[Deadajes]

So I had this dream a while back and when I woke up from it, I immediately rushed to my computer to jot it down so I could remember it. As I was in a rush, it's more than likely full of typos and double posted words. I haven't read it over haha. I wrote it and let it go. So enjoy if you can, and feel free to proofread it for me!


For an unknown reason, I moved to a new town to go to school. The school was very, very large. five stories or so. And I had a room at the top. I spent a lot of my time online, and it was there that I met this interesting person. He was a genius. He knew everything, but what’s more, he knew everything about people. He could predict their actions down to the most minor detail, and he was always right. It was after a couple weeks that I discovered that he, too lived in the school.

So the man invited me to study under him, which I eagerly accepted. I worshiped this man. He was everything I wanted to be. He was brilliant. And so he started teaching me. He taught me philosophy, he taught me calculations, he taught me everything, but I started to notice that all of his studies had an odd point. He liked to focus on retribution, how people acted, why they acted that way, and oddest of all, he trained me in the precision use of many different types of weapons. Even more unsettling, he was a master with every weapon he tutored me in.

Under him, I learned how to shoot any gun I got my hands on, how to hide a knife without it ever being found, how to kill somebody who had a gun pointed at me while I was unarmed. And as he taught me, and as I mastered his lessons, he would present me with gifts. As I mastered his version of psychology, he presented me with many books. Books he claimed were about righteousness, and the proper way of thinking. Books about his ideals of punishment, which I dismissed as a genius’ flight of fancy. As I mastered his knowledge of a certain weapon, he would give to me a brand new, top of the line weapon of what I mastered, and soon I had accrued a vast arsenal of weapons for my own. And I knew every one of them down to the slightest detail.

Before I knew it, I thought exactly like this man. I was his pupil, as he was my mentor. Like him, I could tell what a person would do long before even they knew. Like him I saw the evil in people. A man striking a woman out of anger, a politician using his power of personal gain, while hurting those he was sworn to protect, women flaunting their charms to get anything they had a mind to. These acts were all evil, among many other acts that he decreed as unforgivable. These people deserved to be punished. And it was then that he decided to teach me how he punished these people.

I now knew why this man was how he was. However, the knowledge only made me worship him more. I knew that he was so skilled because of practice. He did what he deemed “culling of the meek.” As he found somebody that deserved punishment, he dealt it to them. And so, he started teaching me how he did this, down to every detail. Every night he would recount to me his past punishments, and every night I would listen, learn, and know that this was my destiny.

The day had come where he started taking me along on his scavenged. His “hunt for the wicked in the world.” He would choose his targets months in advance. He would learn anything and everything he could about them. Sometimes, he would deem they had redeemable qualities and release the target from his sights. But more often than not, he would learn everything he could learn, and hunt the person down. And it was on this first hunt that I rode along with that I discovered that I was cheering him on. He was making the world a better place, from the shadows. He didn’t need the thanks of all those he saved. He was content knowing that he saved them.

His mark was a drunkard who took every advantage in life he could. He cheated, stole, lied, and worst of all, the advantages he took weren’t always of a monetary gain. If he saw a woman that took his fancy, he would, too, take advantage of her. And with threats and actions, he kept them silent. Kept them from telling what horrors they had endured at his hand. As we approached, the disgust inside me thinking of this man was almost physical. I felt my stomach retch. And so we found this man, and I was ore than happy to help hands-on while my mentor, this man who was everything I wanted to be, who was everything to me, punished the drunkard in front of him. I don’t clearly remember what he did, only that I reveled in it. It made me giddy. It made me feel proud that I was ridding the world of this parasite.

When the work was done, my master had done as he had thoroughly taught me to do and disposed of the drunkard so that no blame could ever be pointed back at him, or anybody he didn’t want it to. He was a genius. He was a master at everything he did. His moves were as fluid and practiced as those of a dancer. Watching him filled me with awe as he expertly did everything in front of my eyes that he had been drilling in theory into my head. When he was done, we made our way back to the school and, it was in my room that he talked to me. He asked me If agreed with what he had done. He asked me why. He threw questions, detailed questions, situations and scenarios, my personal beliefs and how I should act on them. All of this he took hours asking and analyzing. And when finally I had answered all of his questions to his satisfaction, he sighed heavily and revealed his inner thoughts to me.

