This one has been on the shelf for a while, but I finally took time off the
IZ SAGA (READ IT!!!!) to finish it. I've got another JTHM in the works
currently! Enjoy!
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"Psycho was right," He said, raising a blade to his arm. "There's only one way out – the cowards way out."
Johnny is near tears as he holds a razor blade above his right wrist. He knows what he must do; he knows it's the right thing to do. But despite all the sane reasoning behind it, he can't bring himself to do it.
"C'mon," He says quietly to himself. "Do it. DO IT!"
He rests the blade against his skin. Its cool, and he can tell that it's sharp. He angles it vertically, ready to make the one, long cut down his wrist that will end all the pain. End it all.
But he can't do it. For all his worth, he cannot bring himself to open that fatal wound. He is shaking. He tries to hype himself up; to psych himself out – even begins to apply pressure. But as soon as it reaches the point of penetration he drops the blade, and falls to his knees.
For the first time he can remember, Johnny cries. He shudders and weeps silently. He wrings his hands between his knees. He bites his lip, and closes his eyes as tears begin to flow more rapidly.
Finally, he begins to shake it off. He whips tears from his eyes furiously and stands. Once he is remotely dry, he narrows his eyes at the blade. Crouching he says:
"What's the matter with me? Why can't I do it? I've done things 10 times worse and THIS little blade scares me. It makes no sense. But nonetheless I must face the facts. I cannot cut myself. I just can't! At least not fatally. Oh, why does this have to be so hard?"
He picks up the blade, and looks at it. It's of simple make; double sided, cheap material. Just enough strength to do the job. He hates it.
With a flick of his wrist he sends it across the room. He walks to the bathroom (the one not reserved for dismembered body parts) and peers at his reflection. He groans at the sight.
He's pale, obviously. His 'antennas' of hair are becoming greasy. He can't remember the last time he showered. There are bags under his eyes. He sends a hand over his smooth, shaved scalp and finds the buds of hair growing back. He delicately pulls one of his eyelids down to find his eyes very red. He sticks out his tongue, nothing new there.
He sighs and whips his hands over his face. He looks again and licks his lips. They taste bitter, like nothing has hit them in a long time. He's hungry.
Putting a hand on the glass he tries to smile. But it soon turns into a sneer. He punches the glass and turns on his heal.
I should get out; I haven't been out in days. Maybe I'll pick up a brain freezy, yes, that would be nice.
He walks into his room. He swings open the closet door: all black. He picks out a pair of black jeans; his boots, his classic "Z?" shirt, and puts them on.
He pulls on a pair of thin black gloves and grabs his coat. It's a long trench coat; it reaches just below the knees (and, of course, is black). He opens the door, is halfway out, when a hatefully familiar voice slithers past his ears.
"Where are you going, Nny?"
Johnny grimaces. His hopes of being left alone shot down.
"Out, Meat, out. Must you pry into everything I do?" he makes a motion to leave.
"No, but I'm curious. After last nights little fiasco I want to prepare myself for anything that might come home with you – mainly your temper. I almost shattered after you went into that 'fizz-wiz induced rage'."
"Well excuse me for showing EMOTION. I didn't think you'd mind." Meat says nothing. Nny leaves.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It's sunset, the horizon to the west is highlighted red as the Earth continues to rotate. Johnny looks at it briefly; it's almost beautiful. If it weren't for the industrial waste plant over there spewing toxic gas into the air, he might have wanted to take a picture.
He unzips his coat, its unseasonably warm. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets he realizes that he doesn't have a destination. There was this one place. It's a district on the wrong side of town; several murders (not his doing, surprisingly) are being investigated over in that area. Supposedly a dusk 'til dawn district; everything opens at sunset and closes at 4 am. A weird part of town, where all the freaks hang out.
Johnny smiles. Sounds like his kind of place.
He walks for a while before he sees the signs that he's getting close. Buildings are becoming closer together; the signs stop reading "Closed" and start reading "Open". The people he passes give him looks less and less horrified, and look more and more like him. A girl, with a hairdo similar to his (except her antennas were longer and dyed pink) nodded and smiled at him. He smiled nervously and sheepishly walked past.
A few minutes later, he can tell he is in the heart of freak-town. Everyone NOT pierced, dyed, or dressed in black is given weird looks, but there aren't many of them anyway. That girl with the dyed hair gave him an idea. Maybe just a splash of color? He thought about it. Surely there was some place around here that would do it. A thought of a piercing crossed his mind but he quickly dismissed it. Maybe after I COMPLETELY lose my mind, he thought with a smile. He walked a short distance and found a place called the "Downward Spiral Unisex Hair Salon". He walked in.
Inside, people with all sorts of hair were sitting, reading issues of magazines; some he had heard of, some not. He walked up to the register.
The girl behind the counter was chewing pink bubble gum, that she periodically blew bubbles with. Her hair was dyed neon green, and pulled up in short pigtails. She wore a spiked collar and a black tank top. "Excuse me," he said. The girl looked up. At first he was shocked at the surprising similarity between her and Devi. Same eyes, same facial features. But despite this, she sounded nothing like her.
"What can I do you for, hon?" she asks while smiling and chewing. Her voice is higher, and had a bit of a New York accent. But she seemed polite enough, so Johnny resisted the fleeting urge to gouge her, and everyone in the shops, eyes out.
"How much for a dye job?" he asked. She tipped her head to the side. "Normally, twenty bucks, but you don't look like you've got enough hair for full price. How about…thirteen dollars?" she asks, and blows a bubble. He smiles.
"That will be fine, thank you."
"No prob, sweetie." She smiles at him. He nods his head and sits down. A few minutes later, he is called up.
He sits in the chair, and is approached by a thin stylist with spiked hair. The tips are bleached blonde, and clash with the natural black of his hair. The stylist puts an apron on Nny and begins to hike up the chair.
"Dye job, eh?" asks the man. "What color?"
Nny stops and thinks, he really hadn't thought about it. He couldn't dye his hair pink that was for sure. He bit his lip and looked at the ceiling as he thought.
"Red," he said finally. The stylist was a few feet away when Nny stopped him. "No, blonde, then red. I want it bright red." The stylist smiles, and nods.
"Sure thing." He says, and walks in back to fetch the bleach.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A few minutes later, Nny looks at himself in the mirror and is shocked. He never thought he would be seeing himself with blonde hair. It disturbs him is some profound way he can't explain. He averts his eyes to see if the man with the spikes is coming back. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man returns with the red dye.
The man pauses. "Christ, dude, you OK?" Nny is gripping the armrests; he can't stand his hair in its current color. "Yeah, I'm fine, just hurry with that red, OK? I can't stand this blonde color." The man leans back the seat. "OK, I'm hurrying."
Johnny closes his eyes as he feels the wetness of the dye hit his scalp.
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Finally, the seat is raised. Nny peers into the mirror, and is actually semi-satisfied with his hair. It will take some getting used to, he thinks, but I can get used to it.
He stands out of the chair and grabs his coat off the coat rack. The girl at the register looks as if she's been waiting for him to come back.
"Satisfied?" She asks, and smiles while chewing. He smiles back. "Yes, thank you. Thirteen dollars, right?" he pulls out the money and hands it to her. She smiles warmly at him as he hands the bills to her.
"I've never seen you around here before. Where do you live?"
He shrugs. "Not far. A ten minute walk."
"Well," she says, and leans forward a bit. "Don't be a stranger." She winks at him. He huffs in surprise and smiles nervously. She laughs. "Here's your change, hon. Have a good day." He walks out, feeling the color in his cheeks grow as red as hair. He scratches the back of his head and begins to walk off.
He's not even past the next shop, when he here's a scream. He spins around, and sees a guy with about a million piercings run out of the shop. There's shattered glass on the pavement. Nny runs, coat out behind him, back to the salon. He comes to a halt in front of it, to see a guy with a gun, aiming at the girl with the green hair through the window. Her hands are raised, and he's yelling at her. She begins to open the register, a Beretta several inches from her head. Johnny rushes into the salon.
He bursts in, startling the man with the gun. He shoots a shot that hits the wall right next to a customer's head. The man turns, and aims the gun at Nny.
