It was quiet on the corner of 38th and 5th. It usually was these days, people tended to give old Jeremiah a wide berth. Word was that he'd taken a turn for the worst the past few months; since his wife passed away. Not physically, of course, he was still the same bear of a man he had always been. This was indeed the problem.<br/><br/>Jeremiah didn't know what they said about him. He and Elaine had always been reclusive, understandably given the nature of Manhattan's average resident, and since her death, he only emerged to scavenge for additional supplies. The rest of his time was spent in in the ruined second floor office he had made his home, either gazing out the window across the abandoned intersection, or knelt in prayer at his home-made shrine.<br/><br/>Being engaged in the former, Jeremiah immediately spotted the lone figure of a young woman as she stumbled into the intersection. Even from a distance, he could see that she was in considerable distress; wearing heavy restraints, and all but naked in the midday sun. He couldn't make out the roller-blades from where he sat, but Jeremiah could tell something was wrong with her feet by the way she stumbled and staggered along, making pitifully slow progress.<br/><br/>Jumping to his feet, Jeremiah hasted from his home and down the crumbling flight of stairs that took him to ground level. He exited the building, and made hurriedly towards the woman, for time being intent on helping the poor soul. This goodwill wouldn't last long. As he drew closer, he began to see the full extent of the abuse she'd suffered; he skin was a patchwork of cuts and bruises, her head had been shaved, or possibly even scalped, and she had been dressed in an outfit that granted less dignity then of she had been naked. From ten meters away he could small the reek of dried urine.<br/><br/>"By all merciful God, you poor woman!" He gasped as he came up in-front of her, nothing but concern in his voice. The words had already left his lips before his eyes settled on the words inelegantly tattooed on her forehead. As such, there was no indicator when all good will left his mind.<em>The Grey Bitch</em>he knew that name, of course he knew that name, though he had not used it himself, his own name for the wretched woman was less uncouth, but as least as hateful. In retrospect, it was clear who she was, he new that face well enough, even without her red hair. Those heartless green eyes gave it away.<br/><br/>Before he knew what he was doing, Jeremiah roared in fury. "You Bitch!" he lashed out with his fist, driving a brutal punch into the helpless woman's stomach. The powerful blow sent the woman staggering, the wind knocked out of her. Jeremiah drove forward, forcing the already unstable woman off her feet, sending her toppling to the ground like a tree. She impacted heavily, and no doubt painfully, on her back. Oblivious to her cries of pain, Jeremiah kicked her prone form, his boot impacting solidly with her side.<br/><br/>After the initial blows, Jeremiah threw himself on top of the woman, pinning her with his enormous form. His hands grasped for throat. Forcing his fingers into the gap between her chin and the yoke, he began to squeeze her windpipe. In his rage, he fully intended to choke the life out of her then and there, and for almost a minute he knelt, straddling the helpless woman, with hands wrapped tightly around her neck.<br/><br/>Fortunately for Kriss (or perhaps not), Jeremiah caught himself before he did any permanent damage. Still shaking with rage, but with the red haze before his eyes clearing, he clambered to his feet, planting one foot on the bitches yoke to stop her doing the same. He paused now, again running his eyes over the horrendous injuries the girl had sustained, this time with curiosity rather then interest. She'd clearly been beaten already, at least once. She'd also been raped, there was no doubt of that, and Jeremiah could only guess how many times. Her genitals had suffered worse abuse then that though; it appeared that some one had sliced into her vulva at periodic intervals with a blunt knife, though at closer inspection he spotted the small lengths of surgical thread that still rested in ruined pussy, and guessed what had happened. Her nipples, too, had been removed, something that shocked and excited Jeremiah more then anything else.<br/><br/>He wandered about her bandages though; what injuries they hid that warranted bandaging when the rest of her wounds were left to fester. Leaning down, he roughly tore the bandages from her belly; tugging them loose until the burns underneath were clearly visible. "MURDRER," Jeremiah chuckled humourlessly as he read the fresh branding. It pleased him to see the Grey Bitch marked for what she was, but at the same time, the burnt letters reminded him of the chain link shaped welts, deep and purple, that had formed on Elaine's own stomach as she lay dying form internal injury.<br/><br/>Now he wondered what to do with her. Part of him still wanted nothing more then to dash her head open on the tarmac. But he knew he couldn't do that. It was clear to him that no coincidence had brought her here, nor was it chance that she was left to wander the same streets as those she had wronged. This was her judgement, a living purgatory, a chance to be redeemed through suffering. Jeremiah looked up at the sky for a moment, offering a pray of thanks to the Lord for this chance for vengeance. He would not kill her; after all, there were many more debts for her to pay before she reached her destination, but he would exact his just revenge.<br/><br/>"It's time to make things right." He growled at the woman, still pinned beneath his boot. He lent down and took hold of the yoke, taking his foot of it, he hauled the heavy thing up off the ground, taking its captive with it. Straining with the effort of carrying both the woman and the yoke, Jeremiah hauled the whole set up across the intersection to the rusted out hulk of an old car. With a grunt, he slung the woman forward onto its bonnet, leaving her lying on her stomach, her legs tangling over the side.<br/><br/>Even covered in cuts and filth, Jeremiah had to admit that the Grey Bitch looked inviting, bent over the car hood as she was. In truth, his member had already began to swell when he had first spotted the tortured woman, much to his initial shame. Now though, he proudly pulled his engorged cock from his trousers, and took up position behind the woman. He had not been with a woman, or even indulged himself, since Elaine had died, and he intended to make the most of the opportunity.