© Fandango
It felt so good to get the crap off of his body, even the nausea-inducing odor with which he was always saturated after each job.
This was number eleven. Only one more to go. Each of these increased the chance of him leaving some clue, though so far, the police were chasing nothing more than their tails.
Looking down, the last of the blood was swirling around the drain, about to be consigned to the sewers.
He turned off the shower and grabbed the towel hanging outside. Drying himself off, he thought of the oath he swore over his family’s graves.
A year ago, the infamous “Gang of Twelve” raided his father’s house, tortured and raped his mother, his sisters, and his daughter, beat and tortured the boys and men, then finally murdered them, all because of rumors that the patriarch had a horde of gold bullion.
They never found gold, but the ex-intelligence agent, who had been traveling that weekend, vowed to end each gang member in the most brutal manner possible. Only one more death until he achieved his goal. But even if the souls of the dead would rest easier, his own spirit would be haunted forever.
I wrote this for the 12 August 2018 edition of Sunday Photo Fiction. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a piece of flash fiction no more than 200 words long. My word count is 200.
Interestingly enough, I’d just taken a shower before sitting down and writing this story, so the feeling of getting clean was very fresh for me, if you’ll pardon the unintentional pun. For some reason, the smell of blood (like from a bloody nose) popped into my head. The rest of my tale just fell into place.
To read other stories based in the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.
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Justice… for the dead
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Reminds me of the 2005 movie “Batman Begins.” Where’s the line between justice and vengeance?
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I understand. There is a line between “legal” justice and “street” justice.
Cruel and unusual punishment is one such instance where I wouldn’t be “okay” with an outcome.
One such Star Trek (TNG) episode had a supreme being wipe out an entire race of people all because they killed his human wife… that would be taking things too far, in my opinion.
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I remember that one, and he was totally consumed with guilt and grief afterward.
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He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
~ Nietzsche
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One of my favorite quotes, Kenneth.
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I’m reading the book Origin, by Dan Brown, and the quote is mentioned.
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Excellent James.
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Thank you.
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Yes. Even a handshake with someone you despise can make you feel dirty. This was murder.
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Indeed.
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Great story James.
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Thanks, Susan.
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ugh – chilling and felt so human too – that he would be haunted and not okay with what he felt called to do
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He’s killed before but that was duty. This is personal.
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Ooooo
Sometimes your character’s have to do what they have to do!
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In this case, yes.
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If he’s killed 11 members of a known gang who murdered his family and the cops aren’t on to him yet, then I think he’s going to get away with number 12 too. Perhaps the cops are happy for him to clean up the gang for them…
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Probably, although he’s still a murderer and the cops are obligated to try to catch him. However, as an ex-member of a black ops team, that won’t be easy. The gang picked the wrong family to execute.
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He’s clearly very efficient, number 12 should be no problem…unless…
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I agree, no problem. The only problem is how to live with everything that’s happened.
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I would be interested in knowing how he had avoided leaving any trace evidence. (I’ve seen one too many episodes of Forensic Files. *g*)
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Tough to do in a piece of flash fiction, but I figure as an ex-black ops agent, he’s had plenty of experience in leaving no residual presence.
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