Johnny examines the man closely now; no dyes, no piercings, the only black is a leather jacket. This guy is an outsider. By the looks of it, a jock. One of the people used to ridiculing people like Nny. Johnny, in a fight/flight stance, straitens. He no longer fears this man. He rolls his shoulders back, and narrows his eyes. Raising one eyebrow, he asks: "What the HELL do you think your doing?" the jock narrows his brow. "Shut the fuck up, freak! Hand over all your cash!"
Johnny makes no such movement. Instead he puts his hands on his hips.
"Do you have a problem with civility? 'Cause I could get nasty, if you would like."
The jock is enraged further. "SHUT THE HELL UP, FAG! NOW PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!" Johnny is too fast; while the jock is to busy yelling, Nny snatches the gun out of his hands, and with a quick maneuver, dismembers it into several pieces. He drops the pieces to the floor and grins while raising an eyebrow. "Now, what tough guy?"
The jock is momentarily shunned, disbelieving that this freak with the red hair and black clothing actually took apart his gun. Engulfed with rage, the jock puts up his fists.
"You wanna fight? Let's go, faggot!" Johnny takes a step forward, and opens his coat, revealing the contents.
All color leaves the jocks face, and he runs screaming form the salon.
"Thank you, come again!!" Yells Johnny while waving sarcastically. He throws his head back, laughs one single, "HAH!" and turns toward the register.
The girl is right there, he almost yelps in surprise. She grabs his face in her hands, and looks into his eyes. "Where did you lean to do that?" she asks, almost cooing.
He feels himself blushing again. "You don't live the life I've led without learning a few things about guns." Then, to his surprise, she kisses him deeply.
He goes stiff with shock. She pulls herself away from him and looks into his eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" he is at a loss for words. NOTHING like THAT ever happened before. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He puts one of his gloved hands over hers, on his face. She nods, and steps away. He shrugs. "Just trying to help," he says finally. And with that, he leaves.
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Nny gets home, and closes the door behind him. He leans against it and slides to the floor. Covering his face with his hands, he hears a familiar voice.
"Johnny boy, what have you been up to? Your breathing hard and – what is that on your face?" Nny whips a hand over his mouth and it comes back stained with lipstick. He whips it off with the back of his hand and stands. Meat continues.
"A girl? No, not Mr. "Feeling is wrong". You? Are you finally seeing the light?"
Nny strips off his coat and spins towards Meat. "No light can penetrate where I am. But…something…happened."
He walks towards Meat, and sits on an old, broken down couch next to him. He lies down and puts the crook of his elbow over his eyes.
Meat chuckles evilly. "Oh something happened alright. Last time I saw you that out of breath Devi was over. C'mon Nny, admit it, it felt GOOD."
Johnny sighs angrily. "Good? Are you kidding it felt…" he trails off. "It felt great. But that doesn't make me want to jump out and start a family or anything. One little incident. That's all."
"What happened?"
"Well," he starts, and sits up. "I kinda saved her life. So, THAT being her only means of gratitude, she decided to thank me. Then I left: end of story." He stands and walks towards a deep-descending stairwell. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Bye the way," says Meat. "Love the hair."
Nny spits in Meat's direction and continues downward.
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Nny, realizing that he is still holding his jacket, hangs it on the head of a corpse, which is impaled on a coat hook. "Hold this, will you?" He says, and continues down.
He reaches a sort of storage room, the only room void of blood and other vital fluids. In the room there was a book, where he kept snap shots of all the people who have wronged him, and were still alive. Just in case he ever ran out of current victims. He knew that jock looked familiar…
After looting through some broken and spare torture devices, he found it. It was a large photo album, with the words: 'Book of the Damned' carved into the cover. Johnny grabs it and hauls it back upstairs.
He walks into the living room, his grip straining under the massive weight of the book. He finally cannot hold it anymore, and drops it on the floor. Dust swirls out and away from where it hit. Nny sits on the floor next to it and spins it to face him. He lifts the front cover, and as he does, the wind begins to howl and eerie moans fill the room. He slams the cover closed, and it stops. He opens it again, and it starts. Closes it, it stops. He shakes his head and looks at Meat. "Does it have to do that?" Meat shrugs; the giant burger going up and down as he does.
Nny finally opens the book and the sounds elevate to a louder pitch. "Quit it!" He yells, and they do. He begins to leaf through the pages.
After a long time, Johnny has gotten only halfway through the book. He has only managed to get himself angrier by looking at all the un-avenged evil. He almost gives up – before spotting the jock.
The picture is of a car full of jocks, laughing and pointing at Nny as he walks down the street. 'I remember that night,' he thinks, balling his left hand into a fist. 'Those bastards!'
He had been walking down the street, minding his own business, when a paper bag of garbage hit him on the side of the head. The jocks, who presumably threw the trash, went out of their way to pull the car over and laughed. Johnny had snapped the picture just as the car was about to drive off.
"So the jock has crossed me before," said Johnny aloud, "Well he won't get off so easy this time."
"WHO won't get off so easy, Johnny?" inquired Meat. Nny shuddered at the sound of the hated voice. "No one… shut up." Johnny slams the book closed and shoves it under the couch. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up and you'll have a date with a golf club you ceramic imp."
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After sleeping the entire day, Nny awakes the next night at sunset. He rolls out of bed onto the floor, to tired to stand. "Need… more… sleep…" But he soon remembers the jock.
He shoots up, immediately awake.
He glances at an old clock hanging on the wall, a crack down its face. The time reads eight thirty. "Revenge time," says Nny as a psychotic grin spreads across his face. He stands up and walks down stairs, where he grabs his coat off the corpse's head. After stocking it with all manner of weaponry, he turns to leave. But before he does, he spots something in the closet, hanging on a hook. After a moment's consideration, he slips it on under his shirt.
Nny heads for the door as he slips a large knife into the breast pocket of his jacket. "Out again Nny?" asks Meat. Nny doesn't even respond as he leaves.
After a brief walk, he reaches the same salon. He hopes, and is fairly confident, that the Jock will show up again to finish the job, probably with some of his buddies. Nny smiles. Hopefully the same ones as in the car, that'll be hitting several birds with one, homicidal, stone.
He slips into the shadows of the alley and waits.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
About an hour later, a car drives up in front of the salon. Johnny, from where he is lurking, has a good view of the car and salon. Its not the same car, but the same jock climbs out. He is followed by several of his buddies, most of which look familiar. Nny grins and crosses the street. Oh lucky day.
"I WANT ALL THE MONEY NOW! HURRY UP, FREAK!" yells the jock, holding a new gun. Only one other jock has a gun, the others have switchblades. The girl behind the counter is not the same one as last night; she has long, black hair and a long sleeve shirt on. She opens the register with one hand and keeps the other in the air. To Nny's disappointment, the place is packed with customers. He didn't want to kill innocent civilians… for now.
Nny slips into the salon almost silently. What gives him away is the small bell as the door closes. "Huh?" says a jock as he turns around. He barely gets a look at the intruder before Nny punches him.
"Hey, It's that guy! And he's back for MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRREEEE!!!!" cries the jock from last night. The others look at him, confused at the outburst. He motions towards Nny. "GET HIM!"
They rush at Nny, brandishing their knives. "Switchblades?" asks Nny humorously. "Oh, come on!"
He crosses his arms, and when they uncross, they are holding long blades. He spins the one in his right hand around expertly like a baton. "You wanna dance? Let's dance."
There were three of them with knives. Nny could tell they were armatures by they way they held their blades: in their right hands, in-between each other. That ment that they couldn't swipe without cutting their companion. Nny, being ambidextrous, never had that problem. He ducked as the fight began.
Two of them swiped, narrowly missing each other's arms as Nny ducked under them. He gashed both of their stomachs while he was down there, only cutting one while completely disemboweling the other. One dropped to his knees, while the other, less hurt one, kept his footing. Nny sprang up, jumping over a low kick, then cut off the assailant's ear. He screamed as blood issued from his head. Johnny positioned the knife just under his rib cage, then stabbed. His knife pierced the jock's heart, killing his almost instantly. The last remaining knife fighter took a step back. "SHIT! He went 'Reservoir Dogs' on his ass!"
