After choking down her sobs, she finally regained her composure, the same as Damien had.
"You really are a heartless bastard... how things change, huh, Dame?"
She grabbed her baseball bat and slowly stood herself back up, ready for what was to come ahead.
"So I guess this is where we find out which one of us gets to carry all of this. You want closure in death... I want to be given meaning."
She had her slugger at the ready, just waiting for this thing to start.
"If my meaning is to die here, then so be it... Damien Carter-Madison... let's make this the greatest moment of our lives."
She then rushed towards him, bat at the ready, and took a swing.
"Face me!"
Beauty and The Beast
A tale that's nigh a few weeks old.
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Damien probably thought the end would begin this way. He was certainly expecting Kristey to come at him at full power like this, just not after some final verbal standoff where (he believed) that she feigned her weakness. It was also relieving to him that at least he could see her coming right at him instead of ambushing him from out of the fog, so at least he could try figuring out where to defend himself.
He could feel the rage boiling inside him. He imagined his already-hysterical mother reeling from his revelation on national television, and how news networks would sensationalize his declarations if and when this game ended, and how nobody would really care for him even if he got his closure, and that gave him more fuel for the fire.
But it was after she took her first step that Damien realized once again that he didn't feel prepared enough to take on the person at the top of his hit list this early on in the game. He found himself trembling behind his shield, which was held in front of his face and supported by the arm attached to his barbed wire hand, ready to be shifted to any other part of the body if need be. He found himself lacking a solid attack strategy, even an on-the-go attack strategy as he did with Elias. The only thing he could do was search for weak spots, and that was hard because Kristey was still as...distracting as ever.
He put all his power, tension, rage...all his hope into that shield, hoping it would hold up enough for him to find out how to take Kristey down. Even injuring her enough to drive her away (like in video games?) would satisfy him enough.
He could feel the rage boiling inside him. He imagined his already-hysterical mother reeling from his revelation on national television, and how news networks would sensationalize his declarations if and when this game ended, and how nobody would really care for him even if he got his closure, and that gave him more fuel for the fire.
But it was after she took her first step that Damien realized once again that he didn't feel prepared enough to take on the person at the top of his hit list this early on in the game. He found himself trembling behind his shield, which was held in front of his face and supported by the arm attached to his barbed wire hand, ready to be shifted to any other part of the body if need be. He found himself lacking a solid attack strategy, even an on-the-go attack strategy as he did with Elias. The only thing he could do was search for weak spots, and that was hard because Kristey was still as...distracting as ever.
He put all his power, tension, rage...all his hope into that shield, hoping it would hold up enough for him to find out how to take Kristey down. Even injuring her enough to drive her away (like in video games?) would satisfy him enough.
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"You claim to want closure, Damien. You treat my feelings like they're an act, and begin a challenge, and now all you do is act like a turtle behind a shell?! FIGHT ME!
She continued swinging the bat in numerous directions, which were still pretty well aimed at Damien. Swing for swing, it showed the madness, and pain that she had just poured to Damien, but he was clearly just another one of them.
"You're no better than Renee, or her motherfucking group. You know NOTHING of my real inhibitions, and when I tell them to you, you discard them."
Swing, and swing.
"Now, since you have the cold hearted bastardized heart to do that, then you can certainly fight me, you fucking coward!"
Swing, and swing.
She continued swinging the bat in numerous directions, which were still pretty well aimed at Damien. Swing for swing, it showed the madness, and pain that she had just poured to Damien, but he was clearly just another one of them.
"You're no better than Renee, or her motherfucking group. You know NOTHING of my real inhibitions, and when I tell them to you, you discard them."
Swing, and swing.
"Now, since you have the cold hearted bastardized heart to do that, then you can certainly fight me, you fucking coward!"
Swing, and swing.
