Paladin 4: Origin Story Part 2

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#1  Edited By Donnieboy16

If I learned anything from my odyssey of pain is that there are three rules to assassination. 2 I still to carry even to this day. The first one is the one of stealth. I've realized that over time that stealth was more than hiding amongst others. It is melding in one's environment. Tone, Body image, adaptability how one to blend into a background that is how I was able to strap a man to a chair in a cellar I had bought in Dubai. At that point it has been 16 months since I escaped the Taleban had raped me, whipped me and killed my friend. Not a second that went by in those months that I didn't think of my vengeance. Not as I conditioned my body until my fists bled. Not as I practiced martial artists until I could beat my teachers(bounty hunters and mercenaries they were) into submission. Not as I learned to hunt men so well that they could never escape me once I set their eyes on me.

After that, I've been on a one-woman campaign against the group and of course my "master" Aman. Throughout five months, I had killed dozens of soldiers, stolen their supplies and annihilated some of their bases all under the alias "Saytan" (Satan in Arabic). I managed to track Aman, and a couple of his allies were based in Dubai for a purpose. A purpose I intended to find out now. Hours ago I posed as a slutty girl at a club. I got in the skimpiest clothes I could find with the expressions of ditz found my target and latched on. I slowly isolated him all while he didn't know. This is where I managed to drug one of Aman's security details that came for a good time, which brings us to now. I start the warm reception with the most putrid smelling salt I had. I could have used truth serum to get the information I needed, but that wouldn't have exactly given me any satisfaction. I wanted to hear them squeal as they spill their guts before I spilled them literally. He slowly looked up and surveyed his surroundings. Fear flickered in his eyes as he saw a rack full of "tools" I acquired for special occasions like these.

The room had a blowtorch, bleach, gloves, trash bags, machetes, a bucket of acid and so much more — everything a torturer needs. Slowly I put on my medical gear as he started to ask various questions. But I didn't respond as I put on my "outfit." In minutes I had my own makeshift doctor's uniform. At the start, I felt it was good to try and fuse Sarah Walters into anything I had. It has been so long since I've seen my moms, hugged Jonas enjoy takeout from the rising sun. At the end that was another one of my seemingly infinite mistakes. I just drew me one step closer to the monster I am now. As a way to cope with what I was doing was in the moment of the kill to see them as nothing more than corpses I was forced to dissect in college. So when I started to approach the man in front of me with a sledgehammer, I didn't see someone scared. I saw a dead man walking.

"Who are you," the man said awkwardly.

"I'm a licensed medical practitioner, but you can call me Saytan. I want you to tell me everything you know about your operation or I will remove something from you every time you resist me."

He spits straight on my boot. I remained silence , raised my sledgehammer, and in one fluid motion, I slam the hammer right on his left leg! I heard the "crunch" sound as I saw my corpse convulse in agony and scream. I left him to scream. I soundproof the cellar so no one could disturb me or walk in. In half an hour, he recovered adequately from the shock and then spoke through tears about what his plans were. It took time however as English wasn't exactly his first language (though I did pick up Arabic just in case).

"Tomorrow there is going to be a trade. We're trading some of our drugs for very expensive military grade weaponry. About four men each will participate in the trade at 2:00 am near Port Rashid."

I soon loaded my gun and pointed straight at him.

"Wait please show mercy on me!"

With all of my bloodlust pouring out I say these final words.

"I am showing you mercy. I was not going to let you live long enough to truly suffer for what've you've done. That is a luxury I will not share with Aman. "

Hours later I managed to send him into the bottom of the Persian Gulf in pieces. After he was taken care of, I slept before I thought of my next strategy. Why didn't I go back to my family you say? I ask that question more than you think. But every time I close my eyes I see flashes of what they did to my friend Jasmine. I remember every time they gleefully entered into me. Every time I worked myself to the bone only to get enough food to survive. Every time they would beat me one I talked back. So not only did I need to get revenge. I need to make them suffer for even a fraction of the time I've experienced. When I wake back up, I get to work. When night fell, I positioned myself to a nearby building as I readied a weapon I secured from one of my raids. It's next-gen military hardware and riot suppression. They call it "Keller'(after Helen Keller) a bunch of stun and flash grenades strapped together. Perfect for guerilla warfare. Finally, I just waited for my future prey to come.

