Pulling his car to the side of the road, Jasper damned the unexpected delay in his journey. As it stood, there was a good chance he was going to be late for the ceremony, perhaps he wouldn't even be granted entrance to the East Room. The culmination of his military career lost due to a combination of poor eyesight and bad weather … Shaking his head against the negative thoughts tormenting his mind, he chose to concentrate on the medal waiting for him in Washington. He could almost visualize the glorious moment when the President would put the blue ribbon around his neck; almost feel the weight of the eagle and the star sitting on his chest; almost bask in the envious looks of his peers—very few men could boast the distinction of being the recipient of a Medal of Honor.

Brought out of his reverie by the unmistakable sound of a dead car battery, Jasper observed with growing curiosity the wisp of a woman glaring daggers at her unmoving vehicle on the other side of the road. The dark color of his car in addition to the falling rain concealed him from her view—he was free to admire her beauty. Somehow she reminded him of his younger sister, the black sheep of the family who had ran away from home. The last he'd heard of her, she had become a whore. Chuckling he contemplated the irony of it: his half brother was a man of God and his other sibling was a lady of the night.

After a few minutes of failed attempts to start the engine, the woman braved the rain and headed towards a place where Jasper could see only darkness. Irritated at his limited vision, he wondered if the woman would be safe alone in the dark. Trying to calm himself, he reasoned that perhaps there was a house or a service station he couldn't see where she might get the help she obviously needed. Even so, he was a bit worried for her safety—under the cloak of darkness, even the best of men can be tempted to unspeakable acts.

For a few seconds he debated whether or not he should go after her. Gentlemanly concern had him almost out of the car before the tug of comfort beckoned him to stay where it was safe and dry. She was a grown woman after all, let her deal with the consequences of her actions. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. One of the benefits of having served in Afghanistan was that he had become accustomed to sleeping through almost anything, at the same time keeping enough awareness to recognize any potential threats.

Unfortunately, a loud scream of undeniable terror yanked him away from the pleasant dreams he had been enjoying. Apparently, the silly woman had landed herself in a predicament and now he had to intervene. Cursing the female population and the notion that men should protect them, he stepped into the chilling rain. Walking slowly, he felt a sliver of fear trickle down his spine when he spotted the imposing building that lay ahead. Self-preservation warred with gallantry, but in the end pride was the deciding factor—he was a war hero, after all.

Stiffening his spine, he burst into the house determined to quickly deal with the situation. However, he was met with the overwhelming silence that preludes a battle. Used to life and death situations, he attuned his senses to his surroundings and tensed his muscles, ready to take down the enemy whoever he might be. Reaching for his gun he waited patiently for any sound that gave away the enemy's location. He wasn't about to ask questions—that was for silly girls in horror movies—he preferred to shoot first, ask questions later. Little did he know that he was about to encounter an adversary who couldn't be defeated with bullets.

But ignorance was bliss and when he heard the loud noise of the heavy door being shut, he saw the outline of his target, and shot mercilessly at him. Impressively, the man still stood. Startled, Jasper recharged his gun and fired it again. But no amount of bullets seemed able to bring the immobile form down, leading Jasper to question the nature of what he had seen and heard. Maybe the wind had slammed the door shut and the form he had aimed at was nothing more than a statue. In any case, he started to retrace his steps to the entrance—whatever terrible destiny had fallen upon the woman, he was most likely too late to help her now. Besides, although he was loath to admit it, he had a prickling feeling of unease about the whole situation.

"Going somewhere, Major?"

Unable to pinpoint the direction from which the voice had originated, Jasper forced himself to collect his scattered wits and make the man talk a bit more. He had very few bullets left, therefore he couldn't afford the luxury of shooting at will, hoping to somehow hit the target. Precision was the name of the game, the best weapon was keeping focused. Feeling sure of himself due to his military training, Jasper took his time answering—a maneuver meant to disconcert and cower the enemy while regaining control over the situation.

"Ah, good Major, your reasoning is flawed."