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Damien didn't reply as the Louisville Slugger rained its cold, aluminum punishment upon wherever he chose to block. The baseball bat wasn't exactly a fast weapon so he could see where she was aiming at...at least initially. He could feel the pain and strain searing through his limbs as his attempts to hold his ground slowly started to fail on him. Eventually he had started to swagger from side to side, finding it harder to maintain his balance.
Kristey was swinging wildly, leaving many attack points open but unfortunately not for too long. He had find some weak spot on her - even if to stop her from attacking as much. But this was becoming ever harder to do if each blow left him increasingly disoriented...and that wasn't counting the effects on his not-quite-healed body. Unless he could find some sort of weak spot soon, he was no more than just a punching bag.
Punching bag...not a-
The brief thought distraction caused one particular impact to hit so hard that Damien felt that his soul (or whatever was left thereof) literally flying faster than his body as he fell against the tree. He found himself rotating a bit as the tree "deflected" his light figure before landing with a very light whump on the dirt ground. His grip on his weapons was starting to loosen as he tried to regain his bearings...
Kristey was swinging wildly, leaving many attack points open but unfortunately not for too long. He had find some weak spot on her - even if to stop her from attacking as much. But this was becoming ever harder to do if each blow left him increasingly disoriented...and that wasn't counting the effects on his not-quite-healed body. Unless he could find some sort of weak spot soon, he was no more than just a punching bag.
Punching bag...not a-
The brief thought distraction caused one particular impact to hit so hard that Damien felt that his soul (or whatever was left thereof) literally flying faster than his body as he fell against the tree. He found himself rotating a bit as the tree "deflected" his light figure before landing with a very light whump on the dirt ground. His grip on his weapons was starting to loosen as he tried to regain his bearings...
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"Is this all you've got for me, Damien?!"
She quickly grabbed Damien by the shirt collar, and with one hand brought him up and then threw him to her right.
"You think that you know pain? Look at you, you're no better than the motherfuckers you want get back at. THe victim becomes the attacker. You can call it closure all you fucking want, but all you're doing is having a pathetic excuse to make up for the fact that you're a psychopath, in reality."
She started panting, catching her breath. All that swinging really took a lot out of her.
"We both suffer. Both of our lives suck. My life sucks because I was born into it, and no matter how hard I tried, it still sucked. You were too god damn weak, and pathetic to stand up for yourself. You let Renee and her group of jack-off lap dogs get to you, and only when you have the upper hand to them do you do anything."
She continued swinging, and swinging. Each one getting more intense then the one before it.
"And then you have the nerve to think that I am faking my moment of sincerity just now! What the fuck did you ever know about me? I tried to be nice to you, and you were afraid of me. I tried defending you, and you ran away. You never took a chance to even try and speak to me, so you know NOTHING about me."
Swing, swing, swing.
She quickly grabbed Damien by the shirt collar, and with one hand brought him up and then threw him to her right.
"You think that you know pain? Look at you, you're no better than the motherfuckers you want get back at. THe victim becomes the attacker. You can call it closure all you fucking want, but all you're doing is having a pathetic excuse to make up for the fact that you're a psychopath, in reality."
She started panting, catching her breath. All that swinging really took a lot out of her.
"We both suffer. Both of our lives suck. My life sucks because I was born into it, and no matter how hard I tried, it still sucked. You were too god damn weak, and pathetic to stand up for yourself. You let Renee and her group of jack-off lap dogs get to you, and only when you have the upper hand to them do you do anything."
She continued swinging, and swinging. Each one getting more intense then the one before it.
"And then you have the nerve to think that I am faking my moment of sincerity just now! What the fuck did you ever know about me? I tried to be nice to you, and you were afraid of me. I tried defending you, and you ran away. You never took a chance to even try and speak to me, so you know NOTHING about me."
Swing, swing, swing.
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Damien was a light boy, specifically in terms of weight. It was relatively easy for Kristey to pick him up in his rather dazed state, throw him to her side, and continue to preach at him. It was all stuff he'd heard before...perhaps immediately preceding if his mind could regain its fully-functioning state after taking all those blows. He skidded to a halt on the ground nearby, lying on his left side. The blades of the barbed wire had gone all the way through the bandages now and were now prancing on the top layers of the skin on his hands.
