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Watch Me Burn

By Varmint

Action / Horror


It's sick, really. The way they laugh and joke, feeling as if nothing could touch them. At least, nothing bad. They thought that justice was on our side, and corruption was a foreign term, non-existent to them. But it lived and thrived in our little team. The others didn't see it, but I did. The way M'gann or Artemis would stab you in the back if threatened correctly. How, if paid the right price or threatened correctly, Superboy would give up all our secrets. And even, how Batman would do everything and anything to ensure Robin's life, even if it meant our death. Yet, they were now laughing because of our newest victory.

I correct myself, not only is it sick, it is disgusting. Yes, we caught Bane, but what would it be? A week? Maybe two if we're lucky, then he'll break out of prison and get back on the streets, murdering and endangering hundreds of innocent people.

"Come on, Wally, why so glum?" Zatanna asked, smiling from her spot next to Robin.

She was another problem. Too innocent. Too young. She didn't have any malice; and believe me, she didn't deserve to have any of it; and if she did, it was directed at the wrong person.

I gave her my charming; yet fake; smile. "I'm not glum, Zee. Is it hard to believe I sometimes think?" I asked her.

She only laughed her annoying laugh, while Robin chuckled. God, I was already tired of this. Of them. Don't get it wrong, I love this team like crazy, but I wanted out of this. I wanted off of this team. I wanted to do what was right, what these so called heroes weren't ready to do. To go over the line they weren't ready to cross.

"Oh, come on, Baywatch, stop joking!" Artemis exclaimed, making me get a small frown.

She was; maybe; the main cause of my troubles. She had the bad blood inside of her already, which didn't help in my book. She wore a mask; much like mine; but hers' was for a very different reason. I act like a real hero to protect my family, my friends, the heroes that do the 'right' thing. But she... That little bitch wore the hero mask to get information. Most probably to sell it to the shadows later.

"I'm not joking, Arty. I just like to think sometimes." I told her, then got up before she could say something back.

Her voice hurt, grating into my ear. She was just as bad; or maybe worse; than the scum out on the streets, raping and killing innocents, or selling and distributing drugs to the wrong age group. All of them sick sons of bitches, but in my book, she had the top spot. She didn't care about anyone but herself, and I was already tired of it.

"I'm going back to Central." I told them, then started to head out.

As I neared the Zeta Beam, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Kaldur, looking at me with sad eyes. "Why are you leaving so soon, Wally?" He asked.

I gave him a lopsided smile, actually sad to be leaving him. He was a good leader, a good teammate, and an even better friend. "Christmas is arriving and Finals are kicking my ass, Kaldur. I have to study if I want to continue patrolling during Christmas."

He nodded, then they let me go, all of them thinking I would go straight home to study. M'gann didn't read my mind anymore, not since I chewed her out after I woke up from a nightmare. I wasn't heading straight home, though. I was going to Keystone High; my high school; to meet up with my English teacher to study.

As I ran down the streets of Central, I reviewed the details of the case I was on at the moment. I had decided the gangs were getting too much attention, and the serial killers weren't getting enough of it. Well, at least my attention. When I went to my uncle's lab, they were reviewing the details of a recent string of murders of some high class women. None of them shared hair color, eye color, even physical height or build. But, they all lived in some nice communities in Central or Keystone, and they were all found raped numerous times, with their bras and jewelry missing, and with 'whore' written on their bare chests. This bastard was sick. Even sicker than most people I've faced. And, he just so happens to be my English teacher.

After I had gone my notes one last time with Mr. James, he dismissed me, and I left to the parking lot. I walked straight towards his car, a small smile playing on my lips because of the thought of what I would do once I had enough evidence against him. I picked the lock of his Ferrari quite quickly, and smiled as I opened the car door. He was a clean man, almost nothing on the floor, but I knew better than to trust appearances. I opened the glove compartment, and, who knew, there were tons of knives.

I smiled as I pulled on my black gloves, and grabbed the knife with the fanciest engravings on the hilt. He wasn't the smartest man around, apparently. I looked around the car, and on a hunch, stabbed the knife into the leather seats. Instead of any kind of fluff or whatever was usually found in a seat, bras and underwear spilled out. Female underwear. I frowned at how disgusting this man was, then got out of the car and headed towards the trunk.

Using the same knife I opened it, and lo and behold, a knocked out red head was bound and gagged there, already missing whatever jewelry she had on.

"That's one sick son of a bitch." I muttered to myself, then pulled the trunk down, leaving the door open enough for her to breath.

I walked back towards the school, this time using the darkness as an element of surprise against whoever was there. I entered the dark room of my English teacher quietly, slowly and quietly scraping the blade of the knife against the desks I passed on the way. I hid it as I neared his desk, then cleared my throat. He jumped in his seat, scattering all of his papers, then looked up at me, startled. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Jesus, Wallace, you scared me." He told me, then glared down at his watched and started to pick up the fallen papers. "Did you leave something?"

