Post by wrath on Aug 6, 2015 2:54:38 GMT -6
(So just a touch of set up, the orange italics are Nate's actual thoughts, the red italics are well... that nagging little voice, the devil on his shoulder telling him to smack a fucker in the face with a brick.)
“No Jason no!” the woman screamed, her voice being muted with a harsh gagging sound.
Jason Baloff ‘s fists balled around the ends of the heavy leather belt; his forearms bulging slightly at the exertion. The belt had wrapped tightly around his wife’s neck, choking out the life from her. This wasn’t the first time that Jason had laid hands on his wife, or his child, but it was going to be the last. Heroin had consumed both his and Amanda’s life for as long as they could remember; and their son was seeing all of it.
At the age of six, Nathan was reticently aware of his abuse and his parents drug habit. And as Nathan hunkered in the closet, hiding from his father’s dope induced rage; those dark eyes settled on his mother’s face as Jason Baloff, his father, choked the life from his mother. Jason was unaware that his six year was hiding in the closet and watching the whole thing from a crack in the door.
Nathan watched the life drain from his mother’s eyes, and watched the subsequent meltdown of his father. Nathan was quiet, dreadfully so, until the loud bang erupted and Nathan’s silence was broken. Everything in the room had gone silent, and upon opening the door, little Nathan was greeted with the sight of his father’s skull and brains sprayed over the bed that his parents shared.
It was in that moment that the screaming and crying started; and the moment that all of his emotions died from there on. The six year old had become uncomprehendingly damaged, and shutting down was the only natural reaction to a trauma so harsh. Adults could barely deal with murder suicides; let alone six year olds, or when the subjects were your own junkie parents.
The visions of his parents were as vivid as always and had caused his entire body to jolt awake upon the shotgun blast. Taut shoulders rolled slightly as Nate turned onto his side and stared at the red glow of the clock radio. Not again. I’m getting really sick of this dream. Like it doesn’t dictate enough in my waking world, now it won’t let me sleep. Nathan was certainly not sleeping well lately, and he was growing aware of what the cause was.
It had been far too long since he’d been able to ply his true trade. It had been far too long since he’d satisfied his needs and had accomplished something towards his mission. It was becoming increasingly easier to manage his needs. Sitting up slowly, Nate felt the rippled six pack tighten. He had done thousands of sit ups to carve out the abs on his body; and the hard work had left him with a core that he needed to do the work he did.
As intelligent as Nate was, he couldn’t quite understand his urges. He couldn’t quite understand his needs or, more importantly, how to control them. They ate at him, chipping away at his will power until he succumbed to his dark desires. As he stared at the clock, he could feel it coming on again. Three oclock in the morning… I should shut my eyes and go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day. But I can’t sleep. It’s been too long. There’s too many people suffering. You’ve been watching for an extra week now. Tonight’s the night Nate. Tonight.
Sliding out of bed, his thick calf muscle tightened as he stepped down, causing the floor to creek in the process. His meager job in an office was supplemented quite well by his activities on the side. And tonight, he’d be cashing in more chips. Walking across the floor, he opened up his closet and grabbed the proper clothes. It was the same thing, time and time again. Long, but loose fitting pants, heavy work boots with a light tread pattern, a long sleeved t-shirt that was skin tight, and a pair of leather gloves.
What was in the closet below the clothing was what he really wanted. Pulling out the small cherry wood chest, he flipped open the lid and looked down at what was inside of it. There was a small sheeth of knives that were rolled up, but the two things that sat as prominent as the day was long was the Mossberg 12 gauge shotgun; and a long length of barbed wire attached to two wooden handle at the end. Nate grinned as he reached down and ran his fingers over the barrel of the shotgun and the cool bite of the barbed wire.
It wasn’t long before Nate had packed his bag of tricks into the back of his SUV. It was a dime a dozen Ford SUV that people saw everywhere; and the entire point was to blend in. Nate was well aware of what he was, and even if he had no clue how to control or stop it; he was aware that his urges and desires were so far out of bounds that they needed to be hidden from the world. It didn’t matter if he was just cleaning the place up a little bit; regular people wouldn’t see his actions in the light of heroic vigilante. All they would see is the monster in him.
And they would be absolutely right. There was a monster lurking inside of Nathan Baloff, and he needed to be let out of his cage. The ever intelligent monster that he was, Nathan had decided to make his targets serve society more so than to subtract from it. And tonight was going to be one of Nathan’s favorite kinds of targets. Well toned arms quietly shut the SUV, leaving the tail gate in a place where he could easily dump his victim in the back of the SUV so they could have a more intimate date.