He could somehow make out the sound of Kristey panting at him...and it was better than the sound of her swinging. He forced rolling himself to face Kristey...though by the time he had gotten himself to do so she had started to preach yet again. She had already started swinging as soon as he got up from the prone position.
"You knew...I couldn't do anything...that bitch I was forced to call my mom would just exploit it and make me suffer more..."
Words that Damien spat out only to be quickly deflected by Kristey's bat, which was not only swinging wildly but also advancing in his direction, like some kind of monstrous machine about to deliver a gruesome fate upon its intended victim. He watched the source of the machine and its inner gears, though his vision was still shaky and time was running out. It wasn't as distracting now that it was moving too quickly for him to appreciate. That didn't take away from Kristey's body being his target though.
"I know nothing about you...then maybe I should try to get to know your inner self better." Damien muttered - to himself - with a smirk. As he watched he had curled forward into a position somewhat similar to an athlete about to take off to the starter's gun.
With that comment he fired that gun in his own mind, and with the shield held firmly (if not a bit loosely) in front of him with the barbed wire just behind, he lunged forward and into the tenderizing machine, powered by the hope and rather rudimentary intention that he could slash Kristey with the barbed wire if he was able to get close enough. He didn't notice his eyes were just barely open, the wind was blowing through his hair, or that he really only had one shot.
He just wanted that self-proclaimed bitch to shut her self-aggrandizing mouth, once and for all.
He could somehow make out the sound of Kristey panting at him...and it was better than the sound of her swinging. He forced rolling himself to face Kristey...though by the time he had gotten himself to do so she had started to preach yet again. She had already started swinging as soon as he got up from the prone position.
"You knew...I couldn't do anything...that bitch I was forced to call my mom would just exploit it and make me suffer more..."
Words that Damien spat out only to be quickly deflected by Kristey's bat, which was not only swinging wildly but also advancing in his direction, like some kind of monstrous machine about to deliver a gruesome fate upon its intended victim. He watched the source of the machine and its inner gears, though his vision was still shaky and time was running out. It wasn't as distracting now that it was moving too quickly for him to appreciate. That didn't take away from Kristey's body being his target though.
"I know nothing about you...then maybe I should try to get to know your inner self better." Damien muttered - to himself - with a smirk. As he watched he had curled forward into a position somewhat similar to an athlete about to take off to the starter's gun.
With that comment he fired that gun in his own mind, and with the shield held firmly (if not a bit loosely) in front of him with the barbed wire just behind, he lunged forward and into the tenderizing machine, powered by the hope and rather rudimentary intention that he could slash Kristey with the barbed wire if he was able to get close enough. He didn't notice his eyes were just barely open, the wind was blowing through his hair, or that he really only had one shot.
He just wanted that self-proclaimed bitch to shut her self-aggrandizing mouth, once and for all.
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He's ready. He's going to try to kill me... probably succeed.
Kristey held onto the baseball bat, but was no longer in the fighting position. She spread her arms wide, and then looked at Damien for a brief moment.
"This is what it comes down to, my game of chance. Strike me. Give me your best shot. If I die, then you go ahead, with the closure you've been looking for... if I live, you will die within seconds, by my hand."
This is it. She smiled at Damien for a moment, the first smile that didn't have any sense of darkness behind in it, no scheming, no nothing. A pure smile.
"Someone's misery must end."
Kristey held onto the baseball bat, but was no longer in the fighting position. She spread her arms wide, and then looked at Damien for a brief moment.
"This is what it comes down to, my game of chance. Strike me. Give me your best shot. If I die, then you go ahead, with the closure you've been looking for... if I live, you will die within seconds, by my hand."