Then suddenly the two trucks came forward, and the men stepped out. My tension released in a single bound in a launcher. And at that moment I struck. I fire off Keller into the crowd of men as it went off. I put on my mask as I ventured out. With my silenced automatic I moved in like a monsoon as I methodically killed every single one of them. I was shot after shot ran off as I finally ended my massacre by throwing an incendiary grenade into a truck full of drugs. I then drove off with the truck full of weapons.

And it was at this moment that I tell you my second lesson. Fear is corruption incarnate. Once it infects you, it feeds on your insecurities. It will grow fatter until it cripples you completely. Sure it some scenarios it can change you into a raging beast. But if one can control fear of yourself and others, then it becomes a far more effective weapon than one should realize. I was afraid of ever becoming a victim again. And in my quest to conquer that I became a cold-blooded killer. Still, I find solace in knowing that the weapons that were supposed to give the Taleban more power would, in the end, be their undoing. I found it funny, so many stories talk about how revenge is evil and how a hero shouldn't do it no matter how much the villain hurts you. But no one tells you how damn satisfying it indeed is to get true payback.

After that little stunt, I laid low until I formulated a new plan. By morning it took me a while but I managed to I was able to get most of the weapons that I wanted and destroyed the rest to give them some sense of confusion. It took me about four days I able to find out where Aman laid dormant. He was at a warehouse that he recently bought out and closed down. Over that time however in fear he had round the clock security. He was careful and afraid. I wish that I had managed to find out sooner, but in my mind, I was kind of happy. Because now I had the chance to inflict true despair upon them all. Because depression is knowing that something terrible is going to happen and there is no way to escape or stop it, and I wanted them to see that they couldn't have finished me.

Before I started on what I thought would be my final chapter. And in many ways, I wished that was true.

"Don't worry Jasmine. I'm going to avenge you. I'm going to make your sacrifice mean something."

I then pulled out an a grenade launcher and fired it straight into the warehouse! The wall completely was blown apart as I entered into the fray. With my grenade launcher, I'm able to engulf the cars that were surrounding the building in flames. I then walked through the rubble I made and threw a host of smoke bombs that immerse the area entirely. I barely avoided a mess of bullets as I take cover behind a wall. The bullets flew blindly. My infrared vision goggles provided an edge. Tension tightens my throat as a grenade rolled by my feet, but I quickly kick it away. Still, the explosion knocks me back. Everything around me rings profusely. By the time I recover, I see that a least four men in body armor recover from my onslaught.

Using a lot of luck and the element of surprise I blitz one man and quickly fire off two times at point blank range with my pistol while simultaneously twisting him to gain a human shield. I hiss as a couple of bullets hit my left side, but my armor tanks the damage. They quickly hesitate to run their comrade I capitalized on that. I shot about two more men in the head as I rolled to empty the rest of my clip onto my last target. The pain of the bullets got to me as I lay down in pain. My breath turned ragged followed by me seeing spots. However, I will not let Aman get off scot-free so easily. He will pay for what he's done. So I turned to my trump card. I slowly took out a syringe of adrenaline and stuck it in my arm.

My body surged with power, as suddenly my sense grew sharper. My brain tingled with impulses. The pain subsided. In silence, I find cellar Aman's henchman told me about. I managed to force open the door. Instantly I'm met with a whip that disarms me and wraps around my right forearm. Aman rushed in with a knee, but my left hand blocked it, but he pulled me in and punched me in my face. He followed with a push kick and pulled me towards the ground. He stomps on my head.

"Do you have any idea the tens of thousands you've cost me over these past few months Saytan! I'm going to turn you inside out for all you've done. But not before I know who you are."

"The last face you will ever see!"

I twist my body to put him in a leg lock quickly. I thought I had him until he used his hand to slip himself off. I managed to push the whip and throw it off of me. We pushed off each other as we pulled out our knives and engaged in battle. We slashed at the air at a breakneck speed. Over time cutting into each other bit by bit. We then slashed at equal power in a brief stalemate.

