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"Why do we do this?" You look at the rifle in your hands. The smudges of blood weep from the steel.



"It's our destiny." He looks at you. A mute word of comfort glistens from his eyes. You nod. It's the same every bloody night. You kill the same footscraps of society. They die with the same look on their face. You ask the same question. You get the same answer.



"Fuck destiny..." You throw the rifle to the ground, which accepts it half-heartedly. It sits there, smuggly looking pleased with itself. You go to leave and trip on Alfonso's leg. It isn't attached to Alfonso anymore, but considering his medical condition at the moment, you don't think he's too concerned.



"I thought you liked this?" He calls after you as you take another, more crafted step over David. David, now a widower, seems to have had an accident with his machete. At least he can be put in the trunk, unlike Alfonso.



"I liked the idea. I liked the purpose. I liked the company..." He returns your sheepish smile.



"What I dislike is the smell, that fucking SMELL!" You spot Mitch's leg twitching and reach for you pistol. BLAM. He looks at you blankly, the fresh hole in his chest blends seemlessly with the others, except that it doesn't release it's blood as eagerly as they did.



"Okay, I'll get you a peg..." You whirl around. Your stare could melt the spawn of Satan, in fact it has on two previous outings. But he grins at you in that eerily comforting way. The way that says he knows what your thinking and that you're going to wake up tomorrow without remember this. And you know what? He's right.



"Fuck you." You both turn towards the car as the drone of sirens draws nearer. At least the coroner will have something to do tonight...