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Note: This story is an entry for the finals of the 2015 Creepypasta Freestyle Competition.
For a full list of entries, see this category.

Subject: Your own Revenge story and Characters from world of THE CROW

“Heyo. For fuck’s sake, wake up. We got things to do.”

A voice. Worn and tired. I blinked a few times, trying to get a sense of my surroundings. I had little recollection of what had happened or where I was; hell, I couldn’t even remember my own name.

“What? Who the hell are you?” I questioned as I sat up, taking in the scenery. I lay on a table; in front of me stood a small, dreary faced man who looked as if he hadn’t shaved in weeks. He gave me a haggard smile and yawned as he reached out, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to ease me back down.

“Easy buddy, I think I should explain a few things before-” But I was having none of it. Some buried instinct told me that I did not want his filthy paws near me; I swung back at his arm, knocking it away. To my initial shock, I saw that my right hand was missing; in it’s place, there were peeled away layers of skin surrounding an exposed bone, sharpened to point. I screamed and grabbed my arm, pulling it close and cradling it in my other arm. I quickly checked my other hand; thankfully, that was still intact.

“Oh Christ, here we go. Told ya I should have-”

“What the fuck happened to my hand?! What have you done to me you sick-”

The man yawned again and slumped a bit in his stance, placing his hands up, “Hang on, that wasn’t me. In fact, you should be thanking me. I’m the one who kept you alive.”

“Kept me alive? Through what?”

“Well, actually… you died. Surprised you don’t remember; you did get fucked up pretty bad, I suppose. And Emmett was just kicking the shit out your head…”

I kept clutching at my missing limb, expecting to feel pain and agony, but finding none. I fixed my gaze on the man before me, “You’ve got about five seconds to start making sense.”

“Hmmm. That isn’t very much. Here’s the short version. Your wife’s dead, your son’s been kidnapped, and you’ve been revived from the dead by yours truly. Name’s Sal by the way; charmed.” He stuck out his right hand and quickly put it away, “Heh. Sorry, kinda forgot about the whole ‘missing an arm bit’.”

“Back from the dead? How-no why? Why me? Tell me what exactly happened.”

He yawned again, “Why? Because you’ve got to atone for your sin. You let your wife get beaten and your son get taken. That’s why I’m here; your sin is sloth. We’re like… bound together now. Heh. Kinda ironic considering-”

“Why is it ironic?” I interrupted him, but he kept speaking.

“Well, considering you’re motherfucking Wra-” He paused a brief moment, looking alert for a quick second before turning back to his dreary self “-aaaith. You’re motherfucking Wraith! Uh, John Wraith! Jesus, you really don’t remember, do you?”

I blinked again as bits came flooding back. I was upstairs at the time. A doorbell rang; my wife (Her name? I couldn’t even remember her fucking name...) answered that she would get it. Probably nothing, I had thought; a solicitor or a package being delivered. As I leaned back to turn on the television, my solitude was broken by a quick shriek followed by loud thumps from below me. In my initial confusion, I slowly got up and looked around the room for a weapon as the shrieks and thumps continued, followed soon by my young son’s yelling.

Not everything was there; I remember finding my way downstairs and being met with the unrecognizable corpse of my wife. Her head was stomped to a bloody pulp; bits of skull and brain littered the area. I fell to my knees in disbelief as a woman sat cross legged on my couch, laughing sadistically. A rather scrawny man and a taller, more well built man calmly walked out of my kitchen, carrying my son in their arms as he kicked and screamed. The scrawny man saw me kneeling and ran over, yelling indecipherably and bringing his leg across my forehead, knocking me to the ground. What followed were flashes of stomping and pain, mixed with bizarre, perverted images of the older man stroking my son’s head while he squirmed in his arms.

Before I blacked out in the midst of the force being brought down upon my skull (And according to Sal, died), I caught a final glance as the woman walked over to my struggling son, carefully grabbed his leg, and snapped it in half. The well built man dropped my son to the ground, allowing him a hopeless chance of crawling to safety. The stomping momentarily subsided, and I reached out to my son; a futile hope that he could somehow escape. I saw the heel of the woman’s shoes dig into my wrist and pin it to the ground, driving through the flesh as I tried to curl it away. I contorted in agony as she twisted her heel, feeling the tendons in my wrist snap and break away. And then I blacked out.