Nate quietly stalked towards the house, knowing that his target was more than likely still conducting business for the night. That would be of no matter to him, because he could wait quietly. Looking in the front window, he could see Frank Wilson sitting with another man. The man quickly got up from his seat, shook the man’s hand and walked for the front door. Nate ran to the side of the house and pressed flat against it, just in time to escape the beam of light coming from the doorway.
His heart was beating, the adrenaline was flowing, and for the first time in weeks; Nate was feeling like he was alive and kicking instead of just existing. This was what he lived for. The stalk, the hunt, the kill… all of it gave him a sense of wonder and peace. He could hear the steps of the junkie walking away from the house and grinned slightly. That’s right, keep walking you poor unfortunate soul. Little do you know, when you come back for your next fix, Frankie boy here will be sitting in my basement questioning all of his life decisions. You’re quite welcome that I saved your life from the smack.
Frank Wilson was an abusive, abrasive, nasty drug dealer that would push in anything that turned a profit. Dope, blow, crank, underage prostitutes; he would move it in order to make a stack of cash. Nate pushed open the doorway to the back door and stepped silently into the house. He could hear music and the sounds of whistles and the noise of football in the living room. No doubt that Frank was engaged in another rousing session of Playstation quarterbacking. As Nate stalked into the living room, the grin on his face spread. Nate took two steps, pressing the barrel of shotgun into the back of Wilson’s head.
Instantly, the Playstation controller clattered to the floor, coming to a stop in front of the metal frame of the entertainment center. Nate could see his reflection in the screen of the television and could see the look on Wilson’s face. Nate grinned slightly and spoke in a dead, commanding tone.
“If you listen to me and do exactly as I say, I promise you I won’t put any buckshot in the back of your head.” Nate said coldly.
“You’re making a big fucking mistake buddy. Do you know who I am?” Frank Wilson said forcefully, thinking it would get him clear of a robbery. “The people I work for will fuck your whole life up!”
“My whole life was fucked up a long time ago.” Nate said, racking back the pump on the Mossberg. “And it ended up that way because of dickheads like you…”
“Woah woah woah, what do you want? Money? The drugs?” Wilson pleaded. “Take it all, dude. I can get more.”
“That’s a start. Get up and take me to your safe.” Nate said with a smirk.
This was always his favorite part. They always thought they could buy their way out of the inevitable conclusion of this endeavor. From the moment that Nathan Baloff had decided to kill Frank Wilson, he was nothing more than chum in the water. He was no longer a human being; just a meat bag for him to exploit for his own personal satisfaction. It just so happened that removing a dope dealer from the world served the public and wouldn’t end up high on the police’s to do list.
Nate smirked as Frank slowly rose to his feet and started a march towards his bedroom and his safe. There was a shotgun pointed at the back of his head; which gave Nate a whole lot of control over the situation. As they walked into the bedroom, Nate could see the safe sitting on the floor and watched as Frank started to work the dial. That’s it, open it up. The fun parts really coming, buddy boy.
Nate smirked as the door to the safe swung open. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed the handles of the garrote in his hands. This was the fun part for him. This was where his psychopathy was showing. This was where his ritual truly began. Nate slowly lowered the shotgun, dropping it to the floor next to him. As Frank stood up, he looked at the shotgun lying on the floor and saw the grin on Nate’s face.
“Wrong move buddy!” Frank exclaimed as he charged at Nate.
Nate grinned, that was exactly what he wanted. This was what happened more times than not. When someone thought they had an opening to attack; they’d try to take it. And as the big haymaker came in his direction, Nate ducked under the punch and stepped behind. Strong biceps wrapped around Frank’s neck; thick forearms and biceps tightening around the carotid arteries. Life was starting to fade from Frank. Within seconds, he was limp and on the floor.
Duct tape was wrapped tightly around his feet and hands, securing the dope dealer and making sure he wasn’t going to move. Now would come the fun part. He would take Frank Wilson to his home, take him downstairs, and he could set to work in torturing Frank Wilson until he could take no more; at which point, he would step behind the chair with the garrote and wrap it around his neck and pull the strings tight. His face would press against Frank’s, and he’d get to whisper sweet little nothings about how he fucked up into his ears as Nate got to watch the life fade from the man’s eyes.
But Nate’s tranquil moment and satisfaction was disrupted by the sounds of foot steps and a gasp at the doorway to the bedroom. As he turned around, Nate saw what might have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was clearly damaged, either by drugs or being there to be trafficked. One thing that was certain, he was in a bind. There had never been a witness before, and there had never been someone so innocent. Nate could rationalize killing dope dealers and gang bangers, but self preservation or not, Nate didn’t want to have to kill her.
