The Vengeance of the Angel of Death
October 28th
She stood on large, wooden porch, over looking the entire ranch. Her long, leather-clad arms rested on the edge of the porch and a large smile crossed her lips. She had longed for this farm for so many years and she finally had it. Fifty acres of rolling land, for her to own, tame, keep all to herself.
But as she stood there thinking, she shook her head, laughing softly. It was not all hers. It was Vincent's ranch too. Julienne and Vincent's ranch. They would even put a large sign the day they moved in. A big metal sign on the fence that read: "The Corwins, Vincent and Julienne", in big cursive letters. They had even left some extra space, because they were both looking forward to the little one on the way.
Julienne's hand automatically slid onto her swelling abdomen, feeling the round bulge where underneath, their baby kicked and squirmed. She smiled, her hand staying there for a lingering moment.
She was waiting for Vincent to come home. Every day after work, he would come home, and she would be waiting for him in the bath tub. They would wash each other's hair, bodies, holding each other close and cherishing the warmth each other's bodies gave one another, the love that radiated off both of them in a constant stream of heat.
She moved into the house, a little slower then normal. Julienne hummed softly to herself, the song that Vincent had wrote her on their one year anniversary as a married couple. As another automatic reaction, her right hand went over the left, feeling the diamond ring on her finger. She traced along the bumps and curves of it, remembering the wedding day.
It had been beautiful. On a beach in the Cayman Islands, Vincent and Julienne wore non-traditional wedding outfits. He wore a pair of loose, white pants, no shirt, and she wore a long, flowing white dress that matched the pants Vincent wore. They had written their own vows, speaking them lovingly to each other. But the words he said to her always rang in her head, every day as they held each other in the bath tub, as she fell asleep in his arms at night, when she woke up next to him in the morning. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop true love, and death will not stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity."
Julienne had been touched, and felt a little bad that her vows were not nearly as deep. Of course, she spoke from her heart, about true love, never knowing a feeling this big, and that she would never leave him. "Whatever problems we have, we'll work them out." She had said.
But it didn't matter she didn't say exactly what she wanted, because he knew what she meant to say, even without her saying it.
As she moved into the house, her walk slowed, and she stopped and turned to look at the ranch one last time before she entered the home. She was happy, and nothing could change that.
Vincent sat in his car, his hands holding the steering wheel and he sighed. He was in the middle of a traffic jam. He shrugged his shoulders forward, stretching them a bit. "Hey, at least I'm not in the back of the line. Yeah, that's a good way of thinking about it. I'm in the middle, which is closer to the front then it is the back." He smiled a bit, and the line began to move. He happily pressed down on the gas, as the car lurched forward, as if it was tired, like it wanted to go home as much as he did.
He turned up the radio, tapping his fingertips against the steering wheel. Again, the traffic moved and he moved with it. This time, the line did not stop moving. Instead, it kept going, and he drove forward, happy. He was late for his regular appointment in the bath tub with Julienne, but he knew she would understand. It had happened before.
Vincent sang along with the radio and still inching his way forward through the traffic. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fluttering shape. He turned, and he saw a crow land on a light pole on the side of road. He grinned slightly when the bird did not fly any farther. "Traffic got you down too, boy?" He leaned back in his seat and almost giggled in delight when the traffic began to move forward at a steady, constant, smooth pace. He looked at the crow, a small frown on his lips. "Don't tell anyone I just giggled. Alright, it didn't happen." He flashed a handsome smile at the bird. "Thanks for keeping my secret buddy, it's appreciated."
He finally got to the front of the traffic, turned onto the side road that led to the ranch, and began to drive down it, on his way home.
Julienne sat on the couch, wearing only a robe, her hand caressing her swelled belly. She hummed softly, smiling. "Hey little buddy. You're coming out soon, aren't you? I wonder what you're going to be? If you're a girl, you're going to be Arianna. If you're a boy, you're going to be Nicholai. And don't let Vincent argue you out of having a good name, okay?" She smiled. "Good....kid."
She heard the door open and she stood up, grinning. "Vincent?"
"Yes, love, I'm home." His voice boomed up from the stairs and she grinned in delight. "Daddy's home, sweetheart." She whispered to her belly as she went to the stairway. Vincent stood at the bottom of the staircase, smiling up at her.
"Hey doll." He said and walked up the stairs, coming to face her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "How are you and the baby today?"
"Lovely. It's kicking. It's been kicking all day. I think she's restless." She said softly and he grinned.
"Oh? She? Since when did we decide it was a girl?"
"Since today. I think we need more girls in this house then boys." She giggled and grabbed his hand, going towards the bathroom. "Come on, I got the bath all set up, just got to turn on the water."
"Of course, love. Let me go get undressed, and I'll be right in." Vincent spoke softly in his seductive, yet loving voice and she grinned.
"Okay. See you in a few." She waved to him and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and sliding out of her robe, climbing into the bath tub. She did not turn on the water yet, waiting for Vincent.
She lay back in the bath tub, smiling, and sighing in content. She was always happy when Vincent was around. Even when he was not in the same room, just in the house, she was complete, fulfilled. And she did not know why but, without him she would---
A large crash from the other room, breaking her thoughts. She sat up quickly, looking towards the door. "Vincent, honey? Are you alright?"
She heard a gruff whisper and then Vincent saying, "Yes, dear, I'm alright. Give me a moment. I just dropped a glass."
"What glass Vincent? On the carpet? I'll get the vacuum, we have to get the glass out of the floor." She stood up, pulling on her robe.
"NO!" Vincent's voice was sharp and frightened. "Don't...I can do it. You just stay there. You're pregnant...can't get too over excited."
"Vincent, honey, what's wrong?" She said, somewhat softly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Fine. Just fine. I love you Julienne."
"I love you too, Vincent." She whispered, starting to get afraid. "Yes, I love you too Vincent, I love you." She spoke louder now, and swallowed hard, opening the bathroom door.
She stepped out into the hallway, looking around her. Everything looked fine, like it always did. She made her way slowly down the hallway into their bedroom, and a gasp escaped her throat.
A large, gruff man had his arm around Vincent's waist, the other, against his chest, a knife held to his throat. Vincent's eyes were large and he stared at Julienne with a pleading. But it was not for help, it was for her to get out, to run, to save herself. But she could not leave the man she loved, her child's father, her husband. "Who are you?" She asked, looking at the man.
He grinned, as if he was waiting for her to ask that. "I'm Jewels." Almost as if on cue, three more men came out of the master bathroom, their arms crossed over their chests, a menacing look on all of their faces.
One stepped forward. "I'm Cobra." He tipped an imaginary hat and stepped back. Another moved where the other had just been. "And I'm Barracuda." After he stepped back, the last one came forward. "And last but not least, I'm Valentine." He eyed her up and down. "You must be Julienne. How many months has that bun been baking in your oven?"
She swallowed hard, almost afraid to answer. "Eight and a half months." She said softly, nibbling at her lip.
"Oh, almost due!" Jewels exclaimed, and the rest laughed, as if he had told the biggest joke in the world. Julienne did not find it funny.
"What do you want?" She spoke with confidence, clearly.
"Well, you see, your boyfriend here---"
She cut him off. "My husband. He's my husband."
"Okay fine, your husband. You see, your husband here, he figured out our little code, and well, we just can't stand for that." Jewels said, in a hissing, snake-like voice.
"Code? What are you talking about?" Vincent asked, his voice slightly high pitched with fear.
"Shut up! You know what code we're talking about you fuck!" Cobra shrieked, and oddly enough, his voice was nothing like a snakes.
"Listen, we'll give you the code, whatever it is, we'll forget all about it. But please, just leave us alone, Vincent and I are happy, and we're sorry that we stumbled upon whatever we did. It was an accident. Please, just, please...leave." Julienne half-spoke, half-whispered. "Please."
Jewels snapped his fingers and Barracuda moved forward, grinning at her and flipping out a switchblade. "Come here little doll face. I have a present for you."
She shook her head and backed up against the wall. He growled, moving towards her, the knife still out. Her voice came out panicked, shaky. "Please! Don't.....I promise, we'll forget all about it. Just please...I..."
Vincent's voice over ran hers and she listened. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop true love, and death will not stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity."
Julienne sobbed and nodded, closing her eyes and bracing for whatever was to come. A sharp pain hit her in the abdomen and she cried out, hearing Vincent shriek as well, as blood began to gush out, after Barracuda ripped the knife down and out of her stomach. Her hands automatically went to her stomach and she screamed, sliding to the floor. "Arianna...Arianna..." She whispered, her hands clutching her bleeding, throbbing belly.
Vincent sobbed, struggling against Jewels. "Julienne! JULIENNE! NO!" He pulled with all of his might, getting free and falling forward. He landed on the ground in front of Julienne, and looked up just in time to see Barracuda stab the switchblade into her heart. He let out a shrieking sob, and she looked in his eyes one last time before she died.
"You bastard! YOU KILLED HER! She was pregnant! With a child! YOU KILLED MY BABY! OUR BABY!" He sobbed loudly, crumbling in a heap on the floor. The man who called himself Valentine slinked forward, and gripped Vincent's shoulder, yanking him upwards and shoving him against the wall.
"Quiet, you little sniveling, whimpering brat. It's your fault she's dead. And it's your fault that you'll be dead too." Vincent felt the cold, sure metal of a gun barrel on the side of his head and he closed his eyes, whispering softly to himself. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity." He smiled and laughed loudly, a deep, frightening sound he had not known he was capable of. "See you in the afterlife, bitch." And with that, Valentine pulled the trigger, blasting Vincent's brain and skull all over the yellow, freshly painted walls.
A Year Later
Two graves sat next to each other. One was settled, the soul at rest, the other not. It was restless, upset, longing to come out. The Crow came from the depths of the sky, landing down on top of the gravestone that read Vincent Corwin. It began to peck at it, chipping little pieces out of the cement.