This is it. She smiled at Damien for a moment, the first smile that didn't have any sense of darkness behind in it, no scheming, no nothing. A pure smile.
"Someone's misery must end."
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((Song of the Moment: Unkle - "Eye for an Eye"))
Damien didn't notice Kristey's arms opening wide to expose herself. Specifically, he didn't think she was deliberately exposing herself, rather that he found himself lucky that he'd managed to get into her weak spot...though he didn't expect it to be this wide. His barbed-wire hand was already gripping the barbed wire anxiously enough for it to just slice through the outermost layers of skin, though it was held close to his waist in a proper position as if to lash out.
He didn't have time to smile, or to adjust his shield to deliver extra damage by the blunt side. He was simply focused on Kristey's somehow-attractive neck. He also knew he was pouring so much of whatever strength he had rebuilt that he would need quite a bit of time to recover once it was all done.
As soon as he could judge that he was in striking distance, his barbed-wire hand launched out of its ready position in an arc that with all of his hope should include Kristey's jugular.
Damien didn't notice Kristey smiling. He would not have cared if she were, because to him it would have been that same, sadistic, condescending smile she always put on, because she loved to torment him.
Today...it ends...
Damien didn't notice Kristey's arms opening wide to expose herself. Specifically, he didn't think she was deliberately exposing herself, rather that he found himself lucky that he'd managed to get into her weak spot...though he didn't expect it to be this wide. His barbed-wire hand was already gripping the barbed wire anxiously enough for it to just slice through the outermost layers of skin, though it was held close to his waist in a proper position as if to lash out.
He didn't have time to smile, or to adjust his shield to deliver extra damage by the blunt side. He was simply focused on Kristey's somehow-attractive neck. He also knew he was pouring so much of whatever strength he had rebuilt that he would need quite a bit of time to recover once it was all done.
As soon as he could judge that he was in striking distance, his barbed-wire hand launched out of its ready position in an arc that with all of his hope should include Kristey's jugular.
Damien didn't notice Kristey smiling. He would not have cared if she were, because to him it would have been that same, sadistic, condescending smile she always put on, because she loved to torment him.
Today...it ends...
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The pain that Kristey felt didn't really seem as painful as showing her true colors, but were ignored by the monster that Damien has become. She wouldn't survive this, she knew that already. There was no possible way she could survive, just by the slashing and then blood loss alone.
Eventually he stopped slashing, and she felt to the floor... numerous cuts were made all around her body, including her wrists, and one clear at the throat.
She felt to the floor, taking her final breaths. And gave her final words.
"Damien... how I pity you. I show you the truest side of my being, and you ignore it... you've become the very thing you hated. You don't deserve closure any more than I do... and yet I'm the one who's... leaving..."
She started coughing up blood, and smiled once again. This time making it very clear that she was being sincere, and that it wasn't the same smile he's used to.
"You set me free, Damien, but you're stuck here... and I take pride in knowing that where I fail, my brother... my other half, will succeed. You can't beat him. He has something to fight for... we don't."
Her visions was starting to blur. All the colors that she could see were meshing into one, then they all slowly started to combine, but then they also began to disperse...
She saw something. She saw her mother, Andi, and herself all together. Together, smiling... an image of a family she wanted to have, but was denied from the start. Partly her fault, and partly life's fault.
"M...om...?"
All light faded. All noises silenced. All pain ended. All thoughts gone.
Kristey Burrowell's final moments.
Kristey Burrowell has been set free
FEMALE STUDENT NO. 46 - KRISTEY BURROWELL - DECEASED
Eventually he stopped slashing, and she felt to the floor... numerous cuts were made all around her body, including her wrists, and one clear at the throat.
She felt to the floor, taking her final breaths. And gave her final words.
"Damien... how I pity you. I show you the truest side of my being, and you ignore it... you've become the very thing you hated. You don't deserve closure any more than I do... and yet I'm the one who's... leaving..."
She started coughing up blood, and smiled once again. This time making it very clear that she was being sincere, and that it wasn't the same smile he's used to.