The more he spoke, the more I tried my best not to believe. He was tired, he told me. He had been doling out his own brand of justice for as long as he could remember. He started in his first year of college, and perfected his craft as he perfected his degrees, and he had many. He revealed to me that he knew his time was coming to an end. But before he allowed that to happen, he needed an apprentice. He needed me. He wanted to make sure I was ready and that I could follow through with what he had started. With tears of disbelief in the edges of my eyes, I eagerly told him that I was ready. I knew I could carry out what he had started many years ago. That I could keep his dream, his justice alive. Somebody had to do it, he told me. The world was slowly rotting away and the cause was us. Humans. The humans he clipped off the world like a botanist clips the dead leaves from their plants. It was a cleansing. He was keeping the world pure. And I wanted nothing more than to do the same.

And so it was that on one night, he brought me along on another cleansing. I had been taken to only a few now, for it was not everyday that he declared somebody needed punishment. We arrived to our destination, and he lured the man out to where we needed him to be. Cunning as he was, it was a mere trifle for him to do. He could manipulate people as a master puppeteer manipulates his marionettes. My master forced the man to his knees, and standing behind him, he swiftly shot the man in the skull, making his death a swift one. Yet, as I watched, my eyes growing wide with horror, my master lifted the gun to his own head, said the words “You are ready.” and pulled the trigger all before his target fell to the ground. This is how my reign began. It was I who decided when and where somebody was to be punished. As my master had departed all of his wisdom to me, I knew that I was brighter and more cunning than anybody that may pose a threat to me, though I would never be as good as he was. I knew that I could do this. And so it was that as my master’s body hit the ground. I immediately set to work doing as I had watched him do so many times.

I returned to school once my job was complete. And it was on that bed, in that dorm, in that large, lonely school that I realized I was now alone. But in fact, I didn’t mind that. I relished it, in fact. I didn’t need anybody. The only person I needed had, without hesitation or remorse, shot himself in the head hours before. And it was here that I started planning, and setting up my operations. It didn’t take me long to fashion a work area. It was hidden away, which again, was easy to do. With what I had been taught, I knew that nobody would find it. And it was here that I kept the mounds of documents that accrued as a result of my research, it was here I kept all the tools of my trade, and it was here that Every aspect of what I had to do was planned out by every detail, including the individual reactions of the target itself. I knew what would happen without thinking. I knew every moan of pain, every plead of mercy that would occur, before it happened. And I planned for this. And I knew my target, as if we had been friends for life. I learned every aspect of his life. I could tell you his eye color without ever once seeing the man.

This is how I spent my life in school. I got my first degree, rather easily. Ever since studying under my master, school work seemed a trifle. As easy as looking and doing. It didn’t even require though. And through my first degree, I punished three people. Nobody questioned me. Nobody even realized the people I’d punished had gotten what they deserved. There bodies were never found. They never would be. And thus I started furthering my intelligence. I stayed in that school, and I did whatever I pleased. Money was no issue. What I didn’t take from my punished target’s bank accounts, I used what my master had left me. He had earned a fortune. His mind had earned him millions. And when he was gone, and declared legally dead, it was all passed on to me.

Years passed, and I was content. I was following in his footsteps, making the world a better place, and all the while I was free to do anything I pleased. It was as I was in my tenth year of college, that I started feeling it. The crushing loneliness. In all this time I hadn’t had so much as a single friend. I knew the pleasures of a woman by only what I had experienced before college. I hadn’t so much as led a conversation with anybody for more than a couple tense seconds. And this is how I found myself in the courtyard of this large school one day. This is how I found myself sitting under a tree in this courtyard, talking to a young, bubbly girl. She was innocent, kind, and intriguing, in a simple way. She was the exact opposite of those I dispensed my judgment upon. She was proof that my work was a worthy cause. It was people like her that told me that the world was slowly becoming a better place. These were the kind of people that should rule the world, not the corrupt and rich that own it now. It was in talking to her, that I found pleasure. She was my trophy.

