The boy who thought he was a man laughed coldly as he drove past an accident by the side of the road at 110 miles per hour. Such sights had long since ceased to bother him, and now were merely sources of amusement, the blood and bones outside the flesh a stimulus for the eyes and the bloody part of the mind.
Most wouldn't get away with what he did, but he was above the law and knew it. He could do whatever he wanted and there would never be a price to pay if someone else didn't like it. All others bowed before his power—for he had been inspired by God.
He had received the message at the age of ten years. There were those who had doubted him, but they were quickly and easily silenced. After these groups had been exterminated, none were left to resist his domination.
The funniest part was that he knew it was all bullshit. He had never “heard a message from God”; in fact, he doubted God even existed. Yet he was quick to discern patterns and use them to his advantage. When he saw the respect given to the Black Dawn, the irrefutable power that they held, he had gotten ahold of some materials and quickly memorized them. His inside knowledge was of course taken by the foolish general populace as absolute proof of his divinity.
He knew there would probably be a price to pay at the end, but he didn't think that way. Right now, he was living the greatest moments of his life, and that was what was important, not some stupid consideration of what might happen ten years down the line. Besides, he suspected that most, if not all, of the other Black Dawn members were also just going along for the power. How such a foolish system, which vested power so randomly in individuals, could have evolved he had not the slightest idea.
As he entered the city, he cleared his mind. Tonight was a special night. Tonight, he would go out and kill a few citizens just for sport with his own efforts, secure in the knowledge that once the police saw the sigil tattooed on his hand they would have to let him go no matter what their objections. He reveled more in the anticipation than the actual event, yet he knew that he had to actually carry it out or he would be sorely disappointed. Fortunately, the ancient demons of morality never intruded into his mind at all. He pitied the fools who still believed in "charity" and "kindness." Maybe a thousand years ago these had meant something, but now they were just an excuse for one's own weakness - an unforgivable excuse.
His wishes were simple, but they had to be met. Ah, thank God for the Black Dawn. It gave him all he wanted and more. The common, foolish man had his own code - the Black Dawn was above it. Many years ago, a philosopher had prophesied that in the end, all men would be happy, and identical to one another, yet have no thoughts all their own. He was living proof that this had not yet come to pass. Perhaps the common folk were like that, but never the Black Dawn. He smiled as he recalled their motto - "We might against freedom's loss by using it in ways never intended." It was quite complex for a motto, but that was only fitting for the most complex organization ever to grace the planet.
As he walked along, he saw a poor, foolish commoner. She was a woman in her early twenties. If he had looked more closely, he would have seen the sparkle in her eyes, a certain method to her walk that showed infinite determination. But that did not concern him. All he saw was a victim. Yes, she would be his first kill for the night. He would see how many he could make before he was approached by a policeman and had to flash his mark of immunity.
He walked right past her, then turned around and pursued her quietly from behind. He drew his dagger, still pursuing softly, waiting for just the right moment to strike. It was dark outside, and while the street lights provided sufficient illumination, they glared strongly in his eyes, the punishment of civilization. Garbage covered the streets, and most of the former stores were boarded up with small notices declaring their closure by some obscure government agency. Of course, everyone knew that the government was now merely an arm of the Black Dawn, and these shops had probably just held something of interest to it.
He saw the perfect moment, stepped closer, and moved to strike. He raised the knife and put his hand easily around her neck. He began to pull the knife sideways in a stroke that would painfully end the woman's life, but he quickly noticed something was wrong. His stroke succeeded, the woman screamed and fell bleeding and soon to be lifeless to the ground, but he had not noticed in his adrenaline rush that he had also been pursued.
He heard a loud, pained cry of "Bastard!", and then he felt a strong piercing pain going all the way through from his back into his heart. An enormous sword ran through his body. The world distorted and quickly faded to black.
The young man who had pursued them spit on this unknown attacker's body, cursed the day he was born, and softly moaned "Oh God, I'm so sorry... I feel like I should have been where you are now..." to the woman who a moment ago had been his life's love. He kicked the stranger's body one last time and then walked away, leaving an angel and Satan in a growing pool of blood.
Kenn Hamm
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Last modified: Some time in 1998