Fan Fiction

[[The Prisoner]]

Leon opened the door hastily, and slammed it shut just as quick. He felt horrible. No one so far had struggled as he did. He could still hear the screams ringing in his ears, the stench of his beery breath slapping him in the face. The blood had got right under his fingernails. The phone rang. Never before had Leon screamed like that. It was as every movement, every obscure event would be the one to end him. Panting wildly, he leaped over and answered. "Hello?" He tried to keep his voice calm, it's volume to a minimum. The reply from the phone was one he didn't want to hear. The words burrowed themselves into his brain, spiraling over and over again, each one a pang of pain and guilt. The man he just killed, the man he just left to rot in an archway somewhere. The wrong man. Sh*t. SH*T! One final job, and that was it. He was out. Out of this god-forsaken business, his debts paid, his life back to normal. But instead, he was now expected to make up for his mistake. Leon put the phone back. He was suddenly awash with serenity. He could do this. He'd done it before, he could do it again. There was no reason to feel any kind of emotion. The only thing he cared about was his family's welfare. That's how he got caught up in this damn business in the first place. Whatever God's plan was, his big scheme, Leon was sure that he and his family would come off better than most. And yet... there was still something that made him stop. Death... killing people wasn't a sin in it's own right. You only have a moral fight with yourself is the killing is unjust. And that's what Leon was feeling now. His inner demons were taunting him, whispering sadistically in his ear. The wrong man. Your fault. An innocent. That's why he fought. A man, capable of committing a crime such as he did, would accept death as he had so violently offered it to his victim. It would be an escape from the guilt. But this man had fought with all his strength. His death was messy. It had taken several slashes for him to die. It was as if he had fought armed with only his own willpower. He knew he was innocent, so the angels protected him. Leon, though... he was a man with no remorse. At least, he tried to be. The guilt he felt earlier - vanquished. For his own good. Maybe, if he was in the right circumstances, he would take time to relieve himself of his emotionless shield. He would take time to cry and apologise for the death of this man. It was one big wreck. Three years since the threats were made, and still, he was bowing to their whim. That's the way life is. You clean the shoes of the man above you, and then in his most vulnerable moment, you spit in his face and take him down. But Leon was a pitiful waste of a man, a forty something loner who lived by himself. Divorced, only allowed to see his kids bimonthly, he was a joke. Someone that people kicked and treated like dog sh*t. So it was no surprise to see him in the clutches of a more powerful man financially, but identical physically, perhaps even weaker. So this was it. He wasn't going to take any more crap. This was his last kill, to make up for the wrong-doing he made tonight. And then he was out. No more requests, no more threats. They could kill him, for all he cared. Just as long as he didn't murder any more. Even the drink didn't numb out the suffering, the cries of the victims. It was over. Leon grabbed his knife, still warm with blood, and stepped back out. The brisk November air grabbed his senses just as death did. It was his night. A night that would define whether he was a man or a mouse. A night to remember for all eternity. At least for him.

[[The Prisoner]]

Oh, and you don't have to write your opinions in commentaries. I probably won't be continuing.