The ground began to shake, to push open, the coffin pushing out from underneath the hard, cold earth. The coffin smashed open, pieces of wood and cloth flying in every which direction, and a lone hand clawing at the ground, searching for something to grab onto.
Vincent pulled himself out of his coffin, scraping at the ground, grabbing onto a tree root as he finally emerged completely out of the ground, out of his coffin, and lay on top of Julienne's grave for a moment, breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down.
He looked to the grave stone, and saw the crow. He tilted his head to the side and his eyes trailed down to the stone. When he saw what it read, he cried out, stumbling, crab walking backwards away from it. He swallowed hard, staring at the grave, breathing hard. "I'm...I'm dead....but...I'm...I can feel....breathe...think...why?" You need to avenge yourself, Vincent. You remember the men who killed you, your Julienne, your unborn child, yes?
"Who is there? Who is that?" It is me, I am everywhere I want to be, and anywhere you need me to be. Where do you think I am now?
Vincent's eyes went to the Crow, and they widened. "Right there....The Crow. What do you want from me?" It is not what I want from you, Vincent, it is what I can give you. You want to avenge your death, Julienne's death, your unborn baby's death, yes?
A flash of memory hit Vincent as he ran a hand along the ground that Julienne was buried under. Her stomach gushing with blood, her eyes dead, blank, staring blind at Vincent. The knife jabbed into her heart. The gunshot and the explosion of brains against the wall. But it was not someone else's brains. It was his. He sobbed, but nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, yes. More then anything." Good. Do you remember Cobra? Valentine? Barracuda? Jewels? The four men that were responsible for all your deaths?
"Yes, I remember them. Where are they now?" He asked softly, shivering in the cold as a single drop of rain landed on his hand. We cannot go to them yet. You need your battle paint.
"Battle paint? What are you talking about?" Vincent asked softly and the voice laughed, a deep, rolling echo through the night. Come, I will show you The bird fluttered off into the night, and Vincent followed. The bird led him to his old ranch. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so far so fast, but when he entered the home, memories rushed back.
Julienne laughing, her and Vincent dancing underneath the stars on the porch, them making love in a completely candlelit room, empty except for the soft blanket set on the floor. The trips to the doctor....He swallowed hard and stumbling up the stairs, making his way down the hallway into the baby's room. A cry escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment.
The walls were painted yellow and blue, the crib and everything else in the room matching it. A pile of stuffed animals in the corner, blankets folded on the rack underneath the changing table. He opened his eyes and shuddered, walking out of the room and leaning his head against the cold wall of the hallway.
"Why did they do this to us?" Vincent asked softly, not really expecting an answer, but the loud, booming voice answered him anyways. Because, Vincent, don't you remember when you solved the code at work?
"The code?" Yes. You were working late, at the police station...
"The police station? Yes...I remember. I was an investigator. I didn't go to the crime scenes, but I helped solve the crimes." He said softly and he almost knew whoever the voice was, they were nodding. Yes. And you were solving a case. The Addison case? Do you remember?
"Yes! The Addisons! The mother, three daughters, two sons, all killed. They...they were completely innocent. No motive. Nothing....but...how did I...the code?" The code. You figured out the pattern.
"But....why did they call it a code?" Vincent whispered, swallowing hard. It was a code. Satanic. Don't you remember?
"No, no I don't." He said softly and the voice sighed. You figured out the spell they were trying to do with the Addisons. They needed a family of a mother, three daughters and two sons. Do you remember now?
"Yes! They needed that amount of people because it was how their 'God' lived. He had a wife, three daughters and two sons! They needed to offer up the same family for the God so that he would be satisfied and give them eternal life! But the eternal life would be broken if....if someone found out about it." Vincent closed his eyes, his body shaking slightly. "I found out about it." Yes, Vincent. You found out about it, because you were a very smart man. But smarts don't matter anymore. You must avenge yourself, your wife, your unborn child. Yes?
Vincent nodded, not answering with words. Come, Vincent, I will show you your war paint. The Crow flew towards the bedroom and he followed, his arms crossed over his chest, hands rubbing his upper arms, trying to warm up his body. But he couldn't. It was cold, and dead.
When he entered the bedroom, The Crow was perched up on the vanity, looking down at him. "What is my war paint?" Look in the top drawer. Vincent did as he was told, opening the top drawer and pulling out the contents. A candle, some already lit matches, and some drawings. Look at the drawing titled "My Love." You will find it very easily
Vincent looked at the pictures, tossing the ones away that he didn't need, quick enough so no memories flashed back to him. He was done with memories. He finally find the drawing, and looked at it, an eyebrow raised. It was a picture Julienne had drawn, just a pencil sketch on a piece of white paper.
It was a picture of him. His eyes were shaded in, as if he was wearing eye shadow, and his lips were as well, like he was wearing black lipstick. But the black, burnt edges of the matches in the drawer had made a long line along the lips, creating the mirage of a false smile. They had also left two lines going through both lines vertically, extending down his cheek and up his forehead. He looked at the picture and then to the bird. "This is my war paint?" Yes, Vincent. Put it on.
"With what?" In the second drawer. Your materials are in there
Vincent yanked open the second drawer, pulling out a black lipstick, and a case of white foundation. He spread the white across his skin, covering his entire face in it. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, examining his newly colored look. He smiled a bit, grabbing the lipstick and putting it on his lips. He extended the line out on both sides, copying the false smile look from the picture. He then filled in his eyes, up to his eyebrows with it, both sides, and extended the line above his eyebrow, and down his cheek on both sides.
He looked to the bird, his new look frightening and a bit intimidating. He let out a laugh as the bird backed up slightly on the vanity. It was a hideously frightening laugh, something he didn't even know he was capable of. He didn't care. "Even my mentor is afraid of me. Is that a good thing?" Yes, it is, Vincent. Now, go get dressed. You're hardly wearing enough to go out in this weather. Almost in reaction, a clap of thunder boomed throughout the house and a flash of lightening lit it all up. He saw himself completely in the mirror for about three seconds and he laughed again, that dark, sinister laugh. The rain began to pour down and he laughed louder now, going to the closet door and yanking it open.
His eyes searched the closet and he let out a exasperated sigh. "What should I wear? You seem to be good at this." He looked to the bird. Leather and black. Go for the bondage look
He laughed loudly, but it was his normal laugh this time. He grabbed a pair of leather pants, stripping off his other ones and pulling the new pair on. He took off his shirt as well, looking through his closet again. He grabbed a fishnet shirt, pulling it on over his head. He grabbed his favorite pair of boots, yanking them on and zipping them up. He looked to the bird again. "How do I look?" Handsome, but that may be because I know what you looked like before. You look creepy.
Vincent grinned, but he suddenly realized he was talking to a bird. It didn't really matter, he was dead, and he didn't really plan on committing himself any time soon. He could be talking to a patch of grass for all he really cared. It didn't matter.
He went to the window, his boots clunking against the floor. "Wow, it really is raining out there. A perfect night for vengeance. Where are they now?" He lowered himself to the ground and looked at the bird. Follow me. I will take you to Cobra. The Crow flew away from Vincent and he reached out a hand, standing up and following it. He stumbled out of the house and along the road, still a little unsteady on his legs. He watched the Crow fly steadily through the sky, soaring and finally resting on the ledge of a balcony way at the top of an apartment building. Vincent got a flash of a picture of Cobra laughing, drinking a beer. But it wasn't a memory, it was what the Crow was seeing from his perch on the balcony.
Vincent climbed up the fire escape, joining the Crow and leaning against the wall, not visible to the man inside. He looked to the bird with a smile and stepped into the house through the window. He was quiet, deathly quiet, and he shut the window without Cobra even looking up from his beer and porno on the television. The sounds of the shower could be heard from the other room, and the sounds of singing as well. It sounded like a woman, and he guessed that it was Cobra's girlfriend. How he could get a girlfriend was really a mystery to him, but he decided not to question it.
Vincent put a hand on the edge of the couch and vaulted himself forward, landing in a sitting position next to Cobra.
Cobra let out a shriek, flying off the couch and stumbling backwards. "Who...who are you?" He swallowed hard, then regained his cocky, bad boy exterior. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"
"Simply some house cleaning, Cobra. You did call for house keeping, didn't you?"
"No! I didn't call for anyone." He was shaking slightly, but his voice was still steady.
"Oh no?" He quickly slowly, a smooth, liquid movement. "Well, Cobra. Do you remember October 28th, last year, at ten o'clock at night, a man and his pregnant wife. Do you remember who I am talking about?"
Cobra's eyes went wide, swallowing hard. But he shook his head, as though sweat wasn't dripping down his forehead, as though his eyes weren't wide with panic. "No, I don't."
Vincent growled and lunged forward, wrapping a hand around Cobra's throat. "Yes! Yes you do! Vincent, Julienne and Arianna Corwin! You murdered them.....cold blood."
"NO! That was Barracuda! He killed his girlfriend...I didn't kill..."
"WIFE! She was my wife! I married her because I love her....do you remember what I said to her, what I said to her before Valentine blasted my brains against the wall?" Cobra didn't answer, and Vincent was beginning to get mad. "DO YOU?!!?"
Cobra nodded his head quickly. "I...you're Vincent Corwin ...you're dead?" Vincent growled and squeezed his fingers hard into his throat. "Do you?" "Yes...I can't forget it. It keeps ringing over and over in my head...I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry we ruined your life...I didn't want to be a part of it, I...I was....stupid then....I...." He sobbed loudly, and Vincent loosened his grip slightly, his body relaxing a bit. Vincent, no one can change like that. His girlfriend, in the shower, he beats her.
