Sins must be paid in blood, Georgie. Be sure to give my regards to the devil. I'm sure I'll be seeing him soon."

The words hang in the damp air between us, a last holy benediction. A sense of calm, absolute rage slides over me, like a wave from the turbulent sea. His chest hitches a final time as his body gives up the struggle to stay alive. We can't have that now. There is no surviving me. I plunge the blade over and over again into his body until he's more shredded meat than solid. The scent of copper and iron fills all my senses, and it's glorious and righteous under the descending rain. I slam the hilt of the blade down on the side of his head, disgusted with his blank, sightless stare. "Demon, you got off too easily. They suffered, you must suffer."

I carve his eyes from his skull, crushing them between my fingers and palm. "Eyes that sought them out."

I use the hilt of the blade to push his cock further down his throat, before cutting out his tongue and allowing it to fall to his lap. "Mouth that used false words to convince and poison them. Cock that abused them."

I rip his bloody shirt open, exposing his toned chest, and plunging the blade into his malevolent heart, before using it to carve open the cavity of his chest below his ribs, and forcing my hand past the organs obstructing my task. "Black heart that chose to hurt them rather than help them."

I savagely rip through tissue, my gloved hand slippery, the warmth coating my digits. I crush and destroy everything in my path, ensuring I leave nothing intact, just like he did to those poor kids who had the misfortune to meet him. Once I'm satisfied with my destruction, I sit back on my knees and stare at the shell before me. Somehow it's still not enough, yet I know I am on precious borrowed time.

Just one more task left to ensure he receives his full punishment. My slick fingers pick up the severed tongue, and push his cooling body to the side, until his pale, flat, hairy ass is on full display to the distant moonlight. "This will only hurt for a moment, Georgie Porgie. We both know how you like anal, so it shouldn't be too bad."

I impale the tongue on the end of the slim blade like a skewered shish kabab, pry his asscheeks apart, and slam the hilt home until all you see is the tip of his tongue sticking between the ring of thick muscle. I turn his body back around, so that his sightless eyes stare up at the night sky that granted him no mercy.