Hey everyone! Glad to be back. I'm sorry but I will probably not write a sequel to Through All Things. I've been working out this gem for a few weeks now and I think I have something good here too. It will be a little rougher than my previous story though, but happy endings are a must.—please review if you read this and if you haven't checked out my previous story, I hope you will. Please enjoy!!

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Righteous Hands

"Carrie, you know the guy was in the wrong. He wanted the other woman's puppies, but he gave her all of the responsibility. He did not deserve any of her money she got off of them. Don't be so glib!"

"Oh my God David, you did not just say glib!!" Carrie's laughter rang out through the darkened streets. Her dark red tresses swinging nonchalantly down her back. The dangers of the cold, city night life were lost to her as she wrapped her arms around her husband and enjoyed the happiness around her.

David kissed her forehead gently as he relished in her laughter. Both were blissfully unaware of the approaching figure as they heatedly debated over the case on Judge Joe Brown. Carrie looked up from her husband's arm just in time to see him ripped from her grasp, throwing her against the side of a building.

Her vision was blurry, when she finally opened her hazel eyes. How long had she been out? She forgot where she was for a moment when the events of the night came flooding back to her. "David…David!!!" Her voice began to escalate when no one answered her call. She started to stand when she recognized the dark brown jacket that belonged to her husband, heaped around a mangled figure. "David! Oh my God! David!" She ran to his side repeating his name like a mantra. She lifted his cold, lifeless body from the street, dragging him into the light of a close street lamp. The lamp appeared cold and unforgiving as she looked into the beaten face of her lost husband. His face was battered beyond recognition, and his once beautiful, blue eyes were no longer responding to her loving caress. Her screams were hurting her own ears, but someone had to hear her agony somewhere.

"David!!!" Carrie woke to the sound of her own screams for the fifth time that week. It had been three years ago, but the image of her beautiful, husband's broken body filled her dreams every night. Her screams were the only comfort she received upon waking up every night. She reached over to his pillow and pulled it to her cold body. It no longer held his smell on it. It used to smell of Polo and the excitement that belonged to David. His strong arms would have pulled her into his chest as he told her it was only a dream and to go back to sleep. He probably would have made fun of her in the morning, which would have caused her to tell him to stick it up his ass. Then a play fight would have ensued, which would have turned into a day of making love. She felt new tears flood her eyes at the thought of her fun-loving husband. Carrie finally tore herself away from the bed and dragged her body into the bathroom. She had not moved a single thing since his death. His razor still sat on the sink and was beginning to rust. She knew it was a safety hazard, but it belonged to him and therefore, would not be moved. God, three years she has had to put up with her own personal hell.

The cops never found the killer and gave up after her horrible testimony gave them nothing. She screamed until she tasted blood when they told her the case was closed. Her life used to be so beautiful and happy. David was the rich accountant for many of the city's well-to-do hoity-toity, rich folk, and she worked as an assistant to a business mogul. They were extremely well-off, but it meant absolutely nothing to them. They would have been happy living under paper bag in the middle of a busy intersection, as long as they were together doing it.

David rescued her from a life of mediocrity working in a restaurant. He whisked her off of her feet the minute he walked into Toni's Diner. She asked him what he wanted, and he told her flat out "Your lips on mine." He hadn't even flinched. She had been so taken aback she began to choke on her own spit. They got married after a year of dating and were going on their fourth year of marriage the year he died.

Carrie brought herself back from her reverie, as she stared at her haggard face. She was only twenty-six and looked forty-nine. Well, she still looked better than she did two years ago. Her hazel eyes began to close as she reveled in the memory of her sitting on the bathroom floor with a gun in one hand and the Bible in the other. She had been in a dark place then. She remembered holding the gun to her head and opening the Bible to some random book. She still remembered the verse: Isaiah 41:10 - So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. She had dropped the gun and cried herself to sleep that night. She stopped crying before bed after that night and just prayed until she closed her eyes and drifted off into a restless sleep.

She could feel herself getting stronger, but the dream never left her. She pushed herself away from the mirror and began to undress and get into the shower. Today she would go to work and try to live her life one step at a time. She climbed into the warm shower and let her short, red locks cover her face. She needed to feel shielded from the outside for just a few more minutes.

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"Victor!" The large man grunted into the phone, after waking up to its horrible screaming.

"What?! You woke me up you stupid ass!" He was in a mood today. Obviously, more alcohol was not a very good cure for alcohol poisoning. He would have to thank Fred for the advice when he saw him again. He rolled over to his back for full attention.