"Do you beat your girlfriend? Do you hurt her?" Vincent hissed in Cobra's face and his eyes widened.
"How....but I...you....you haven't seen her."
"I don't have to see her to know that you're a controlling person, who doesn't like to be taken advantage of. Is that right?"
Cobra didn't answer and Vincent laughed that eerie, haunting laugh that he had somehow acquired. "That's why you keep a gun in the couch, behind the toilet, underneath the sink, yes?"
Cobra nodded, sniffling slightly. "Please....don't hurt me..."
Vincent shoved his hand into the couch, pulling out the gun. "I plan to. I came here with the intent to kill you, to take vengeance for Julienne, Arianna, me. Give one valid, good reason, with three main points to back it up."
The man looked at him with wide eyes, shivering slightly. "I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my friends killing your wife, your daughter. I didn't know what I was doing."
"That was only two main points, Cobra, and they weren't too...specific." Vincent said with a happy bounce to his voice.
"Please! I'm sorry! Please!" He sobbed, dropping to his knees. Vincent just smiled.
"Say good-bye, Cobra." Good-bye Cobra.
That one comment sent Vincent into a laughing fit as he put the gun against Cobra's forehead and pulled the trigger, the back of his head exploding in a mass of bone, brain and blood. Vincent was still laughing by the time Cobra's body dropped to it's side on the floor, not moving anymore. He put the gun down the front of his pants, then pushed his shirt down over it.
He crouched down on the floor, and sighed softly, watching the blood pool out on the hardwood floor. He stood, moving over to the kitchen, and looking through the drawers. Surprisingly, he found a pasty brush, and headed back into the living room.
He dipped the brush in the blood and began to paint a picture of The Crow on the floor. It didn't take long, but when he was done, he was satisfied with his art work next to Cobra's dead body. He smiled and stepped back, looking at his work. He had a trademark now, something that said 'The Crow was here.' And no one could deny it, because there it was, in drying blood on the hardwood floor.
Vincent moved back to the couch, sitting on it, admiring his work.
The bathroom door opened, and the girl came out, wrapped in a towel, dripping wet. She gasped when she saw Vincent, swallowing hard. Her eyes moved to the floor to see Cobra dead. "You...you killed him."
"Yes, that I did. Are you angry with me.....?" He looked at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow, as if that would be enough for her to give him her name.
But she didn't. "You killed him." Her voice sounded satisfied as she repeated it. "You killed him."
"Yes. Would you like to come sit by me, join me with a beer?" He picked up Cobra's half empty beer and took a swig, propping his boot-clad feet up on the coffee table, resting his arms on the back of the couch.
She nodded slightly, going to the fridge to get a beer. She came back, still in just a towel and sat next to him. "Why did you kill Cobra?"
From this view, Vincent could see a purple bruise about the size of a fist on her cheek, the color almost green over the purple. Bruises ran along her arms, in the shape of a hand, as if Cobra had wrapped his hand too tightly around there. "Because he killed m...." He stopped, not wanting her to know he was dead. "He killed my wife and my unborn child a year ago."
She gasped. "Why?"
Vincent shrugged. He didn't feel like going into it. "I don't know yet."
She looked at Cobra's dead body and smiled, even in the grim situation. "You won't ever know now."
"What is your name?"
"Wendy Waterson." She smiled a bit. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"
"I'm Vincent Corwin, it's a pleasure." He grinned and stood up, smoothing out the front of his shirt with the palms of his hands. He put a hand in his pocket, pulling out some money that he had left in there when he was alive. He handed it to her. "Fix this place up, call the police, get yourself some pretty clothes to show your body off once those bruises go away."
"Thank you." Wendy said softly. "Thank you so much. You're like an angel, an angel of death. Of course, with a vengeance. Can't have an angel of death with vengeance. I'll always remember you."
"And I, you, Wendy. Thank you. I'll remember what you said." He smiled and blew her a kiss. "Good luck, Wendy Waterson. May you have a long and prosperous life." He slid out the window and he looked at The Crow, who was still perched on the banister. Did you have fun, Vincent?
"Yes, I did. I killed someone for my own benefit and it happened to make another person happy as well. It's a good day." Yes, a good day. You can still get another kill in, if you'd like. Do you remember who's next on the list?
Vincent nodded, his face serious again. "Valentine." A flash of Valentine pulling the trigger, blasting Vincent's brains against the clean, white wall, as he slid to the floor, his body shuddering and twitching, not quite wanting to be dead yet. Valentine laughing as he watched Barracuda kill Julienne, the baby. Yes, Valentine. Would you like to get his death over with tonight?
"Yes, yes I would. Where is he?" Vincent's face was completely serious, but the false smile still held his happy façade. Follow me The Crow flew off of the fire escape and Vincent jumped off the high porch, his feet landing flat on the sidewalk below, like a cat would land if it walked on two legs instead of four. He followed the bird as it soared through the sky, dipping and rising along the night sky.
It continued to fly before it reached a large house. The house was sickeningly like the stereotypical perfect family house, with a white picket fence, blue shutters, a nicely trimmed lawn, a swing set and even a dog house in the back yard, which was perfectly green. Vincent frowned slightly. "Pretty stereotypical, wouldn't you say? He lives here?" Oh no, Vincent. Valentine is simply robbing this house tonight.
A loud crash sounded throughout the air and Vincent laughed. "He's robbing the stereotypical dream home? Would have thought worse of him." Go on inside, Vincent, the door is open. He didn't even think of shutting it. Vincent started to head for the house. By the way, Vincent, there is a wide assortment of knives Many knives
"Thank you." He strolled into the house, pushing open the blue door that matched the shutters. "Wow, this house is stereotypical." He muttered, sliding his hand along the wall as he headed towards the kitchen. He looked out the window, looking at The Crow perched on the picket fence, watching him.
He entered the kitchen and grabbed a long butcher knife with a serrated edge, sliding it into his pocket. He grabbed another knife, a large bread knife. He grinned and held it in his hand, walking towards the hallway. Another large crash sounded through the house and he moved towards it.
Vincent moved along the hall, and pressed the knife to wall, dragging it along it as he moved. It made a loud, scraping noise, and the crashing stopped. Valentine poked his head out from the bedroom and Vincent waved, blowing him a kiss with his free hand.
Valentine laughed. "Who the fuck are you, freak show? What's up with the make-up? You know ladies don't like Goths."
"And you think they like men who kill pregnant women? Who murder happily married couples who stumble upon things they don't mean to?" Vincent spoke in a loud, clear voice, no shaking, no nothing.
"They seem to. I'm getting laid about twice a week."
Vincent growled, an eye twitching. "You would have raped her, wouldn't you? If Barracuda hadn't stabbed her, you would have raped her?"
"Oh! Julienne! I remember her." Valentine moved out of the bedroom and leaned against the hallway wall. "Actually, I did rape her after she was dead. It was hard to do though, what with the baby in there and what not. That baby was pretty close to being born."
Vincent sobbed and closed his eyes for a moment. Valentine took that moment to pull a gun, unloading five bullets into his stomach. He let out a cry of pain, his hands flying to his stomach. He looked down, swallowing hard, but then laughed as he watched the bullet holes heal, close up completely with no mark left whatsoever, as if he had never been shot. "Nice try, Valentine. But, you know, I can't die, because I'm already dead."
Valentine's eyes went slightly wide with fear. "You're Vincent Corwin, aren't you?" He backed up against the wall.
"Righty-o, Valentine. And guess what I'm here to do?" He didn't even let the man answer. "To kill you." He moved forward, holding the bread knife, grinning. "Now, if you do what I say, I'll kill you quickly, like I did Cobra. But if you don't be nice, I'll just have to be mean, and I don't like being mean."
"Fuck you. I'm not giving up without a fight." Valentine gave him the finger and Vincent laughed. He tossed the knife forward with expert skill. It went through his hand, pinning his hand against his chest as the knife went through that as well, pinning that part of his body to wall. "FUCK!" He shrieked out in pain and closed his eyes.
"Now I told you to be nice, Valentine." He slid the other knife out of his pocket and grinned. "This should be fun. I know exactly where I want to hit you." He pulled his arm back and threw the knife forward, watching it go through Valentine's throat.
Valentine let out a choking, gurgling gasp, blood trickling out of the sides of his mouth, and he tried to swallow, the knife stopping him. He spit the blood out, but continued to choke on it, his body shuddering and twitching against the wall.
Vincent turned and went to the kitchen, grabbing three more Chef's knives, and headed back into the hallway, tossing them at Valentine's writhing body. They all hit him square in the chest, right in the heart, and his body gave one last dying twitch before it went still. Vincent went and retrieved more knives, coming back to Valentine's dead body. He began to place the knives in his stomach, making a shape of The Crow. He smiled and stepped back, looking at it. It was perfect. A symbol of what he meant, and what he was doing. Everyone would know that Valentine was killed by the same man that killed Cobra. And after tomorrow night, the man that killed Barracuda and Jewels. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
He grinned and turned, heading out of the house. He was done for the night.
Vincent......Vincent, wake up.... The voice boomed out through the darkness and Vincent sat up with a start, his hands clawing at the empty air. It took him a moment to remember he had slept on the floor of the ranch, curled up in a ball. It's time to go Vincent....I know where to find Barracuda.
Vincent looked around, trying to find the bird. "Where are you?" On the shelf above the couch. Vincent's eyes automatically moved to the wall and he smiled a bit.
"There you are." He stood slowly, brushing himself off. "Where is Barracuda?" Come, I will show you. The Crow began to fly away and Vincent called out to him. "Wait...wait...let me get some supplies." Supplies?
"Yes, I need some interesting things to kill him with. Oh, and something gruesome to kill Jewels with. Do you have any ideas?" You could stab him repeatedly in the stomach and rape him
Vincent's body went completely still and he looked to The Crow. "Please...." You asked for a suggestion, Vincent. I am vengeance, nothing else. What do you expect me to say?
