Chapter 37

- Author -

Xenon watched his prey coldly. He had never wished to inflict so much pain to anyone, certain villains and dumb protagonists not counting, but this man in front of him made him, for the first time in his two lifetimes, think of the best ways to torture anyone. He was no expert in the subject, and he would probably not draw any satisfaction from him, but he was certain that, had the roles been reversed, he would experience untold amount of pain, both physical and psychological in his disgusting hands.

"Please! You don't have to do this! I've got a family, my wife is still waiting for me in who knows where! Little Timmy is always sad when he misses me!" He looked at him as he squirmed in place, awaiting his judgment. Had Xenon spent some time considering it, he would be able to tell the man was bluffing, knowing there was no other way out of this, he was desperately hoping to appeal to his humanity.

A shame, Xenon couldn't care less about his family, his wife, the army of cute little babies and puppies waiting eagerly for him at home, none of that was of consequence to him. Regardless of what came out of his mouth, it would at best delay his inevitable death, had it been something of benefit to him.

"Is there anyone else with you?" Xenon asked, keeping the gun pointed at his chest, in case he got any funny ideas. The man hesitated for a second, considering his options. "I thought so."

"Do you have a map around here?" Xenon asked again.

"YES! WE HAVE ONE!" the fat man nodded eagerly, finally finding his 'olive branch'.

"Where is it?"

"In the bedroom on the second floor." Xenon approached the dead body of the man he just shot, and took a look at him, then picked up the weapon from the table, and pointed the two handguns at him.

"Let's go." He gestured him to move, following him while keeping a bit of distance. "Keep both hands on top of your head, and don't test my patience." He gulped and complied, though the fat man was reasonably happy about this turn of events. He almost shat his pants when he saw his friend shot mercilessly by this kid, and was afraid he wouldn't give two shits about him, and end him right then and there, but it seems his words had a bit of impact on him, if he was already considering keeping him alive for this long. He was thinking of finding the best opportunity to strike, but he needed to wait for him to drop his guard. Right now, he had no delusions that he would be finishd should he make a single wrong move.

They slowly walked up the stairs, until they reached the bedroom in question, he wanted to open it but remembered the kid's threat.

"It's this one."

"Bring your left hand down and open it." He complied but was puzzled at the reason why he would ask for his left hand specifically and shrugged it off as the kid trying to sound cool.

- Xenon -

I took the map after he deposited it on the bed, and I asked him to stand in the corner of the room. I'm not taking chances with him.

"Where is my car?"

"It's parked in front of house, right next to ours." He answered, though I noticed he was taking things a lot more calmly now. Did the idiot not realize he would be dying soon?

I'm surprised at how easy killing people came to me. I'd expect myself to start feeling remorse, bitching about how unfair life is, how killing a living person is never the right thing to do, you know, like your regular wimpy isekai protagonist, but to be fair, I never liked that kind of mindset. I know in my previous life, I would never have had the balls to shoot someone like I did, mostly out of fear of going to jail, but they made it so much easier for me. I took him back to the living room.

"Since you've been so cooperative, I've decided to let you live. We'll go out of here, then I'll give you a weapon to defend yourself and you'll be on your way." I said seriously, as he looked at me in disbelief. "But you gotta promise, you'll never hurt anybody again. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah yeah!" He nodded eagerly, unable to believe he just got out of this scot-free. "I'll do good, plant flowers, whatever it is, I'm your guy!"

'Woah, it's as if this dude is asking to be killed.' It didn't take a genius to figure out he was bullshitting, you could smell that pile of crap from miles. But in his defense, I was bullshitting too.

A few zombies were outside by now, attracted by the sound of gunshots thanks to the open windows. The Glock was pretty loud too, so there was that.

I walked him outside of the house, the zombies in the area being attracted to us by now. He was a pretty big guy too, so it was hard not to notice him.

"Alright, you can turn around now, he is your weapon." He turned to me with a disarming smile, ready to thank me for my generosity. Or maybe hoping for a handgun so he could shoot me right then and there. None of it mattered in the end.

* BANG BANG *

I had always wondered what part of my body I would miss the most if I lost it, important parts for survival not counting. Being an amputee sucks, but there were times when I considered: If I had to lose one body part, which one would it be. There were several variables to consider: firstly, which one is most valuable in what kind of situation. Losing a leg is probably worse than losing an arm, since you lose most of your mobility. Losing an arm is probably worse than losing an eye. But there was a single body part, that regardless of how "useless" it seemed it the big picture, I had never even considered losing. In fact, I've always thought life wouldn't be worth living without it, and I'm sure many men would think the same. And it seemed like the perfect punishment for the rapist asshole.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH! MY DICK! YOU SON OF A BITCH! AAAAAAARGH!" The now dickless fatty held his bleeding crotch, as he staggered and fell. And although he had bigger things to worry about than losing his member, like the zombies about to feast on his eunuch ass.

I retreated back to the safety of the house, munched on some potato chips I took out of my inventory as he screamed, cursed, pleaded, begged for his mother and whatever deity came to his tiny disgusting rapist mind to help him. Surprisingly, I felt no sympathy for the man once I remembered what he threatened to do to me, yet I was worried I may have enjoyed doing this, which disgusted me to no end. Killing him was not enjoyable, though it was a bit satisfying to watch him face the consequences of his actions, happy in the knowledge that he would never be a problem to anyone. Ever.