Carlos Stevens was a dull man, with a dull job living in a dull flat room above the equally boring butchers on the street where old, run down shops lived then died. And his family run butchers shop was going to be one of them.
The middle aged, overweight butcher had yet again thrown a reminder in the bin. He didn't need a bloody reminder that his shop was going to the dogs. Even though the family had ditched that business long ago, Carlos wanted to stay true to his grandfather's traditions. So, when his brothers' went and explored the greedy trade of the business man, Carlos spent night and day training to become a butcher. He aspired to become as good as his grandfather, who was one of the best in his day.

Carlos was working well into the night, the dim light of a rustic lamp stood on a wooden block as Edith Piaf's 'Non, Je ne regrette rien' played in the background, in symphony with the sharp and dense thuds of the cleaver upon wood. Carlos hummed along with the tune, keeping in time with the music as the cleaver sliced through another pork chop. He found it peaceful and almost emotional, but then again, Carlos was a man who possessed little emotion.
As he hummed along, the sound of the shop bell went, which made the butcher frown. It was far past closing time. He turned his meaty head to the clock, which ticked slowly and almost painfully. Half past eleven. He gave a grunt with a frown and shuffled to the door frame, cleaver still in hand as he pushed through the beads, his small and beady eyes roaming the dark shop front.
Nothing.
The butcher sighed and placed the cleaver on the side, moving to the shop door and re-locking it. He swore he locked it after closing time...
Carlos shook his head then shuffled back behind the counter, his hand out stretched and groping for the cleaver-
Which wasn't there.
Carlos swallowed thickly and looked around the dark and shadowy shop front.
Panic overtook his already unhealthy heart as he scuffled over to the phone stand, tripping over his feet in terror as he felt unseen eyes pierce the back of bald head. He went to dial the emergency number, but the dull but even more terrifying sound of the never ending beep welcomed him. The line had been cut. The man stumbled back, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the phone with a deathly grip, his wide eyes searching the dark expanse again for any sign for the stranger who struck the fear into his heart.
Just as he backed into the beaded doorway, an arm came out nowhere and wrapped around the bulbous neck, squeezing with a threatening pressure that made the man scramble at the arm, trying to move his neck to gasp for air, but the arm only tightened more without any trouble. The butcher was dragged back into his workshop and pushed into his chair. The man stared up in fear at the stranger, swallowing thickly.

"Who- who are you?" he spat out, glaring up at the tall figure, who towered over him, pressing a leather clad hand against the butcher's cheek, moving his head to the side.

"Manners, it can get you far." the voice drawled.

The butcher blinked in confusion, but it was short lived before a large object collided with the side of his face, knocking him out cold.

Once Carlos regained consciousness, he found he was still in the same position as before, however, he was firmly duct taped to the chair. He gave a few frantic pulls to try and free himself, but it was a no go.
He looked around and saw he was still in his workshop. Hope started filling his head as he spied various carving knives not too far from where he was kept. If he could just move his way over there, then he could try and cut his way free.

"I wouldn't, if I was you."

The butcher looked up, his heart hammering again as he realised he wasn't alone. His abductor had his back to him and appeared to be sorting something out, the soft clank of metal objects upon another. The stranger seemed to be humming along to the music, which was Edith Piaf again. As she sang, the tall stranger with his head moving side to side to the music, almost seeming like he was lost within it.

Carlos trembled slightly, watching the tall shadow sort through something before straightening up.

"I doubt you'd remember, seeing as your brain capacity isn't that big, if you have one in there at all. However, I'll refresh your memory since I'm in such a...giving mood."

Carlos swallowed thickly, still watching with anxious eyes.

"You see, I came upon your...hovel of a shop a mere few days ago. I felt in the mood for something not in supermarkets and something with more...quality. So, while I was doing a job, I came across your shop. You see, I'm a fussy eater, and I have to have my steaks right otherwise I reckon it just ruins the meal." he started, the soft sound of steel upon steel followed the short silence. "Now, I saw your shop looked quite shabby, but I decided not to judge upon appearance, so I came in to see what I could acquire. Now, there was a young woman with a small child, do you remember her?"