He sighed. "I don't....just not that." Very well, if it displeases you, I will not say it again
"Thank you." Vincent wandered down the hallway into the bathroom, looking through all the things they had left in the house. You know, Vincent, I'm sure you can find something to kill him with when we get there. No need to look for things here.
"Yes, you make a good point." He smiled and looked at himself in the mirror. His make-up was slightly smudged, but he didn't care. He was half- way done. He was going to kill Barracuda.
This time, The Crow led him to a factory in the east edge of town. Here. Barracuda is here. But Vincent, I must warn you, he is not alone. He is with... An image flashed in Vincent's brain, of Barracuda sitting at the head of a long table, men sitting around him.
"I know. About fifteen other people. No need to tell me. Remember, I see what you see." Yes, Vincent. I know. Now go on.
Vincent grinned at The Crow and moved towards the factory door, swinging it open and heading inside.
He looked around him, chains hanging from the ceiling, pieces of metal on the floor. He picked up a piece of a metal and a chain from the floor, slinging the chain over his shoulder and holding the metal in his hand.
Vincent strolled towards the table the men were sitting at and grinned at them as they stared at him with wide eyes. "Hello gentlemen. Everyone who isn't Barracuda....I'd suggest, you run." He pointed a long, slender finger at Barracuda. "And I know who you are, so don't even try to run. I will catch you, no matter where you go."
Barracuda motioned for everyone to go, and they all did, rushing towards the door like it was their life source. In a way it was, but Vincent really didn't care as he lowered himself into one of the cushy leather chairs, setting the chain and metal in his lap.
"Hello Barracuda. How are you today?"
The man swallowed hard and shrugged. "Well, thank you. And you?" His voice was steady though. Years of practice.
"I'm good. Do you know what I did yesterday?"
"What?"
"I killed two people! Two! And it was marvelous. And guess what one of them did?" He started to laugh, that eerie, echoing chuckle that made every hair on Barracuda's body stand up.
"W...wh...what?" He stammered, shaking slightly.
"He got down on his knees and begged! On his knees!" He continued to laugh, even louder now.
But suddenly, Vincent made his face go completely serious, so much that the other man gasped. "Will you get on your knees and beg for you life, Barracuda? Because if you will, I suggest you do it now. I'm getting impatient just looking at your face."
The image of Barracuda stabbing the knife down into Julienne's stomach, ripping it out, piercing her in the heart, killing her. Vincent growled. "Do it."
Barracuda hopped out of his chair and dropped to his knees, swallowing hard. "Please....whoever you are, don't kill me. Please."
"Vincent Corwin. My name was Vincent Corwin. But now I'm dead, dead because Valentine killed me. But guess what? Valentine is dead now, and so are you. So beg for your life, beg for it because it means so much more then you'll ever know. And when you finally know, you'll be dead and your life will be gone. Do you understand me? You can't get it back."
His eyes went wide, but he swallowed the fact that Vincent was dead. He wasn't about to argue with a crazed madman. "But you got yours back, how?"
"Anger is a very powerful emotion. I was angry when I died, and I swore I'd see you in my afterlife. So there I was In the afterlife, without you and your little friends. Unable to rest, my soul too heavy to rest with my love, my daughter. Because of you. You and your damn fucking friends."
"Please....I....want my life. I want it now. I'll stop doing drugs, I won't hurt my girlfriends, just please don't kill me." Barracuda said, and his voice was convincing. But when Vincent looked into his eyes, he saw a look of absolute and complete evil. He was lying, and he was good at it. Probably had done it so many times before, the lies became truth, and the truth became lies.
"You're lying, Barracuda. Don't lie to a dead man."
"Please! I..." Before he could answer, Vincent flung one edge of the chain out, and flicked his wrist, causing it wrap around the man's neck. He yanked him forward, and Barracuda slammed to the floor, face first, as he was pulled forward towards Vincent.
"Now, what was that?"
Barracuda tried to answer in his choked voice, but couldn't get the words out. Vincent just shrugged and stood, beginning to drag him towards the stairs, towards the upper level. As he hauled Barracuda up the stairs, his body bumping against each step, Vincent began to talk to him. "You know, Cuda, you're not much of a liar. I can see that in your eyes. You've lied a lot, haven't you?"
He let out a gurgling sound.
"I'll take that as a yes....but, you know, you could have been something good. Instead, you played with dark arts and evil men. Now you have to die, do you understand that?"
Again, another burbling sound.
"So, as long as you know that, we're good." He finally got Barracuda up to the top of the stairs and moved along to the banister, pushing him against it and wrapping the chain around the railing, tightly so it wouldn't come undone.
"Good-bye, Barracuda. You weren't a good man, nor a good solider. May you burn in hell with Valentine and Cobra." He pushed Barracuda over the edge of the railing and watching his body jerk, then hang from the railing, the chain digging into his neck ,cutting off his air.
His hands clawed desperately at the rings around his neck, and blood came out of his gaping mouth, trying to pull in air he couldn't get.
Vincent stood on the railing, watching Barracuda's life slowly leave him, and before long, he was just dangling from the chain, his body limp, his chest no longer moving in and out. He was dead.
He walked down the stairs, and went back to the table to retrieve the piece of metal he had picked up earlier. He lowered himself to the floor and began to scrape along the floor, leaving a deep imprint of The Crow. He grinned. Another job well done, Vincent
"Yes, another job well done." But the voice wasn't Vincent's. It was someone else's. Vincent stood, his eyes slightly wide and he swallowed hard. "Who said that?"
"Why, it's me, Vincent. Do you not remember. Your lovely friend Jewels." He laughed. "You know, your wife was quite the good lay. Even after she was dead, she certainly knew how to make a man feel good. And she was so tight for a pregnant woman...."
"SHUT UP!" Vincent screamed, closing his eyes, his body shaking slightly. "You have no right to say those things."
"You have no right to kill all these people, Vincent."
"YOU FUCKED MY DEAD WIFE! I have every reason to kill each and every one of you." He looked around, spinning in circles. "Where are you? Tell me where you are! Don't hide like the rat I think you are. Come out and play."
"I don't want to play with you ,Vincent, you don't fight fair." He laughed. "But I can make it fair."
A gun shot filled the air and Vincent heard the fluttering of wings and a loud thud. His eyes went wide as he whirled around, and stared at The Crow, dead on the table with a bullet wound through it's chest.
His body shook slightly and his eyes were wide.
Jewels laughter rang throughout the factory, and yet another gunshot pulsed through the air. This time, the bullet landed in Vincent's leg. He let out a cry of agony, and he fell to the ground, holding his leg. "You're a cheater! Fuck!"
"I'm the cheater? You're the one who has that Crow of yours backing you up. You know, it's not exactly fair when you unload an entire gun into someone and they don't die." Jewels said in disgust, and Vincent finally saw him, moving down the stairs opposite the one that Barracuda was hanging from.
He strode towards Vincent, a long sniper gun in his hand. "Hello Vincent. How have you been this past year."
"Peachy keen. Haven't been able to rest."
"Oh well, how about I put you to rest?" Jewels hissed, anger lining every word.
"How about I put you to rest?" Vincent repeated what Jewels had just said, mockingly. "I came here to kill you, and I won't leave without your blood on my hands."
Jewels growled. "Fuck. You just don't give up do you?" He pointed the sniper at Vincent's head. "Just tell me when you're ready to die again." Vincent.
"What...you're...but I thought..." Vincent mumbled, but the voice came again. I'm not here in person anymore, Vincent, but you still know I'm here in presence, just as I always was. Remember, Vincent, I am everywhere I want to be, and anywhere you need me to be. Never forget that.
Vincent swallowed hard and nodded, looking down to his leg, a slow steady stream of blood trickled out, but he didn't care. He raised the hand that had the metal in it and stabbed it into Jewels' stomach.
Jewels cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, holding his stomach. He dropped his gun, and Vincent slowly stood. He pulled the gun out of the front of his pants and held it out, breathing heavily. "You will die tonight, Jewels. You'll die."
He fired the gun into Jewels until it clicked empty. Vincent stared at the gun, then stared to Jewels, swallowing hard and smiling. "Your blood is on my hands."
But of course, Jewels didn't answer .He was dead. They were all dead. And he was done.
Vincent moved towards the table, picking up the body of The Crow as he began to limp towards the door. "Why did the factory have to be so damn far away from the cemetery?" He mumbled, but smiled.
Vincent finally reached the cemetery a few hours later, stumbling and mumbling to himself. He finally reached his grave, falling forward on top of Julienne's grave. He ran his fingertips along the engraved words, sniffling.
"Julienne, I avenged us, I made everything better, everything great. Jewels, Barracuda, Valentine, and Cobra. They're all dead. They're all dead. Just like we are. We're even. Completely even." He smiled, laughing.
"We're even Julienne! Even! Please let me be with you...let me rest with you..." He sobbed and lay his head on the ground, closing his eyes. He ran his hands along the loose dirt, grinding it between his fingertips. "Please Julienne..."
A soft warmth began to over take him, and he lifted his head up, opening his eyes. And he saw her.
Saw her in her radiant glow, wearing the same long, flowing white dress she had worn on their wedding, her long brown hair flowing in silky waves over her shoulders, down her back. But that wasn't the only thing about her. She held a baby in her arms, a young baby girl.
"Arianna...." Vincent whispered, and the word sounded so good rolling over his lips.
Julienne crouched down next to him and planted a kiss on his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. "We're even, Vincent, even. You, me, Arianna. We're even. You can come home."
As Vincent was swallowed up in warmth, he was home. Home in the arms of Julienne, home holding Arianna. He was home.