Sal was looking at me curiously, “Heyo. Buddy. Things to do; remember? Are you okay?”

I was furious, rational thoughts escaping my mind, “Those motherfuckers! I’ll kill them damn it!” I leaped up from the table, much to Sal’s amusement, “Think they can fuck with me? Kill my wife- no kill me? Does that bastard think he can touch my kid that way? Who are they- no! I don’t care! Where are they?”

“Ahhh. I see we remember a bit more now. Splendid,” He grinned, “John, I think we have the beginning of a beautiful friendship here. You see, I want those fuckers dead too. But killing’s not really my thing-well, doing anything isn’t really my thing. That’s where you come in, buddy!”

I pointed my bone at him, “Stop calling me buddy. We’re not friends. We just share a common goal.”

His eyes lit up for a brief moment, “Exactly! You offer the muscle and I offer… spiritual guidance.”

“I don’t need spiritual guidance,” Sal smirked at that; I ignored him and went on, “I need to know where to find the bastards that took my kid.”

“Well I offer that too. Or at least a place to start. I’ll show you.”

“Good. Let’s get out of… wherever we are.”

Sal yawned and scratched at his whiskers, “We’re in my apartment for reference. I tried to spruce it up a bit for your arrival, but...” His voice trailed off. He put little effort into his cleanliness; from the state of the room, that was obvious.

“Then let’s stop wasting time. I’ve got three marks to kill and... only one arm to do it with.”

“You’re going to have to carry me. Walking isn’t really my thing.”

“For fuck’s sake... You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll make the journey a bit easier for the both of us.”

He walked over and placed a grimy hand on mine my field of view began to tighten; corners of darkness clouding and overpowering my vision. Sal looked up at me hungrily as a dark, brown and green liquid began to leak from his mouth and onto the floor between us. Before I could jump away, his entire body began to be enveloped in the fluid, melting his skin away and converting it to the ooze. I felt the liquid against my skin start to seep in, crawling into my veins at a slow, leisurely pace. I tried to yell, but could feel the liquid sloshing up in my throat and decided it best not to open my mouth.

And just like that, Sal was gone. Melted into a fine liquid and dissolving into my skin.

Much better. Let’s get going. Vamenos. It was Sal’s voice, echoing through my skull, reverberating throughout my thoughts.

“What the fuck did you just-” Hope you don’t mind carrying an extra voice along with ya. I wasn’t made for prolonged periods of activity; walking included. Your coat’s by the door. Let’s go. We’ve got sins to atone for and sins to smite. Let’s go Wraith. …

Sal’s disembodied voice guided me out of my apartment and onto the streets below. I had thrown my leather coat on and stuffed my bone-arm (Sal liked to “say” it really quickly, "Bonearm!”) into my pocket and proceeded towards the diner Sal had pointed me to. Along the way, I tried to quell my rage (And my frustration with Sal) by distracting myself with questions.

“So what the hell happened to my arm?” A couple walked by, glaring at me curiously. I ignored them.

It all goes back to the whole “not built for prolonged activity” thing. It was either save that or save your skull. I thought you might appreciate keeping those charming looks instead.

I grimaced, “You could have tried a bit harder.”

You really don’t know who you’re talking with, do you?

“I don’t really give a damn. I just want those bastards dead and my son back.”

Exactly. Take a right.

I swung to my right, cutting down an alleyway and rudely cutting in front of a rather plump woman, who voiced her displeasure; I waved her off with my free hand. Some people were having a worse day.

“So where are we headed anyways?”

The Abel Cafe. We’re meeting an old friend. He should be able to direct us to the trio that took your son.

“Sounds good.”

If it was possible for a voice in your head to frown, Sal did, You don’t want to know who we’re hunting? Like, at all?

“Nope. I just want them dead. Painfully. I’m gonna jab this needle down their throats,” I took my bone-arm out of pocket and admired the fine point it had been filed down to, grinning as I placed it back into my pocket.

I like working with you, Wraith. You’re a simple man. Full of sin.

“Aren’t we all?” I said as I reached the Abel Cafe and pushed my way inside. I eyed the patrons, who glanced at me and quickly glanced away, wanting no part in my investigation, “Alright, who are we looking for?”

The fat one. His name’s Gus. You’ll know him when you see him. By that way, you don’t need to talk out loud. I can hear your thoughts.

