The wind whipped at my coattails, kicking up snow behind me. My revolver sat heavy in my waist holster, three shots left, who knows how many I’ll need tonight. I turned down an alley and almost lost my hat to the wind, my quick hands keeping it clasped to my head. The wind blew open my coat and showed to anyone who cared to see the knives strapped to my sides, looking more like rib bones than weapons. I ducked my head as I trudged down the alley and pulled out one of my knives. My free hand slipped around to her mouth and I plunged my knife into her throat. If my hand didn’t muffle her the knife would silence her for good.
I pulled her clutch away from her and pulled out the wad of money that every whore like her carried. On one of the twenty dollar bills I wiped her blood and stuffed it into her mouth, the rest of the bills I let blow in the wind. No one would care for this harlot’s death save for her pimp. I climbed up a fire escape and disappeared to the roofs of the city.
Some say I’m slaughtering innocent women, whoring themselves out against their will. I know these women are just scum, just like the rest of society. These women are just practice for me; my true targets are the “high society.” Once I clear the slums of its scum I can move up to the apartments in the sky.
I replaced my gun to its spot upon the wall and began to pull and return the knives to their homes around my collection of guns. Spanning ten feet of the wall and eight feet tall, the peg board held five pairs of revolvers of varying caliber, .22 to .45, and about 50 knives, all of which were spotless even though each has tasted blood. I took off my vest and holster and hung them on a coat rack that already had my hat and coat. Finally the last thing I did was take off my gloves. I slipped my hands out ever so slowly careful to not touch the outside; these gloves were the only thing separating me and the police.
I left my armory, sliding the bookshelf back in place, and found my way to the radio and tuned in to the news. They haven’t reported on my most recent three kills, no one does care for whores, that or they were keeping it quite. They could be much closer than I know. I may have to escalate faster than I wanted, even though the streets still run rampant with the scum of the earth. I turned the radio to static and turned the volume down, but not off. That’ll keep them away, they don’t like that static. I walked through my house and turned all the lights off and found my pillow with my head. The only thing I could hear as I drifted into sleep was the static of the radio.
I bolted up in a cold sweat, and my eyes found the clock, 8 o’clock. Fuck. I only slept for four hours. The sun pouring in through the window played off the pointed hands of the clock making them jump out at me, seeming to threaten my life. I covered the clock with a blanket and stumbled to the kitchen. The last two eggs from the ice box went into a skillet with fat from God knows when, two slices of toast went into the pop-up. When the toast popped up, I put the eggs on a plate. I ate in silence, except for the radio static from the other room.
Three raps at the door. I looked at the door as an envelope slipped underneath it. I rose and walked to pick it up. I opened the envelope and slid the single piece of paper from it. Written in immaculate handwriting was a single sentence, “I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”
I ran to the toaster and put the note and envelope into and turned it on. Smoke rose from it, followed by small flames peeking out of the top. I donned my precious gloves and opened my armory. I ran out the door with a .45 in each hand and swept the hallway, no one in sight. Looks like I’m starting my work early tonight. I grab my vest and holsters, two shoulder holsters, two hip holsters and two leg holsters, .45’s in shoulder, .357 in hip, and .22 in leg holsters. Into the vest went twelve knives. Over the top my trench coat. I hailed a cab into the city’s uptown; a banquet was being held in a fancy loft of some rich fool, that’s where I would start.
I paid the cabby and turned down an alley and climbed a fire escape. The roof was only twelve stories up; it only took a few minutes to climb. From my rooftop perch I could slip into any window at any time. I waited for the clatter of plates and cups could be heard from below. I dropped to the fire escape and drew my .22’s and fired into the corners of the window shattering it. I jumped through and rolled, training my guns at the two nearest people and squeezed the triggers. They fell into a crumpled heap, they weren’t dead – but would soon be. I fired the guns into the air and go the room’s attention.
“You are all guilty of one thing or another,” I said loudly to the room, “I am your swift justice.” To punctuate the sentence I put two more of these scum down. They writhed and I emptied the guns into them until they stopped moving. My guns hit the floor as I pulled out the .357’s and leveled them at the crowd.
“Your crimes will be paid for with your lives.”
“What have we done to deserve this,” the voice of reason stated.
I leveled the pistol at the woman. “So are you going to be the hero today whore?”
A sharp stabbing pain erupted in my leg, and I looked down to see blood pouring down my leg from a shard of glass. One of the men I had shot but not killed had just stabbed me. I leveled the gun at his head and shot him dead where he lay.
“Any more heroes?” I shouted.
A small pop sounded from within the crowd. I felt the hot oozing coming from my chest before I saw the gunshot wound. I fell to my knees as a woman walked forward in red heels, in a red dress, clearly a whore.
She knelt and as I bleed out onto the carpet she said, “I’ve finally got you.”
She pulled out a badge from her clutch and showed it to my eyes as I lost consciousness.