MISANTHROPE: When a Badass Breaks the Rule

I open my bag where my PSG1 sniper riffle is peacefully hiding. This is perfect for this spot since it has 20-round detachable box magazine, an amazing gun that even 50 round drum is compatible. I can use this for as many shots as I want without minding about my bullet supply that much. I really hate reloading while at play.

And I hate climbing up here with bag of bullets. I can easily get my men to do the honor though, but this place is my sanctuary. I can observe everything and everyone, alone. I can decide when to pull the trigger even if it will bend some manipulating rules, I can control my life. I can take over. I can hear my self more than the world.

Well, as I want to get rid of those bastards who happen to harass Scarlet a minute ago as quickly as I could, I can't because I don't want my cousin to be in trouble and it will also just create a scene, a bigger problem and mess on my part.

I also need to asked permission from Tito Miguel first before I teach some fucktards a lesson on how to respect a woman and of course he would agree, but I want this to be executed as smoothly as I can without dragging innocent souls.

Our family might not trust but we still care for the innocents.

I focused my scope as my eyes scanned throughout the club 1500 meters away. My breathing settled as I focused on my target. His location aligned perfectly within my sight.

As expected, an unpleasant looking man maybe on his late 30s. Bull dogs are way cuter than this yucky man. His eyes were red as hell, surely under the influence of party drugs, he's sweat looks sticky and for sure he stinks. Fuck! That’s it; I have to finish this because I might throw up.

He has this smug look on his face. Now I wonder why Scarlet let this man live a minute longer than intended. My cousin is pretty good in hand to hand combat and she will not let this one pass because he is not good looking. My cousin has this motto that there should be an extra patience for good looking men. -_-

But yeah, maybe she is not in the damn mood because I completely understand what she is going through, what our whole clan is going through.

I don't actually kill people, I haven't killed anyone though. In my world, it's as normal as getting your revenge, satisfying yourself with dirty blood and being the on the upper hand yet I don't find it necessary.

I believed that people need help more than killing them or making them suffer, and that me is GONE, 6 months long gone.

After what happened to my parents and Scarlet's, I can't agree to Anne Frank anymore that people are really good at heart because there are still demon personified roaming around in this dying world. 

Not until the night where in my very eyes, I saw how those ruthless, demonic, heartless, people take the life of my family's greatest thinker, my father. Our greatest bad ass-my mother, and Scarlet's heroes-her parents.

This time, I would spare this ugly creature's life since I don't want him to be my first soul, he's not worthy for the precious slot. My conscience might not even bother me a bit if I ceased his breathing. This kind of person is just wasting every bit of food he eats, every drop of water he drinks and every breeze of air he breathes.  Useless, filthy, immoral freak.

I just want to watch someone bathing with his own blood. I sighed and smirked. I settled to see blood spurting from this man's hand since he slapped my cousin's ass using those filthy hands. I focus the shot waiting for the perfect timing and even before he could clap his hands surely because of some garbage reason, I happily pulled the trigger.

His hands practically separated from the rest of his body, sending his blood flying all over those desperate whores he was with as he screams in pain.

Satisfaction filled my eyes when my cousin smirked at him then gave him a middle finger before living. I’m sure she knows that, that was me.

"Gotcha fucker" I chucked.

I packed my sniper rifle and hid its bag into my hiding place inside the thick wall. I seated there for a couple of minutes and decided to dust myself off the rooftop of this old warehouse building.

As I made my way downstairs, I hummed Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra, a fucking classic.

Sirens screamed from the distance. The vibration from my phone bring me back to reality and I can’t help but just rolled my eyes when I saw Tito Miguel's name flashed on the screen. "What?" I answered but it's more like a mumble because of the chewing gum. 

He is really childishly irritating as hell.

I jumped to my car and drove home to my condo. I need to get some hell of sleep because I kind of been exhausted guarding my cousin for two weeks now.

She is good but most of the time, her carelessness bring her into troubles.

I haven't cried since that shit happened but I thought to myself that this will help me ignite the anger I'm feeling. I've been busy observing the city, forcing myself to cry and to bring back my peace of mind, looking for it everywhere yet even the city lights that I used to run to when I'm upset is not enough to soothe the deepest sting of pain in my soul.

As I close my eyes, I realized that I can't really bring back what has been gone and my body seems to automatically program itself in building high, thick and cold walls, blocking everything outside.

Caging my wrecked heart- if there is still, in a safe with infinite characters as lock that even I can't remember. Protecting nothing but a body of a woman, good as a living corpse, trying to avoid further damage.