Creature on the hunt

It's been a few days now. After a few attempts, I managed to get in contact with the drug dealer who seems to go by "Gunner." I already knew that they use code names; I always found it a bit goofy at times, especially because they name themselves like that. But that's not important. In the next four days, I have just enough time to go and meet him.

But the only issue I seem to encounter is the simple fact that I just am not aware of what I want to do. It's not like I can just go in his face and start beating him; in fact, I'm not even aware of why I would want to beat him. I don't think I have anger issues; I'm not a psychopath either. Maybe I'm just going bonkers from all the adrenaline. The fact I beat that druggie the other day was just a coincidence, not even something I wished to do.

"But what can I do with this guy?" I say with a strange desire in my voice. I look over the table in my room. There, a cabinet is attached to the wall. As I open it, a mess can be seen all around inside it: papers, old school books and notebooks, broken pencils and pens all around, just sitting. I never had the heart to clean it; I planned it but never acted on it. Yet, through all this junk, some treasures hide.

"Here it is." I reach for a food metal box; it has Lightning McQueen on it. It's from when I was in primary school, but I never really used it and just left it in this pile of forgotten trash. Its opening is quite hard, probably from the rust or simply due to the fact that it's so old, but it doesn't matter to me. What matters is what's inside: a small picture that I can't see, some more small trashes, and the single thing that might have any use in that foolish act of mine—a taser.

It's not much; I have it left from my father. I'm not sure why he had it either, but I might just know. It doesn't matter; it's a simple weapon, legal to use in self-defense. Once you shoot it, you need to replace the cartridge as it's a one-time use for each of them. It would be beneficial if the target doesn't have thick clothing or multiple layers, but that's something to ponder over later. Now I just have one shot, one attempt to do it all.

"But what the fuck do I want to do?" This question washes over my mind once again; it ricochets from one corner to another in my brain and never stops. It spins around a single answer, but I try to deny it. I wish to erase it from my possible future, but it seems impossible. "Four days; in four days I'll know damn well."

Today is the day

To be honest, I couldn't control myself these past days. Be it at home or at school, I was shaking in a despair of time. I always felt helpless against it; always rushed, never could I get a good feeling from it. Truth be told, I never stayed to enjoy it either. But this time, I was savoring it, with every minute passing, thinking of the moment to come, seeing possible outcomes and how it might unfold. I had a psychotic pleasure about it, a reason to wait for these days to end and start. I wanted to rush through them and feel something I don't usually get to feel, an adrenaline rush of sadistic amounts.

I pass by the church in my skipping walk; I try to get to the meeting location as quickly as possible. Funny enough, it's just next to the cemetery from the place I beat that druggie. I came prepared for it, my knuckles wrapped in bandages. The taser is in the pocket of the hoodie I wear right under the jacket I have on, along with about a hundred prayers running through my thoughts. In just seven minutes from passing the church, I have already arrived at the meeting location.

I wasn't really that stupid. I looked behind my back with every step. I walked in the shadows and darkness as much as possible, doing everything to be as invisible as I could, but there is just so much I can do. I try to be as silent as possible, just sitting on a bench like any normal bystander and looking as far down the street as it goes to see if anyone is coming. The worst possible scenario is that he is with a whole gang of people... maybe they are already watching me, but it's not likely; not many dealers have that level of precaution... but you never know.

It's been 20 minutes already. I sit there in silence, waiting. Maybe he tricked me, but that wouldn't work; I didn't even pay him. Maybe he forgot, but really, he's a damn drug dealer; it doesn't make sense. "C'mon, man, what's taking you so long?" I tell myself, but I raise my head, and someone is walking down the alley. Is it him?

I stand up, and he looks up at me. He pulls his hand from his pocket and seems to have something in it; maybe he's expecting a fast exchange. I just take the thing from his hand, and I'll give him the money with the other. No… I can't let that happen; I need time, I need contact, I can't be rushed like that. As he gets closer, I get more stirred; my heart races, and my hand reaches into my pocket as I tell him, "Don't you fucking move."

"Huh?" He looks foolishly at me.

"I said don't move."

"What the fuck are you—" I pull out the taser and aim it at him.

"WHOA WHOA, CHILL OUT BUDDY! I AIN'T DOING NOTHING TO YOU!" I look over hes face getting a better look at him. The hood from his sweatshirt no longer covering his face reveals him to me.

"You are a fucking kid?" i say as shocked as possible, with a hint of hesitation. No older than 17, he looks nothing like an adult. If anything, I can clearly see that his beard has just started to come in. He's a fresh one; the future, they'd say.

"No, I'm fucking not! Now put that shit down before yo—AAAAARRRGGHHHHHHHH!"

I shot; I pressed the trigger lightly, not really thinking about it, but with great speed, the darts anchored themselves into his body, delivering a massive electric shock that paralyzed his muscles. All he can do is scream.

"Are you for real a kid? And you are selling drugs?? To how many have you sold untill now, to how many kids have you given this bullshit" i say as i grab hes collar. He tries to grab me but the electric shock still circles hes muscles puting hes whole body in a clutch and all the things he can pull out of hes mouth is but a scream of pure agony from the pain.

"If your parents weren't there to teach you a lesson, how about I do it then, huh?" I say as I deliver a right hook to his face, followed by a left hook, then another right hook, and so on. The electric shock grows weaker, but his senses are still very dazed; he can't move either. I have my whole body over his abdomen, allowing him to move just enough to follow every punch aimed at him. I'm getting mad with every punch I deliver; I can see he starts to lose his senses. I fear that someone might come to find me beating this poor guy on the street after hearing those earlier screams, but I keep punching nonetheless. I have no reason to do it, but I just do it.

"Look at me, kiddo." Grabbing his hair, I lift his head and open his eyes manually. "Look at my fucking face and memorize it as clearly as the pussy you see in porn videos. If you tell someone about me, I'll come to your fucking door to finish what I started here. If you see me on the street, act like you don't know me. If I greet you, you do the same. DO YOU UNDERSTAND???" I yell at the poor kid.

Through his constant tears, a limp attempt to say yes escapes. "If you fucking sell anymore, be sure you will have your eyes replaced with stitches." I lift him up and put him on the bench where I was waiting. I take his phone and call emergency services, requesting an ambulance at the address, and walk away into the night.

I now know what I wanted to do; I still don't know why. It felt very unnecessary, but in my mind, it's the only way. This city has long sunk into a mist of indifference, an act every person indulged in that has now become a reality for most. I can't say I care either way, but in a world where life keeps going on around every person with no real care for its participants, what can I truly do?