text: [this is my second post here I'm still trying to improve my writing. Feedback is appreciated. This is written in a sort of poetry style as it's the style I prefer. This story is sort of a continuation of my last post, though that story is not necessary to understand this one. I hope you enjoy.] The mold, darkness, and disease They were cleaved from this world By a "Hero" with a sword. Everyone rejoiced when we were "freed" Silly boy should've known There's no glory in being a saviour The ones he saved Didn't even know his name. It's been many days since then The world has changed Without the mold We had peace If you know humans You know peace is not real It's a simple facade which evil hides behind Soon men would attack men Becoming the antagonists we craved Far more vicious than the mold could even think of being. Torturing, brutalizing, beheading. Disgusting creatures we are. I decided I'd take matters into my own hands Any man who would threaten another I would bury a bullet in his brain "3" It's simple really. It's been many days since then. They've hailed me a saviour They've called me the next hero But they're wrong I don't do this out of the goodness of my heart Or the kindness of my soul Quite the opposite But I'll let them have their pitiful dreams Until the day I snatch them away "22" Today it's a little boy He told another boy if he didn't leave him alone he'd regret it Sounds like a threat to me. "43" You see I'm no hero. I'm justice. I'm inevitability. I'm death. In this world where no one must die I have to choose who should. It is the only thing that makes me feel as though I am alive. When I plant my bullets in the bodies of those I deem worthy. I free them from this cold undying world It's mercy really. He's been evading me for hours The chase is great Adrenaline pumps through my body I can feel the smile on my face Unnatural some may call it I'd kill them for saying it But they aren't wrong "What have I done to earn this!?" The boy screams at me. His terror incites a laugh from me. "Are you some kind of monster!? Someone please help me!" No one ever helps them. They tremble at the thought of me How could they possibly be courageous enough to stand against me. "I am Death, and I've chosen you." After hearing those words the boy falls to his knees Wimpers a cry like that of a sick dog so I put him down. "50" A woman looking on from her home screams in agony. You'll be next, you banshee. As she wails I flick my revolver up and quickly dispose of her. "51" "What makes you special? Why do you get to live when you've hurt so many?" These were my 63rd victims words. It's been many days since then Yet they won't leave my mind I've killed so many. Who would kill me Probably no one But is death free from his own curse? Is death's curse that he must live. The only way to escape the inevitable, is to become it? I've become the antagonist they need I no longer seek out victims. They challenge me Claiming to be heroes. But none of them have the strength to best me "68" Just boys with weapons Fighting a monster they've no chance against It's pitiful really As is my existence But I am inevitable A boy seemingly duller than the others approaches me in the night. I've heard tale of him. 'The hero of world's reborn' they call him. He seemed to have no interest in such titles But he approaches me none the less "Welcome young hero. I hope you're stronga' than the last" He does not respond but simply looks at me with contempt in his eyes. He then charges at me brandishing a sword from his side. I draw my revolvers fire a shot from each He deflects them with metal arm guards he's wearing He does not slow at all He does not fear me at all Instead I am the one trembling I see it in my right hand gripped on my gun Shaking like a child whose had a nightmare The boy goes for a quick stab, underestimating my own speed as I quickly step out of the way and put my right gun to his temple He knocks the gun from my hand and goes for another jab, which I barely dodge grazing my coat and slicing it. I attempt to retreat but he nearly keeps up with me so I unleash a barrage of shots from my revolver. He dodges all of them almost flawlessly Almost. One hit him square in his chest from which blood flows, but he seems not to care at all. Flying towards me as quick as ever he stabs my left shoulder as I am frozen and shaking. I'm weak. Sadly for him he thought he had finished me off. I drop my revolver to my other hand, Quickly point it to his chin and blow his head off. "69" "You done good, this wound might a'tually kill me. Bloods pourin' from it steady." I cough. Blood spills from my mouth. "Unfort'nately for you I am Justice, I am Death. Nothin' escapes me." I pointlessly say to his corpse, just before I Expell the final round from my revolver. As It cleaves it's way through my brain, I have one last thought.