I looked away, and my eyes fell on a painting of the nine muses, shirtless, while 'inspiring' men to do whatever they did. "You know, I never understood that." I told him, turning back to look at him. Oh, I understood. I understood how most men are disgusting pigs that think women are objects. Much like my English teacher.

He pushed up his thick glasses, and asked, "What, Wallace?" Oh. He was getting irritated. This should be fun.

"Why do the muses have to be depicted like that?" I asked him, smiling at his confused face. "I mean, what kind of society do we live in where women only get their point across when they're half-naked or completely naked?"

He seemed even more confused at this, yet, more intrigued. Yep, this was my sicko.

"I don't understand, Wally."

I sighed, itching to use my stolen knife. He deserved to die by his own weapons. "No, you wouldn't, Mr. Jameson. You agree too much with those ways." My eyes bore into his own, then I turned my back to his once more. "Have you heard of the recent murders?"

He was most probably caught off-guard by this question, if his quickened breathing pace was an indicator.

"Really, it's just sad. Five women already raped and killed because a sick man got horny."

"I-I don't understand why you're telling me this." I hate it when they play dumb.

"Did you know the police weren't able to link the women to the same killer until today? Apparently, he crossed jurisdictional lines, killed in different parts, and out of Keystone and Central even. Rumor has it the son of a bitch stole the women's bras and jewelry, most probably as trophies..." I drifted off, loving the feeling of fear radiating off of him. "But, I think he needs those to get off."

"H-how do you know that?" Really, it's sad how he gave himself up so easily. I turned to him, taking out the knife to balance it in my gloved hand.

"You know, the real reason police caught on was because of his short cooling off period. Only a day between each kill." I started to walk towards him, reveling in his fear. "It's actually disappointing, Mr. Jameson. You're a teacher, you should know better than to keep your instruments in your car. There are people like me out there." My voice grew darker and lower, and before he could act, I had the knife to his throat.

He held his hands up in defense, and said, "Now, Wallace, don't do anything you might regret."

I cocked my head to the side, and asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

"Yes! I didn't mean to!" He gasped. He really was pure filth.

I shrugged and lowered the knife, taking a step back. "Something funny actually, what you just said. Because the chick tied up in your car doesn't really help your case." Then, before he could react, the knife was lodged into his shoulder.

He screamed and fell in pain, making me smile. Here comes the fun part. I stalked towards him, smiling evilly as he gasped in short breaths. Some people just aren't made for pain.

"Psycho's got your tongue?" I asked innocently, then pulled the knife out of his shoulder.

He screamed, making me smile. "Now, Mr. Jameson, the fun's just beginning." I mocked him from his own tapes. Yes, this man actually recorded his rapes.

"How did you get that?" He gasped, breathing so rapidly I thought he would hyperventilate.

I ignored and him, and just observed the bloodied knife. "I'm surprised you thought you could keep your secret from me, Mr. Jameson. I mean, the looks give the female students is one thing, then how you ignore them, but the way you tried to get with the Science teacher was just a dead give away!" I smiled, then got serious. Or at least, my serious. "You know, you're much like the women you killed when one thinks about it."

"I'm nothing like those whores!"

"Shut up!" I yelled, slapping him with my free hand. He stared wide-eyed at me, but said nothing. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" I asked him mockingly. "Now, you say you're not. But look where you are. At the mercy of someone supposedly weaker than you."

He glared up at me, and tried to push me off, which ended with my hand on his neck, and him choking. "How does that feel?" I yelled. "How does it feel to have your life slowly fade away as a mad man wills it to go?" I growled.

When he didn't answer, I smashed his head against the floor, causing it to crack the tile. "Answer me, you worthless son of a bitch!"

He spluttered uncontrollably, making me smile. "Isn't this what you did? Aside from raping them repeatedly, of course." I glanced up at the clock. 9:30. Almost curfew. I have to speed this up. "It's because of people like you I'm not afraid to act." I whispered, then started to stab him repeatedly.

After the tenth stab, I got up and made to walk out, leaving him to die in his own blood.

"You're going to hell, Wally." He rasped out, making me smile and turn around.

He was a bloody mess, barely able to even crawl. I shifted the bloodied knife in my hand, and with my speed, threw it at his head. It hit it's mark.

"Well, guess I'll meet you there, bastard." I growled, then left the school, and sped to my house.

I took a shower and got all of the blood off of me, and waited for my parents to come back from their movie. Today was their 'date' night, which meant get rid of Wally for a night. I sighed as they entered, laughing loudly, and went to greet them. I used my happy mask as they told me how good the movie mask, but I couldn't help but feel happy at what I had just done.

Most probably, the sheriff would be knocking on our door tomorrow morning, wanting to know what I was doing there last night, and telling me the details of the murder unwillingly. And I would be reveling at the fact that a fifteen year old couldn't do what dozens of trained police agents couldn't even begin to fathom.

Please don't hurt me. All will explained later on in the story. No, Wally isn't a psychopath. Well, maybe a little. Two reviews and I'll update tomorrow. Also, I have a poll on my profile, and I'd really appreciate it if you voted.

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1. Prologue
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