Extraordinary

4 M.E, somewhere near New York

On that sultry evening under the flickering street lights, I was walking down the street to relieve my stress. Down in the red light district. I was caught with a crippling anxiety. Above average height, dark hairs and eyes. Well proportioned body. What it only lacked were some good garments and a surname.

Dante.

Only Dante. I didn't take my father's surname.

As I entered that infamous gutter of humanity, I was welcomed by a strong smell of perfumes which are worn by those unjustified women. Those harlots...they can do anything to attract customers.

The area was lavishly lit, but only due to the bars. One can't dare to go closer to those dark buildings. They stink of bodily fluids. This area is the most diverse place. You can see man from every strata of society. From the riches of this state to the usual drunkens who flock these small towns.

But this panic has disturbed the usual business here. Ever since the formation of 'the third temple', we all thought it would cause an increase in the prominence of Christianity. But we all were wrong.

Social experts and FBI has declared this phenomena as a moral crisis. In simple words, something has kickstarted the Satanic Panic which happened in the 80s. There has been a steady increase in occult groups and incidents related to them. It has caused hundreds of murders across US.

One such incident was the 'Sytfill Incident' which involved the pagan sacrifice of children. My father was one of the culprit and is since then missing. He was last seen at a church. Ironic.

My mother couldn't handle the backlash she recieved and eventually...hung herself. But the only thing that I could conclude from what happened was that she didn't love me. If she actually loved me, she would have fought. But that's fine. I also didn't want to be recognised as the son of those weak people. I can't help but mock them.

I want to be great. I want to do something remarkable. An extraordinary man, I want to be. But I have done nothing great. What should be an extraordinary man? He should be detached. He should be straightforward. He should be...different. He should be the one who can dare to look the abyss in its eye and make it flinch. A man who isn't afraid of death and knows that people come, and go.

Even thinking about these characteristics of an extraordinary man frustrated me. I have to be something greater than life. One who can embrace death. But how?

I looked at two women (prostitutes). They were laughing but when I looked at them, they stopped and looked away.

'They were obviously laughing at me!'

I have only heard insults from these people. They call me 'impure'. But seeing them laughing and hearing their laugh frustrates me.

'How can they laugh at me? They themselves have done nothing remarkable and have just sold their body!'

Should they really be allowed to mock me? I simply didn't deserve that. Should these beings exist? I asked that question to myself.

'She is simply...just a burden'

She knows nothing more than attracting males. She doesn't know what is good. She doesn't know what an extraordinary man is. I simply am...better than her.

________________________________________

22:05, the same day

'I simply know better than her. More capable than her' . That's what I told myself that night while laying on my bed on that wrecked mattress.

Back during my childhood, I was the best out of everyone. Nobody ever came close to my grades. I was simply the best. I was best at sports too. Good relations with everyone. Everyone told me that I'll become a great man. An extraordinary man. But now I am only reduced to a poverty stricken man.

But money doesn't decide someone's capabilities, right? I still can become an extraordinary man. But those women...those women go against my principles. What is true? What is wrong? Who is right? Me or they? If they are true, then they have the right to mock me. But if they are wrong...do they even deserve to live?

'Is there not a single way to decide who is right and who is wrong?'

I unconsciously reached for a book by my bedside. I couldn't sleep so that was the only thing I could do. Perhaps due to my bruised ego. I turned the lamp on and started reading.

"No one will remember this" said Chris

"You can't! You can't hide the truth by killing me!" Anton screamed from the distance while Chris held him at gunpoint.

"You have no power, Anton. You can't stop me."

"Whatever you are doing is wrong!"

"That depends upon me!"

Then suddenly at that phrase, things clicked inside my mind. I got up and grabbed a notebook and started writing.

'Is virtue good because it wins or it wins because it's good?'

Ah, a classic Euthyphro dilemma! But it has a definite answer! Virtue is good because it wins! What else? People in power can decide what's good and bad. It's the same! No argument! They can control information and serve us manipulated truth and about objective truth? We actually don't know anything about it.

In this way...I am definately more capable than that woman! Those harlots are fundamentally flawed!

I made my mind. I am better and...she would be the testimony of my greatness! A direct confrontation will do the work. Now...I am going to do something remarkable. Fueled by this philosophy...or by my hatred. But I didn't think about that.

________________________________________

Some days later

I have been planning how I'll execute it. I have been fantasizing for almost every second and how I'll finally be able to be something great. I am better and I won't let anyone question my capabilities by mocking them...or to be mocked by someone lesser than me.

I went back to that gutter. I was doing completely fine for the past few days but this morning I suddenly caught fever. It should be a fucking joke. My face was going pale, my hands shaking. Anxiety was making my heartbeat go wild. Will I be able to do it? This question was bugging me since morning.

'A beer will do the work'

But no, if I got drink, I might not be able to pull that off. Eventually, I spotted her with another woman. My anxiety peaked at that moment. I grabbed my chest, in an attempt to comfort myself. Eventually after taking deep breath for a good minute, I went to them.

They both eyed me warily. I wasn't surprised because my reputation wasn't even that good. But I maintained eye contact, however head slightly slumped down.

