Unrivaled Iniquity

Edward Vernon lowered his 9mm pistol, the deafening blast ringing in his ear and the smell of gunpowder rising in the air. Through two unearthly yellow eyes, Vernon stared coldly forward as the punctured corpse in front of him fell sharply to the ground, a drizzle of blood raining upon him. The nefarious Englishman pulled his long black hair behind his pale, murderous face and turned his attention to the woman cowering next to the fresh carcass.

“This is what happens when you rejoin my questions,” Edward scolded. “Do you understand?”

The sobbing woman nodded her head frantically, her scrupulous views shattered in an instant.

“Good,” Edward remarked as he pushed his pistol back into its holster. “Then let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Edward gazed over the massive bank vault, imagining the treasures that must lie beyond. “Jack!” he called out, turning to face his partner – a short, muscular Scot – who stood by the doorway across the room. “Get the other hostages in here. Once this vault’s open–” he paused suddenly, remembering the woman. “Well, you know what to do,” he grinned maniacally.

“Aye,” Jack replied obediently as he spat a cigarette butt to the floor, scratching at his full, short brown beard. He hurried out of the back room of the bank, shotgun in hand. Edward looked back at the woman, who was still cowering on the floor by the broken body of her boss.

“Well get on with it, I haven’t got all day,” Edward snapped. The woman leaped to her feet, overcome with fear of receiving a similar fate, and hurried to the console by the vault door. Her arms trembled as her fingers flew wildly on the keyboard, unable to belie her utter terror. Edward approached her from behind, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. The woman froze suddenly.

“What’s the matter?” Edward taunted, feigning an attempt to dissemble his murderous intent. “Do I make you nervous?”

“A little,” the girl whimpered. She turned and looked at Edward, flinching as her eyes met his, the unnatural yellow irises standing out from his cold, colorless skin. Edward reached out with a black gloved hand and began stroking the woman’s soft face as more tears raced from her eyes.

“Let me keep this succinct, because I’d like to get out of here just as much as you want me out,” Edward said in a low, calm voice. “Once I have what I want, I fully plan on murdering you and everyone you work with.” The woman closed her eyes and her lips trembled, and Edward continued to stroke her smooth skin. “If you help me, you will feel no pain before you die,” he said as his voice grew colder. “But if you so choose to get between me and my objective, make no mistake,” he paused, then violently seized the woman by her hair, nearly tearing out her roots.

The girl shrieked, and Edward continued unsympathetically, his voice becoming aggressive, “I will make you feel an agonizing pain more exquisite than anything you’ve ever imagined.” The girl began sobbing again and pleaded for mercy.

Vernon reached his other hand into his heavy black duster and pulled a ten-inch blade lined with jagged teeth, rubbing the cold steel against the woman’s skin. “And I don’t think you want this dagger of mine in your body, am I right?” he threatened.

“Please don’t do this,” the crying girl beseeched. Edward let out a booming, maniacal laugh and released his grip on his victim, pushing the knife back into his coat. The girl let out a cry as she fell to the floor.

“Just get the vault open and maybe I’ll reconsider the value of your life,” he spat angrily. “Now where the devil is Jack?” Edward thought aloud as he looked to the doorway to the main hall of the bank. There was still no sign of him. The woman pulled herself to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks, and continued typing on the console.

Moments later, a loud, sharp click emitted from the vault, and the door slowly began to slide open.

"There,” the woman sighed, ruminating over what she had just helped accomplish. She turned to confront her assailant. “Will you please let me and everyone else go?”

Edward cackled softly, sending a cold shiver down the woman's spine. “Ah yes,” Vernon said, slowly reaching for his holster. “Edward Vernon: notorious serial killer, thief, and antagonist of civilized society,” he laughed. “I didn’t realize I’m better known for my probity.” More frantic tears rushed down the woman’s face and her body began trembling madly. “You Americans really are the most naïve and foolish people I’ve ever killed.”