"Victor, I have a job for you. That is, if you are interested?" After the initial ass comment, the man was remembering who he was dealing with and decided to be a little less pushy. The grunt on the other side of the line informed him of Victor's "interest". "Okay, it's this guy, Walter Luvitts. He works in the high rise building on sixth, tenth floor. Did you get my package with all of his info on it?" He was beginning to sound a little anxious when nothing was said on the other end. After about a good twenty seconds a grumbled "yeah" was heard on the other side. "Okay, the client will be extremely generous if the killing is done slow."

Victor was beginning to get tired of his accountant's stupid questions and patronizing remarks. It was starting to show when his statement came out as more of a growl. "Look, Pal, I have had a long, hard night. My head feels like it is going to explode and you woke me up. I have been doing this long before your whore mother and bastard daddy conceived you, so, how bout just letting me do my job." He laughed when he heard the outraged huff on the other side of the line. He loved fluffing his associate's feathers.

"Fine…Sorry." The frightened associate hung up promptly. Victor slammed the phone shut and chunked it across the room. He would probably regret that later when he had to find it, but whatever. He walked to his bathroom to see just how bad the damage was. He laid his hands on both side of the sink and stared into his bloodshot eyes. He had been doing this for over seventy-five years now. He shook his head as he remembered every kill he had ever done. His knotted hair fell into his eyes, framing his face, and he knew he looked menacing. He could recall every scream, every plea, and every dying blow over the course of his life. He splashed cold water on his face to release a few of the demons wearing him down. He tried not to compare the people he killed. They were all jobs and nothing more, but he knew some were just innocents in the wrong place at the wrong time. He grabbed a towel off the sink and wiped his face and thoughts away. If he dwelled on it, he would be weak. He couldn't afford to be weak.

He grabbed a black shirt and through it on as he walked out the door and into the cold, embrace of night. He was apart of the night and it would shield the world from his sins. It would shield him from his sins. Victor climbed to the top of his low-life apartment building and began his decent into the street. His life was blood, and his hands were covered in it. No sense in confessing to it now.

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"Hey, Carrie!" Carrie stopped mid way to the elevator as her boss hastily called for her to see him in his office. He really wasn't that bad of a guy. He paid the bills, but he really had bad timing.

"Yes sir." Carrie calmly sauntered into his office as she realized there was no way she could pretend she did not hear him.

"Carrie, let me just start out by saying excellent job on typing up the reports." Walter Luvitts stopped and waited for the appropriate response from Carrie.

"Thank you, sir." Carrie noticed the satisfied nod of his head as he continued.

"But I have heard through the grape vine you have been having a little bit of a money problem."

Carrie grit her teeth behind her lip-plump gloss and tried her hardest not to think of who she would have to tell off tomorrow. "No sir, I have been doing fine…I promise." She noticed his short in take of breath at her admission of the falsity of the rumor.

"Well, I understand how pride can play a large part in any life altering change so," he reached under his desk and extended a check, which she noticed was not in an envelope, to her. "I know. It is a little early for a Christmas bonus, but you truly deserve it."

Carrie knew she could not be angry at the man, but she knew heart felt generosity was not the case when it came to Walter Luvitts. She noticed the pompous smile the minute it spread across his face. "Thank you sir," she knew she sounded a little ungrateful, but this was a charity case as plain as day.

"Don't mention it. I know what it's like to be on rough times."

I bet you do you smug ass. Everyone knew the story about Walter Luvitts. He was a young, rich daddy's boy who hadn't worked a day in his life. How dare he even say he understood the place she was in. She grabbed her lap top and her purse and began to walk back to the elevator. Her goal was to get to the elevator before unleashing a stream of unholy obscenities at her boss. She was grateful, but she was tired of being treated like the charity case for the last three years. It was fine at first but come on…three years of this.

Her heart was pounding and her face was blood red as she pushed the button for the elevator. It really was more of a punch than a push though. As the door opened, she did not even recognize the other figure in the small compartment before she pushed the door close button. And as the doors closed together she allowed her brain to melt, "You pompous little daddy's boy! How dare you assume to even guess at the position I am in!! You think you know all about the troubled life of the poor secretary, well understand this Wall Street wanabee, a monkey could perform your job with more zeal and dexterity than you ever could! And another…" Carrie began to feel the icy fear that creeps up your back when you know someone is watching you and stopped mid-tantrum. She pulled back the dark red strands of hair which had come loose from her bun and slowly turned to meet the eyes of the person she had just revealed her soul to.