"Yeah," said Nny, approaching him. "To bad there's no gasoline around here."
Nny raised his arm to swoop, but didn't get the chance. The other with the gun shot, hitting Nny square in the chest. Johnny collapsed over the counter, making the register girl scream.
The shooter leaned over Nny, to verify if he was indeed dead. He laughed. "Not so tough now, eh?"
Nny's hand shot up, grabbing the jock's neck in a vice-like grip. Black rage billowed from his eyes, while his other hand lifted his shirt, revealing a bulletproof vest. "Kevlar, Bitch."
He let go of his shirt and socked the jock hard.
The jock reeled back from the blow, and spit out two of his teeth. He hastily brought up the gun to shoot again, but Nny was too fast. With a scissor kick, Nny freed the gun from his grasp, sending it flying across the salon. He spun on his toe and slashed the guy across the face, mangling one of his eyes. He screamed, but was cut off by Nny slitting his throat. He fell to the ground and bled to death.
And then there were two – the wimp with the knife and the jock from last night. Johnny went for the one with the knife, saving the other for last. He screamed, giving Johnny an open target. Nny grabbed his knife by its blade, reeled back, then tossed it into the jock's mouth from across the room. With deadly accuracy, the knife penetrated the back of his throat, severing his brain stem. He slid to the floor along the wall, seizuring. Nny jut his elbow back in victory. "Perfect aim!"
He turned towards the original jock, the one who for the second time had tried to rob the salon. He spun his knife at his side, raising the side of his mouth in a smirk.
The jock was terrified. To him Nny looked like some kind of red-haired angel of death. With his long coat, upturned collar and red points of hair. The way he fought expertly with knives, spinning and maneuvering like some demonic dancer in a dark ballet. The way he seemed to slink along the floor towards him, coat flowing behind ominously. His eyes seemed to glow with rage as he spun his knife unconsciously with lethal precision. "Your turn."
The jock screamed.
Nny noticed that the jock had not fired at him, despite the fact he had a gun. He must have brought it in as a bluff. He threw it at Nny, who simply batted it away. He looked at it on the ground, then at the jock. "The guns empty, isn't it?"
The jock made no move or sound. Johnny was becoming angry.
"You came in here, yelling and forcing innocent people to do your will, without even being able to pack deadly force?" An edge came to Nny's voice. "You sicken me. And it takes A LOT to sicken ME." He stepped towards him and gripped him by the throat, raising his blade high into the air, ready to strike.
He was just about to, when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the jocks head. He DID look like an avenging angel, draped in black, knife raised to bring swift justice to the wicked. But past his own reflection he saw the costumers and employees that had huddled in the corner, scared shitless. They were splashed with blood, and shaking. For once, Johnny did not feel the urge to kill needlessly in front of innocents.
He flipped the blade in his hand, and struck the jock on the head with the hilt. He fell unconscious and Nny flipped him over his shoulder. "I'll finish this later," he said to the people huddled in the corner, and left.
Nny walked into the alley and tossed the guy into a dumpster, making a loud noise. He took off his jacket and his shirt, and took off the Kevlar vest, it was getting hot. He threw the vest to the side and picked up his shirt again. The jock was coming to, and groaned as he raised his head to look over the side of the dumpster.
"You again?" asked Nny as he pulled his shirt over his head. He knocked the lid of the dumpster closed, hitting the jock on the head, knocking him unconscious again. "Stay there."
He pulled on his jacket and began to loot through the trash bags that littered the alley. He finally found a heavy duty one, and dumped its contents on the ground. He dragged the empty bag back to the dumpster and, with some effort, hoisted the unconscious jock into it. He heaved the bag over his shoulder and started home.
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Johnny walked down the sidewalk, passing under flickering streetlights. The bag over his shoulder was becoming heavy, and he thought he might have to take a break soon. The guy in the bag had yet to make a noise, possibly suffocated to death by the plastic bag. That would be a disappointment, thought Nny; he would've gotten off easy. But, unfortunately for him, the jock regained consciousness. "Uh… where… HEY! What the-?!?"
Johnny kicked the bag. "Quiet back there! You've caused enough trouble. I'm taking you home for… punishment." He said, grinning wickedly. The bag began to shift.
"No way man! I… wait… I know you! That voice… you're the freak who got hit with the trash! I thought you looked familiar in the salon! Your stupid hair messed me up! Let me GO!"
Nny kicked the bag once again. "I said SHUT UP!"
"FUCK YOU! HEEEEELP! HEEEELP!"
Johnny grunted angrily as he swung the bag off his shoulder, and slammed it into a nearby tree. "QUIT WHINING! You'll only make it worse. For your own good, BE QUIE-"
"YOU!" said a voice in the distance. Nny dropped the bag and looked towards the sound, to the discomfort of the jock. The sound came from an apartment complex across the street, where a girl was leaning over the balcony, yelling to him. After further inspection, Nny realized that it was the register girl from last night. He was surprised and confused. "Um… Hi." He turned towards the bag, from where painful noises were being issued. "Stay there."
He crossed the empty street, and went up the stairs of the complex to meet the girl. Once he was up on the balcony, didn't really know what to do. She looked at him with her mouth open, as if him standing there wasn't possible. He scratched the back of his neck. "So… how are things?"
"It's really you…" she said, ignoring his comment. "You saved my life!" Johnny didn't know what to say.
"Well… uh… you know… someone had to do it. Good thing you weren't there tonight, he came back with a few of his friends…"
She looked at him for a second. "Come inside." So he did.
Inside, the place was full of boxes, like she just moved in. "You new to the neighborhood?" he asked. She shook her head. "No, my sister's moving in with me," she laughed. "She thinks someone's stalking her. So… you say that creep came back?"
Nny nodded. "Yeah, with some of his ignoramus buddies. I took care of them though, they won't bother the salon again."
She sighed. Nny was becoming nervous. "Well, uh, I'd better get going." He headed for the door, but she grabbed his arm. "You know, I don't even know your name. What is it?"
He paused for a moment. "Johnny. My name's Johnny. And yours?"
She smiled. "Demo. I still can't thank you enough for what you did last night," Yeah, well you wouldn't be so nice if you heard what I did THIS night, he thought. She approached and he took a step back. As he did, the cover over what seemed to be a painting caught under his foot and slid off. Johnny was too preoccupied to notice.
"I know how to thank you," she began, stepping towards him. Johnny stepped towards the door, and faced her, his back to it. "You know, thanks for everything but I really think I should be-" That's when he noticed the painting. He stopped, transfixed by it. "I know that painting. I've seen it before. Tell me, did you-"
That's when the door swung open behind him. He stepped back from the intruder. "DEMO?!?!" cried the trespasser, as she dropped her suitcases on the floor with a thump. "WHAT THE HELL?!??"
The trespasser wore a black trench coat, much like Johnny's, and gloves, which she put on her hips. Johnny immediately recognized the intruder as Devi.
"DEVI?" he asked, utterly confused. "Johnny? I should have known!" she turned to her sister, who after seeing them together, Nny realizes is her twin. "DEMO? How could you let this maniac into our house? I mean, GOD! Just put up a friggin' sign saying: 'All scum welcome here'!"
Demo crossed her arms. "Would you calm down? This is-"
"I know who he is," said Devi, narrowing her eyes. Johnny followed suit. "Well nice to see you too, Devi. How are things?"
She approached him angrily. "Johnny, what are you doing here? Why can't you just leave me alone!"
"Hey, I didn't know you lived here, she called me up from the street. Give a guy a break."
Devi's eyes went wide with anger. "A BREAK!?!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You tried to KILL me!"
Nny rolled his eyes. "Only once!"
"HEY!" cried Demo, holding her hands up in the air. "What is going on?! You two know each other?"
"Yeah, we know each other," said Nny bitterly, narrowing his eyes. "Unfortunately."
"It wouldn't BE so unfortunate if you hadn't TRIED TO KILL ME!!"
"Oh, quite living in the past!"