They both hugged themselves in an attempt to comfort themselves.

"What do you want?" One of the asked.

"A night" I said simply. I didn't want to to stretch this conversation. I was too excited to wait for any longer. My hands were sweating but I just patted them on my dark trousers.

They both eyed me in contempt. How disgraceful it is to be mocked by a harlot? To be eyed with that distrust by a real fucking harlot? I couldn't stand that. I was silently gritting my teeth. But I shall not let this go over my head now.

"How much can you offer?" She asked. She was obviously trying to mock me by letting me decide what to give her.

"Whatever you want" I said, trying not to stretch this conversation and get caught. I might had changed my mind if I tried to stretch those formalities for any longer.

The other stiffled her laugh. I am obviously falling for that mockery but I didn't care.

"I doubt that" she replied, eyeing me up and down. My clothes gave a contradictory impression.

"500" I said, trying to convince her.

She made a twisted face, not bothering to hide her unimpressed look.

"One hour" she said begrudgingly. She had a small figure but with a haughty attitude. Maybe because of how frustrating and tiring this business is. With tanned skin and brown hairs, her thin arms and neck bruised. Perhaps abused by her previous customers but she stood confident before me like whatever she has been doing is something honourable and encompasses morality. Or even stands on-par with the social norms. This thing...I won't call this an extraordinary being. It's a fake, and I hate it.

I nodded and gestured her to follow me. Her stride emanated a sense of pride. Or...pseudo pride. I can see why she needs to walk like that, not only to attract customers but to hide and maintain the small pinch of dignity. Is she even eligible of that?

Nevertheless, I made my way towards a Brothel. The building was dark and didn't stand out much in this area. But that's exactly what the owners wanted. That building was heavily congested and sandwiched between other buildings. Rooms were small but nobody minded that. Everyone knows for what purpose it is used.

But that building wasn't my destination. I changed my route and went deeper inside the nearby alleyway. It was framed by gutters from both side and very rarely received any visitors. Drunkards sometimes.

That woman was surprised...and even disgusted to some extent. I didn't know what she assumed but it must be something gross. "Don't tell me you have that kind of fetish" she said, in a dramatic tone.

"But that's what I want" I said.

"That's gross, even for you"

"That shouldn't concern you. Or you won't get any money"

She seemed slightly uneasy, the way her arms fiddled with her skirt's hem and the attempts she made to hug herself. She wasn't used to do things this way. Maybe even ashamed by this bizzare idea she assumed.

I continued walking. When I looked back, she was following me. She was obviously desperate for some money. Her expression gave away her true feelings. She was feeling vulnerable, her mouth slightly parted. The alleyway, as I expected had dearth of observers.

Eventually, I reached a particular deep and isolated area of the alleyway. I looked back at her and her earlier haughty attitude had completely evaporated. She was anxious, and kept eyeing me, like she was building up courage.

"I'll charge extra for this" she said

"300 more?" I asked and her ears perked up.

"Exactly! Yes!" She said with joy mixed with a little longing for something. But she pushed that aside and came closer to me. When she stood just infront of me, and put her hands on my shoulder.

I put my hands across her neck too and as she leaned closer to me, I tightened my grip. She just choked but didn't react much as she though that it's just one of my fetish. But I didn't back down.

Despite my plan, my hands were shaking and my face was paler. For I had fantasized about this moment so much that the reality of actually killing a person hit me like a ton of bricks.

'Killing a person can't be this complicated'

I thought to myself but my hands were betraying my will.

"Why are you shaking?" She asked in a choked voice.

I didn't answer and but maintained my grip.

"Are you alright?" She asked but then I immediately pushed her down on face inside the gutter which choking her.

Out of instincts, she struggled and wriggled her body around my grip to get me off. I got a sudden surge of strength and pinned her down by fixing my knee on her back. Simultaneously, I choked her harder. Only what could be heard were her groans and her whimpers.

But I couldn't hear those. They fell on my ears but my brain never registered them. She couldn't scream, couldn't shake her head. She was thin and weak and I easily overpowered her. Eventually, her body went limp. I remained in that position over her for a minute before pulling her out.

I threw her on the road, her face covered with sewage. But I still couldn't celebrate my achievement. I frantically looked for something heavy to finish the job. I pulled out the gutter slab. It was heavy but the adrenaline helped me. I picked it up and stumbled back slightly before lifting it above my head.

I looked down at that woman. I didn't even know her name. For a moment, I hesitated but it was suddenly overcame by the need of the moment and the crashed that thing on her tiny head.

Crack!

The sound echoed in the empty alleyway. The blood streamed down from her head and went into gutter. I stood there, panting due to the exhaustion.

'I shouldn't...feel bad'

I tried to force out a smile but it was crooked. I tried to laugh but it was chocked and dry. Then a rush of disappointment filled me.

'Dont people laugh when they do something remarkable?'

But I shouldn't think about it now. I had to get away with this. And to do it....

I kneel down beside her dead body and smeared my hand with her blood before starting to draw a symbol on the ground. Star of David with Baphomet's head in the middle—