At the enigmatic comment, Jasper fought against the sense of doom that unexpectedly took over the logical side of his brain. Telling himself that the fright he felt was an overreaction, he had reigned in his capricious body when a terrible realization came to the forefront of his mind. Although fighting desperately to rationalize it, he came up short. How could the man know? He was in civilian clothes, far away from home, his photo hadn't been made public …

"Ah, I see you're finally asking the right questions."

"You read minds."

Trembling in terror, Jasper could barely believe his own words. But it was the only explanation for the man's remarks. How was it possible? Was he even a man? What was going on? Answers weren't needed, for all Jasper wanted was to escape the house and try his luck driving through the rain. But how could he plan an escape route when the being could read his mind?

"You can't, Major. You're completely at my mercy. Call it poetic justice, if you please."

"I demand an explanation."

Although he had tried to infuse his voice with authority, it came out sounding pathetically weak giving away the fear constricting his lungs and quickening his heart. Ignoring his question, the creature kept on talking to itself in a quiet, steady voice.

"In the hidden depths of a human's psyche lies the truth about his character. There is true beauty in being able to peel away the layers of deceit and contemplating the naked reality of one's character. But within the gift hides the curse of being forced to watch the extent of human corruption. Evolution is a ruse meant to convey a false sense of security that lulls society into blind compliance. Confident in their moral values they refuse to believe the depravity in which their neighbors indulge. Preying on their peers' naiveté, predators bask in all kinds of perverted delights. Do you know what I mean, Major?"

Taking advantage of the long rant, Jasper had stealthily inched away from his would be captor, eyeing the tall windows that dominated the wall to his right. He had almost reached the closest one when the creature suddenly stood between him and freedom. It was the first time he actually looked at his enemy and the sight had him fighting the urge to scream. Despite its young appearance, its preternatural beauty spoke of ancient knowledge, reinforcing the idea that it couldn't be beaten or deceived. Defeat was inevitable, so Jasper decided to surrender with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Don't worry, Major, you will be allowed to retain as much dignity as your victims were."

Blanching, Jasper recalled his time at war. All the times he had killed without question or emotion… How many had it been? Concentrating hard, Jasper shied away from the feat of bravery that had been rewarded with the medal he was now sure he would never have the chance to receive. A sudden blow to his legs, brought Jasper to his knees. Gasping in pain, he didn't have the strength to fight off the hand forcing his head to an unnatural angle. The eyes of the creature bore into his and Jasper understood that it knew the truth of his past.

"That's right, Major. Raping defeated enemies to ascertain your superiority and later humiliating them by letting their peers know of their shame. Many killed themselves, others were stoned to death, some still live, but the emotional scars keep them from living a happy fulfilling life. You know what that makes you? A serial rapist. Had it happened in the U.S. you'd be called a sex offender.

"But that's not all, is it Major? How about the lie that secured you a Medal of Honor? The local population's riot wasn't an act of terrorism like you claimed, but a direct consequence of the cruelty you had instigated. Deserting your men, you never took part in the battle; however a young sergeant, who closely resembled you, did. The surprise night attack was providential, wasn't it? Taking advantage of the cloak of darkness and the men's confusion you claimed as yours the feats of bravery of one of the very few good men who died that night."

Jasper had never been a man of faith, but at that moment he attempted to pray like his mother had taught him long ago. He asked for a quick swift death, for an escape, for anything that saved him from the promise of retribution simmering in the creature's eyes.

"There is no point, you know. Salvation is for the deserving and you are not one of them. The one you ask for help was the judge and the jury, I'm merely the executioner."

The last thread of hope was broken. Tears streamed down his face, a relentless question swirled around his mind, but he couldn't find the courage to voice it, for he was afraid of the answer.

"My son, the time for fear is long gone. I won't do to you anything that you haven't done to others countless times. Fear not, maybe you can even feel a little pleasure during our time together."

To Jasper's everlasting mortification, the first few times the creature penetrated him were followed by blinding explosions of rapture. Only later the pleasure turned into pain, blood and whimpers of despair pouring out of his body, but the creature wouldn't be deterred. It sadistically raped Jasper for hours, until he faded away in a haze of unwanted pleasure and unbearable pain.

Wound for wound thy sins must be avenged.