Then why didn’t you say something?

It was quite amusing to see you make an ass out of yourself. Prick.

I scanned the aisles, not seeing anyone who immediately screamed “Gus” to me. I walked down the aisles, my hands twitching, not wanting to waste any more time than necessary. A thought hit me: what if I was just wasting time? What if Sal had been setting me up this whole time?

I wouldn’t do that, buddy. We’re in this together. Corner table; the man alone.

I shook my head. Sal’s voice was beginning to get on my nerves. A waiter walked over; I brushed him off and headed towards the man Sal had pointed out. He was hunched over several plates of food, shoveling it down his gullet, not looking up even as I sat across from him.

Gus reeked of body odor and sweat. He took up several seats and wore a white shirt, barely fitting over his enormous girth. His black hair was greasy and in a tangled mess; he ran a gelatinous arm through it before returning to his meal.

“You Gus?” I asked.

He burped and let out a guttural squelch, “Yep,” and returned to his meal.

“I need to find these three-“ I stopped, upon realizing that he wasn’t paying me any heed, “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“I’m listening,” he said between bites. In my frustration, I moved forward to smack the plate away from his grubby hands, but was stopped by as he quickly raised a hand, “Don’t,” he warned.

Easy. He’s like them, but not the one we’re looking for.

“I don’t care who he is! I want the fat fuck to pay attention when I’m talking to him!”

Gus and the rest of the patrons looked in my direction. I sat down, unembarrassed but filling with anger. “Heh. That ol’ Sal you talkin’ to? Fuck him. I want no part in his schemes. Leave me be, Wra-” He was cut off as I stuck him in the face. My fist dug into his flesh sluggishly, and with some effort, I dragged it back out. Gus didn’t even seem to notice. Calm down Wraith. We have no quarrel with him. We must be efficient with our time.

“Felt like ya could’ve put more behind that. Ol’ Sal dragging you down huh? Lazy shit never could fight his own battles.” Gus got up and stood over me.

Okay, gut him like a pig.

I grinned and revealed my other hand, much to the shock of the diner patrons. Gus was unfazed, instead burping and falling into a sort of fighting stance, “Come on. Get it out of your system.”

I screamed and ran at him, throwing a punch into his gut, causing him to vomit a bit of his meal onto his shirt. He returned with a meaty hook to my head, which sent me to the side quite a bit. I recovered and turned my attention back at him, leaping forward and jabbing my bone-arm at his eye sockets, catching one as I returned to the ground, bringing his head with me. Blood seeped out of the wound as Gus screamed and clawed at his eye, before grabbing my arm and wrenching it out. He threw me back a few feet and I landed hard on the ground.

He stumbled over to me painfully, his eye a mess of blood and liquid, his shirt a mess of regurgitated food. I dove forward at his leg and slashed a thin slice across his knee, bringing his gut closer to the ground. Carrying my momentum, I delivered a second slash across his gut, causing him to stumble back, clutching at his chest. I took the opportunity of vulnerability to deliver another slash across his chest, trying to force it open and gut him as Sal said.

I knew he wasn’t a normal human being. I knew Sal wasn’t and I knew that I wasn’t. But I didn’t care what we were; I was caught in the rage and fury. I saw that the diner guests had all fled, leaving me and Gus alone. Gus kneeled down, covering his stomach and cowering before me.

“Enough!” He squeaked, “You’re going to make me lose my lunch! What-what do you want? You never even told me-”

“I want revenge! I want the fuckers who killed my wife and took my son to perish painfully!”

“I don’t- I don’t know who you’re-“

He’s lying.

I stepped forward menacingly, he hid his head and whimpered, “The Four Horsemen Bar! They’ll be there! Please! Leave me be!”

That’s what we need. Let’s go. Leave him.

I looked down at Gus, my rage subsiding. I took out my wallet with one hand and awkwardly pulled out a couple dollar bills and dropped them next to him, “Next one’s on me.” I grinned at that and walked out of the diner, leaving Gus on the floor and wanting to get out before any police showed up.

We’ve got a location and Gus is puking up his insides; what a great way to start the day! You still seem a bit upset, buddy; get the rest of it out of your system.

“I am Wraith. I am sin. I will force those whores to atone for my sin.”

Glad to hear it, buddy. Let’s get going.

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