"To think all of this fear and worriment and I thought I was dealing with an actual demon, not some woman, but you have earned my respect. Once you're battered at my feet, I will kill you with my bare hands."

"I don't need your respect, I need your blood Aman and your life!"

We kneed at each other both followed shortly by Aman trying to swipe me from the right, but I quickly turn and around and twist my knife to stab him in his right side! I sweep kick his right leg to gain some distance and lunge in with one of my knives. Aman with rage avoided my jab and grabbed an arm. In haste, I counter his blade with mine. He then kicked me again. He screamed as he pulled his knife out and tried to lunge, but I move out of the way just in time to get a little cut on my midriff. He then motioned his knife by turning his blade into a low slash. I try to kick him in the face, but he blocks it with his left hand and unveils three hard punches that spin me back. The world was dizzy, but I quickly spat blood as we faced each other.

With bloodlust pouring out in rivers we gazed each other with true killer intent. Are knuckles turned white with the grips we put on our knives As if we both know that this battle was about to end? We screamed a primal roar as we rushed in like demons. And in one brutal slash, our knives made their final blow that would end all of this. And when it was all over, I carried Aman's unconscious body out with a bloodied right arm.

Next time Aman woke up he had both of his arms chained to the wall of the cellar. His eyes then followed straight to me as I gave him a look that could freeze water. My body shakes with anticipation over a outcome that I thirsted for years.

"Now I remember you. You're the American I interrogated almost two years ago. I recognize that look of pure rage and stubbornness. I also remember when I cut into you with my whip; you were certainly one of my favorites to break. "

I punched him in the face and held his throat up.

"You didn't break me! Scarred mentally and physically yes but never broken by what you did to me! You've only made me so much stronger. And I promise that I will instill all you've taught me back to you a thousand fold. From this day forward you have officially stepped into hell." I said.

I grabbed his whip the very symbol of my slavery as I laid down my proclamation. My arm quivered with weakness as the scars on my back burned. But my revenge burned even brighter. I could almost hear a voice whisper all my darkest fantasies in my mind.

"I'm going to introduce you to brand new hell, and unlike you, I will do an excellent job breaking you little boy. While I'm doing it, I want you to answer a question about your pitiful existence. Who are you?"

I then whipped him the same as he did me and carried on from there. Day after day I introduced him to a brand new world of pain. Looking at it now I wished I had done things differently. Don't get me wrong this man deserved to die painfully at that. But the way that I killed him would've given monsters nightmares. And this is the 3rd lesson I don't follow anymore: the lesson of amorality. When I went on my crusade, I had initially been thought morality would be a shackle. I thought that part of human decency needed to die so that I could live on after Aman. But that sadism that rage in my heart was only a shield to guard me against the trauma I suffered. The trauma I still try to get through even to this day as the Paladin.

When a week had passed Aman was a husk of a man. He was missing his right hand; his legs were cut up to the point where he would spend nearly his entire life of therapy and surgery to walk properly. His right eye was gouged out, and 3rd degree burns across his chest. At least 6 of his teeth were chipped off. Every wound inflicted was not fatal to keep him alive. Even I was to let him go now his entire life would be a waking nightmare. But I needed a question answered.

'So did you finally find out the answer?" I said maliciously.

"Yes," he said weakly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm weakness incarnate. Even with money and power I still get off on torturing others. In truth, I have not earned anything in life, even the privilege of it. So please Saytan please Sarah end my suffering. So that I may find some peace in death."

"No. I will not grant that mercy. You were born alone in this world Aman, and you deserve to die alone by your very own hands. If not then I will continue your suffering."

I loaded my gun with a single bullet and handed to Aman. He weakly took it and raised it to his head. He started to cry and it took everything I had not to smile in that instance.

"Thank you, Sarah."

He pulled the trigger.

And like that he was gone. A vast weight left my shoulders though I could still feel the twinge of the pain left before. As I disposed of the body, I felt like this was the end of my story. I thought I could close this dark chapter of my life forever. Sadly this was only the start on the journey that would put me on the path of ruin. A journey that would forever condemn the woman you know as Sarah Walters into an irredeemable wench not worth saving. The journey that forced her to chain her demonic fury into an instrument of so-called "justice'. A journey that transforms me towards the guise called the Paladin.