"You set me free, Damien, but you're stuck here... and I take pride in knowing that where I fail, my brother... my other half, will succeed. You can't beat him. He has something to fight for... we don't."
Her visions was starting to blur. All the colors that she could see were meshing into one, then they all slowly started to combine, but then they also began to disperse...
She saw something. She saw her mother, Andi, and herself all together. Together, smiling... an image of a family she wanted to have, but was denied from the start. Partly her fault, and partly life's fault.
"M...om...?"
All light faded. All noises silenced. All pain ended. All thoughts gone.
Kristey Burrowell's final moments.
Kristey Burrowell has been set free
FEMALE STUDENT NO. 46 - KRISTEY BURROWELL - DECEASED
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It was just too easy from there. The first slash didn't exactly nail her jugular, but it did release quite a bit of blood. Still, his attack had left her exposed, and the next few seconds were a flurry of maniacal if not slightly random slashes about her person.
By the time Damien caught up with himself, Kristey had fallen to the ground, bleeding out. And speaking of blood, the red stuff had appropriately created some really mean dye-stripes.
He listened to her babble her last before she fell silent. He smiled as he admired her bloodied and lifeless form, the fruit of his labor and years of cultivating a seed of justice that had been planted the day he entered the once-glorious institution that was P.J. Gilroy Academy, and took in every breath as he began to cool down from the rage that helped him slay her.
But the silence, it seemed, had a revelation that was deafening.
So deafening that Damien's smile dropped quickly. He leaned back against the tree where he had tried to take shelter from her. He put the shield and barbed wire to one side.
And then he started to cry.
Not because he'd become the monster she told him he was, because that was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he wished for. Not because her "brother" would be out for his blood, because Damien did not expect to get off the island alive, even after killing off everyone who tormented him. Not even because he'd gotten rid of the bitch at the top of his hit list, because despite the gratification there were still plenty more to go, or because she smiled at him like she really meant it, because he knew she didn't.
He cried like the child he was and buried his face in his blood-stained hands because he didn't know what he would have to live for, particularly in the time between eliminating all those on his list and his foreseeable death.
He didn't lose too much confidence that he could eliminate Peter, Franco, Reneé, Roland Kelly, and all the lackeys they hired, wiping the Valenti Syndicate out of existence. And he knew that by taking out those who oppressed him in the most painful ways possible, he'd send a message to himself, his mother, and all those oppressed kids to stand up for themselves.
But in the miraculous chance that he did win his mother's game and get off the island...even if he killed Kristey's "brother" and gained the closure and solace from ending the torment of the Valenti Syndicate...what would it come to if his mother had him locked away in a padded for life? His message would be dismissed as the ramblings of a lunatic, drowned in the cries of people like his mother calling for the banning of violent media and other technological fixes. In time, even he too would be forgotten or condemned to damnatio memoriae with a little help from the Syndicate's rich economic and political connections.
"God...what's going to happen to me..." he sobbed. All the pain from Kristey's blows to him also seemed to hurt harder...and harder...until he somehow felt that he broke.
Snap out of it, kid.
Damien looked up.
At once he was back in the same empty white expanse that he'd fallen into only once before. It wasn't really empty-empty though, Kristey's body was still there.
So was his friend.
Geez, only three down and you're already breaking down on me? Did you let that whore get to you?
"But...I..."
Look. Damien. Why are you so worried all of a sudden? Did that bitch tell you something you didn't like?
"I'm just scared that..."
That you won't be remembered the way you like after this is all done?
"Yeah...pretty much..." Damien sniffled.
His friend sighed and sat down in front of him. Damien, Damien, Damien. That's life and death. Not everyone's going to remember you the way you want, that's for sure. Not everyone's going to remember you at all, either. You and I both know that never happens, even in the case of the most "good" and "evil" figures.
"But...how will I know?"
