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Wrath’s Revenge
By
Little Artemis
Sometimes things aren’t always what they seem…
Prologue
“Please, spare me.” Were the man’s last words as his killer made the final blow, the only sound was of metal colliding with skin. Or rather; skull, bone, however you’d say it. They talked of this man all over; he was the great Wrath, always lashing out in anger, stalking and seeking revenge on those who angered him. Thing is, no one knew who did the killings since they were so unpredictable. No one but the killer’s friends, and they dare not tell. Considering the malicious man loved to taunt his audiences, telling them of how his comrades would not speak of who he was. Though he never said who came next, it was hard considering the killings were random. Even if he were at the time stalking someone, he never spoke. Once they would catch a lead, immediately lose it again. Wrath was a hard one to keep up with.
Many have tried to plot out his next move, but it was all in vain, they could never accomplish that task. All they found was that he truly moved so casually, his attacks coming up when you least expected it; which scared many, and intrigued some. A fascinating creature he was, no one knew his history, and how he came to be this way, or even why he did it. And today? Today they’d be in for a surprise. Another one down at the hand of Wrath: cause of death? Well, a bludgeon to the head with a metal pipe. It was a classical weapon for him, preferring a surprise check, to the annoying gun. Even so, knives were too redundant for him, cliché you might say. And even if a metal pipe was not as original, the other means were just over used.
Really? Who would remember someone who stabbed a man to death? It’s so over done no one cares. And shoot outs? They get mentioned, but forgotten among the clutter. Despite how he didn’t care about people remembering him, all he wanted was to make an effect on society today, make a difference, even if it was in a bad way.
Thing is, why do people care about people who are nasty, evil, or of such things? Who cares if they were someone’s child! They did bad, maybe even horrible, things to others, just as he did! All Wrath did was rid this planet of another bad guy, while they, they torment, torture, and ruin lives, leaving their victims’ alive. Wrath couldn’t live with that, people surviving in agony because of him, even if they were evil. Suffering just wasn’t his thing, so he’d track the down, and attempt murder again, this time succeeding.
Even so, his fame didn’t just come from his methods; it came from how long he’d been around. The man had been killing for about eight years. He was a slippery creature, constantly jumping out of the cops grasp. Really, this man’s name could cause a child to cry. No one knew his name, but headline reports saying; “Wrath’s Revenge has struck again!” made people shiver in their boots.
To them, it was Wrath, to his friends, he was Chris. Christopher Alexi Lyon. Great guy, great friend, and just had a bad temper. Because of their loyalty, and his, no one knew who they were. It was a huge issue when trying to catch him.
A man of twenty-eight he was, not too tall, but not too short; perfectly fine at five foot six, with a fairly good build. He wasn’t skinny, neither was he fat, content at a good healthy weight of about a hundred and fifty pounds. Being the outrageous type, Chris had messy styled hair, the bangs dyed neon green, and the tips of his natural hair, a neutral brown, were bleached. The green bangs showed off his laughed green eyes, which mocked many with it’s stare. Despite how you could never pick him as the killer, you could pick him out of a crowd. Outrageous hair, clothing, piercings; they all just made it easy to look and say, “There he is!”
Chris was a simple man, working in a bar as a bouncer, kicking his fair amount of drunk out on their asses. He got into fights, but earned enough money for him to stay with it. Plus, he was loyal to the barmaid, despite how he saw her as a sister, not a love interest, and she understood. Working where he did, he heard thing, and dealt with his fair share of bad guys. His recent kill was one of them. Luckily for Christ, his toy was out of town, so when the recruiter came to steal him away, he struck. The entire group went down in a series of brutal rapes and murders, leaving none alive. He spared them that.
This one was the final one, and Chris sighed, spitting out some blood from the cut on his lip. Turning heel, he headed towards his apartment, ignoring this flash of pain in his sliced arm. He never bothered to notice the wounds till he got back. It was always too much to bother for him, considering he needed to get back relatively unnoticed. Unlocking the door to his apartment, a though suddenly flashed through his mind. “Damn,” he cursed aloud, “going to have to find out where Lee put the first aid kit.” Walking into the apartment, and locking it behind him, he wandered in search of the kit, welcoming the silence of having no one around to bother him.
Placing his pipe in it’s locked location, Chris found the supplies and walked to his bathroom to bandage himself up. Afterwards, he changed. Never let a cut to the arm bother him when it was his shift at work, He would lose valuable money, and that wouldn’t be good, so once done, he locked up, and headed off to work.
Any ways, his sons, all ten years of age, depended on him. Even if he let them stay at a friend that night. Being a single father wasn’t easy, and Chris was lucky he had people he could depend on when things got rough. In this case it was a set of babysitters to deal with the troublesome triplets. What was the worse that could happen?
Edit: Had to correct some redundancy.
