Two of his men led me through the house towards his office; the rooms we passed through were the most elegantly decorated places I have ever been into. Every room seemed to hold different treasures from around the world, yet they all blended together so perfectly. They took me into a dark room, lit only by a fireplace, then the escorts sat me down in a chair in front of what must of been his desk. “Mr. Ciccone will be right with you,” I nodded at them and took a deep breath as they left the room. This was it, this was the turning point in my life. Doing this will make me famous, no one has ever been allowed a private audience with Ciccone before.



The door on the opposite side of the room crept open, and slowly Ciccone stepped into the room. He made his way to the chair at the other side of the desk. The light illuminated him, revealing a surprisingly normal face. He looked like just another normal guy, I never would’ve thought he was the Ciccone, the most infamous murderer on the West Coast. His eyes were what gave him away though; they were fiery with passion, but also I saw pain in them, his own and that of all of his victims. When we made eye contact I could feel him study me, he read me like a book. Picked me apart and analyzed me within seconds, I felt exposed. I had a terrible gut feeling that he knew what was going on. But, there is no way he could know, it is just my mind getting in the way, this has to be done.





Earlier, at the front door, my escorts told me that he wasn’t much for pleasantries. So I got right to what I wanted to know. “H - How do you do it? How do you live with yourself after knowing that you’ve done so many awful things to so many people?” I nervously asked.

“I don’t feel any sort of remorse so I have no problem with it. Killing those people got me to where I am, without their blood on my hands I’d be nothing.”

“Aren’t you worried about it catching up to you though, Karma coming back for you? You know what they say, what goes around comes around.” He really should be worried.








“Not even almost, Karma is such a silly concept. It’s just something created by the weak to make themselves feel better; if they have no hope in ever exacting revenge all they can really do is hope that the world does it for them. Karma only affects those who think about it, if I were to obsess over something bad I did, and how something bad is bound to happen to me because of it, I would lose grip on the present time. Eventually, that would cause me to make a mistake and my mind, still thinking about my wrongdoing would instantly label it Karma. But still, in reality, Karma is just an imaginary concept to keep people doing the right thing or to give people hope. In my case though, I’ve done countless things that would be considered atrocities. Yet here I am, still alive, probably healthier than you even. Why? Because I don’t obsess over what I’ve done, I don’t think about the men, women and children I’ve slaughtered. I just focus on the present, on my survival and the actions I take, that way I don’t make any fatal mistakes.”


I thought I’d give him a chance to at least make some peace before he passes on. I expected that he would feel some remorse towards the people he has killed. But no, he really is just a monster and monsters deserve nothing more than to be put down. He talks about focusing on the present, focusing on his survival. But how could he be so naive as to allow someone into house without being checked for weapons first? It was time, I am tired of listening to this freak. I reached into my jacket, pulling out my pistol; I hastily aimed it towards Ciccone. Before I could get a shot off, a deafening bang rang across the walls. Instantly I felt a sharp pain in my knee as hundreds of steel pellets ripped it apart. I fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Blood spewed out of the wound as I lay there, helplessly. Ciccone got up, stepped over me and stared into my eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking right now. You’re thinking that even if you didn’t get me, someone else will. That I will get what I deserve eventually. Because that’s the only shred of hope you can hold onto. But in reality, no one will ever kill me. I’m faster, smarter and better equipped than any of you vigilantes that come for me. I hope you feel stupid for trying to assassinate me, because that’s exactly what you are.” Ciccone, with a face blank as ever, fired off another shot straight into my chest, ending me in a mess of blood and guts