"So wait," said Demo. "Devi, you mean this guy is the one who's stalking you?"
"Yeah! I've only told you like, a thousand times about it. And somehow, you still manage to just let him mosey on in." she said, making a large gesture with her hand.
"Well ex-CUSE me! This guy just happens to be my hero!"
Devi cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?" Johnny crossed his arms defiantly as Demo explained.
"Last night in the salon, Johnny here disarmed a robber who was trying to hold up the place. He just dismantled the guy's gun and he ran off! He saved my life! In fact he said he saved the salon AGAIN TONIGHT! From the same robber and his cronies!"
Nny nodded his head and grinned. "You see, Devi, I'm not the monster you've made me out to be."
Devi grabbed her hair. "YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!!!!"
Nny sighed. "Fine. I see I'm not welcome here, so I'll leave." he spotted a tribal bow hanging on the wall. "Nice bow."
"GET OUT!"
He huffed in frustration and opened the door to leave. Before he was out though, he spotted the jock escaping from the bag. He got to his feet just as Johnny yelled. "HEY! YOU GET BACK HERE!"
The jock screamed and began to run away. Johnny turned towards the bow on the wall. "Gimmie that!" he snatched it off the wall and ran out onto the balcony. Loading it with one of his knives, he brought the string back, aimed, and fired. It hit the jock at the small of his back, paralyzing him from the waist down. Blood issued into a pool on the sidewalk as the jock dragged himself down the street with his hands.
Johnny lifted one foot in the air and jut his elbow back in victory. "Sweet!" he gripped the balcony railing and flung himself onto the ground, running at the fallen jock. He dropped the bow in the middle of the street as he chased, his coat flowing behind him.
Devi and Demo had been standing in the doorway. Demo was covering her mouth in horror. Devi crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her sister. "See?"
Demo screamed.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After going unconscious from blood loss, the jock woke up in some sort of dungeon. His arms were shackled and so were his legs, though he couldn't feel them. The walls and ceiling were stained with blood – some old, some new. There was a rack of knives in the corner. Various chains hung from the ceiling. He tried to pull his arms free but couldn't. He began to scream.
"You'll only strain your voice," said Johnny as he seemingly leapt out of nowhere, in front of the jock. His jacket had been removed, and his 'Z?' shirt was visible. He crouched and tilted his head to the side. "We're close to a hundred feet down, there's no one to help you."
The jock stopped and bit his lip in terror. He watched as Johnny stood up strait, clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. "I have not yet killed you because I feel a little education is in order. Now, I usually don't do this, but I feel yours is a special case." He left one of his hands behind his back and brought the other in front of his face, picking at the fingertips of his gloves. "Someone who not only picks on the less fortunate or different, but also feels the need to ROB them REPEATEDLY is someone with large problems," he closed the hand in front of his face to a fist and turned to look over his shoulder at the jock. "Don't you agree?"
The jock opened his mouth for a second, but nothing came out. Finally he said: "…Yes."
Johnny smiled. "Good." He turned and grabbed one of the chains suspended from the ceiling. "First lesson," He began to climb up it, his slender frame easy to haul up. He slipped his foot into a loop at the end and held its length with one hand. He leaned out to the side, placing a hand on his hip. He glared down at the jock from several feet above the floor. "It is true that the different are inferior to the alike?"
The jock hesitated for a moment. "Yes."
Johnny narrowed his eyes at the jock, and leapt to a different chain. The chain, being freed of his weight, contracted up into the ceiling. This caused a rather large spike to protrude out of the ground, next to the jock. He screamed.
"I'm sorry, that was the wrong answer. Try again." He coiled his arms and leg around the chain, and crossed his other leg over it. He peered at the jock.
"N-no… they aren't." he stuttered. Nny lowered himself on the chain, glaring at the jock. "And do the so-called 'alike' get special privileges?"
"…No."
"WONG!" he leapt off the chain and another spike obtruded from the floor between the jock's lifeless legs. Nny coiled the new chain around his leg and held it behind his back, leaning towards the jock. "They DO get special privileges because the system is unfair. If it weren't for people like YOU, everyone would be treated equal!"
He glared at the jock. "Your not very good at this, are you?"
He said nothing.
"OK, let's try a simpler one. Is it wrong to rob people?"
The jock said nothing, afraid of a trick. "Come one, say it."
"Y-yes…"
A sly grin creeps across Nny's face. "Very good, now we're getting somewhere." He quickly moved, making the jock jump, when really he was just shifting his weight on the chain to his other leg. He put both his feet into the loop at the end and crouched down on them. He held the chain next to his face. "And why did you choose to rob that particular business?"
The jock did not reply. It was a hard question to answer when your captive made all the rules. One wrong move and he might not miss the next impalement.
"Oh, a loaded question, I know, but you should be just fine," Johnny narrowed his eyes. "If your honest."
The jock searched for an answer, but made no sound. Nny was becoming impatient. "Your lack of consent bores me," he reached for the next chain and let go with his feet. He swung, holding on to the two chains with his feet dangling. He swung them like a kid on some deranged playground. "The, excuse the pun, STAKES, will only get higher the longer you stall," He swung his feet in time with his words. "Tick, tock, tick, tock…"
The jock was near panic. He finally burst out in reply. "Because it was a bad part of town where all the freaks hang out! I didn't think anyone would care if some freak hair place was held up! OH, GOD, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"
The jock began to weep, hanging his head to hide his tears because his hands were shackled. Johnny said nothing for a long time.
"Very good. And did that turn out to be true?"
The jock looked up at him. "No. You care."
Johnny smirked. "But I'm just one of the freaks, right?"
The jock said nothing. Johnny's gaze darkened. "RIGHT?"
The jock hung his head. "Yes…"
"So I don't really count, do I?"
The jock began to cry again. "…No." Johnny swung on the chains.
He finally jumped off them, causing two new spikes to shoot out of the floor. One of them went right through the jock's foot, causing him to scream even though he couldn't feel it. Blood began to spread slowly across the floor.
Johnny leapt up on a particularly long chain that hung down directly in front of the jock. After a moment of gaining momentum, he swung to the knife rack and plucked one from it. He turned, facing the opposite wall, and coiled he feet around the chain. He then flipped back so that he hung in front of the jock, face-to-face, upside-down. He positioned the knife under the jocks chin, lifting his face to meet his gaze. He smiled darkly. "Last question," the jock whimpered. "What do you think of me?"
The jock stopped for a second, caught totally off guard by the question. Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Be honest…"
The jock tried to turn away, but Nny turned his face back with the knife. Where the knife had applied pressure started to bleed. Nny lifted the Jock's chin higher, to look into his eyes. "Answer!"
The jock began to whimper again. Nny slashed him across the opposite check, causing both sides of his face to bleed. He returned the knife to its original position. The jock cried out in pain. "ANSWER ME, GODDAMMIT!"
The jock somehow gathered up what little dignity he had left, and answered honestly. He looked Johnny in the eyes, with a tired, half-lidded gaze. "I think you're a freak who finds joy in the pain of others."
Instead of becoming angry, like the jock thought, Nny's grin widened. He slid the knife out from under the jock's chin, just barely nicking the skin at the edge. "Then we are alike, you and I."
The jock's eyes widened in realization.
Johnny lifted a hand above his head and pushed off the floor, causing the chain to contract up into the ceiling. He was brought up with it, chuckling darkly. After he was out, there was a loud sound from across the room. Spikes had protruded out, completely covering the surface of the wall. The jock screamed as the wall rushed forwards, killing him by impalement.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Afterwards Johnny sat down with his die-ary, to reflect on recent events. He gnawed the end of his pencil for a minute, thinking what to write. After a moment of consideration, he had it, and began:
' Dear Die-ary,
The last few days have been real eye-openers. Not only have
I gotten a new hair color, but I saved the day twice. I realized
that my killing can be used for good instead of evil – kind of
like that movie "Boondock Saints", except without the whole
religion thing. I've also realized, thanks to my former interest
Devi that some people aren't very forgiving, no matter how
much you apologize, and that a lot of people dwell on the past.
