An Avenging Angel

Thick clouds obscured the light of the moon and stars, the world below existing in a deep natural blackness. Grunting as I jumped I grabbed for the top of the boundary wall, the marker for the edge of the Darkwater Manor estate, and hauled myself up and over the wall. There was a soft thud as I landed back on the ground, my gaze already darting about. With the whisper of steel on leather I drew a silenced pistol, the fingers of my left hand instinctively placing themselves in familiar places on its grip, as I rose from my crouch and then stepped out of the shadow of the trees lining the inside of the wall.

My heart started beating faster as I came across a column of dormant cars on the gravel driveway, each of the expensive vehicles belonging to someone inside Darkwater Manor. They were all murderers and blackmailers, harlots who stalked the halls of power, and after they'd killed my lover I had been planning to put an end to them, simply waiting for a chance to do it in one strike.

The click of a lighter drew my attention towards the end of the column and I ducked between two cars upon spotting a shapely figure backlit by the lights from the manor. I figured that she was one of the servants, none of my actual targets would be smoking a cigarette, and there was only a moment of hesitation before I was aiming my pistol. There was a quiet 'pew' and then the woman was stumbling, a hand coming up to her neck, before she tripped on the steps of the porch and fell onto her back. Making my way towards the manor by darting from car to car I was careful to keep my pistol at the ready, just in case someone else decided to take a walk outside.

Luck was with me though and I reached the slain servant without incident. My bullet had torn open her neck and spilt blood had not only formed a pool beneath her skull but also stained the white blouse she wore a vibrant crimson, barely stopped by her desperate attempt to cover up the entry wound. She had died with her eyes wide open, a hint of terror still visible in the green-irised orbs, and I paused long enough to close her eyelids before padding up to the manor's front doors.

She, and the other servants, were really just bystanders, as my lover had been. I held no real malice towards them, that was saved for their mistresses, and I briefly glanced back at the dead woman before slipping into the manor, leaving my shoes by the doors so my footsteps would be quieter. A grand staircase was in front of me, archways that led deeper into the building flanking it, and other archways allowed access to rooms left and right of the foyer.

The sound of feminine laughter came from the east and the clatter of trays could be heard coming from behind the staircase. I'd have to go past the right archway to investigate those in the back anyway and checked my pistol before moving to press myself against the wall. Swinging round the frame of the archway I bought my pistol up, letting off three shots in rapid succession, and then stepped into the parlour. Another servant had bonelessly collapsed, a little hole in the middle of her forehead, but it was the two seated women who held more importance.

One, a curvy Italian brunette I knew only as Lucia, was clad in a gown of sheer black silk, its deep plunging neckline and slit skirt emphasizing the assets that had bent prominent politicians to her will. The other, the Irish redhead called Fiona, wore a strapless dress that fell to the knee, a single button near her neck responsible for keeping the outfit in place.

Lucia had a thin trickle of blood emerging from between her sizable breasts, my bullet having torn through her heart, while Fiona was writhing in pain, the piece of lead I'd put into her sitting in her stomach. I checked my pistol again, counting the shots left in the loaded clip, before walking towards Fiona. The dying woman turned her head as I approached, eyes widening as she noticed the pistol in my hand, and let out a shuddering breath when I placed the end of the silencer against her left temple.

After putting Fiona out of her misery I backed out of the parlour, turning towards the staircase and the archways on either side. It was likely that they both led into the manor's kitchen and I carefully navigated the foyer towards the nearest, peeking through once I was close enough. A young blonde, hair done into a ponytail that just kissed the waistband of her thong, had her back to me, stretching for a wine glass on a high shelf.

I admired the sight she presented for a moment before returning my pistol to its holster and then drawing out a knife, an anger at her sensuality building in me. Silently entering the kitchen I stole up to behind the woman and wrapped an arm around her neck, jerking her backwards with a sudden pull. She squirmed against me as she tried to escape and I savoured the sensation before driving my knife up through the flesh of her lower back. The blonde stiffened in pain, any sound she could make cut off by the pressure on her throat, and then I forced her forward onto the counter-top, harshly bouncing her skull against the marble.

There were a few spots of blood on the counter-top when I lifted the woman's head using her ponytail but that soon increased to be a veritable splattering when I sliced her throat. A few droplets were sent flying when I let go of her ponytail, head again bouncing, and I stepped away from the corpse as it ineffectually spasmed into an endless sleep.

After making a sweep, discovering that the rest of the manor's ground floor turned out to be empty, I ended back in the foyer, glancing up the stairs. There were seven in the Darkwater gang, the group's name derived from the manor they met at, but two sat dead only a few feet away. The rest, and their own servants, were all above me, no doubt engaged in the same acts that gave them blackmail material.

Footsteps had me turning as a sleepy-looking woman, the gangster called Eve, emerged onto the mezzanine. Like the woman I'd killed in the kitchen Eve was clad in just underwear that hid virtually nothing and I quickly swapped weapons, aiming my pistol at Eve as she noticed me. A pair of bullets slapped into Eve as she began to open her mouth, the first punching through her ovoid bellybutton and making her double over in a vain attempt to protect herself. The second penetrated her upper chest to cut into her heart, her hunched-over stance giving it a clear path and Eve then dropped to her hands and knees, an aborted sob slipping out, before tipping sideways into a limp fetal position.