October 28th
She stood on large, wooden porch, over looking the entire ranch. Her long, leather-clad arms rested on the edge of the porch and a large smile crossed her lips. She had longed for this farm for so many years and she finally had it. Fifty acres of rolling land, for her to own, tame, keep all to herself.
But as she stood there thinking, she shook her head, laughing softly. It was not all hers. It was Vincent's ranch too. Julienne and Vincent's ranch. They would even put a large sign the day they moved in. A big metal sign on the fence that read: "The Corwins, Vincent and Julienne", in big cursive letters. They had even left some extra space, because they were both looking forward to the little one on the way.
Julienne's hand automatically slid onto her swelling abdomen, feeling the round bulge where underneath, their baby kicked and squirmed. She smiled, her hand staying there for a lingering moment.
She was waiting for Vincent to come home. Every day after work, he would come home, and she would be waiting for him in the bath tub. They would wash each other's hair, bodies, holding each other close and cherishing the warmth each other's bodies gave one another, the love that radiated off both of them in a constant stream of heat.
She moved into the house, a little slower then normal. Julienne hummed softly to herself, the song that Vincent had wrote her on their one year anniversary as a married couple. As another automatic reaction, her right hand went over the left, feeling the diamond ring on her finger. She traced along the bumps and curves of it, remembering the wedding day.
It had been beautiful. On a beach in the Cayman Islands, Vincent and Julienne wore non-traditional wedding outfits. He wore a pair of loose, white pants, no shirt, and she wore a long, flowing white dress that matched the pants Vincent wore. They had written their own vows, speaking them lovingly to each other. But the words he said to her always rang in her head, every day as they held each other in the bath tub, as she fell asleep in his arms at night, when she woke up next to him in the morning. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop true love, and death will not stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity."
Julienne had been touched, and felt a little bad that her vows were not nearly as deep. Of course, she spoke from her heart, about true love, never knowing a feeling this big, and that she would never leave him. "Whatever problems we have, we'll work them out." She had said.
But it didn't matter she didn't say exactly what she wanted, because he knew what she meant to say, even without her saying it.
As she moved into the house, her walk slowed, and she stopped and turned to look at the ranch one last time before she entered the home. She was happy, and nothing could change that.
Vincent sat in his car, his hands holding the steering wheel and he sighed. He was in the middle of a traffic jam. He shrugged his shoulders forward, stretching them a bit. "Hey, at least I'm not in the back of the line. Yeah, that's a good way of thinking about it. I'm in the middle, which is closer to the front then it is the back." He smiled a bit, and the line began to move. He happily pressed down on the gas, as the car lurched forward, as if it was tired, like it wanted to go home as much as he did.
He turned up the radio, tapping his fingertips against the steering wheel. Again, the traffic moved and he moved with it. This time, the line did not stop moving. Instead, it kept going, and he drove forward, happy. He was late for his regular appointment in the bath tub with Julienne, but he knew she would understand. It had happened before.
Vincent sang along with the radio and still inching his way forward through the traffic. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fluttering shape. He turned, and he saw a crow land on a light pole on the side of road. He grinned slightly when the bird did not fly any farther. "Traffic got you down too, boy?" He leaned back in his seat and almost giggled in delight when the traffic began to move forward at a steady, constant, smooth pace. He looked at the crow, a small frown on his lips. "Don't tell anyone I just giggled. Alright, it didn't happen." He flashed a handsome smile at the bird. "Thanks for keeping my secret buddy, it's appreciated."
He finally got to the front of the traffic, turned onto the side road that led to the ranch, and began to drive down it, on his way home.
Julienne sat on the couch, wearing only a robe, her hand caressing her swelled belly. She hummed softly, smiling. "Hey little buddy. You're coming out soon, aren't you? I wonder what you're going to be? If you're a girl, you're going to be Arianna. If you're a boy, you're going to be Nicholai. And don't let Vincent argue you out of having a good name, okay?" She smiled. "Good....kid."
She heard the door open and she stood up, grinning. "Vincent?"
"Yes, love, I'm home." His voice boomed up from the stairs and she grinned in delight. "Daddy's home, sweetheart." She whispered to her belly as she went to the stairway. Vincent stood at the bottom of the staircase, smiling up at her.
"Hey doll." He said and walked up the stairs, coming to face her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "How are you and the baby today?"
"Lovely. It's kicking. It's been kicking all day. I think she's restless." She said softly and he grinned.
"Oh? She? Since when did we decide it was a girl?"
"Since today. I think we need more girls in this house then boys." She giggled and grabbed his hand, going towards the bathroom. "Come on, I got the bath all set up, just got to turn on the water."
"Of course, love. Let me go get undressed, and I'll be right in." Vincent spoke softly in his seductive, yet loving voice and she grinned.
"Okay. See you in a few." She waved to him and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and sliding out of her robe, climbing into the bath tub. She did not turn on the water yet, waiting for Vincent.
She lay back in the bath tub, smiling, and sighing in content. She was always happy when Vincent was around. Even when he was not in the same room, just in the house, she was complete, fulfilled. And she did not know why but, without him she would---
A large crash from the other room, breaking her thoughts. She sat up quickly, looking towards the door. "Vincent, honey? Are you alright?"
She heard a gruff whisper and then Vincent saying, "Yes, dear, I'm alright. Give me a moment. I just dropped a glass."
"What glass Vincent? On the carpet? I'll get the vacuum, we have to get the glass out of the floor." She stood up, pulling on her robe.
"NO!" Vincent's voice was sharp and frightened. "Don't...I can do it. You just stay there. You're pregnant...can't get too over excited."
"Vincent, honey, what's wrong?" She said, somewhat softly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Fine. Just fine. I love you Julienne."
"I love you too, Vincent." She whispered, starting to get afraid. "Yes, I love you too Vincent, I love you." She spoke louder now, and swallowed hard, opening the bathroom door.
She stepped out into the hallway, looking around her. Everything looked fine, like it always did. She made her way slowly down the hallway into their bedroom, and a gasp escaped her throat.
A large, gruff man had his arm around Vincent's waist, the other, against his chest, a knife held to his throat. Vincent's eyes were large and he stared at Julienne with a pleading. But it was not for help, it was for her to get out, to run, to save herself. But she could not leave the man she loved, her child's father, her husband. "Who are you?" She asked, looking at the man.
He grinned, as if he was waiting for her to ask that. "I'm Jewels." Almost as if on cue, three more men came out of the master bathroom, their arms crossed over their chests, a menacing look on all of their faces.
One stepped forward. "I'm Cobra." He tipped an imaginary hat and stepped back. Another moved where the other had just been. "And I'm Barracuda." After he stepped back, the last one came forward. "And last but not least, I'm Valentine." He eyed her up and down. "You must be Julienne. How many months has that bun been baking in your oven?"
She swallowed hard, almost afraid to answer. "Eight and a half months." She said softly, nibbling at her lip.
"Oh, almost due!" Jewels exclaimed, and the rest laughed, as if he had told the biggest joke in the world. Julienne did not find it funny.
"What do you want?" She spoke with confidence, clearly.
"Well, you see, your boyfriend here---"
She cut him off. "My husband. He's my husband."
"Okay fine, your husband. You see, your husband here, he figured out our little code, and well, we just can't stand for that." Jewels said, in a hissing, snake-like voice.
"Code? What are you talking about?" Vincent asked, his voice slightly high pitched with fear.
"Shut up! You know what code we're talking about you fuck!" Cobra shrieked, and oddly enough, his voice was nothing like a snakes.
"Listen, we'll give you the code, whatever it is, we'll forget all about it. But please, just leave us alone, Vincent and I are happy, and we're sorry that we stumbled upon whatever we did. It was an accident. Please, just, please...leave." Julienne half-spoke, half-whispered. "Please."
Jewels snapped his fingers and Barracuda moved forward, grinning at her and flipping out a switchblade. "Come here little doll face. I have a present for you."
She shook her head and backed up against the wall. He growled, moving towards her, the knife still out. Her voice came out panicked, shaky. "Please! Don't.....I promise, we'll forget all about it. Just please...I..."
Vincent's voice over ran hers and she listened. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop true love, and death will not stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity."
Julienne sobbed and nodded, closing her eyes and bracing for whatever was to come. A sharp pain hit her in the abdomen and she cried out, hearing Vincent shriek as well, as blood began to gush out, after Barracuda ripped the knife down and out of her stomach. Her hands automatically went to her stomach and she screamed, sliding to the floor. "Arianna...Arianna..." She whispered, her hands clutching her bleeding, throbbing belly.
Vincent sobbed, struggling against Jewels. "Julienne! JULIENNE! NO!" He pulled with all of his might, getting free and falling forward. He landed on the ground in front of Julienne, and looked up just in time to see Barracuda stab the switchblade into her heart. He let out a shrieking sob, and she looked in his eyes one last time before she died.
"You bastard! YOU KILLED HER! She was pregnant! With a child! YOU KILLED MY BABY! OUR BABY!" He sobbed loudly, crumbling in a heap on the floor. The man who called himself Valentine slinked forward, and gripped Vincent's shoulder, yanking him upwards and shoving him against the wall.
"Quiet, you little sniveling, whimpering brat. It's your fault she's dead. And it's your fault that you'll be dead too." Vincent felt the cold, sure metal of a gun barrel on the side of his head and he closed his eyes, whispering softly to himself. "I will love you forever. Death cannot stop what we have. I would die a thousand deaths, walk a thousand miles, if it meant I could rest by your side for all eternity." He smiled and laughed loudly, a deep, frightening sound he had not known he was capable of. "See you in the afterlife, bitch." And with that, Valentine pulled the trigger, blasting Vincent's brain and skull all over the yellow, freshly painted walls.