And surprisingly, I learned that even the most air-headed,
ignorant jock can become a fairly good pupil when under the
right pressure.'
J.C.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"Psycho was right," He said, raising a blade to his arm. "There's only one way out – the cowards way out."
Johnny is near tears as he holds a razor blade above his right wrist. He knows what he must do; he knows it's the right thing to do. But despite all the sane reasoning behind it, he can't bring himself to do it.
"C'mon," He says quietly to himself. "Do it. DO IT!"
He rests the blade against his skin. Its cool, and he can tell that it's sharp. He angles it vertically, ready to make the one, long cut down his wrist that will end all the pain. End it all.
But he can't do it. For all his worth, he cannot bring himself to open that fatal wound. He is shaking. He tries to hype himself up; to psych himself out – even begins to apply pressure. But as soon as it reaches the point of penetration he drops the blade, and falls to his knees.
For the first time he can remember, Johnny cries. He shudders and weeps silently. He wrings his hands between his knees. He bites his lip, and closes his eyes as tears begin to flow more rapidly.
Finally, he begins to shake it off. He whips tears from his eyes furiously and stands. Once he is remotely dry, he narrows his eyes at the blade. Crouching he says:
"What's the matter with me? Why can't I do it? I've done things 10 times worse and THIS little blade scares me. It makes no sense. But nonetheless I must face the facts. I cannot cut myself. I just can't! At least not fatally. Oh, why does this have to be so hard?"
He picks up the blade, and looks at it. It's of simple make; double sided, cheap material. Just enough strength to do the job. He hates it.
With a flick of his wrist he sends it across the room. He walks to the bathroom (the one not reserved for dismembered body parts) and peers at his reflection. He groans at the sight.
He's pale, obviously. His 'antennas' of hair are becoming greasy. He can't remember the last time he showered. There are bags under his eyes. He sends a hand over his smooth, shaved scalp and finds the buds of hair growing back. He delicately pulls one of his eyelids down to find his eyes very red. He sticks out his tongue, nothing new there.
He sighs and whips his hands over his face. He looks again and licks his lips. They taste bitter, like nothing has hit them in a long time. He's hungry.
Putting a hand on the glass he tries to smile. But it soon turns into a sneer. He punches the glass and turns on his heal.
I should get out; I haven't been out in days. Maybe I'll pick up a brain freezy, yes, that would be nice.
He walks into his room. He swings open the closet door: all black. He picks out a pair of black jeans; his boots, his classic "Z?" shirt, and puts them on.
He pulls on a pair of thin black gloves and grabs his coat. It's a long trench coat; it reaches just below the knees (and, of course, is black). He opens the door, is halfway out, when a hatefully familiar voice slithers past his ears.
"Where are you going, Nny?"
Johnny grimaces. His hopes of being left alone shot down.
"Out, Meat, out. Must you pry into everything I do?" he makes a motion to leave.
"No, but I'm curious. After last nights little fiasco I want to prepare myself for anything that might come home with you – mainly your temper. I almost shattered after you went into that 'fizz-wiz induced rage'."
"Well excuse me for showing EMOTION. I didn't think you'd mind." Meat says nothing. Nny leaves.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It's sunset, the horizon to the west is highlighted red as the Earth continues to rotate. Johnny looks at it briefly; it's almost beautiful. If it weren't for the industrial waste plant over there spewing toxic gas into the air, he might have wanted to take a picture.
He unzips his coat, its unseasonably warm. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets he realizes that he doesn't have a destination. There was this one place. It's a district on the wrong side of town; several murders (not his doing, surprisingly) are being investigated over in that area. Supposedly a dusk 'til dawn district; everything opens at sunset and closes at 4 am. A weird part of town, where all the freaks hang out.
Johnny smiles. Sounds like his kind of place.
He walks for a while before he sees the signs that he's getting close. Buildings are becoming closer together; the signs stop reading "Closed" and start reading "Open". The people he passes give him looks less and less horrified, and look more and more like him. A girl, with a hairdo similar to his (except her antennas were longer and dyed pink) nodded and smiled at him. He smiled nervously and sheepishly walked past.
A few minutes later, he can tell he is in the heart of freak-town. Everyone NOT pierced, dyed, or dressed in black is given weird looks, but there aren't many of them anyway. That girl with the dyed hair gave him an idea. Maybe just a splash of color? He thought about it. Surely there was some place around here that would do it. A thought of a piercing crossed his mind but he quickly dismissed it. Maybe after I COMPLETELY lose my mind, he thought with a smile. He walked a short distance and found a place called the "Downward Spiral Unisex Hair Salon". He walked in.
Inside, people with all sorts of hair were sitting, reading issues of magazines; some he had heard of, some not. He walked up to the register.
The girl behind the counter was chewing pink bubble gum, that she periodically blew bubbles with. Her hair was dyed neon green, and pulled up in short pigtails. She wore a spiked collar and a black tank top. "Excuse me," he said. The girl looked up. At first he was shocked at the surprising similarity between her and Devi. Same eyes, same facial features. But despite this, she sounded nothing like her.
"What can I do you for, hon?" she asks while smiling and chewing. Her voice is higher, and had a bit of a New York accent. But she seemed polite enough, so Johnny resisted the fleeting urge to gouge her, and everyone in the shops, eyes out.
"How much for a dye job?" he asked. She tipped her head to the side. "Normally, twenty bucks, but you don't look like you've got enough hair for full price. How about…thirteen dollars?" she asks, and blows a bubble. He smiles.
"That will be fine, thank you."
"No prob, sweetie." She smiles at him. He nods his head and sits down. A few minutes later, he is called up.
He sits in the chair, and is approached by a thin stylist with spiked hair. The tips are bleached blonde, and clash with the natural black of his hair. The stylist puts an apron on Nny and begins to hike up the chair.
"Dye job, eh?" asks the man. "What color?"
Nny stops and thinks, he really hadn't thought about it. He couldn't dye his hair pink that was for sure. He bit his lip and looked at the ceiling as he thought.
"Red," he said finally. The stylist was a few feet away when Nny stopped him. "No, blonde, then red. I want it bright red." The stylist smiles, and nods.
"Sure thing." He says, and walks in back to fetch the bleach.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A few minutes later, Nny looks at himself in the mirror and is shocked. He never thought he would be seeing himself with blonde hair. It disturbs him is some profound way he can't explain. He averts his eyes to see if the man with the spikes is coming back. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man returns with the red dye.
The man pauses. "Christ, dude, you OK?" Nny is gripping the armrests; he can't stand his hair in its current color. "Yeah, I'm fine, just hurry with that red, OK? I can't stand this blonde color." The man leans back the seat. "OK, I'm hurrying."
Johnny closes his eyes as he feels the wetness of the dye hit his scalp.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Finally, the seat is raised. Nny peers into the mirror, and is actually semi-satisfied with his hair. It will take some getting used to, he thinks, but I can get used to it.
He stands out of the chair and grabs his coat off the coat rack. The girl at the register looks as if she's been waiting for him to come back.
"Satisfied?" She asks, and smiles while chewing. He smiles back. "Yes, thank you. Thirteen dollars, right?" he pulls out the money and hands it to her. She smiles warmly at him as he hands the bills to her.
"I've never seen you around here before. Where do you live?"
He shrugs. "Not far. A ten minute walk."
"Well," she says, and leans forward a bit. "Don't be a stranger." She winks at him. He huffs in surprise and smiles nervously. She laughs. "Here's your change, hon. Have a good day." He walks out, feeling the color in his cheeks grow as red as hair. He scratches the back of his head and begins to walk off.
He's not even past the next shop, when he here's a scream. He spins around, and sees a guy with about a million piercings run out of the shop. There's shattered glass on the pavement. Nny runs, coat out behind him, back to the salon. He comes to a halt in front of it, to see a guy with a gun, aiming at the girl with the green hair through the window. Her hands are raised, and he's yelling at her. She begins to open the register, a Beretta several inches from her head. Johnny rushes into the salon.
He bursts in, startling the man with the gun. He shoots a shot that hits the wall right next to a customer's head. The man turns, and aims the gun at Nny.