This girl is hot. Victor knew he could have easily stepped off of the elevator before she pushed the closed door, but damn she looked pissed. The other thing he found interesting was she had not a clue he was behind her. Victor just couldn't remember a single person who had ever not noticed him. He decided he had to check this chick out, and she did not disappoint. He watched as she slowly turned to see the one person in the world who would watch someone make a complete ass out of themselves and just stand there. "Hey, I'm not that pompous." Victor watched as his statement hit her and felt a slight tingle when he noticed she was blushing. She was truly hot. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and a few of her red strands had come loose during her tantrum. Her cheeks were flushed, and he got the slightest sensation that she would look like this after sex. Her hazel eyes held a depth in them he really could not grasp, but man they were different. He smiled a little at the thought of him thinking of someone else as different.

"So…I guess you heard every bit of that," Carrie smiled as the large man in front of her gave her a slight nod of assurance. "Look, I am really embarrassed…so…um…I would really appreciate it if you told no one about the crazy, red-headed bitch you saw leaving the top floor of this building," She risked one of her nervous smiles as the man appeared to consider her request. "Look I really need this job, and I just had to let out a little steam…you know."

Victor laughed at that remark. If anyone could understand that, he could. "I won't tell anyone about you, if you don't tell anyone about me. How does that sound?" He gave her one of his arrogant grins when she appeared startled at that deal. He reached over nonchalantly and pushed the red, emergency button right as the elevator hit the bottom floor. He knew she would be suspicious now, and he had to decide if she was worth shutting up or not.

"I'm going to ask the obvious question: Why would I not mention seeing you to anyone?" Her heart jumped into her throat as a large, clawed hand wrapped around her neck and slammed her into the side of the wall. Her eyes were starting to water as she realized she was completely helpless, and she couldn't breathe.

"Because I am here to kill someone and if you tell someone I will have to kill more people, which doesn't really bother me, but I don't get paid for them," he loosened his grip when he began to see her beautifully flushed face beginning to turn blue. "I really do think you are too pretty to kill, so I will let you go if you promise to…SHIT!!!" He dropped the fiery red-headed girl as he felt his undercarriage inside his stomach. That bitch had kneed him in the balls.

Carrie quickly pushed the emergency button back in as she regained her sense of equilibrium. She knew she would be bruised in the morning but she gave one good punch to the side of that big, hairy guys face and ran.

Victor had been hit by quite a few women in his life, but she was holding quite a bit of pent up anger in that one. He stumbled through the door ignoring the wide eye stares around him and took off after that little red-haired firecracker. He had to admit, had she not hit him in his most sensitive area, he would be extremely turned on right now. He had to stalk this chick for at least a few good blocks, and depending on what he saw would determine her fate.

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Stupid Carrie, you are the dumbest brood in New York! Her heart was racing as she ran down the street in her black pumps. She knew that guy was a mutant, and by the feel of her hand, a pretty powerful one at that. At first glance, she knew he looked pretty dangerous. But she had also learned not to judge a book by its cover. Yeah, so much for child hood lessons now. He would probably track her down and make her regret the day she was born. She never could understand what that saying meant, but she knew he would let her know.

As Carrie lightly jogged down the street reveling in all the horrible things the creepy guy was going to do to her, she failed to notice the group of dirty looking guys walking directly towards her. "Hey sexy, how much for tonight?" She barely had time to even get her bearings straight before she was grabbed and shoved into the closest alley.

"Are you serious?" She knew the statement seemed a bit off for the situation, but harassed twice in one night. She figured she was starting to build up the greatest damsel in distress record ever.

"We asked you a question Red," she felt herself being pushed against the wall as the supposed ring leader placed a hand at her already tender throat. She could smell the city streets on him. He smelled like dirty trash and smog. She figured this smell seemed appropriate; it wasn't a dangerous smell, like elevator guy, but an annoying one. Why would I think of elevator guy's smell? "Hey!! Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She felt her face explode as he slapped the fire out of her cheek. She knew she was in a losing battle now. Her adrenaline was already wearing off from her last attack, and now she just felt like another helpless girl in the street. She suddenly really wished she would have stayed in the elevator now. At least that was only one guy, even if he was about the size of two.

"Please, just let me go home," she felt her body jolt as a shoe came in contact with her ribs. Her screams were muffled as a dirty hand covered her now smeared plump lips. Hot tears were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes as she wondered if this is how David felt when she was stupidly unconscious. Suddenly, she began to hear more screams, but they didn't belong to her. Through her haze of pain she felt the need to sit up, just a little, to see what was unfolding. She watched as one of the disgusting figures was thrown into the building across the street. Then, one of them was impaled by, what appeared to be, sharp lion-like claws. She watched as the dying man twitched until he stopped moving altogether, and was thrown unceremoniously to the cold, dirty ground. She felt herself becoming nauseous at all the death around her. She also began to feel the damage done to her ribs. She closed her eyes as the screams continued and then sweet silence descended on her.

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