So, just letting you know on this. I have not read Worm in its entirety. In fact, most of my knowledge comes from fics. Anyway, this idea has been fluttering around in my head for a while, and I've steadily been improving it over some time.
A collection of burning buildings, corpses strewn about haphazardly, deep cuts marking the ground…
Another town, another city. Another city that's been attacked by those…those…
Blood puddles lie underneath cooling bodies…
You can run on for a long time, run on for a long time, run on for a long time, sooner or later, God'll cut you down, sooner or later, God'll cut you down
A young girl in a princess dress lies on the ground, almost sleeping, the front stained red against a light pink, surrounded by stuffed animals and shattered porcelain…
How long have I been following them? I know that it's been at least ten years, since the year begins with two thousand, now…how long have I been the shadow of their actions? The solitary figure that follows them, reminds them of their deeds?
A figure dressed in black walks through the wreckage, boots thumping a steady beat against the tarmac…
Well, you may throw your rock and hide your hand, workin' in the dark against your fellow man
But as sure as God made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light
An old revolver at the figure's hip clinks with each step, providing a slight syncopation…
Oh, there it is…the reason that I've devoted my life to this…this…this unforgiving and unwanted job…
A leather bound bible hangs at the other hip, silently and slightly swaying with each step…
I guess that God really did change my life, that night…was probably going to drink myself to sleep again…
The face is turned downward, an unshaven and unmistakably masculine face whose lips are thin and turned downward as well…
God told me to go, and so I did…
A black serape is hung around his shoulders, a black hat covers his face…
You would like to think that you are so high and mighty, don't you? That you've immortalized yourself in the minds of men, by killing all those poor people? You even keep dragging people into your twisted little group…
A vehicle begins to leave the town, carrying the culprits of the massacre…
Well, I guess it doesn't matter, Jacob…because God gave me his word…
The figure lifts it's head, revealing an old and craggy face, whose eyes burn with a holy fire…
And may God help the one who tries to stop the Missionary.