You won't. Maybe not immediately after or a year after. Maybe not even after you die. But mark my words, you'll inspire someone, somewhere. And sometimes it takes only one person to make a really big difference in people's lives. A lot like what you're doing here...just not in as close quarters as this island in the middle of nowhere. Maybe in some...college in...say...I don't know...Virginia or something. Or maybe even Canada. Who knows.
"I guess, but..."
But nothing. You're doing good, kid. Don't go soft. Remember that the people we remember most...are those that never gave up until the end.
"Wait! Don't go! I need you!" Damien begged. His friend replied by putting a comforting hand on Damien's shoulder.
Don't worry, kid. I'll be there when you need me.
The next thing Damien knew, he was back in the forest, in the exact same position he was when he entered. The sun was a little higher this time, and curtains and veils of light could be seen forming in parts of the forest. Small bugs had also started to gather on Kristey's corpse to begin their feast.
Damien shook his head just to make sure he was still in reality, and that nobody killed him while he was talking with his friend.
The one thing new about his shadowy "friend" that he did notice was that he appeared to have long hair. Damien's friend certainly helped to fix up his resolve to carry through with his less-than-holy mission of vengeance.
Without saying another word, he went back to Kristey's body.
He stroked her hair and sighed.
Then he picked up her baseball bat. It felt a lot heavier than it actually was, particularly because he was still pretty dazed.
Damien then proceeded to wrap the barbed wire around the bat, wincing every time he got caught on a barb. Since the baseball bat was aluminum, he figured he'd have to wrap it tight in order to keep the barbed wire from suddenly flinging off with a particularly powerful swing, regardless of whether Damien could muster the power.
Once that job was done he held the bat up against the sunlight like he just pulled Excalibur out of the stone. He could somehow see rays of light swirl out of a halo forming around it. But the best feeling he had was no longer having to grip the barbed wire and risk cutting himself, especially as soon he could get some fresh bandages over his left hand to replace those that were shredded by the wire before.
Before he left the area though, he quickly pulled out his notebook and pen, and with a childish smile, drew a single, neat, straight line through two words that deserved to have been struck out.
Kristey Burrowell
He didn't leave the area as quick as he liked, finding himself slowly hobbling off in a rather zigzagged path while humming a tune that swung in and out of pitch more than a William Hung musical. More and more he was running more on willpower than physical power...but that didn't seem to bother a person who clearly believed his time was limited, though he did need to find a secure place to rest and recover.
((Continued in Fruits of Thine Labor))
By the time Damien caught up with himself, Kristey had fallen to the ground, bleeding out. And speaking of blood, the red stuff had appropriately created some really mean dye-stripes.
He listened to her babble her last before she fell silent. He smiled as he admired her bloodied and lifeless form, the fruit of his labor and years of cultivating a seed of justice that had been planted the day he entered the once-glorious institution that was P.J. Gilroy Academy, and took in every breath as he began to cool down from the rage that helped him slay her.
But the silence, it seemed, had a revelation that was deafening.
So deafening that Damien's smile dropped quickly. He leaned back against the tree where he had tried to take shelter from her. He put the shield and barbed wire to one side.
And then he started to cry.
Not because he'd become the monster she told him he was, because that was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he wished for. Not because her "brother" would be out for his blood, because Damien did not expect to get off the island alive, even after killing off everyone who tormented him. Not even because he'd gotten rid of the bitch at the top of his hit list, because despite the gratification there were still plenty more to go, or because she smiled at him like she really meant it, because he knew she didn't.
He cried like the child he was and buried his face in his blood-stained hands because he didn't know what he would have to live for, particularly in the time between eliminating all those on his list and his foreseeable death.
He didn't lose too much confidence that he could eliminate Peter, Franco, Reneé, Roland Kelly, and all the lackeys they hired, wiping the Valenti Syndicate out of existence. And he knew that by taking out those who oppressed him in the most painful ways possible, he'd send a message to himself, his mother, and all those oppressed kids to stand up for themselves.
