Greg Matthews.
A nobody to many, even himself, not that he cares. Actually he prefers it. Greedy housewives, abusers, gang leaders, rapists, molesters, careless parents, they all have something in common and Greg sees them all the same.
He sees the...
Brenda Matthews was at the podium in the early hours of the Sunday morning, preaching the words from the Bible to the many faces of friends and strangers alike.
Greg was pretending to read along, but he was actually subtly scanning the crowd that sat around him.
From an early age, Greg had shown a talent for memory retention, especially with books and research, so it was no surprise that, with all the Bible talk his mom forced upon him, he would learn, retain, question, and eventually renounce religion due to its several inconsistencies and impossibilities.
Despite this, his mother was very supportive of his choice to follow his own path and only asked that he occasionally attend church just to keep an open mind, but it was not an open mind Greg was going to keep today, it was open ears.
The prayers of Cletus Louis rang out among all the others as the loudest in the church.
'The kind of man who prays the most but works the least and expects it all to balance out,' Greg thought.
The other voice that rang out among the slightly annoyed churchgoers' was that of Darnell Jackson, a slightly short, heavy set black man who was well dressed and always seemed to have on large amounts of jewelry and an attractive woman on his arm.
'The kind of man who prays the most and sins the most and expects it to all balance out,' he thought again while listening to the two men practically compete for the title of loudest church patron.
None of the people in the church were necessarily worthy of their life, but these two men were most definitely the worst.
They were both equally insufferable and both deserved to die.
'Sorry, Terra, but our do to list is full...at least for now,' Greg thought to himself, knowing Terra would probably worship him for freeing her from such an awful parent.
Watching Darnell casually, Greg witnessed the man drop a $100 bill into the collection tray while smirking over at a clearly upset Cletus who began taking money out of his wife's purse.
"That money should be used to feed your kids, you loser" Greg muttered to himself, not so much concerned about the kids as he was the overwhelming stupidity.
After the church service, most of the people headed for the door at lightning speed, ready to get on with their day, while the few remaining stayed behind to socialize and gossip.
"Can you believe he asked the preacher for gas money?" someone said.
"How could he not afford that, but afford to put all that money in collection?" Mr. Robinson added.
"That money could have been used to feed those two starving children! Did you see how skinny they are?!"
'Ugh, for people who preach about not judging, they sure do judge a lot,' Greg grumbled in his mind as he just stood there awkwardly.
"I hear his daughter is dating Greg."
"No, I heard that it didn't go well!"
'Okay, that will be just about enough,' Greg grumbled once again internally as he walked right up to the group.
"I sure liked that guy Darnell's suit. I wonder if he will tell me where to get one," he started nonchalantly.
"Greg, you stay away from that man! He's nothing but trouble!" an old woman scolded.
"Yeah, Greg. A boy like you may only see fancy things, but you don't need to be looking up to a pimp like him who sells innocent immigrant woman, no matter if they're illegal aliens or not!" her husband added.
"Did you guys know he uses half of that to finance the local gangs?" Mr. Robinson spoke. "Heh, he apparently even has a room reserved at the Oakwood Inn for his own private party!"
"Wow, you're right. I should definitely steer clear of him. Thanks, guys," Greg smiled before walking away.
"It may be annoying, but it saves us the time. Now we just need to prepare," he whispered to himself.
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The man known as Darnell Jackson hopped out of bed and walked over to a line of white powder on the TV stand. He happily sniffed away until the whole line was gone.
"Save some for me," a naked woman whined from over on the bed, her voice very thickly accented.
"Shut up! You know I make sure you are well taken care of!" he barked back, pouring more powder onto the stand.
The woman got up and began sniffing the powder, too, while Darnell checked that the door was locked.
"I'm going to take a shower. Make sure there is some of this shit left when I get back or I'll send your ass back to Russia in pieces!" he snarled before walking into the bathroom.
The woman rolled her eyes at his back, rubbing her nose as she peered out the window of the motel room.
That's when a dark hooded figure crawled out from under the bed and quietly snuck up behind her.
Quickly, the figure wrapped his arm around the woman's throat and applied pressure until she fell unconscious.
In the bathroom, Darnell heard what sounded like a struggle, and stepped out of the shower to see the figure standing over the now passed out woman.
In an instant, Darnell ran for his gun, but as he reached it, the hooded figure smashed his hammer onto the man's hand with a loud, sickening crack!
Before Darnell could think pass the pain to reach for the gun again, the figure used the hammer to slide the gun away.
"That isn't an option, we're afraid," the figure stated.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Darnell shouted while cradling his obviously shattered hand.
"Maybe we are one of these girls' families come to rescue them. Maybe we are one of the junkies you and your little pack of dogs created, or maybe we are just the monster under the bed. Whatever the case, it doesn't concern you."
"I have some tough friends, you feel me?! They're gonna come looking for me!" Darnell snarled back, trying to sound intimidating even though he was on the verge of tears from the pain.
"Yes, but if you are on the run for murder and possession of drugs, nobody will even question it," the figure shrugged and brought the hammer down hard onto the side of the man's head before quickly grabbing towels to soak up the blood.
"Too much blood will let them know you're dead. We just want to show you were in a struggle," he muttered to himself, pulling the unconscious woman over and raking her long nails across the pimp's face.
He then proceeded in putting her fingerprints on a shower rod that he ripped from the bathroom, making sure to smear some of Darnell's blood on it as well.
"She put up one hell of a fight against her angry, drug fueled pimp, but sadly, it wasn't enough," the figure said to himself before reaching down to snap the woman's neck and then reaching out to beat the body with the same shower rod, his own fingerprints covered.
"Darnell didn't know his own strength, and in his anger, he killed the woman rather than share his drugs...or something like that. The authorities always love to make up their little stories," the figure sighed, pulling out garbage bags.
"Now for the boring part where you go on the run," he grumbled, dragging the heavy man to the bathtub.