Johnny examines the man closely now; no dyes, no piercings, the only black is a leather jacket. This guy is an outsider. By the looks of it, a jock. One of the people used to ridiculing people like Nny. Johnny, in a fight/flight stance, straitens. He no longer fears this man. He rolls his shoulders back, and narrows his eyes. Raising one eyebrow, he asks: "What the HELL do you think your doing?" the jock narrows his brow. "Shut the fuck up, freak! Hand over all your cash!"
Johnny makes no such movement. Instead he puts his hands on his hips.
"Do you have a problem with civility? 'Cause I could get nasty, if you would like."
The jock is enraged further. "SHUT THE HELL UP, FAG! NOW PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!" Johnny is too fast; while the jock is to busy yelling, Nny snatches the gun out of his hands, and with a quick maneuver, dismembers it into several pieces. He drops the pieces to the floor and grins while raising an eyebrow. "Now, what tough guy?"
The jock is momentarily shunned, disbelieving that this freak with the red hair and black clothing actually took apart his gun. Engulfed with rage, the jock puts up his fists.
"You wanna fight? Let's go, faggot!" Johnny takes a step forward, and opens his coat, revealing the contents.
All color leaves the jocks face, and he runs screaming form the salon.
"Thank you, come again!!" Yells Johnny while waving sarcastically. He throws his head back, laughs one single, "HAH!" and turns toward the register.
The girl is right there, he almost yelps in surprise. She grabs his face in her hands, and looks into his eyes. "Where did you lean to do that?" she asks, almost cooing.
He feels himself blushing again. "You don't live the life I've led without learning a few things about guns." Then, to his surprise, she kisses him deeply.
He goes stiff with shock. She pulls herself away from him and looks into his eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" he is at a loss for words. NOTHING like THAT ever happened before. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He puts one of his gloved hands over hers, on his face. She nods, and steps away. He shrugs. "Just trying to help," he says finally. And with that, he leaves.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Nny gets home, and closes the door behind him. He leans against it and slides to the floor. Covering his face with his hands, he hears a familiar voice.
"Johnny boy, what have you been up to? Your breathing hard and – what is that on your face?" Nny whips a hand over his mouth and it comes back stained with lipstick. He whips it off with the back of his hand and stands. Meat continues.
"A girl? No, not Mr. "Feeling is wrong". You? Are you finally seeing the light?"
Nny strips off his coat and spins towards Meat. "No light can penetrate where I am. But…something…happened."
He walks towards Meat, and sits on an old, broken down couch next to him. He lies down and puts the crook of his elbow over his eyes.
Meat chuckles evilly. "Oh something happened alright. Last time I saw you that out of breath Devi was over. C'mon Nny, admit it, it felt GOOD."
Johnny sighs angrily. "Good? Are you kidding it felt…" he trails off. "It felt great. But that doesn't make me want to jump out and start a family or anything. One little incident. That's all."
"What happened?"
"Well," he starts, and sits up. "I kinda saved her life. So, THAT being her only means of gratitude, she decided to thank me. Then I left: end of story." He stands and walks towards a deep-descending stairwell. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Bye the way," says Meat. "Love the hair."
Nny spits in Meat's direction and continues downward.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Nny, realizing that he is still holding his jacket, hangs it on the head of a corpse, which is impaled on a coat hook. "Hold this, will you?" He says, and continues down.
He reaches a sort of storage room, the only room void of blood and other vital fluids. In the room there was a book, where he kept snap shots of all the people who have wronged him, and were still alive. Just in case he ever ran out of current victims. He knew that jock looked familiar…
After looting through some broken and spare torture devices, he found it. It was a large photo album, with the words: 'Book of the Damned' carved into the cover. Johnny grabs it and hauls it back upstairs.
He walks into the living room, his grip straining under the massive weight of the book. He finally cannot hold it anymore, and drops it on the floor. Dust swirls out and away from where it hit. Nny sits on the floor next to it and spins it to face him. He lifts the front cover, and as he does, the wind begins to howl and eerie moans fill the room. He slams the cover closed, and it stops. He opens it again, and it starts. Closes it, it stops. He shakes his head and looks at Meat. "Does it have to do that?" Meat shrugs; the giant burger going up and down as he does.
Nny finally opens the book and the sounds elevate to a louder pitch. "Quit it!" He yells, and they do. He begins to leaf through the pages.
After a long time, Johnny has gotten only halfway through the book. He has only managed to get himself angrier by looking at all the un-avenged evil. He almost gives up – before spotting the jock.
The picture is of a car full of jocks, laughing and pointing at Nny as he walks down the street. 'I remember that night,' he thinks, balling his left hand into a fist. 'Those bastards!'
He had been walking down the street, minding his own business, when a paper bag of garbage hit him on the side of the head. The jocks, who presumably threw the trash, went out of their way to pull the car over and laughed. Johnny had snapped the picture just as the car was about to drive off.
"So the jock has crossed me before," said Johnny aloud, "Well he won't get off so easy this time."
"WHO won't get off so easy, Johnny?" inquired Meat. Nny shuddered at the sound of the hated voice. "No one… shut up." Johnny slams the book closed and shoves it under the couch. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up and you'll have a date with a golf club you ceramic imp."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After sleeping the entire day, Nny awakes the next night at sunset. He rolls out of bed onto the floor, to tired to stand. "Need… more… sleep…" But he soon remembers the jock.
He shoots up, immediately awake.
He glances at an old clock hanging on the wall, a crack down its face. The time reads eight thirty. "Revenge time," says Nny as a psychotic grin spreads across his face. He stands up and walks down stairs, where he grabs his coat off the corpse's head. After stocking it with all manner of weaponry, he turns to leave. But before he does, he spots something in the closet, hanging on a hook. After a moment's consideration, he slips it on under his shirt.
Nny heads for the door as he slips a large knife into the breast pocket of his jacket. "Out again Nny?" asks Meat. Nny doesn't even respond as he leaves.
After a brief walk, he reaches the same salon. He hopes, and is fairly confident, that the Jock will show up again to finish the job, probably with some of his buddies. Nny smiles. Hopefully the same ones as in the car, that'll be hitting several birds with one, homicidal, stone.
He slips into the shadows of the alley and waits.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
About an hour later, a car drives up in front of the salon. Johnny, from where he is lurking, has a good view of the car and salon. Its not the same car, but the same jock climbs out. He is followed by several of his buddies, most of which look familiar. Nny grins and crosses the street. Oh lucky day.
"I WANT ALL THE MONEY NOW! HURRY UP, FREAK!" yells the jock, holding a new gun. Only one other jock has a gun, the others have switchblades. The girl behind the counter is not the same one as last night; she has long, black hair and a long sleeve shirt on. She opens the register with one hand and keeps the other in the air. To Nny's disappointment, the place is packed with customers. He didn't want to kill innocent civilians… for now.
Nny slips into the salon almost silently. What gives him away is the small bell as the door closes. "Huh?" says a jock as he turns around. He barely gets a look at the intruder before Nny punches him.
"Hey, It's that guy! And he's back for MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRREEEE!!!!" cries the jock from last night. The others look at him, confused at the outburst. He motions towards Nny. "GET HIM!"
They rush at Nny, brandishing their knives. "Switchblades?" asks Nny humorously. "Oh, come on!"
He crosses his arms, and when they uncross, they are holding long blades. He spins the one in his right hand around expertly like a baton. "You wanna dance? Let's dance."
There were three of them with knives. Nny could tell they were armatures by they way they held their blades: in their right hands, in-between each other. That ment that they couldn't swipe without cutting their companion. Nny, being ambidextrous, never had that problem. He ducked as the fight began.
Two of them swiped, narrowly missing each other's arms as Nny ducked under them. He gashed both of their stomachs while he was down there, only cutting one while completely disemboweling the other. One dropped to his knees, while the other, less hurt one, kept his footing. Nny sprang up, jumping over a low kick, then cut off the assailant's ear. He screamed as blood issued from his head. Johnny positioned the knife just under his rib cage, then stabbed. His knife pierced the jock's heart, killing his almost instantly. The last remaining knife fighter took a step back. "SHIT! He went 'Reservoir Dogs' on his ass!"
