Evil crhsi jupms at the wall. chirs says “What are you doing?” evil chris threw his sorwd at him “don’t Talk to me when you arn’t spokin to” evil chris barked. Thats when the old hag came in. “listen here i know what you did back at the jail. I can help you too” chris and evil chirs laughed at him. “You think I wood want help from a smelly old hag like you?” “wait lets heer him out” chris pleeded. “if you take the ungderround tunnol you can skip pased the cops”. “♥♥♥♥!” said evil crhsi “I hear them outside we need to set aside out diferenses and look towords the future or well see the end of time” evil crhsi came off from the wall and he landed on the ground at 10:20 at night. “where is the ungderround tonnel you speak of old man” “it’s undegeround” “ok” and they were off.




When they two entered the undergorund tonnel, the found dead bodies. “Look its them. The fighting dreamers” chris was flaberagasted “who could do this” “them” evil chris














they exited the ungdegeround tunnolli















we made it” chris was ex-static. but the cops were waiting for them. crhsi drew his sorwd. “put the sord down evil chris” evil crhis yelled back at them “never!” he threw his sword at the cops and murdored 200 of them. blood gused out and it rained on them for weeks. the remaning cops were scared and worried. chris barked at evil chris “we have to EXCAPE!!!!!!!!!” so they did, but not before severing two hundred thousand more cops, ending their lives and their lineages. there where only 4 cops left “what do you want with us?????” the cops cried at once.”we want to know why we are in jkail” chris demanded. crhis still wasnt sure who evil chris was or why he was anything so he thouht now woul be a could time to ask “wehoare you!??!?” evil chris looked at him “now ias NOT the time to ASK THAT QUESTION!!!” evil chris pointed his sord at him.
"I'm not you,your not me.then who are you?i your me then how are you standing rigt in front of me?"said chris. "like i said to the police,im a demon,havent you heard of all the murder you comited" said E chris."WHAT ME it wasent me i dont rember d.o.i.n.g.....this".said chris"NO WONDER I HAD BLOOD ALL OVER MY SHIRT MY PANTS AND I LEFT BLOOD TRAILS".said chris. (nonohahahthisdidn’thappen__)


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As the melancholy and extremely devout priest, Nicholas II, entered his black Volkswagen 2015 Jetta, he was overcome with a feeling of doubt, guilt and overwhelming remorse for the actions he had to perform earlier in the afternoon. “Hush now, my son.” He recited to himself in thought of the earlier events, “All will be forgiven when you suckle upon the Lord’s love.” -- That’s how it began, of course. He urged the boy onwards, to wrap his youthful lips around his unwashed shaft. Everything after that moment was a blur. Vaseline, leverage and the cracking, muffled screams of a boy deflowered, and Nicholas II was forcibly satisfied. Chancellor Jackson entered after the boy had left, “Are you pleased now, Father?”, he asked with his own sense of self-loathing and bitter hatred towards Nicholas. “Yes, Chancellor, the boy has been cleansed and I have seen the light of God’s grace once more.” Nicholas responded, wiping his hands dry and dabbing a damp cloth to his robes.

As Nicholas continued replaying the scene over and over again in his mind, driving along the dimly lit road along St. Augustine Boulevard, he felt the blade press against his double-chinned neck. The voice spoke in a low, hushed tone. Husky, yet feminine and almost seductive in nature. “Turn off your headlights, pull over, and turn off the car.” The voice demanded. What choice did he have? He maneuvered carefully, making sure the blade never cut into his flesh, and did just as the voice requested. The tires of the newly purchased Jetta had already seen some use, and rolled slowly along the gravel road until coming to a full stop. The voice spoke once more, “You have two choices, Nick: Throw your head forward and end this self-deprecating life you lead, or option two.”

Nicholas answered shakily, “Ahh-- Option… Option two?” He inquired, hoping that it wouldn’t result in his immediate death.

“Repent.” The voice answered simply. More pressure was applied to the blade, which he felt in his adam’s apple.

“Re-- Repent? How? For what?” Nicholas cowardly responded. Deep down, he knew exactly what atrocities he had committed, and that no God would ever allow forgiveness on the abuse of his children, neglect of his wife, and the vast amounts of both male and female prostitutes he had taken into his quarters. Of course, the Voice knew as well.

“Your apostles are dead, Nick. Your family has left you. Your wife signed the divorce papers this afternoon, while you took the innocence of another homeless boy. You know what you’ve done, now tell me why I should allow you to exit this vehicle.”

This is when Nick resisted. He had to live! He had to get back to the church! As his right hand moved to his seat belt to remove it from the lock, his mouth filled with blood. The blade moved slowly, but deeply, along his throat. The windshield splattered with his blood, and the blade sunk back into the darkness of the rear of the car.

Out stepped the Killer, donning a blackened leather trenchcoat, tightly tied around their waist. Judgement is genderless, death is inevitable. Then the pacemaker jolted alive, and they looked around… Where were they? Who was the dead guy in the car? Why were they carrying a katana covered in blood? Better yet, who were they this time? Days had blended into months and years as their sanity limped precariously along like a crippled dog. It was impossible to determine exactly who they had been this entire time, but a photograph book tucked inside of the upper left pocket inside of the trenchcoat revealed to them that they had been on a vendetta for quite some time. Photographs filled the book from front to back, most with a red X covering the photo. They were all sequential, all given a number in order, starting at one, ending at three-hundred and sixty. Each of them had names: Peter DeVaux, Jack Troyer, Jade Jass, the list went on. The dead man in the vehicle had a picture too. Nicholas Freestone was his name. Just the picture of this man brought on feelings of anger and hatred. A red X over his picture and that job was done. Onto the next, they thought.