A Year Later
Two graves sat next to each other. One was settled, the soul at rest, the other not. It was restless, upset, longing to come out. The Crow came from the depths of the sky, landing down on top of the gravestone that read Vincent Corwin. It began to peck at it, chipping little pieces out of the cement.
The ground began to shake, to push open, the coffin pushing out from underneath the hard, cold earth. The coffin smashed open, pieces of wood and cloth flying in every which direction, and a lone hand clawing at the ground, searching for something to grab onto.
Vincent pulled himself out of his coffin, scraping at the ground, grabbing onto a tree root as he finally emerged completely out of the ground, out of his coffin, and lay on top of Julienne's grave for a moment, breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down.
He looked to the grave stone, and saw the crow. He tilted his head to the side and his eyes trailed down to the stone. When he saw what it read, he cried out, stumbling, crab walking backwards away from it. He swallowed hard, staring at the grave, breathing hard. "I'm...I'm dead....but...I'm...I can feel....breathe...think...why?" You need to avenge yourself, Vincent. You remember the men who killed you, your Julienne, your unborn child, yes?
"Who is there? Who is that?" It is me, I am everywhere I want to be, and anywhere you need me to be. Where do you think I am now?
Vincent's eyes went to the Crow, and they widened. "Right there....The Crow. What do you want from me?" It is not what I want from you, Vincent, it is what I can give you. You want to avenge your death, Julienne's death, your unborn baby's death, yes?
A flash of memory hit Vincent as he ran a hand along the ground that Julienne was buried under. Her stomach gushing with blood, her eyes dead, blank, staring blind at Vincent. The knife jabbed into her heart. The gunshot and the explosion of brains against the wall. But it was not someone else's brains. It was his. He sobbed, but nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, yes. More then anything." Good. Do you remember Cobra? Valentine? Barracuda? Jewels? The four men that were responsible for all your deaths?
"Yes, I remember them. Where are they now?" He asked softly, shivering in the cold as a single drop of rain landed on his hand. We cannot go to them yet. You need your battle paint.
"Battle paint? What are you talking about?" Vincent asked softly and the voice laughed, a deep, rolling echo through the night. Come, I will show you The bird fluttered off into the night, and Vincent followed. The bird led him to his old ranch. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so far so fast, but when he entered the home, memories rushed back.
Julienne laughing, her and Vincent dancing underneath the stars on the porch, them making love in a completely candlelit room, empty except for the soft blanket set on the floor. The trips to the doctor....He swallowed hard and stumbling up the stairs, making his way down the hallway into the baby's room. A cry escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment.
The walls were painted yellow and blue, the crib and everything else in the room matching it. A pile of stuffed animals in the corner, blankets folded on the rack underneath the changing table. He opened his eyes and shuddered, walking out of the room and leaning his head against the cold wall of the hallway.
"Why did they do this to us?" Vincent asked softly, not really expecting an answer, but the loud, booming voice answered him anyways. Because, Vincent, don't you remember when you solved the code at work?
"The code?" Yes. You were working late, at the police station...
"The police station? Yes...I remember. I was an investigator. I didn't go to the crime scenes, but I helped solve the crimes." He said softly and he almost knew whoever the voice was, they were nodding. Yes. And you were solving a case. The Addison case? Do you remember?
"Yes! The Addisons! The mother, three daughters, two sons, all killed. They...they were completely innocent. No motive. Nothing....but...how did I...the code?" The code. You figured out the pattern.
"But....why did they call it a code?" Vincent whispered, swallowing hard. It was a code. Satanic. Don't you remember?
"No, no I don't." He said softly and the voice sighed. You figured out the spell they were trying to do with the Addisons. They needed a family of a mother, three daughters and two sons. Do you remember now?
"Yes! They needed that amount of people because it was how their 'God' lived. He had a wife, three daughters and two sons! They needed to offer up the same family for the God so that he would be satisfied and give them eternal life! But the eternal life would be broken if....if someone found out about it." Vincent closed his eyes, his body shaking slightly. "I found out about it." Yes, Vincent. You found out about it, because you were a very smart man. But smarts don't matter anymore. You must avenge yourself, your wife, your unborn child. Yes?
Vincent nodded, not answering with words. Come, Vincent, I will show you your war paint. The Crow flew towards the bedroom and he followed, his arms crossed over his chest, hands rubbing his upper arms, trying to warm up his body. But he couldn't. It was cold, and dead.
When he entered the bedroom, The Crow was perched up on the vanity, looking down at him. "What is my war paint?" Look in the top drawer. Vincent did as he was told, opening the top drawer and pulling out the contents. A candle, some already lit matches, and some drawings. Look at the drawing titled "My Love." You will find it very easily
Vincent looked at the pictures, tossing the ones away that he didn't need, quick enough so no memories flashed back to him. He was done with memories. He finally find the drawing, and looked at it, an eyebrow raised. It was a picture Julienne had drawn, just a pencil sketch on a piece of white paper.
It was a picture of him. His eyes were shaded in, as if he was wearing eye shadow, and his lips were as well, like he was wearing black lipstick. But the black, burnt edges of the matches in the drawer had made a long line along the lips, creating the mirage of a false smile. They had also left two lines going through both lines vertically, extending down his cheek and up his forehead. He looked at the picture and then to the bird. "This is my war paint?" Yes, Vincent. Put it on.
"With what?" In the second drawer. Your materials are in there
Vincent yanked open the second drawer, pulling out a black lipstick, and a case of white foundation. He spread the white across his skin, covering his entire face in it. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, examining his newly colored look. He smiled a bit, grabbing the lipstick and putting it on his lips. He extended the line out on both sides, copying the false smile look from the picture. He then filled in his eyes, up to his eyebrows with it, both sides, and extended the line above his eyebrow, and down his cheek on both sides.
He looked to the bird, his new look frightening and a bit intimidating. He let out a laugh as the bird backed up slightly on the vanity. It was a hideously frightening laugh, something he didn't even know he was capable of. He didn't care. "Even my mentor is afraid of me. Is that a good thing?" Yes, it is, Vincent. Now, go get dressed. You're hardly wearing enough to go out in this weather. Almost in reaction, a clap of thunder boomed throughout the house and a flash of lightening lit it all up. He saw himself completely in the mirror for about three seconds and he laughed again, that dark, sinister laugh. The rain began to pour down and he laughed louder now, going to the closet door and yanking it open.
His eyes searched the closet and he let out a exasperated sigh. "What should I wear? You seem to be good at this." He looked to the bird. Leather and black. Go for the bondage look
He laughed loudly, but it was his normal laugh this time. He grabbed a pair of leather pants, stripping off his other ones and pulling the new pair on. He took off his shirt as well, looking through his closet again. He grabbed a fishnet shirt, pulling it on over his head. He grabbed his favorite pair of boots, yanking them on and zipping them up. He looked to the bird again. "How do I look?" Handsome, but that may be because I know what you looked like before. You look creepy.
Vincent grinned, but he suddenly realized he was talking to a bird. It didn't really matter, he was dead, and he didn't really plan on committing himself any time soon. He could be talking to a patch of grass for all he really cared. It didn't matter.
He went to the window, his boots clunking against the floor. "Wow, it really is raining out there. A perfect night for vengeance. Where are they now?" He lowered himself to the ground and looked at the bird. Follow me. I will take you to Cobra. The Crow flew away from Vincent and he reached out a hand, standing up and following it. He stumbled out of the house and along the road, still a little unsteady on his legs. He watched the Crow fly steadily through the sky, soaring and finally resting on the ledge of a balcony way at the top of an apartment building. Vincent got a flash of a picture of Cobra laughing, drinking a beer. But it wasn't a memory, it was what the Crow was seeing from his perch on the balcony.
Vincent climbed up the fire escape, joining the Crow and leaning against the wall, not visible to the man inside. He looked to the bird with a smile and stepped into the house through the window. He was quiet, deathly quiet, and he shut the window without Cobra even looking up from his beer and porno on the television. The sounds of the shower could be heard from the other room, and the sounds of singing as well. It sounded like a woman, and he guessed that it was Cobra's girlfriend. How he could get a girlfriend was really a mystery to him, but he decided not to question it.
Vincent put a hand on the edge of the couch and vaulted himself forward, landing in a sitting position next to Cobra.
Cobra let out a shriek, flying off the couch and stumbling backwards. "Who...who are you?" He swallowed hard, then regained his cocky, bad boy exterior. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"
"Simply some house cleaning, Cobra. You did call for house keeping, didn't you?"
"No! I didn't call for anyone." He was shaking slightly, but his voice was still steady.
"Oh no?" He quickly slowly, a smooth, liquid movement. "Well, Cobra. Do you remember October 28th, last year, at ten o'clock at night, a man and his pregnant wife. Do you remember who I am talking about?"
Cobra's eyes went wide, swallowing hard. But he shook his head, as though sweat wasn't dripping down his forehead, as though his eyes weren't wide with panic. "No, I don't."
Vincent growled and lunged forward, wrapping a hand around Cobra's throat. "Yes! Yes you do! Vincent, Julienne and Arianna Corwin! You murdered them.....cold blood."
"NO! That was Barracuda! He killed his girlfriend...I didn't kill..."
"WIFE! She was my wife! I married her because I love her....do you remember what I said to her, what I said to her before Valentine blasted my brains against the wall?" Cobra didn't answer, and Vincent was beginning to get mad. "DO YOU?!!?"
Cobra nodded his head quickly. "I...you're Vincent Corwin ...you're dead?" Vincent growled and squeezed his fingers hard into his throat. "Do you?" "Yes...I can't forget it. It keeps ringing over and over in my head...I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry we ruined your life...I didn't want to be a part of it, I...I was....stupid then....I...." He sobbed loudly, and Vincent loosened his grip slightly, his body relaxing a bit. Vincent, no one can change like that. His girlfriend, in the shower, he beats her.
