"What? No! Stay away from-!"
The man couldn't finish as the bullet carved a sleek path through his skull. Blood burst through the center of his forehead, spattering the wall, floor, and clothes of the killer who stood only a few steps away with arm extended, gun held firm in gloved hands, eyes stone cold. The killer scanned the rest of the small room of the single story farm house at the edge of town. Three more bodies lay on the floor, blood emptying from their wounds.
A faint light was cast through the curtained window from the twin moons in the sky. The killer's arms fell back limply. The figure stayed unmoving in a trance-like state for a moment before putting the gun inside the inner pocket of their jacket, taking a few steps to the entranceway of the room, and carrying the black briefcase that sat there over to the corpses.
The clinking of glass sounded as various vials, jars, and bottles were taken from the case. A knife glinted in the eerie light of the room - it would soon be red and dripping, cleaned only after the final slice had been made in the body of the small six year old girl that lay lifelessly next to her mother, eyes still filled, even in death, with fear and confusion.
Once finished, the killer lined the bodies up, closing their stunned eyes, and covering them with a blanket. Lantern oil was spread over the blanket and throughout the house. The figure stepped outside, closing the door lightly behind them and breathing in the night air that was cool and refreshing compared to the malodorous atmosphere enclosed in the house. The gloves the figure wore were thrown to the ground by the front door.
In a few short seconds the little building was up in flames. The bright reds, oranges, and yellows contrasted greatly with the black night sky. The eyes of the killer stung and watered as they stared, unblinking, at their sin turning to ash.
Part of the roof collapsed, causing the figure to blink rapidly, providing relief to their eyes. The killer reached into their coat pocket once more, this time removing a rosary and rapping it around their hands, which they then placed together palm-to-palm.
For the first time that night, the figure spoke. The words flowed softly, but clearly, from the parted lips.
"Heavenly Father, show kindness to the lambs that now journey back to your arms. Give them guidance and peace in their days to come in Heaven, as they bask in your eternal glory, O Lord….Amen."
The killer gave one last look at the blazing building, then turned and quickly hurried down the path to take shelter in the shadows of the buildings of the town. The briefcase felt heavier than normal, but the figure ignored the weight of the encased misery. This was not the first, or last time, such sadness would be witnessed and contained.
Sirens filled the night air - piercing sounds that seemed to give voice to the anguish of the souls that traveled to the grace of God that night. The fire would be completely doused in a few hours, the smoldering remains of the building blotting out the moonlight with dark clouds, but the pain of the flames in the night sky would not be forgotten.