I had an extra hour to kill before my date arrived. Good. I didn't come so early for her. No, I came so early to find and kill him.
Randall Jacobs. A convicted criminal. He had done time for armed robbery and the battery of his then girlfriend Nicole Preston. She later became his first victim. While the cops never found any evidence to prove it, Randall is a serial killer who cremated his victims after he brutally murdered them. How do I know this? When you're a psychopath like me, spotting other psychopaths can be a second nature.
After I had followed Randall for weeks on end I had found his kill tools (a box cutter, a hacksaw, a hammer, a screwdriver, among various other things) all stored in a toolbox, I had found his trophies (every serial killer has some kind of trophy, he had ten different necklaces placed carefully in a vintage jewelry box), and as I watched him now from my car I was sure I spotted his next intended victim. He watched her like a lion stalking a sick and defenseless zebra, I assume that's also how I was watching him at the moment.
The woman he was watching got into her car and tried starting it but the engine was silent. I looked back at Randall, a sinister smile starting to spread across his lips and creep slowly up his face as he started towards his prey. He had done something to the engine to keep it from starting and now he would try to lure this unsuspecting girl into the shadows. I grabbed my rubber glove that I had soaked in chloroform earlier today and slipped it on, killing my engine and walking in the direction of my next victim.
It began to speak, only a whisper for now, but It was coming to life, urging me on to spill the blood of the swine called Randall Jacobs. My step-mother Hannah had told me about my father Dexter. He had It too but he called It his Dark Passenger. It started taking over - I could see blood starting to drip down from buildings, rain from the sky, flood the streets until everyone and everything was covered in the hot, sticky, redness and I thought, This is for you dark dastardly Dexter. I'm going to make you proud dad, and closed in on Randall, the hunter turned hunted.
He was nearly on the girl and my quick thinking lizard brain kicked in. I pointed and screamed, "He's got a gun! He's got a gun!" and tackled him to the ground as he turned to see who had the audacity to interrupt his perfect cycle of bloodlust. The girl looked behind her to see us struggling and ran as Randall tried to grab me by the throat. I punched him in the throat causing him to sputter and cough as I then slammed his head back into the side of a nearby car, stunning him long enough to place my chloroform glove over his nose and mouth. He was unconscious in seconds. Quickly I started dragging him over to my car and stuffed him in my plastic covered trunk. I smiled as I started the car. My favorite part was coming next.
Randall woke to find that he was tied down to a table (his dining room table to be exact) and the heavy smell of gasoline filling the room. I stood over him with a fairly large knife.
"Good morning," I said. "I was getting worried you wouldn't wake up."
"What the fuck?" Randall gasped in terror. "Who are you? What the fuck is going on?!"
"What's going on is your judgement day mister Jacobs," I said calmly. I pointed at the wall where I had hung ten pictures, each with the face of one of his victims before they had been brutalized. Under the pictures I had placed the jewelry box with Randall's trophies.
"Recognise them?" I growled. Randall said nothing, he just stared at the shrine of his victims that was sitting before him. "Maybe you need a little refresher." I walked to the wall and turned the pictures over to reveal photos taken at the crime scenes. Each one of the victims had multiple stab wounds and had been brutalized by a weapon which, judging by the points of impact and the damage done, appeared to be a hammer, similar (if not identical) to one Randall owned.
"Recognise them now?" I said turning back to him. He started laughing.
"That's what this is? You want to avenge those sluts is that it?" He asked starting to cackle now, trying to catch his breath as he did. I reached into the jewelry box and pulled out all ten of his trophy necklaces. Randall's laughter died down and his face went from that of amusement to that of terror.
"You think what you did is funny?" I asked calmly. I walked over to the kitchen and pulled out his toolbox, opening it and grabbing his hammer. Walking back over to the table I put the trophies down and, after making sure he could see, smashed them all to pieces. Randall started screaming at me, I assume cursing me out, but It started speaking again. Soon It was screaming too, much louder than Randall, and It was demanding his blood. I laughed as I picked up my camera and took Randall's picture - pictures are my trophies.
"You son of a bitch!" Randall screamed. "I'll fucking kill you! You hear me? I said I'll KILL you!" I put my finger on his forehead.
"No Randall," I said as the blood started to cover everything again. "This time you're the one who will be killed."
Do it. I took a step over so I was standing directly above him. Do it! I raised the knife above his heart. DO IT! It was screaming deafeningly and I couldn't hold back anymore. Time froze as I let It take complete control and do what It had to do. When the evil deed was done I inhaled deeply. It was satisfied.
I finished throwing my things into the car and watched as the gasoline I had drenched Randall's house in now burned and Randall himself was engulfed in the flames that once helped him cover up his Dark Passenger.
Tonight was the night, and it had happened again, just like it always had and always would. I am Harrison Morgan, son of The Bay Harbor Butcher Dexter Morgan. I'm a monster and I am evil, but I'm a necessary evil. I live by Hannah's Code. I am a predator that only kills those who deserve it, and damn I love doing it.
