I'm pretty proud of this poem. It wasn't originally a fanfic at all, but I started with the line "The night is young, and so is she/She is walking, walking, walking down the street" and I was watching Fannysmackin' at the same time... And it happened to match perfectly with the second victim. Just in case anyone's a little shaky on the details, first is the dishwasher, then the female tourist, the tourist Greg saved, then Greg, and lastly the gang.
The night is gentle, and so is he.
He is talking, talking, talking lovingly.
Contentment is all he knows as he waits to reach home.
He does not know that he will never be there.
The night is young, and so is she.
She is walking, walking, walking down the street.
Unhappiness is being banished from her thoughts.
She does not know that she is about to know pain beyond measure.
The night is unassuming, and so is he.
He is searching, searching, searching through the city.
Bitterness is virtually unknown in his world.
He does not know that it will soon become his world.
The night is alive, and so is he.
He is racing, racing, racing to help.
The future is full of endless possibilities.
He does not know that his future is about to become cloudy and dim.
The night is black, and so are they.
They are running, running, running towards their prey.
Guilt is nonexistent in their minds.
They will never know guilt.