When the 'Bad Guys' Win | Teen Ink

When the 'Bad Guys' Win

May 21, 2012
By TTTeeSS GOLD, La Porte, Colorado
TTTeeSS GOLD, La Porte, Colorado
17 articles 6 photos 69 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is no such thing as nothing, yet there is such thing as nothing, simply because there is nothing such as nothing.

Why is it that the ‘bad guys’ never win? They always make some sort of stupid mistake and they lose. They tell the ‘hero’ their plan while they hold them captive, so that once the hero breaks out they foil the plan, or they leave some sort of stupid evidence, or they’re just plain idiots in general.

I don’t lose. I don’t make mistakes.
I work alone. No bumbling idiots to mess up my plans.

I only tell others what I need them to know, but never everything. And once I’m done with them, well, the world had better be done with them too.

I clean up my messes, no loose ends left to be grabbed onto.

And I’m not exactly normal.

All of this flashes through my mind as I speed through the city, tuning out his mumblings. He once had a use. But he is done, and I no longer need him. He knows too much, and must be disposed of. All this rushes through me, almost as fast as the cityscape outside. Hell, the world knows too much. I have to disappear again. I have to die again.

I know where I’m going. I will be where I need to be, when I need to be, not a second early or late, or it will all be ruined.

Two blocks left. One. Ten feet. A car pulls out of the drive, a long, sleek black car. The car pulls out, stopping at the light. The driver does not look my way. He is looking forward, for a person who will never come.

I speed up, pretending to look in the mirror and not see him, adjusting my lip gloss. I hear the man beside me squeal right before impact, then a gut wrenching crash as I hit the other car. A spark that turns into a boom, right as planned.

Both cars are blown apart in an explosion heard blocks away. When the smoke clears, very little recognizable as a city block is left. The people who run to the scene pay no notice to a small lump towards the side. They don’t see it rise, popping and twisting, joints cracking back into place, skin flowing seamlessly together again, blood and ash seeming out of place on this perfect body.
Lit from behind by the still-burning cars, I walk away, blood dripping from my seamless brow.

The author's comments:
Inspired by a dream, written with very little planning.

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