Carlos frowned and looked down, his tiny mind working frantically. Did he remember her? It was a few days ago, and his memory wasn't that good these days. Slow images and fragments came back to him. Ah yes, the grovelling lady who wanted the price lowered on a steak slice. It wasn't his fault that she didn't have the right amount of money.

"Well, by that dim expression you are wearing, my guesses are that you do. Well, from what I observed, she was a few pennies out of pocket. You could tell by her clothes that she had worn the third day in a row that she didn't exactly have a high income, especially with a child." the man sighed, picking up a carving knife and holding it up to the light, squinting slightly before placing it back down. "I entered around about the time the woman was asking politely for the price to be lowered, just a few pounds so she could pay for it. By her desperation, it seemed she was having someone over important, someone she wanted to impress. But we won't go in depth with that. Going back to the incident, you was rather...rude. Instead, I gave her the money for the steak, but then I noticed you gave her the worst one in the batch. So, I bought a slice myself, satisfied you have given me a decent one, I went after the lady and swapped. See, good Samaritan."

Carlos frowned for a fraction before his eyes widened. It was him! The tall man who had sympathised the woman, making the butcher look like a fool. "We all have to put food on our tables, I couldn't lower the price." he said hastily, eyeing the second carving knife that was held up to the light.

"No, but the thing is, you heightened the price when she came in. She initially had the correct amount but you sensed her weakness and preyed on her like a hawk. Not very clever move, that can get you enemies."

The butcher swallowed and watched the tall stranger apprehensively.

"You see, once I got home I had to give my steak cut to my dog. He enjoyed it, needless to say of the terrible quality. I spent the night with a cup of tea instead, which displeased me. You ruined my night, which, is very rude." the intruder sighed heavily, turning to face the butcher who gave a tug at the tape. He walked forward to Carlos, picking up the carving knife with his gloved hand. He leaned forward, his lips twitched upwards as Carlos tried to keep his distance from him in a frantic but quite pathetic struggle.

"Edith Piaf's song was one of my mother's favourite songs. Do you know what she's singing about? The line 'Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien' means, 'No, I regret nothing'. Tell me Carlos, do you regret your rudeness to the young woman?" he asked quietly.

Carlos, who had been helplessly struggling at the duct tape, found his arrogance in the desperate time. "She should have had the money, not my problem." he hissed. The man raised his eyebrows before sighing and pressing the blade to the man's over sized stomach, ignoring his laboured breath as he did a perfect curve into the skin. He watched the blood start to bead on the surface before trickling down the stomach.

"One more chance," the shadow murmured, looking up to the pained butcher who seemed to be gasping as his eyes stung.

"You- You're nuts!" he gasped, struggling more frantically then ever.

Another heavy sigh then the blade was pressed to his stomach again, finishing the curve once more. He sat back slightly and looked at it with a cocked head. The perfect 's' was carved into the stomach of the whimpering man who had stopped writhing and led limp; the pain was getting too much.

"Do you regret it?" the torturer said calmly, like carving into men was a regular activity people did on a daily basis.

"Yes!" the butcher sobbed, his head bowing slightly as he eyed his stomach with wide and pained eyes.

"You see, your demons and omens follow you around. Mine still haunt me, but I'm more cleverer then you. I can shut them away, keep them out. But yours will always follow you. Well, they'll be short lived." the stranger said simply, standing and towering over the arrogant man. He lifted a gloved finger and lifted the man's chin so the wide eyes met his. "No one will be a victim of your fraud anymore." he said softly before gliding the knife across the butcher's thick neck, the scream turning into gurgling that slowly quietened as the shadow cleaned up his mess quietly and professionally.

After ten minutes, the room showed no sign of the killer, just the butcher sat still and bleeding in his chair, his small eyes wide with the horror that he had faced.

His murderer, however, showed no sign of distress or guilt. That night, he sat in his leather chair in front of a crackling fire with a book held open in his large pale hand, the bulldog led happily at his feet. The lone stranger didn't think of Carlos the butcher, how he was found two days later by his visiting brother with a promising business opportunity. He thought about a soldier, a man he once was acquainted with. He thought of him that night as the room dimmed down to a reddish glow, highlighting the male's features. He thought of the good doctor all night, quietly and