Taking the steps two at a time I ascended the stairs, swiftly crossing to the room Eve had come from. Her deep purple dress was pooled on the floor while on a nearby chair was the folded blouse and trousers identical to those worn by the other servants. A large double bed was the center-piece of the room and between its ruffled sheets and the heavy smell of sex in the air it was obvious that the bed hadn't been used for sleeping in.

Leaving the room I bit back a cry of pain and a curse as a bullet grazed my arm, retreating into the bedroom and swapping the magazine in my pistol, mind going a mile a minute. That shot would've alerted the gang to my presence and I didn't fancy my chances against eight remorseless killers. My roving gaze fell upon the folded uniform, noticing the bulge of a pistol amid the clothing, and I lunged for the weapon, twisting to fire off a snapshot at the half-dressed woman in the bedroom doorway.

My first shot caught her in the shoulder, spinning her away from the doorway and I then pulled the trigger of my own pistol, the bullet disappearing into the woman's tussled mess of black hair. She fell almost directly on top of Eve, hips twitching as her brain misfired, and I rose, preparing for the next person to show her face. They'd be one of three remaining servants, for all their talents the actual gangsters were cowardly, and I could hear them whispering as all three approached the bedroom.

I wasn't prepared to surrender any momentum I had left and darted from the bedroom, turning sharply towards the servants. Unlike the one I'd killed only moments ago these women wore more, blouses in various stages of being buttoned up over black trousers, but they still died as easily once I had opened fire. Two crimson poppies marred the blouse of the right-hand servant, the impacts slowing the brunette's advance to a stagger that then ended with her face-down on the floor.

Her companions, a slender blonde and another brunette, paused before hurriedly taking cover in a doorway, positioning themselves so that they could both still shoot. After feeling a bullet go past close enough to ruffle my hair I swallowed another curse when one of the servants scored a hit, throwing me against the wall as blood sprayed out across the mezzanine. The pair grinned at each other and I used their lapse in concentration to punish them, the pistol in my uninjured arm spitting out a bullet that neatly planted itself in the standing servant's forehead.

The grin was wiped from her face as the blonde took a step back and then abruptly sat, the light in her eyes rapidly fading. The brunette visibly paled and glanced at me even as she tried to scoot further into the barely-existing cover of the doorway. Striding along the mezzanine I stopped to look down at her, a sneer of disgust appearing on my face as I drew my knife. With a quick underarm swing I swiped at the servant's torso, effortlessly parting both cloth and flesh. She was thrashing about in pain when I stepped away, moaning piteously as she clutched herself, and I kicked the pistols I could see through the railings to the ground floor.

The four gangsters were the only ones left in the manor and I moved back the way I'd come, passing Eve's room and towards the chamber at the end. Kicking open the door I padded in, sweeping the room with my silenced pistol, before noticing Toni reclining naked on the bed, a large flesh-coloured dildo sticking up from the juncture of her legs. The curvy bottle-redhead looked blankly at me, her pupils almost hiding the gray of her eyes, and I realized that she was as high as a kite. Shaking my head in how she didn't even comprehend what was happening I fired twice, watching her body twitch delightfully as she was hit, before leaving her to bleed out in peace.

The three gangsters left were the seniors of the group, the ones with the most completed schemes under their belts, and I actually felt nervous in confronting them. The room beyond Eve's, with the two servants gathered in the doorway, was empty, its bed showing no sign of usage, and I tightened the grip I had on my pistol.

The door to the last room was locked and I wasted a bullet in blowing it open, rapidly entering and firing off a couple of snapshots towards the bed. Izabella and Rachel were squirming, both from my bullets and the fingers dancing over their pussies, and as Izabella expired I took aim at the statuesque dark-haired woman between them.

Jeri's face was as blank as Toni's had been but I knew better than to believe it was because of any drug. Wincing I retrieved a photo from an interior pocket of my jacket, flinging it at the bed with a flick of the wrist. Pulling her damp fingers out of Izabella Jeri snatched the photo from the air, glancing at it quizzically.
"My lover. One of you lot killed her when you framed the Montanaris."
Jeri nodded once as understanding dawned and she glanced at the women snuggled up against her before looking towards the mezzanine.
"I'm the last one then. If I told you who ordered the bomb to be planted would you spare me?"
"No." I pulled the trigger, a bullet tearing through the muscles of Jeri's left thigh. "You'd just find some new servants and come after me."
She nodded again, letting out a restrained cry as another shot devastated her right thigh, and I waited until she was calm before a single step closer to the bed. Her eyes seemed fixed on the barrel of my borrowed pistol and I let the suspense build for a moment before pulling the trigger a final time, a bullet burrowing through Jeri's skull, and both she and Rachel quietly released their last breaths.