“No Jason no!” the woman screamed, her voice being muted with a harsh gagging sound.
Jason Baloff ‘s fists balled around the ends of the heavy leather belt; his forearms bulging slightly at the exertion. The belt had wrapped tightly around his wife’s neck, choking out the life from her. This wasn’t the first time that Jason had laid hands on his wife, or his child, but it was going to be the last. Heroin had consumed both his and Amanda’s life for as long as they could remember; and their son was seeing all of it.
At the age of six, Nathan was reticently aware of his abuse and his parents drug habit. And as Nathan hunkered in the closet, hiding from his father’s dope induced rage; those dark eyes settled on his mother’s face as Jason Baloff, his father, choked the life from his mother. Jason was unaware that his six year was hiding in the closet and watching the whole thing from a crack in the door.
Nathan watched the life drain from his mother’s eyes, and watched the subsequent meltdown of his father. Nathan was quiet, dreadfully so, until the loud bang erupted and Nathan’s silence was broken. Everything in the room had gone silent, and upon opening the door, little Nathan was greeted with the sight of his father’s skull and brains sprayed over the bed that his parents shared.
It was in that moment that the screaming and crying started; and the moment that all of his emotions died from there on. The six year old had become uncomprehendingly damaged, and shutting down was the only natural reaction to a trauma so harsh. Adults could barely deal with murder suicides; let alone six year olds, or when the subjects were your own junkie parents.
The visions of his parents were as vivid as always and had caused his entire body to jolt awake upon the shotgun blast. Taut shoulders rolled slightly as Nate turned onto his side and stared at the red glow of the clock radio. Not again. I’m getting really sick of this dream. Like it doesn’t dictate enough in my waking world, now it won’t let me sleep. Nathan was certainly not sleeping well lately, and he was growing aware of what the cause was.
It had been far too long since he’d been able to ply his true trade. It had been far too long since he’d satisfied his needs and had accomplished something towards his mission. It was becoming increasingly easier to manage his needs. Sitting up slowly, Nate felt the rippled six pack tighten. He had done thousands of sit ups to carve out the abs on his body; and the hard work had left him with a core that he needed to do the work he did.
As intelligent as Nate was, he couldn’t quite understand his urges. He couldn’t quite understand his needs or, more importantly, how to control them. They ate at him, chipping away at his will power until he succumbed to his dark desires. As he stared at the clock, he could feel it coming on again. Three oclock in the morning… I should shut my eyes and go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day. But I can’t sleep. It’s been too long. There’s too many people suffering. You’ve been watching for an extra week now. Tonight’s the night Nate. Tonight.
Sliding out of bed, his thick calf muscle tightened as he stepped down, causing the floor to creek in the process. His meager job in an office was supplemented quite well by his activities on the side. And tonight, he’d be cashing in more chips. Walking across the floor, he opened up his closet and grabbed the proper clothes. It was the same thing, time and time again. Long, but loose fitting pants, heavy work boots with a light tread pattern, a long sleeved t-shirt that was skin tight, and a pair of leather gloves.
What was in the closet below the clothing was what he really wanted. Pulling out the small cherry wood chest, he flipped open the lid and looked down at what was inside of it. There was a small sheeth of knives that were rolled up, but the two things that sat as prominent as the day was long was the Mossberg 12 gauge shotgun; and a long length of barbed wire attached to two wooden handle at the end. Nate grinned as he reached down and ran his fingers over the barrel of the shotgun and the cool bite of the barbed wire.
It wasn’t long before Nate had packed his bag of tricks into the back of his SUV. It was a dime a dozen Ford SUV that people saw everywhere; and the entire point was to blend in. Nate was well aware of what he was, and even if he had no clue how to control or stop it; he was aware that his urges and desires were so far out of bounds that they needed to be hidden from the world. It didn’t matter if he was just cleaning the place up a little bit; regular people wouldn’t see his actions in the light of heroic vigilante. All they would see is the monster in him.
And they would be absolutely right. There was a monster lurking inside of Nathan Baloff, and he needed to be let out of his cage. The ever intelligent monster that he was, Nathan had decided to make his targets serve society more so than to subtract from it. And tonight was going to be one of Nathan’s favorite kinds of targets. Well toned arms quietly shut the SUV, leaving the tail gate in a place where he could easily dump his victim in the back of the SUV so they could have a more intimate date.