The woman fell to her knees and began sobbing loudly, all sense of hope effectively obliterated. Edward drew his pistol and pushed the barrel to the girl’s forehead. The vault door finished its sluggish journey, the gateway to riches opened wide for the taking. Edward glanced inside, the sparkles of the mountains of gold bars inviting.

“I’m not one for rhetorical speeches, but let me say this,” Vernon declared, wrapping his finger around the trigger. “If you must find some meaning to your death, let it be for, say,” he said, then paused a moment, thinking. “Ah, never mind, I can’t think of a good reason."

Before the woman could even whimper, he pulled the trigger.

---

Jack Macmillan entered the main hall of the bank, shotgun in hand, and proceeded behind the counters where fourteen hostages were being kept, bound and tied.

“Alright, you degenerate yanks!” Jack called out, startling the conglomerate of scared people. The hostages looked into Jack's amber eyes with terror-painted faces. “Before I take you to the vault, let me make things clear; I have no respect for any of you.” Jack looked over the group of cowering people sitting on the floor like prisoners of war about to be executed. “So if you want to stay alive for the time being, do exactly what I say and no less, or your end will be shrouded in misery and torment. Are we clear?”

The group stayed silent. Jack thrust his shotgun forward and shouted impatiently, “ARE WE CLEAR?!” Some of the hostages nodded frantically, while others quietly mumbled – all submitting to the Scot’s powerful voice. “Good,” he continued, “now come with me and–” he paused, a revelation appearing in his mind. Jack and Edward’s third partner – Arthur Crowley – was missing.

“Perfidious son of a bitch,” Jack thought aloud. He spun around, finger tight around the trigger, and found himself looking down the barrel of a .357 revolver.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Arthur lied. The short Scot faced the blonde-haired man with animosity in his eyes.

“You greedy worm, did you really think you’d get away with this?” Jack snarled.

“With you and Ed six feet under, I don’t see what could stop me,” Arthur smiled assuredly.

Jack immediately burst out into a merry laughter. “Edward?!” he cackled. “I can understand believing you can kill me, but Edward?” Jack’s laughter subsided into a chuckle. “You must be out of your damn mind.”

“Believe me; I’ll enjoy killing that bastard.”

Jack couldn’t help but give a malevolent smile. “I’ll bet.”

At that moment, an object came crashing with bone-shattering force into the back of Arthur’s skull, emitting a sickening crack. The man fell to the ground, knocked out cold.

“Your pistol seemed a bit too conventional, eh, Ed?” Jack teased his sadistic partner, who stood over Arthur’s body with a long, heavy bar of gold in his hands.

“I didn’t want him to be killed quite yet,” Edward said, dropping the bar to the floor with a loud clatter. “I’ve got further plans for him.”

“I presume you got the vault open?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what should I do with the rest of them?” Jack asked, motioning to the scared and confused crowd with his shotgun.

Edward smiled. “Do you need to ask me?”

Jack let out a hearty laugh. “I like you, Ed. You let me have fun on missions like these.”

Jack turned around calmly, raised his shotgun, and unleashed shell after shell after shell of 12 gauge carnage upon the helpless crowd, tearing their flesh asunder. The only thing that remained in his path of destruction was pools of blood and twitching, disfigured corpses.

“Now I must ask,” Jack said, turning back to face Edward as columns of smoke rose from the barrel of his empty shotgun. His heart was still racing and his eyes burned with adrenaline. “What, exactly, do you have planned for our friend Crowley here?”

Edward pulled the serrated dagger from his jacket, admiring its sharpness and craftsmanship. He looked down at Arthur’s sprawled body – who was beginning to regain consciousness. Edward grinned, his cruel yellow eyes gleaming with sadistic iniquity.

“Why don’t I show you?”

When Edward was through with him, Arthur had no skin, limbs, or genitalia.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

In case you're wondering, those arbitrary, seemingly forced in long words are there because this was written for an assignment in school where I had to write a story using a bunch of vocabulary words. So yeah, normally I wouldn't cram in random long words like that. Before you ask, no, I didn't get expelled for this :P