“The day you’ve been waiting for has finally arrived; you have beaten me. Are you satisfied?”

I looked upon his bloodied face, mangled hands, red-white teeth, and just sighed. I stepped back, the grotesque squelch beneath my feet was like music to my ears, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Behind you is a trail of blood and fire and anguish,” he began, coughing up whatever life he had left.

“Yeah, tends to happen when you have half an office’s worth of guards and whatnot guarding this place like it’s their mother’s cooking.”

“You joke now, but I’m not. I see,” he sighed, his voice raspy and corroded, “Behind you, death. In front of you, death. You can outlast me, but you can never outlast your fate.”

“You won’t be alive to know for yourself.”

“True, but I know. I was you, once upon a time, you know.”

“Save the end-of-life cliché for another pair of ears. There will be plenty for you to disturb in hell.”

“Just… shut up and listen. Let me do some good before I die, at least.”

“What, and give you a chance to repent? No thanks.”

I began to walk away, wiping my calloused hands on an overused napkin. Suddenly, I feel the wind change and dodge on instinct, darting a look in the direction of the object thrown.

It couldn’t be—

𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

There I saw him, crawling up to his feet in a last stance of defiance. The object thrown? His tooth.

What a mad lad.

“I said,” he wheezed, his knees almost buckling in shock at still being able to work, “Listen to me… and shut up.”

I turned towards him, utterly flabbergasted, but intrigued, “It was actually ‘shut up and listen’ but sure, I’ll entertain your last wish.”

“… Me and you… we are no different.”

“Okay, well, that’s me entertaining your bull done,” I snapped dashing towards him and holding him up by his neck.

“I lived… to kill… those who opposed… me,” his wheezing was getting ridiculous now, “And what… for the past… 17… 17 years… have you lived for?”

“What kind of half-chopped logic is that, you senile old man? I vowed I’d kill you after what you did to my family, and you think you can compare that tot what you have been doing for the past 20 years to my city?”

“You think… I’m a bad person… don’t you..?”

“If you’re going to keep talking like that, just shut the f*ck up please,” I sighed, throwing him back up against the wall and wiping my hands again.

“Haaaa… what do you think of me?”

“It’s not about what I think, it’s about what you are: a disgusting, evil, crooked b*stard of a human being.”

“According to whom?”

“Me, for one. Where are you going with this? I’m getting bored.”

“To you, I’m evil because I’ve been terrorising these streets and neighbourhoods for years. Then to me, I find you evil for killing over 50 people just for me, and I find you even more evil for what you’re going to do when you ‘get bored’ of my talking.”

“Who cares about what you think? Doesn’t make it true,” I snapped, irritated at the disgusting comparison.

“Well, who cares about what 𝒚𝒐𝒖 think? Doesn’t make it true either.”

“What, the fact that you’ve killed thousands?”

“What, the fact that you’re going to kill me?”

“… Are you mocking me?”

“If that’s what you want to call the reality of the situation, then sure.”

“Well, it will be the last thing you do,” I pulled out my knife and digged it deep into his torso, twisting it as he yelled in agony.

“I wonder… what you… w-will do n… next.”

Finally, he’s dead.

Yet for some reason, I could still hear his voice.