"Do you beat your girlfriend? Do you hurt her?" Vincent hissed in Cobra's face and his eyes widened.
"How....but I...you....you haven't seen her."
"I don't have to see her to know that you're a controlling person, who doesn't like to be taken advantage of. Is that right?"
Cobra didn't answer and Vincent laughed that eerie, haunting laugh that he had somehow acquired. "That's why you keep a gun in the couch, behind the toilet, underneath the sink, yes?"
Cobra nodded, sniffling slightly. "Please....don't hurt me..."
Vincent shoved his hand into the couch, pulling out the gun. "I plan to. I came here with the intent to kill you, to take vengeance for Julienne, Arianna, me. Give one valid, good reason, with three main points to back it up."
The man looked at him with wide eyes, shivering slightly. "I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my friends killing your wife, your daughter. I didn't know what I was doing."
"That was only two main points, Cobra, and they weren't too...specific." Vincent said with a happy bounce to his voice.
"Please! I'm sorry! Please!" He sobbed, dropping to his knees. Vincent just smiled.
"Say good-bye, Cobra." Good-bye Cobra.
That one comment sent Vincent into a laughing fit as he put the gun against Cobra's forehead and pulled the trigger, the back of his head exploding in a mass of bone, brain and blood. Vincent was still laughing by the time Cobra's body dropped to it's side on the floor, not moving anymore. He put the gun down the front of his pants, then pushed his shirt down over it.
He crouched down on the floor, and sighed softly, watching the blood pool out on the hardwood floor. He stood, moving over to the kitchen, and looking through the drawers. Surprisingly, he found a pasty brush, and headed back into the living room.
He dipped the brush in the blood and began to paint a picture of The Crow on the floor. It didn't take long, but when he was done, he was satisfied with his art work next to Cobra's dead body. He smiled and stepped back, looking at his work. He had a trademark now, something that said 'The Crow was here.' And no one could deny it, because there it was, in drying blood on the hardwood floor.
Vincent moved back to the couch, sitting on it, admiring his work.
The bathroom door opened, and the girl came out, wrapped in a towel, dripping wet. She gasped when she saw Vincent, swallowing hard. Her eyes moved to the floor to see Cobra dead. "You...you killed him."
"Yes, that I did. Are you angry with me.....?" He looked at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow, as if that would be enough for her to give him her name.
But she didn't. "You killed him." Her voice sounded satisfied as she repeated it. "You killed him."
"Yes. Would you like to come sit by me, join me with a beer?" He picked up Cobra's half empty beer and took a swig, propping his boot-clad feet up on the coffee table, resting his arms on the back of the couch.
She nodded slightly, going to the fridge to get a beer. She came back, still in just a towel and sat next to him. "Why did you kill Cobra?"
From this view, Vincent could see a purple bruise about the size of a fist on her cheek, the color almost green over the purple. Bruises ran along her arms, in the shape of a hand, as if Cobra had wrapped his hand too tightly around there. "Because he killed m...." He stopped, not wanting her to know he was dead. "He killed my wife and my unborn child a year ago."
She gasped. "Why?"
Vincent shrugged. He didn't feel like going into it. "I don't know yet."
She looked at Cobra's dead body and smiled, even in the grim situation. "You won't ever know now."
"What is your name?"
"Wendy Waterson." She smiled a bit. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"
"I'm Vincent Corwin, it's a pleasure." He grinned and stood up, smoothing out the front of his shirt with the palms of his hands. He put a hand in his pocket, pulling out some money that he had left in there when he was alive. He handed it to her. "Fix this place up, call the police, get yourself some pretty clothes to show your body off once those bruises go away."
"Thank you." Wendy said softly. "Thank you so much. You're like an angel, an angel of death. Of course, with a vengeance. Can't have an angel of death with vengeance. I'll always remember you."
"And I, you, Wendy. Thank you. I'll remember what you said." He smiled and blew her a kiss. "Good luck, Wendy Waterson. May you have a long and prosperous life." He slid out the window and he looked at The Crow, who was still perched on the banister. Did you have fun, Vincent?
"Yes, I did. I killed someone for my own benefit and it happened to make another person happy as well. It's a good day." Yes, a good day. You can still get another kill in, if you'd like. Do you remember who's next on the list?
Vincent nodded, his face serious again. "Valentine." A flash of Valentine pulling the trigger, blasting Vincent's brains against the clean, white wall, as he slid to the floor, his body shuddering and twitching, not quite wanting to be dead yet. Valentine laughing as he watched Barracuda kill Julienne, the baby. Yes, Valentine. Would you like to get his death over with tonight?
"Yes, yes I would. Where is he?" Vincent's face was completely serious, but the false smile still held his happy façade. Follow me The Crow flew off of the fire escape and Vincent jumped off the high porch, his feet landing flat on the sidewalk below, like a cat would land if it walked on two legs instead of four. He followed the bird as it soared through the sky, dipping and rising along the night sky.
It continued to fly before it reached a large house. The house was sickeningly like the stereotypical perfect family house, with a white picket fence, blue shutters, a nicely trimmed lawn, a swing set and even a dog house in the back yard, which was perfectly green. Vincent frowned slightly. "Pretty stereotypical, wouldn't you say? He lives here?" Oh no, Vincent. Valentine is simply robbing this house tonight.
A loud crash sounded throughout the air and Vincent laughed. "He's robbing the stereotypical dream home? Would have thought worse of him." Go on inside, Vincent, the door is open. He didn't even think of shutting it. Vincent started to head for the house. By the way, Vincent, there is a wide assortment of knives Many knives
"Thank you." He strolled into the house, pushing open the blue door that matched the shutters. "Wow, this house is stereotypical." He muttered, sliding his hand along the wall as he headed towards the kitchen. He looked out the window, looking at The Crow perched on the picket fence, watching him.
He entered the kitchen and grabbed a long butcher knife with a serrated edge, sliding it into his pocket. He grabbed another knife, a large bread knife. He grinned and held it in his hand, walking towards the hallway. Another large crash sounded through the house and he moved towards it.
Vincent moved along the hall, and pressed the knife to wall, dragging it along it as he moved. It made a loud, scraping noise, and the crashing stopped. Valentine poked his head out from the bedroom and Vincent waved, blowing him a kiss with his free hand.
Valentine laughed. "Who the fuck are you, freak show? What's up with the make-up? You know ladies don't like Goths."
"And you think they like men who kill pregnant women? Who murder happily married couples who stumble upon things they don't mean to?" Vincent spoke in a loud, clear voice, no shaking, no nothing.
"They seem to. I'm getting laid about twice a week."
Vincent growled, an eye twitching. "You would have raped her, wouldn't you? If Barracuda hadn't stabbed her, you would have raped her?"
"Oh! Julienne! I remember her." Valentine moved out of the bedroom and leaned against the hallway wall. "Actually, I did rape her after she was dead. It was hard to do though, what with the baby in there and what not. That baby was pretty close to being born."
Vincent sobbed and closed his eyes for a moment. Valentine took that moment to pull a gun, unloading five bullets into his stomach. He let out a cry of pain, his hands flying to his stomach. He looked down, swallowing hard, but then laughed as he watched the bullet holes heal, close up completely with no mark left whatsoever, as if he had never been shot. "Nice try, Valentine. But, you know, I can't die, because I'm already dead."
Valentine's eyes went slightly wide with fear. "You're Vincent Corwin, aren't you?" He backed up against the wall.
"Righty-o, Valentine. And guess what I'm here to do?" He didn't even let the man answer. "To kill you." He moved forward, holding the bread knife, grinning. "Now, if you do what I say, I'll kill you quickly, like I did Cobra. But if you don't be nice, I'll just have to be mean, and I don't like being mean."
"Fuck you. I'm not giving up without a fight." Valentine gave him the finger and Vincent laughed. He tossed the knife forward with expert skill. It went through his hand, pinning his hand against his chest as the knife went through that as well, pinning that part of his body to wall. "FUCK!" He shrieked out in pain and closed his eyes.
"Now I told you to be nice, Valentine." He slid the other knife out of his pocket and grinned. "This should be fun. I know exactly where I want to hit you." He pulled his arm back and threw the knife forward, watching it go through Valentine's throat.
Valentine let out a choking, gurgling gasp, blood trickling out of the sides of his mouth, and he tried to swallow, the knife stopping him. He spit the blood out, but continued to choke on it, his body shuddering and twitching against the wall.
Vincent turned and went to the kitchen, grabbing three more Chef's knives, and headed back into the hallway, tossing them at Valentine's writhing body. They all hit him square in the chest, right in the heart, and his body gave one last dying twitch before it went still. Vincent went and retrieved more knives, coming back to Valentine's dead body. He began to place the knives in his stomach, making a shape of The Crow. He smiled and stepped back, looking at it. It was perfect. A symbol of what he meant, and what he was doing. Everyone would know that Valentine was killed by the same man that killed Cobra. And after tomorrow night, the man that killed Barracuda and Jewels. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
He grinned and turned, heading out of the house. He was done for the night.
Vincent......Vincent, wake up.... The voice boomed out through the darkness and Vincent sat up with a start, his hands clawing at the empty air. It took him a moment to remember he had slept on the floor of the ranch, curled up in a ball. It's time to go Vincent....I know where to find Barracuda.
Vincent looked around, trying to find the bird. "Where are you?" On the shelf above the couch. Vincent's eyes automatically moved to the wall and he smiled a bit.
"There you are." He stood slowly, brushing himself off. "Where is Barracuda?" Come, I will show you. The Crow began to fly away and Vincent called out to him. "Wait...wait...let me get some supplies." Supplies?