But in the miraculous chance that he did win his mother's game and get off the island...even if he killed Kristey's "brother" and gained the closure and solace from ending the torment of the Valenti Syndicate...what would it come to if his mother had him locked away in a padded for life? His message would be dismissed as the ramblings of a lunatic, drowned in the cries of people like his mother calling for the banning of violent media and other technological fixes. In time, even he too would be forgotten or condemned to damnatio memoriae with a little help from the Syndicate's rich economic and political connections.
"God...what's going to happen to me..." he sobbed. All the pain from Kristey's blows to him also seemed to hurt harder...and harder...until he somehow felt that he broke.
Snap out of it, kid.
Damien looked up.
At once he was back in the same empty white expanse that he'd fallen into only once before. It wasn't really empty-empty though, Kristey's body was still there.
So was his friend.
Geez, only three down and you're already breaking down on me? Did you let that whore get to you?
"But...I..."
Look. Damien. Why are you so worried all of a sudden? Did that bitch tell you something you didn't like?
"I'm just scared that..."
That you won't be remembered the way you like after this is all done?
"Yeah...pretty much..." Damien sniffled.
His friend sighed and sat down in front of him. Damien, Damien, Damien. That's life and death. Not everyone's going to remember you the way you want, that's for sure. Not everyone's going to remember you at all, either. You and I both know that never happens, even in the case of the most "good" and "evil" figures.
"But...how will I know?"
You won't. Maybe not immediately after or a year after. Maybe not even after you die. But mark my words, you'll inspire someone, somewhere. And sometimes it takes only one person to make a really big difference in people's lives. A lot like what you're doing here...just not in as close quarters as this island in the middle of nowhere. Maybe in some...college in...say...I don't know...Virginia or something. Or maybe even Canada. Who knows.
"I guess, but..."
But nothing. You're doing good, kid. Don't go soft. Remember that the people we remember most...are those that never gave up until the end.
"Wait! Don't go! I need you!" Damien begged. His friend replied by putting a comforting hand on Damien's shoulder.
Don't worry, kid. I'll be there when you need me.
The next thing Damien knew, he was back in the forest, in the exact same position he was when he entered. The sun was a little higher this time, and curtains and veils of light could be seen forming in parts of the forest. Small bugs had also started to gather on Kristey's corpse to begin their feast.
Damien shook his head just to make sure he was still in reality, and that nobody killed him while he was talking with his friend.
The one thing new about his shadowy "friend" that he did notice was that he appeared to have long hair. Damien's friend certainly helped to fix up his resolve to carry through with his less-than-holy mission of vengeance.
Without saying another word, he went back to Kristey's body.
He stroked her hair and sighed.
Then he picked up her baseball bat. It felt a lot heavier than it actually was, particularly because he was still pretty dazed.
Damien then proceeded to wrap the barbed wire around the bat, wincing every time he got caught on a barb. Since the baseball bat was aluminum, he figured he'd have to wrap it tight in order to keep the barbed wire from suddenly flinging off with a particularly powerful swing, regardless of whether Damien could muster the power.
Once that job was done he held the bat up against the sunlight like he just pulled Excalibur out of the stone. He could somehow see rays of light swirl out of a halo forming around it. But the best feeling he had was no longer having to grip the barbed wire and risk cutting himself, especially as soon he could get some fresh bandages over his left hand to replace those that were shredded by the wire before.
Before he left the area though, he quickly pulled out his notebook and pen, and with a childish smile, drew a single, neat, straight line through two words that deserved to have been struck out.
Kristey Burrowell
He didn't leave the area as quick as he liked, finding himself slowly hobbling off in a rather zigzagged path while humming a tune that swung in and out of pitch more than a William Hung musical. More and more he was running more on willpower than physical power...but that didn't seem to bother a person who clearly believed his time was limited, though he did need to find a secure place to rest and recover.
((Continued in Fruits of Thine Labor))
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