"Yeah," said Nny, approaching him. "To bad there's no gasoline around here."
Nny raised his arm to swoop, but didn't get the chance. The other with the gun shot, hitting Nny square in the chest. Johnny collapsed over the counter, making the register girl scream.
The shooter leaned over Nny, to verify if he was indeed dead. He laughed. "Not so tough now, eh?"
Nny's hand shot up, grabbing the jock's neck in a vice-like grip. Black rage billowed from his eyes, while his other hand lifted his shirt, revealing a bulletproof vest. "Kevlar, Bitch."
He let go of his shirt and socked the jock hard.
The jock reeled back from the blow, and spit out two of his teeth. He hastily brought up the gun to shoot again, but Nny was too fast. With a scissor kick, Nny freed the gun from his grasp, sending it flying across the salon. He spun on his toe and slashed the guy across the face, mangling one of his eyes. He screamed, but was cut off by Nny slitting his throat. He fell to the ground and bled to death.
And then there were two – the wimp with the knife and the jock from last night. Johnny went for the one with the knife, saving the other for last. He screamed, giving Johnny an open target. Nny grabbed his knife by its blade, reeled back, then tossed it into the jock's mouth from across the room. With deadly accuracy, the knife penetrated the back of his throat, severing his brain stem. He slid to the floor along the wall, seizuring. Nny jut his elbow back in victory. "Perfect aim!"
He turned towards the original jock, the one who for the second time had tried to rob the salon. He spun his knife at his side, raising the side of his mouth in a smirk.
The jock was terrified. To him Nny looked like some kind of red-haired angel of death. With his long coat, upturned collar and red points of hair. The way he fought expertly with knives, spinning and maneuvering like some demonic dancer in a dark ballet. The way he seemed to slink along the floor towards him, coat flowing behind ominously. His eyes seemed to glow with rage as he spun his knife unconsciously with lethal precision. "Your turn."
The jock screamed.
Nny noticed that the jock had not fired at him, despite the fact he had a gun. He must have brought it in as a bluff. He threw it at Nny, who simply batted it away. He looked at it on the ground, then at the jock. "The guns empty, isn't it?"
The jock made no move or sound. Johnny was becoming angry.
"You came in here, yelling and forcing innocent people to do your will, without even being able to pack deadly force?" An edge came to Nny's voice. "You sicken me. And it takes A LOT to sicken ME." He stepped towards him and gripped him by the throat, raising his blade high into the air, ready to strike.
He was just about to, when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the jocks head. He DID look like an avenging angel, draped in black, knife raised to bring swift justice to the wicked. But past his own reflection he saw the costumers and employees that had huddled in the corner, scared shitless. They were splashed with blood, and shaking. For once, Johnny did not feel the urge to kill needlessly in front of innocents.
He flipped the blade in his hand, and struck the jock on the head with the hilt. He fell unconscious and Nny flipped him over his shoulder. "I'll finish this later," he said to the people huddled in the corner, and left.
Nny walked into the alley and tossed the guy into a dumpster, making a loud noise. He took off his jacket and his shirt, and took off the Kevlar vest, it was getting hot. He threw the vest to the side and picked up his shirt again. The jock was coming to, and groaned as he raised his head to look over the side of the dumpster.
"You again?" asked Nny as he pulled his shirt over his head. He knocked the lid of the dumpster closed, hitting the jock on the head, knocking him unconscious again. "Stay there."
He pulled on his jacket and began to loot through the trash bags that littered the alley. He finally found a heavy duty one, and dumped its contents on the ground. He dragged the empty bag back to the dumpster and, with some effort, hoisted the unconscious jock into it. He heaved the bag over his shoulder and started home.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Johnny walked down the sidewalk, passing under flickering streetlights. The bag over his shoulder was becoming heavy, and he thought he might have to take a break soon. The guy in the bag had yet to make a noise, possibly suffocated to death by the plastic bag. That would be a disappointment, thought Nny; he would've gotten off easy. But, unfortunately for him, the jock regained consciousness. "Uh… where… HEY! What the-?!?"
Johnny kicked the bag. "Quiet back there! You've caused enough trouble. I'm taking you home for… punishment." He said, grinning wickedly. The bag began to shift.
"No way man! I… wait… I know you! That voice… you're the freak who got hit with the trash! I thought you looked familiar in the salon! Your stupid hair messed me up! Let me GO!"
Nny kicked the bag once again. "I said SHUT UP!"
"FUCK YOU! HEEEEELP! HEEEELP!"
Johnny grunted angrily as he swung the bag off his shoulder, and slammed it into a nearby tree. "QUIT WHINING! You'll only make it worse. For your own good, BE QUIE-"
"YOU!" said a voice in the distance. Nny dropped the bag and looked towards the sound, to the discomfort of the jock. The sound came from an apartment complex across the street, where a girl was leaning over the balcony, yelling to him. After further inspection, Nny realized that it was the register girl from last night. He was surprised and confused. "Um… Hi." He turned towards the bag, from where painful noises were being issued. "Stay there."
He crossed the empty street, and went up the stairs of the complex to meet the girl. Once he was up on the balcony, didn't really know what to do. She looked at him with her mouth open, as if him standing there wasn't possible. He scratched the back of his neck. "So… how are things?"
"It's really you…" she said, ignoring his comment. "You saved my life!" Johnny didn't know what to say.
"Well… uh… you know… someone had to do it. Good thing you weren't there tonight, he came back with a few of his friends…"
She looked at him for a second. "Come inside." So he did.
Inside, the place was full of boxes, like she just moved in. "You new to the neighborhood?" he asked. She shook her head. "No, my sister's moving in with me," she laughed. "She thinks someone's stalking her. So… you say that creep came back?"
Nny nodded. "Yeah, with some of his ignoramus buddies. I took care of them though, they won't bother the salon again."
She sighed. Nny was becoming nervous. "Well, uh, I'd better get going." He headed for the door, but she grabbed his arm. "You know, I don't even know your name. What is it?"
He paused for a moment. "Johnny. My name's Johnny. And yours?"
She smiled. "Demo. I still can't thank you enough for what you did last night," Yeah, well you wouldn't be so nice if you heard what I did THIS night, he thought. She approached and he took a step back. As he did, the cover over what seemed to be a painting caught under his foot and slid off. Johnny was too preoccupied to notice.
"I know how to thank you," she began, stepping towards him. Johnny stepped towards the door, and faced her, his back to it. "You know, thanks for everything but I really think I should be-" That's when he noticed the painting. He stopped, transfixed by it. "I know that painting. I've seen it before. Tell me, did you-"
That's when the door swung open behind him. He stepped back from the intruder. "DEMO?!?!" cried the trespasser, as she dropped her suitcases on the floor with a thump. "WHAT THE HELL?!??"
The trespasser wore a black trench coat, much like Johnny's, and gloves, which she put on her hips. Johnny immediately recognized the intruder as Devi.
"DEVI?" he asked, utterly confused. "Johnny? I should have known!" she turned to her sister, who after seeing them together, Nny realizes is her twin. "DEMO? How could you let this maniac into our house? I mean, GOD! Just put up a friggin' sign saying: 'All scum welcome here'!"
Demo crossed her arms. "Would you calm down? This is-"
"I know who he is," said Devi, narrowing her eyes. Johnny followed suit. "Well nice to see you too, Devi. How are things?"
She approached him angrily. "Johnny, what are you doing here? Why can't you just leave me alone!"
"Hey, I didn't know you lived here, she called me up from the street. Give a guy a break."
Devi's eyes went wide with anger. "A BREAK!?!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You tried to KILL me!"
Nny rolled his eyes. "Only once!"
"HEY!" cried Demo, holding her hands up in the air. "What is going on?! You two know each other?"
"Yeah, we know each other," said Nny bitterly, narrowing his eyes. "Unfortunately."
"It wouldn't BE so unfortunate if you hadn't TRIED TO KILL ME!!"
"Oh, quite living in the past!"
"So wait," said Demo. "Devi, you mean this guy is the one who's stalking you?"
