Prologue

The rain washed away my blood and thunder subdued his screams. It's okay, I'm used to it. It's part of my job, after all. Taking a deep breath, I walked towards him, the baseball bat scraping the wet concrete. I swing the bat in the air and rest it on my shoulder. I don't have the time for this. I look into his eyes and say, "What do you plead? Guilty or not Guilty?"

"Do you know who I am? Its better if you let me go, I'm telling you, I won't press charges! Let me go! " He screamed while failing to stand up. Strike 1.

I hated guys like these, arrogant and so full of themselves. my shirt was sticking to my chest and my socks were all wet and sticky. I have to hurry before my skin starts burning up. I swung the bat in front of his face, "I'm gonna ask again, Guilty or Not Guilty?"

"Listen here mister, I don't know who you are but you're making a big mistake messing with me."

"I don't care. what do you plead, Guilty or not Guilty?"

After his numerous attempts at screaming for help and threatening didn't work. He tried to grab my bat but alas, his hands slipped. Strike 2.

There are two kinds of responses that people try to get out of this situation.

1. Push their luck and threaten me to let them go. Personally, I wouldn't recommend this. Not only does this waste my time, it also increases your chances of being killed.

2. Beg for mercy or pray to God you'd get out of here alive. When you're kneeling in front of me, there's no God that will vouch for you. you will have to answer for your own doing, right here, right now.

Obviously, there are more ways that people try to weasel their way out but it'll take me the entire night. I don't like people who think that they're better than everyone else, who are unaware of their own mortality. No matter the money, the power you have; Everyone will die someday.

I'm just doing my job and sometimes that requires meeting people like him, he falls into the category of the arrogant CEO, criminal with high reputation and money. The kind I hate the most.

"Guilty or not Guilty?" I asked, calmly.

"I didn't do anything wrong- " strike 3.

I squatted down, looked him dead in the eye and swinged the bat at his face. This is the gruesome part where I spend good minutes smashing his skull. Only after I'm done, I realise that my shirt is clinging to my back. I can feel my skin burning and itching, feel the humid air clouding my lungs and the raindrops hammering down my back. I pressed my back against the wall, leaned my head back and closed my eyes to say a small prayer.

I clap my hands together and get ready to move his body to a grave. No one would dig up a grave, unless you're Winchesters. I load the body at the back of the truck and drive through the muddy and uneven roads of Oshire. I'll need two showers and 10-step skincare routine for the next 2 weeks to recover from this rain hazard.