Nate quietly stalked towards the house, knowing that his target was more than likely still conducting business for the night. That would be of no matter to him, because he could wait quietly. Looking in the front window, he could see Frank Wilson sitting with another man. The man quickly got up from his seat, shook the man’s hand and walked for the front door. Nate ran to the side of the house and pressed flat against it, just in time to escape the beam of light coming from the doorway.
His heart was beating, the adrenaline was flowing, and for the first time in weeks; Nate was feeling like he was alive and kicking instead of just existing. This was what he lived for. The stalk, the hunt, the kill… all of it gave him a sense of wonder and peace. He could hear the steps of the junkie walking away from the house and grinned slightly. That’s right, keep walking you poor unfortunate soul. Little do you know, when you come back for your next fix, Frankie boy here will be sitting in my basement questioning all of his life decisions. You’re quite welcome that I saved your life from the smack.
Frank Wilson was an abusive, abrasive, nasty drug dealer that would push in anything that turned a profit. Dope, blow, crank, underage prostitutes; he would move it in order to make a stack of cash. Nate pushed open the doorway to the back door and stepped silently into the house. He could hear music and the sounds of whistles and the noise of football in the living room. No doubt that Frank was engaged in another rousing session of Playstation quarterbacking. As Nate stalked into the living room, the grin on his face spread. Nate took two steps, pressing the barrel of shotgun into the back of Wilson’s head.
Instantly, the Playstation controller clattered to the floor, coming to a stop in front of the metal frame of the entertainment center. Nate could see his reflection in the screen of the television and could see the look on Wilson’s face. Nate grinned slightly and spoke in a dead, commanding tone.
“If you listen to me and do exactly as I say, I promise you I won’t put any buckshot in the back of your head.” Nate said coldly.
“You’re making a big fucking mistake buddy. Do you know who I am?” Frank Wilson said forcefully, thinking it would get him clear of a robbery. “The people I work for will fuck your whole life up!”
“My whole life was fucked up a long time ago.” Nate said, racking back the pump on the Mossberg. “And it ended up that way because of dickheads like you…”
“Woah woah woah, what do you want? Money? The drugs?” Wilson pleaded. “Take it all, dude. I can get more.”
“That’s a start. Get up and take me to your safe.” Nate said with a smirk.
This was always his favorite part. They always thought they could buy their way out of the inevitable conclusion of this endeavor. From the moment that Nathan Baloff had decided to kill Frank Wilson, he was nothing more than chum in the water. He was no longer a human being; just a meat bag for him to exploit for his own personal satisfaction. It just so happened that removing a dope dealer from the world served the public and wouldn’t end up high on the police’s to do list.
Nate smirked as Frank slowly rose to his feet and started a march towards his bedroom and his safe. There was a shotgun pointed at the back of his head; which gave Nate a whole lot of control over the situation. As they walked into the bedroom, Nate could see the safe sitting on the floor and watched as Frank started to work the dial. That’s it, open it up. The fun parts really coming, buddy boy.
Nate smirked as the door to the safe swung open. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed the handles of the garrote in his hands. This was the fun part for him. This was where his psychopathy was showing. This was where his ritual truly began. Nate slowly lowered the shotgun, dropping it to the floor next to him. As Frank stood up, he looked at the shotgun lying on the floor and saw the grin on Nate’s face.
“Wrong move buddy!” Frank exclaimed as he charged at Nate.
Nate grinned, that was exactly what he wanted. This was what happened more times than not. When someone thought they had an opening to attack; they’d try to take it. And as the big haymaker came in his direction, Nate ducked under the punch and stepped behind. Strong biceps wrapped around Frank’s neck; thick forearms and biceps tightening around the carotid arteries. Life was starting to fade from Frank. Within seconds, he was limp and on the floor.
Duct tape was wrapped tightly around his feet and hands, securing the dope dealer and making sure he wasn’t going to move. Now would come the fun part. He would take Frank Wilson to his home, take him downstairs, and he could set to work in torturing Frank Wilson until he could take no more; at which point, he would step behind the chair with the garrote and wrap it around his neck and pull the strings tight. His face would press against Frank’s, and he’d get to whisper sweet little nothings about how he fucked up into his ears as Nate got to watch the life fade from the man’s eyes.
But Nate’s tranquil moment and satisfaction was disrupted by the sounds of foot steps and a gasp at the doorway to the bedroom. As he turned around, Nate saw what might have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was clearly damaged, either by drugs or being there to be trafficked. One thing that was certain, he was in a bind. There had never been a witness before, and there had never been someone so innocent. Nate could rationalize killing dope dealers and gang bangers, but self preservation or not, Nate didn’t want to have to kill her.