"Yeah! I've only told you like, a thousand times about it. And somehow, you still manage to just let him mosey on in." she said, making a large gesture with her hand.
"Well ex-CUSE me! This guy just happens to be my hero!"
Devi cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?" Johnny crossed his arms defiantly as Demo explained.
"Last night in the salon, Johnny here disarmed a robber who was trying to hold up the place. He just dismantled the guy's gun and he ran off! He saved my life! In fact he said he saved the salon AGAIN TONIGHT! From the same robber and his cronies!"
Nny nodded his head and grinned. "You see, Devi, I'm not the monster you've made me out to be."
Devi grabbed her hair. "YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!!!!"
Nny sighed. "Fine. I see I'm not welcome here, so I'll leave." he spotted a tribal bow hanging on the wall. "Nice bow."
"GET OUT!"
He huffed in frustration and opened the door to leave. Before he was out though, he spotted the jock escaping from the bag. He got to his feet just as Johnny yelled. "HEY! YOU GET BACK HERE!"
The jock screamed and began to run away. Johnny turned towards the bow on the wall. "Gimmie that!" he snatched it off the wall and ran out onto the balcony. Loading it with one of his knives, he brought the string back, aimed, and fired. It hit the jock at the small of his back, paralyzing him from the waist down. Blood issued into a pool on the sidewalk as the jock dragged himself down the street with his hands.
Johnny lifted one foot in the air and jut his elbow back in victory. "Sweet!" he gripped the balcony railing and flung himself onto the ground, running at the fallen jock. He dropped the bow in the middle of the street as he chased, his coat flowing behind him.
Devi and Demo had been standing in the doorway. Demo was covering her mouth in horror. Devi crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her sister. "See?"
Demo screamed.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After going unconscious from blood loss, the jock woke up in some sort of dungeon. His arms were shackled and so were his legs, though he couldn't feel them. The walls and ceiling were stained with blood – some old, some new. There was a rack of knives in the corner. Various chains hung from the ceiling. He tried to pull his arms free but couldn't. He began to scream.
"You'll only strain your voice," said Johnny as he seemingly leapt out of nowhere, in front of the jock. His jacket had been removed, and his 'Z?' shirt was visible. He crouched and tilted his head to the side. "We're close to a hundred feet down, there's no one to help you."
The jock stopped and bit his lip in terror. He watched as Johnny stood up strait, clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. "I have not yet killed you because I feel a little education is in order. Now, I usually don't do this, but I feel yours is a special case." He left one of his hands behind his back and brought the other in front of his face, picking at the fingertips of his gloves. "Someone who not only picks on the less fortunate or different, but also feels the need to ROB them REPEATEDLY is someone with large problems," he closed the hand in front of his face to a fist and turned to look over his shoulder at the jock. "Don't you agree?"
The jock opened his mouth for a second, but nothing came out. Finally he said: "…Yes."
Johnny smiled. "Good." He turned and grabbed one of the chains suspended from the ceiling. "First lesson," He began to climb up it, his slender frame easy to haul up. He slipped his foot into a loop at the end and held its length with one hand. He leaned out to the side, placing a hand on his hip. He glared down at the jock from several feet above the floor. "It is true that the different are inferior to the alike?"
The jock hesitated for a moment. "Yes."
Johnny narrowed his eyes at the jock, and leapt to a different chain. The chain, being freed of his weight, contracted up into the ceiling. This caused a rather large spike to protrude out of the ground, next to the jock. He screamed.
"I'm sorry, that was the wrong answer. Try again." He coiled his arms and leg around the chain, and crossed his other leg over it. He peered at the jock.
"N-no… they aren't." he stuttered. Nny lowered himself on the chain, glaring at the jock. "And do the so-called 'alike' get special privileges?"
"…No."
"WONG!" he leapt off the chain and another spike obtruded from the floor between the jock's lifeless legs. Nny coiled the new chain around his leg and held it behind his back, leaning towards the jock. "They DO get special privileges because the system is unfair. If it weren't for people like YOU, everyone would be treated equal!"
He glared at the jock. "Your not very good at this, are you?"
He said nothing.
"OK, let's try a simpler one. Is it wrong to rob people?"
The jock said nothing, afraid of a trick. "Come one, say it."
"Y-yes…"
A sly grin creeps across Nny's face. "Very good, now we're getting somewhere." He quickly moved, making the jock jump, when really he was just shifting his weight on the chain to his other leg. He put both his feet into the loop at the end and crouched down on them. He held the chain next to his face. "And why did you choose to rob that particular business?"
The jock did not reply. It was a hard question to answer when your captive made all the rules. One wrong move and he might not miss the next impalement.
"Oh, a loaded question, I know, but you should be just fine," Johnny narrowed his eyes. "If your honest."
The jock searched for an answer, but made no sound. Nny was becoming impatient. "Your lack of consent bores me," he reached for the next chain and let go with his feet. He swung, holding on to the two chains with his feet dangling. He swung them like a kid on some deranged playground. "The, excuse the pun, STAKES, will only get higher the longer you stall," He swung his feet in time with his words. "Tick, tock, tick, tock…"
The jock was near panic. He finally burst out in reply. "Because it was a bad part of town where all the freaks hang out! I didn't think anyone would care if some freak hair place was held up! OH, GOD, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"
The jock began to weep, hanging his head to hide his tears because his hands were shackled. Johnny said nothing for a long time.
"Very good. And did that turn out to be true?"
The jock looked up at him. "No. You care."
Johnny smirked. "But I'm just one of the freaks, right?"
The jock said nothing. Johnny's gaze darkened. "RIGHT?"
The jock hung his head. "Yes…"
"So I don't really count, do I?"
The jock began to cry again. "…No." Johnny swung on the chains.
He finally jumped off them, causing two new spikes to shoot out of the floor. One of them went right through the jock's foot, causing him to scream even though he couldn't feel it. Blood began to spread slowly across the floor.
Johnny leapt up on a particularly long chain that hung down directly in front of the jock. After a moment of gaining momentum, he swung to the knife rack and plucked one from it. He turned, facing the opposite wall, and coiled he feet around the chain. He then flipped back so that he hung in front of the jock, face-to-face, upside-down. He positioned the knife under the jocks chin, lifting his face to meet his gaze. He smiled darkly. "Last question," the jock whimpered. "What do you think of me?"
The jock stopped for a second, caught totally off guard by the question. Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Be honest…"
The jock tried to turn away, but Nny turned his face back with the knife. Where the knife had applied pressure started to bleed. Nny lifted the Jock's chin higher, to look into his eyes. "Answer!"
The jock began to whimper again. Nny slashed him across the opposite check, causing both sides of his face to bleed. He returned the knife to its original position. The jock cried out in pain. "ANSWER ME, GODDAMMIT!"
The jock somehow gathered up what little dignity he had left, and answered honestly. He looked Johnny in the eyes, with a tired, half-lidded gaze. "I think you're a freak who finds joy in the pain of others."
Instead of becoming angry, like the jock thought, Nny's grin widened. He slid the knife out from under the jock's chin, just barely nicking the skin at the edge. "Then we are alike, you and I."
The jock's eyes widened in realization.
Johnny lifted a hand above his head and pushed off the floor, causing the chain to contract up into the ceiling. He was brought up with it, chuckling darkly. After he was out, there was a loud sound from across the room. Spikes had protruded out, completely covering the surface of the wall. The jock screamed as the wall rushed forwards, killing him by impalement.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Afterwards Johnny sat down with his die-ary, to reflect on recent events. He gnawed the end of his pencil for a minute, thinking what to write. After a moment of consideration, he had it, and began:
' Dear Die-ary,
The last few days have been real eye-openers. Not only have
I gotten a new hair color, but I saved the day twice. I realized
that my killing can be used for good instead of evil – kind of
like that movie "Boondock Saints", except without the whole
religion thing. I've also realized, thanks to my former interest
Devi that some people aren't very forgiving, no matter how
much you apologize, and that a lot of people dwell on the past.
And surprisingly, I learned that even the most air-headed,
ignorant jock can become a fairly good pupil when under the
right pressure.'
J.C.