Revenge is a dish best served cold.
Prologue
September 1998
She laid on the floor panting heavily, shaking, weak from being brutally beaten, and drenched in blood. Her simple white gown stained and dark red pools of her own blood surrounding her. Or perhaps that belonged to the countless others who she wasn't that far behind from ending up as.
She blinked her pale blue eyes, her blurred vision trying to adjust and stay awake as a pale, broad hand carressed her cheek affectionately. He quickly acquired a clean hankerchief and started to wipe off the large bleeding wound on her forehead.
"Sh...sh.." he hushed in a smooth, accented voice. The voice that had once been a soothing lullaby to her drifted into a nightmare for her. He made a 'Tsk Tsk' noise as if lecturing her for something she had done.
"Tell me Joanne, do you find me sadistic?" he questioned. She strained herself to widen her eyes in shock. Was this a sick joke? The answer was obvious from the looks of him alone. He accepted her stunned silence for an answer as he continued to clean the blood gently off her face.
"You're aware that there's nothing sadistic in my actions. It was just...unsettled business between us. Try to understand." he softly remarked, making the others nearby snigger quietly and viciously. Those familiar faces behind him stood proud and tall for their monstrous actions, and he was no different than the rest of them.
"Unfortunately at this moment-" he continued as she continued heaving heavy pants and fighting to live. Her eyes widened, horrified at the sound of the familiar click and hiss of a weapon he was normally unlikely to use.
"This is me, at my most masochistic." he finished, drawing the weapon right towards her. It's so close to her face that if she had the strength to crane her neck up her nose would be touching the cold metal end of it.
"Xipe." she strains, gritting her teeth and eyes welling.
"It's your bab-"
BAM!