Revenge

This story, characters and events are purely from my imagination and have no relevance to real life. Any media used I don't own.

The Motel is cheap and dirty, the smell of sex fills the air as I enter the entrance door that leads into the one room with double bed, TV that sits on top of a dresser; everything cheap. I look into the brown eyes of the forty seven year old man facing me, the man I interrupted as I entered the room, closing the door behind me. I say nothing, there is no need to. I look to the young girl sat next to him, covering herself up with the comforter, blue eyes wide in shock. She was no more than fourteen, still with her childlike features and messy black hair. My attention goes back to the man who's demanding who I was and what I wanted, but shuts up when my gun points to him

"Wiping the world of another pervert", my words cold as I pull the trigger, the bullet hitting its target in the middle of his forehead and killing him too quick for my liking.

The girl screams of course and begs for her life, but I'm not here to kill her, she's the innocent. I only kill the bad guys, my favourite being the ones like the just deceased who like to use minors for their sick perverse needs, a matter that is close to my heart. Samuel McIntyre, my dearest and only friend was used in such in a way. Homeless and desperate for food took to the streets, servicing sick individuals for the cost of something to fill his stomach or a warm place to rest. He's alright now; I found him and got him a nice place to live. He's happy which I'm pleased about, I only live and work this job for him. I'm not happy though, I miss him and want to be part of his life, but I can't. I am an assassin ridding the world of wrong doers, dealing with the corruption in places you'd never expect. I work under the radar for a secret organisation that hides from everyone, run by ourselves, answering to no one.

This life has served me well, born and raised for this very reason. From the time I could walk steady I was taught many types of fighting; Martial arts, street fighting and by the age of 16 I had mastered firing a gun. I could take care of myself and take anyone out in a matter of seconds with my gun or bare hands. I have done this more times I can remember, mostly the people I sought revenge for stays in my mind, those I revenged for my Sammy. They live unfortunately, like many do because it isn't always about the kill, but those school bullies and men on the streets of New York know what it feels like to be beat up, humiliated and used in the worse way possible. Of course I never used myself, but a good sized sex toy can do the trick and maybe the odd castration. Either way, these people no longer seek out to harm anyone. The man I just killed; he was a scout, grooming and using young vulnerable kids, offering them a way of life when they felt they had nothing else. Sick. There will be others that follow, but for now there is one less to worry about.

With one last look at the girl, I throw her a fifty and a card for a shelter that helps people like her; hopefully she will use it and make something of her life. I turn on my heels and leave the room without a word, my gun already tucked away in my black leather jacket.