Requiem

Genre: Gothic-Thriller Archetypes: The Vigilante, The Dark Lord Plotline: Transformation, Escape Keywords: Body Painting, Church Marcus has lived most of his life in hiding. He has never stayed in the same place once nor has he used a real name to establish his identity. It has been so long since he used his name Marcus. Different people have known him by different aliases, but no one knows what kind of person Marcus is - what kind of job Marcus does. For years, Marcus has served no absolute master except his own obsession to rid the earth of all scum. He does this quickly, stealthily - with or without a price. For every man that dies in his hand, he leaves a sign; a Japanese Henna tattoo on the forehead of the victim translated as REQUIEM. No one has been able to trace the perpetrator of the killings. Always, he has left top investigators befuddled. Killing has been so ordinary for him that slowly, he was being transformed into a monster - hollow and unfeeling. He hated this void he felt deep within. He knew he needed redemption. A kind of redemption that would transform him into something new. He wanted to live a normal a life. It has been 15 years . . . Marcus went to a place where he has made himself an anathema. The Roman Catholic Church. He has been raised Catholic by his devout parents. They have sent him to a seminary so he could be a priest. And there, at the age of fifteen, he learned the meaning of rage. Marcus closed his eyes, trying so hard to erase the memory from his head, but he could remember every detail of abuse. His mentor has abused him in such a way that he could hear even the church walls scream in protest with the sickness of it. Marcus was so enraged that his vision darkened and he could only remember himself hitting his mentor with a marble candelabra on the head. He remember the exhilirating feeling of seeing red, of smelling red. He didn't feel afraid. As if, by spilling his first blood, a new door has been opened to him - his new calling. He has long excommunicated himself from the church. He felt that no amount of blood of the Savior could wash away his guiltlessness. He knew that his soul was already doomed, yet here he was, in this so-called place of God, waiting for an absolution that would not come. He knew he was supposed to agonize over what he was about to do next. But he could not let himself feel remorseful nor repentant. The Dark Lord is rising. He has to move fast. This would be his last assignment and after this, he could retire. Oh yes! The Dark Lord was very well protected. Nobody knew what kind of evil monster this Dark Lord was. He was cunning, deceitful; but he was also an old man - frail, fragile. He just needed to be meters away from this monster, and the world will be free from this Dark Lord, and the Darker Lord behind him. He could imagine it now. Hundreds, or maybe thousands of people, mourning for their personified Lamb. What they don't know is that the man lying before them is indeed the spawn of the Apocalyptic Antichrist, and the shadow that died with him is the greater evil still. Marcus could now taste the sweetness of blood at the tip of his tongue. His final assignment would be his greatest ever. There is no room for failure, no room for second chances. It is either now - or it would be too late. He left the church with a new kind of rage that now roils in his blood. For hundreds of years, the world has been deceived. It was now time to open their eyes in shock. It was the age of transformation. So many people have been marionettes of this Dark Lord. It was time for an uprising. And with the Dark Lord's death, people will never be deprived of heaven again. He has waited for this day. The Requiem. He got the things he needed and placed it inconspicuously in a guitar case he was carrying. Today, he was known as Antonio, a travelling musician, who just got to town to witness the grand procession of a self declared god. Antonio will just be in the town square playing music. Thousands of people will be out to see the procession, and the Dark Lord will pompously parade in front of his puppets, in robes of purple, while the other, in robes of black. Antonio knew that he needed to be swift. One wrong move, and he himself would send the whole earth to its doom. He knew he wasn't just going to kill one - he also has to kill the other - the substance and the shadow. To do that, he needed two kinds of weapons. One forged by machinery and the other by an older magic that was lost and forgotten. Minutes passed by and his anticipation has made his hands tremble with excitement. He was trained to do this. He would not fail. He musn't. The crowd started to thicken and the cavalcade of abominations about to begin. Antonio positioned himself to a place where people won't notice him. He has been trained to shoot even out of range so he need not be near his prey. The procession seemed eternal, but finally, the highlight arrived. The Dark Lord walked through the crowd, and the people gave him reverence. He was a living deity among them. To touch him would seem like blasphemy, because his self-proclaimed infallibility has equated him to be the Son of the Most High. Antonio squinted his eyes in disgust mixed with stern concentration. The Dark Lord paraded, unprotected, without bullet-proof vests. Perhaps he knew that no one would dare touch him now. Years ago, there was one who tried to eliminate his predecessor. The perpetrator almost succeeded, but his predecessor lived and the vigilante was brought to justice. Today, no one would dare. Now, with a dark force behind him, he knew that he was very well protected. The Dark Lord was oblivious of Antonio, lurking in the distance. Antonio was well prepared for this. Before this task, he has visited a Native mystic from his ancestry. Now, with the intensified spirits of brave warriors shielding him, even the Darker Lord would not be able to sense his presence. Antonio looked at the Dark Lord from where he was standing. It was time. He pulled the trigger with one sure motion. The bullet buried itself on the Dark Lord's forehead, a convenience that Antonio tried to make sure of. Now he didn't need to paint his victim's forehead with REQUIEM. Then, there were screams everywhere. Amidst the confusion, the Dark Lord lay dead. But there was another, a Darker Lord still. Antonio's spirit eye could see the shadow move closer to him. The Darker Lord has sensed his presence. Quickly, he pulled the trigger again. This time, the bullet was infused with magic of long ago. The bullet pierced through the shadow. Shattering it to pieces. A shrill cry was heard -deafening - like that of a thousand banshees. Everyone was disoriented. Louder screams were heard. Nobody pursued Antonio. He blended in with the rest of the crowd. No need to flee and feel guilty. He has done the world a favor. The Dark Lord was dead. The Darker Lord gone with him. Now his job was done. Once again, he became Marcus. Marcus retreated in a corner where screams and cries were less heard. It was time to retire from this self-imposed job he has created for himself. To die is sweet escape. He smiled inwardly at himself for a job well done. Today was the day of transformation. Today was a good day to escape. With that last thought, the spirits of the brave beckoned him to come with them. Marcus put the gun against his head and . . . bled.