It was also then that I realized I couldn’t allow myself to be near this girl. Not that I could do anything about it. I had made a mistake. I let myself be entranced by the pull of society. Even for a moment, I had forgotten everything I had learned. It was unforgivable. By the simple act of talking to her, I had broken a much needed wall that I craved to have back. By talking to her, others thought it was safe, wise to approach me. They would start a conversation and I would find myself responding in an almost interested manner. It sickened me. I was disgracing my master’s memory with every word I spoke.

But I didn’t let these distractions stop me from what I had to do. Despite my newly found popularity, I carried out what I knew had to be done. I punished more and more people as I refined my skills. It wasn’t long before I was judging a person a week. And this is all that kept me from breaking and joining regular society. I was proud of myself. I knew my master would be proud of me… This is how I grew overconfident in my skill.

It wasn’t long after I acquired my confidence that I started making mistakes. I wouldn’t learn everything about the target. I wouldn’t lure them away to where I had planned, but wherever I thought would do. I started improvising on the job, and I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t stop myself. I also knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t be caught. And so, as I was walking back to my room one night, I held a bloody knife in my hand. I lived on the highest floor, which nobody else lived on. There was no reason to hide here. At least, there wasn’t a reason only a few months before.

As I walked to my room, the bloody knife in my hand, I found myself face to face with one of the people who had become acquainted with me. He was a slender black boy, who found himself entranced with the way I handled myself, as my master had done before me. With precision, grace, with every action carefully though out. And it was as he noticed the blood on my clothes, and the knife in my hand, that I drew a gun on this man, without hesitation. However, with the gun to his head, I knew that I had full control over this person. I also knew, though I would never admit it to myself, that I could not so easily kill him as I wanted to. With this realization, I led him into my room, and forced him to remain still as I tied him up, giving me time to decide what I should do, and how I should do it. This is where things get a bit fuzzy. I remember something happening in a bathroom, where I was washing the blood off of me, when I acquired another hostage. This one was a tall white man. He played football for the school. I knew all of this. In fact, just like a target, I knew everything about them. They were part of my surroundings, and one of the first things I learned was to be aware of what, and who, was around you.

I sat and stared at these men, who all the while stared back, frantic with fear, each trying to talk through their gags, to tell me something that nobody shall ever know. My resolve hardened. As I stared at their tear stained faces. I remembered all of my lessons. Everything I bled for. Everything that was forcefully driven into my head. And I loved it all. Leaving them in my room, I walked slowly, casually to my work area. Once there, I happily started searching through all of the tools of my trade. And it was with giddy anticipation that I chose one of my favorite. It was a small handgun, that I had a nice little silencer for. I slowly twisted on the attachment, and made my way back to my room, laughing with excitement now.

As I walked into my room, I saw the look on their faces as they noticed the gun. It thrilled me. It made me want to continue. So I did. I sat them up, side by side, and standing behind them, as I had seen my master do, I pulled the trigger twice, sending a bullet spinning through each of their skulls. The memory of my master doing this, combined with the exultation of imitating his actions almost brought me to my knees with happiness. It was only then that I heard the slow creak of my door, so caught up in the moment as I was. Turning, I shot without even seeing who it was. The bullet caught the person in the stomach, but even as I watched, I felt it was me that just took a bullet. Collapsing to the ground was the girl I had sat under the tree wit, the girl who had brought my attention to new things, new people, the first girl that had ever brought me genuine happiness. On her knees, she coughed the only word she could manage. “Why.”

I walked to the spot where she lay, bleeding on the carpet in my room, and directing the barrel of the gun downward, I sent another bullet flying into her head. She died instantly. I realized everything at that moment. How cloudy my judgment was. What I had been doing. How my mind had been skewed and played with. I felt used. But I didn’t mind it. Somewhere deep in my mind, I still believed in what I had done. I knew it was the right thing, just done the wrong way. For the wrong reasons. I decided it was time for me to once again, emulate my master. Placing the tip of the gun against my ahead, I pulled the trigger, and with a smile on my face I fell to the floor, content in my own death.