It’d been done. Once again. There had been some talk about the prior two, talk he was not aware of. This one would probably enhanced the search for a ‘vigilante’— he needn’t worry, of course. After all, the dead had little to fear. ATROCITY had that effect on people.

   Eric stood above the limp, bloodied body of a man. A once savage man, now asleepingman.   ‘Oh, how kind was death. Soothing and numbing, like its brother sleep.’   Surely, the black-clad man believed in redemption, but some dogs needed to be put down.

   Gun in hand, Eric regained control over himself, eyes both disgusted & intrigued by the reds splattered from the back of the man’s head & onto the brick wall. Picturing what a crow-shaped decoration would paint like.

                            ⊰ WATCH OUT, KID! ⊱
                                                The bird cawed from above, diving to its
                                                 side & taking a place on the fire escape.

   Eric’s peripheral slithered without a move. “It is in your best interest to turn around and go back exactly where you came from.” He spoke, in his calm low-baritone.

   “I assure you—” Eric turned to where the unexpected witness (secretly hoping they’d not catch any of it), “I will not try to stop you, go after you or hurt you.” Eric threw the handgun to the side, next to the corpse. His hands offered to the showing— clean… to some extent.