Mad Harry Warden

Harry Warden had awoken from his hospital bed hours ago after being in a coma from being deprived of adequate oxygen and exposed to harmful amounts of methane after someone in the local mine forgot to bleed the methane lines which caused him to be exposed to harmful amounts of the gas. He was trapped in a remote part of the mine while his oxygen tank ran out and while the rest of the mining crew was evacuated. Only hours later after he had passed out from lack of proper oxygen and exposure to the methane gas did he get rescued. Dazed and confused, he had woken out of his hospital bed in a maddened state of rage and confusion, a bloodthirsty one at that. Thoughts had raced through his head, "Damned kid, its all his fault, he forgot to bleed the methane lines, they all left me to die down there!" He proceeded to brutally murder the nurse and 22 other people in the hospital. He had put on his mining suit, mask, and pickax and headed out of the hospital, firmly grasping his bloody pickax in his hands. He headed out the door and made for the nearby tavern, where many of the miners chilled in their after hours time. The police would be along soon. But they had to pay, they had to pay for leaving him down there...

He hurried to the tavern. At this point his blood began to boil even more, thinking of their betrayal, leaving him in the dark cold mine. His mask made his increasingly rapid breaths sound ragged and sinister. He kicked the door down, stormed in, and immediately slammed his pickax into the heads of the two bouncers standing in the doorway, and down they went, their heads gushing with blood, with holes in the middle of their foreheads. To his right he spotted them behind the bar, sipping their beers. They heard the commotion and looked up with fear seeing Harry walking towards them. Some people had seen Harry kill the bouncers and screamed and ran out into the night. Only the bartender and the miners at the bar were left to face Harry. He hurried towards them, brought the pickax behind him, and flung it as hard as he could like a boomerang at the one nearest to him. The pickax caught him in the middle of his terrified face, knocking him to the ground and mutilating his head. Harry hurried over to him, placed his mining boot onto the man's chest, grasped the pickax handle embedded in the miner's head in both hands, and ripped the tool out of his head, tearing his skull apart. He did his work with precision, with malice. In one fluid motion he raised the pickax again and buried it in the chest of the next miner. By now the rest of the miners and the bartender headed for the back door, which they found to be locked with a rusty padlock on the latch, unable to open it. Harry stood between them and the front entrance, their only escape.

He ripped the pickax out again in similar fashion and headed for the others. Two of the miners lunged at Harry, trying to fight back. He swiftly jabbed them with the flat side of the pickax in the gut, knocking each of them to the ground. He planted the pickax in one of the miner's stomachs ripped up large amounts of internal tissue with it. The other miner fought back even harder. He kicked Harry's shin hard, making Harry stumble for a second. He rolled out of the way, crawling under some nearby booths, huddling. Harry made after him, but as he did the bartender took his turn to lunge at the crazed madman. He knocked Harry onto the ground, trying to wrestle the pickax from his grasp. The miner under the booth charged out from underneath it, trying to help subdue the murderer. By this time Harry had wrenched the pickax out of the husky bartender's hands and jabbed him with it, knocking him down and stunning him. Harry noticed the miner who had hid under the booth charging at him and whirled around and swung the pickax at his head with all his might, sinking the tool into his skull, impaling it all the way through, causing the man to stumble and shake while his brains gushed out of his skull. Harry was not finished. He wrenched the pickax out and swung and nailed the miner in the neck this time, the blade catching under the base of the skull. Harry felt the blade catch and yanked it as hard as he could, ripping the man's head clean off his shoulders, all in one swift motion before the man hit the floor.

The poor bartender, coming out of his momentary daze, watched as the last victim's head rolled past him under the nearby booth. He could hardly recognize it, because it had been mutilated so. He ran behind the bar to the supply closet that was a few feet back behind the serving area. Harry followed him, walking with ease but haste, with violent and evil confidence, breathing heavier under his oxygen miner mask as the final part of the task approached. The bartender fumbled desperately with the door lock, trying to get it open. Finally tearing it open, he looked around the supply room desperate to find something to stop this crazed killer. He could hear Harry's ragged breaths and his heavy mining boots behind the bar, coming for him. Rummaging through the different various items on the shelf he saw a small rusty metal box. He opened the latch and threw open the lid. Inside he saw a good sized revolver pistol. He pulled it out, checked the cylinder to see if it had ammo. It did, and had a pouch of ammo laying next to it. He whirled around, Harry was getting closer. He raised the pistol and emptied the entire cylinder into Warden. Each round seemed to explode in his mind with the fear and hate that he felt within him. The bullets launched out of the revolver and soared into Harry's body, each one hitting a more vital area. Each bullet slammed into him, causing him to slowly go down, and making him stumble and fall. When the last shot was fired. Harry's left knee sank to the floor, but he continued to limp on his knees towards the bartender, before collapsing on his stomach, flailing the pickax wildly and helplessly on the floor for a few moments before bleeding out. Several of his main arteries, which had been opened up by the assault of lead into his body, were gushing dark red blood onto the surrounding floor. His quickened breath became more raspy and strained, and then they got quieter, weaker. He pounded the pickax around desperately, with his last few ounces of strength, trying to dispense justice, until there was nothing left. The pickax fell to the floor with a thud, and Harry's head thudded to the ground as well, his whole body motionless, his killing spree over, or so they thought...