"Yes, I need some interesting things to kill him with. Oh, and something gruesome to kill Jewels with. Do you have any ideas?" You could stab him repeatedly in the stomach and rape him
Vincent's body went completely still and he looked to The Crow. "Please...." You asked for a suggestion, Vincent. I am vengeance, nothing else. What do you expect me to say?
He sighed. "I don't....just not that." Very well, if it displeases you, I will not say it again
"Thank you." Vincent wandered down the hallway into the bathroom, looking through all the things they had left in the house. You know, Vincent, I'm sure you can find something to kill him with when we get there. No need to look for things here.
"Yes, you make a good point." He smiled and looked at himself in the mirror. His make-up was slightly smudged, but he didn't care. He was half- way done. He was going to kill Barracuda.
This time, The Crow led him to a factory in the east edge of town. Here. Barracuda is here. But Vincent, I must warn you, he is not alone. He is with... An image flashed in Vincent's brain, of Barracuda sitting at the head of a long table, men sitting around him.
"I know. About fifteen other people. No need to tell me. Remember, I see what you see." Yes, Vincent. I know. Now go on.
Vincent grinned at The Crow and moved towards the factory door, swinging it open and heading inside.
He looked around him, chains hanging from the ceiling, pieces of metal on the floor. He picked up a piece of a metal and a chain from the floor, slinging the chain over his shoulder and holding the metal in his hand.
Vincent strolled towards the table the men were sitting at and grinned at them as they stared at him with wide eyes. "Hello gentlemen. Everyone who isn't Barracuda....I'd suggest, you run." He pointed a long, slender finger at Barracuda. "And I know who you are, so don't even try to run. I will catch you, no matter where you go."
Barracuda motioned for everyone to go, and they all did, rushing towards the door like it was their life source. In a way it was, but Vincent really didn't care as he lowered himself into one of the cushy leather chairs, setting the chain and metal in his lap.
"Hello Barracuda. How are you today?"
The man swallowed hard and shrugged. "Well, thank you. And you?" His voice was steady though. Years of practice.
"I'm good. Do you know what I did yesterday?"
"What?"
"I killed two people! Two! And it was marvelous. And guess what one of them did?" He started to laugh, that eerie, echoing chuckle that made every hair on Barracuda's body stand up.
"W...wh...what?" He stammered, shaking slightly.
"He got down on his knees and begged! On his knees!" He continued to laugh, even louder now.
But suddenly, Vincent made his face go completely serious, so much that the other man gasped. "Will you get on your knees and beg for you life, Barracuda? Because if you will, I suggest you do it now. I'm getting impatient just looking at your face."
The image of Barracuda stabbing the knife down into Julienne's stomach, ripping it out, piercing her in the heart, killing her. Vincent growled. "Do it."
Barracuda hopped out of his chair and dropped to his knees, swallowing hard. "Please....whoever you are, don't kill me. Please."
"Vincent Corwin. My name was Vincent Corwin. But now I'm dead, dead because Valentine killed me. But guess what? Valentine is dead now, and so are you. So beg for your life, beg for it because it means so much more then you'll ever know. And when you finally know, you'll be dead and your life will be gone. Do you understand me? You can't get it back."
His eyes went wide, but he swallowed the fact that Vincent was dead. He wasn't about to argue with a crazed madman. "But you got yours back, how?"
"Anger is a very powerful emotion. I was angry when I died, and I swore I'd see you in my afterlife. So there I was In the afterlife, without you and your little friends. Unable to rest, my soul too heavy to rest with my love, my daughter. Because of you. You and your damn fucking friends."
"Please....I....want my life. I want it now. I'll stop doing drugs, I won't hurt my girlfriends, just please don't kill me." Barracuda said, and his voice was convincing. But when Vincent looked into his eyes, he saw a look of absolute and complete evil. He was lying, and he was good at it. Probably had done it so many times before, the lies became truth, and the truth became lies.
"You're lying, Barracuda. Don't lie to a dead man."
"Please! I..." Before he could answer, Vincent flung one edge of the chain out, and flicked his wrist, causing it wrap around the man's neck. He yanked him forward, and Barracuda slammed to the floor, face first, as he was pulled forward towards Vincent.
"Now, what was that?"
Barracuda tried to answer in his choked voice, but couldn't get the words out. Vincent just shrugged and stood, beginning to drag him towards the stairs, towards the upper level. As he hauled Barracuda up the stairs, his body bumping against each step, Vincent began to talk to him. "You know, Cuda, you're not much of a liar. I can see that in your eyes. You've lied a lot, haven't you?"
He let out a gurgling sound.
"I'll take that as a yes....but, you know, you could have been something good. Instead, you played with dark arts and evil men. Now you have to die, do you understand that?"
Again, another burbling sound.
"So, as long as you know that, we're good." He finally got Barracuda up to the top of the stairs and moved along to the banister, pushing him against it and wrapping the chain around the railing, tightly so it wouldn't come undone.
"Good-bye, Barracuda. You weren't a good man, nor a good solider. May you burn in hell with Valentine and Cobra." He pushed Barracuda over the edge of the railing and watching his body jerk, then hang from the railing, the chain digging into his neck ,cutting off his air.
His hands clawed desperately at the rings around his neck, and blood came out of his gaping mouth, trying to pull in air he couldn't get.
Vincent stood on the railing, watching Barracuda's life slowly leave him, and before long, he was just dangling from the chain, his body limp, his chest no longer moving in and out. He was dead.
He walked down the stairs, and went back to the table to retrieve the piece of metal he had picked up earlier. He lowered himself to the floor and began to scrape along the floor, leaving a deep imprint of The Crow. He grinned. Another job well done, Vincent
"Yes, another job well done." But the voice wasn't Vincent's. It was someone else's. Vincent stood, his eyes slightly wide and he swallowed hard. "Who said that?"
"Why, it's me, Vincent. Do you not remember. Your lovely friend Jewels." He laughed. "You know, your wife was quite the good lay. Even after she was dead, she certainly knew how to make a man feel good. And she was so tight for a pregnant woman...."
"SHUT UP!" Vincent screamed, closing his eyes, his body shaking slightly. "You have no right to say those things."
"You have no right to kill all these people, Vincent."
"YOU FUCKED MY DEAD WIFE! I have every reason to kill each and every one of you." He looked around, spinning in circles. "Where are you? Tell me where you are! Don't hide like the rat I think you are. Come out and play."
"I don't want to play with you ,Vincent, you don't fight fair." He laughed. "But I can make it fair."
A gun shot filled the air and Vincent heard the fluttering of wings and a loud thud. His eyes went wide as he whirled around, and stared at The Crow, dead on the table with a bullet wound through it's chest.
His body shook slightly and his eyes were wide.
Jewels laughter rang throughout the factory, and yet another gunshot pulsed through the air. This time, the bullet landed in Vincent's leg. He let out a cry of agony, and he fell to the ground, holding his leg. "You're a cheater! Fuck!"
"I'm the cheater? You're the one who has that Crow of yours backing you up. You know, it's not exactly fair when you unload an entire gun into someone and they don't die." Jewels said in disgust, and Vincent finally saw him, moving down the stairs opposite the one that Barracuda was hanging from.
He strode towards Vincent, a long sniper gun in his hand. "Hello Vincent. How have you been this past year."
"Peachy keen. Haven't been able to rest."
"Oh well, how about I put you to rest?" Jewels hissed, anger lining every word.
"How about I put you to rest?" Vincent repeated what Jewels had just said, mockingly. "I came here to kill you, and I won't leave without your blood on my hands."
Jewels growled. "Fuck. You just don't give up do you?" He pointed the sniper at Vincent's head. "Just tell me when you're ready to die again." Vincent.
"What...you're...but I thought..." Vincent mumbled, but the voice came again. I'm not here in person anymore, Vincent, but you still know I'm here in presence, just as I always was. Remember, Vincent, I am everywhere I want to be, and anywhere you need me to be. Never forget that.
Vincent swallowed hard and nodded, looking down to his leg, a slow steady stream of blood trickled out, but he didn't care. He raised the hand that had the metal in it and stabbed it into Jewels' stomach.
Jewels cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, holding his stomach. He dropped his gun, and Vincent slowly stood. He pulled the gun out of the front of his pants and held it out, breathing heavily. "You will die tonight, Jewels. You'll die."
He fired the gun into Jewels until it clicked empty. Vincent stared at the gun, then stared to Jewels, swallowing hard and smiling. "Your blood is on my hands."
But of course, Jewels didn't answer .He was dead. They were all dead. And he was done.
Vincent moved towards the table, picking up the body of The Crow as he began to limp towards the door. "Why did the factory have to be so damn far away from the cemetery?" He mumbled, but smiled.
Vincent finally reached the cemetery a few hours later, stumbling and mumbling to himself. He finally reached his grave, falling forward on top of Julienne's grave. He ran his fingertips along the engraved words, sniffling.
"Julienne, I avenged us, I made everything better, everything great. Jewels, Barracuda, Valentine, and Cobra. They're all dead. They're all dead. Just like we are. We're even. Completely even." He smiled, laughing.
"We're even Julienne! Even! Please let me be with you...let me rest with you..." He sobbed and lay his head on the ground, closing his eyes. He ran his hands along the loose dirt, grinding it between his fingertips. "Please Julienne..."
A soft warmth began to over take him, and he lifted his head up, opening his eyes. And he saw her.
Saw her in her radiant glow, wearing the same long, flowing white dress she had worn on their wedding, her long brown hair flowing in silky waves over her shoulders, down her back. But that wasn't the only thing about her. She held a baby in her arms, a young baby girl.
"Arianna...." Vincent whispered, and the word sounded so good rolling over his lips.
Julienne crouched down next to him and planted a kiss on his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. "We're even, Vincent, even. You, me, Arianna. We're even. You can come home."
As Vincent was swallowed up in warmth, he was home. Home in the arms of Julienne, home holding Arianna. He was home.