The Rebirth

Was there something left to prove? Was it fate? Was it just plain anger, contempt, and bloodlust that drew Damien back? Even he wasn't quite sure, death and the prospect of resurrection really fucked with his head. One thing was for certain, though; the urge to kill was damn near consuming his every thought. There was more to be accomplished, evil ran deep in his veins, and every bone in his body ached for more carnage.
The feeling of murdering another human being is both exquisite and undeniably addictive. The flow of blood is beyond words; many times it has brought Damien to the brink of tears. The unmistakable sound of bones breaking can only be likened to the sweetest of Mozart's compositions. The sight of tender flesh tearing from bone, allowing the shimmering muscle and tender meat to become exposed to eyes, hands, and teeth. The warm splashes of fresh blood splattering onto your face and spraying down your throat into your aching stomach. More than a mere act; it gave Damien a purpose.
Maybe Damien did know why he wanted to go back; bloodlust is quite undeniable.
No matter, perhaps he should keep his mind on his assignments, though. It seemed simple enough, he had been instructed to sweep the streets of Detroit for any kind, decent, fun-loving people. All he had to do was what he did best; viciously slaughter everyday pieces of shit masquerading as innocent people. He could do this in his sleep, but Damien didn't want to imagine the wrathful punishment for failing the Evil. Absolutely he must devote his full attention and efforts so as not to be careless.
Damien awoke in an alley, surprisingly fully clothed he had noticed, and struggled to regain his bearings. He couldn't believe he had, in fact, been brought back to life. He stretched his muscles and cracked his bones, he ached just a little bit, but otherwise he felt right back to normal.
Damien slowly emerged from the dark alley and found himself on one of the brightly lit streets of the over-rated ghetto that is downtown Detroit. He stumbled till he reached the local ballpark. At the corner he caught a taxi and headed to a hotel for some much needed and desired rest.
Damien slept for thirteen lucky hours before he awoke and began his search for victims. A lesser psychopath may have taken a day or two to do the things he missed doing or never got to do, but Damien was a consummate professional here only for the one thing which could bring joy into his life, exaggeratedly brutal murder.
Damien did not have a difficult search for his first victim, in fact, the man had come to him. Apparently one is not brought back to life carrying any forms of identification or money, therefore Damien had resourcefully broken into this ghetto motel and squatted for the night in one of the rooms.
The owner, from his office, had spotted the lights coming on in a room he should’ve had vacant. Squatters were like festering boils on the ass of honest people such as himself, he’d said it many a time, and now he was gonna catch this bastard red-handed and beat the holy hell out of him. He should’ve alerted the authorities, but blind rage overcame him. The owner grabbed his bat and knife one last time, sheathed the knife at his side, and marched a death march to room 213.
Damien heard the office door slam shut, he peaked outside and caught a glimpse of the older man stampeding straight for his room, he also caught the reflective glare of the knife in the sunlight. The smallest bit of pity came over him, he almost felt sorry for this man thinking he was prepared for what was to come.
Three times the man beat loudly on the door; he could be heard fumbling for the room key as he muttered obscenities through the very door that Damien now hid behind.
“You’re a fucking cocksucker!” the old man shouted to him, “a god-damned affront to good honest people like myself who must pay for such luxuries. I hope you brought your black belt or your prayer book!”
As if Damien needed any further motivation to bring this man to a horrific end, he runs his mouth and turns out to be exactly the kind of parasite the evil has sent him to take care of.
The key clumsily glided into the keyhole, the lock popped free, and old man supremacist ambled through the doorway. He never spotted Damien squatting behind the door and Damien had already unsheathed the knife at his side. Before the man could turn to use the awkwardly heavy ball bat in his hands he was stabbed near the crotch of his pants and fell in agony.
It wasn’t that he had been stabbed in the cock, nor had he been stabbed in the sack or the ass. Rather the blade had come straight up between his legs and painfully tore the fleshy area between his sack and asshole. The 12-inch blade had definitely torn into some very vital areas and, as Damien twisted the knife agonizingly slowly, the blood spot on the crotch of his pants had grown considerably. The warm fluid trickled slow at first, but with increasing pace, down the man’s legs but shock was more than enough to prevent him noticing this. The man collapsed to the floor with Damien leering over his nearly lifeless body, the last few breaths barely sustaining his passing life.
“This is the future for all you “decent” people. Hope you brought your prayer book!”
Dispatching of the man was like diving face first into pussy for the first time in a long time, it sure is fucking great but now you want to get your dick wet. Damien felt a hunger now; this was not nearly enough to appease him even temporarily. Quickly he gathered the man’s money and car keys, quickly spotted his large SUV in the nearly vacant lot and got right on his way.
He sped out of the city, many city people were fine evil sons-a-bitches like himself, he headed to the suburbs to find himself a buffet of yuppie scum. He slammed on the brakes and threw it over into a nearby parking lot; he had spotted a woman walking down the street with a sign for salvation and knew she was the next.
Quickly, now, he walked along the sidewalk, approaching his very probable victim and, as he went along, prepared a plan in his head to kill her. Damien was counting on this woman being of the type of people who just can't stand to shut their ignorant mouth and mind their own fucking business. As far as he was concerned, it was the safest bet in town. As Damien approached, the preacher immediately focused in on him. She took her last deep breath and quite visibly prepared herself for one unknowingly last pitch.
"How are you today sir?" she began, "have you found the light and grace of our lord and protector Jesus Christ? Don't forget, it's never too late to welcome his love and eternal forgiveness into your heart."
Damien wore his most sorrowful expression as he spoke, "I fear that perhaps I may have committed sins beyond what God is willing to forgive, I may even have sold my soul to the dark lord himself."
"Nonsense my good friend" the woman asserted, "our savior Jesus Christ died for your sins so that you may repent, be reborn, and find forgiveness in the eyes of the lord. Please sir, accompany me to my vehicle so that I can show you the road to salvation."
Damien allowed a glimmer of hope to creep across his face as he eagerly replied, "nothing in this world could please me more right now that to accompany you to your vehicle for salvation."
The woman was ecstatic, it was so rare that she would actually reach someone on the street, maybe her instincts were improving and she could finally make a sale. She was giddy with anticipation.
Damien was also rife with anticipation and, upon arriving at her vehicle, he watched intently as she removed her keys from her pocket and popped open the trunk. Revealed in the trunk were no fewer than 100 brand new hard cover bibles, one of which she quickly snatched for her customer.
"Here you are my friend, it's your lucky day because now you can have the keys to salvation in the palm of your hand for a mere $20. You can use this book to unlock the secret of forgiveness and solidify your place in the pearly gates of heaven."
Damien acted swiftly as he exclaimed, "you would dare attempt to sell eternal forgiveness for your own profit?" and without so much as a moment's pause he grasped her tiny neck and effortlessly snapped her vertebrate.
The snap, crackle, pop of her brittle neck brought a flood of exciting memories back to Damien and suddenly the old Damien began to take over. He allowed the woman's flaccid body to slowly collapse to the ground with nothing more than a "stupid cunt" muttered under his breath.
Her spine had been snapped right apart, the jagged edge from the lower spine jabbing sharply through the torn flesh at the base of her skull. Proudly the portion of escaping spine was gleaming with blood and the smallest hunks of tender flesh. If Damien had more time, he would surely make a meal of this woman, however time constraints forced him to settle for a quick snack.
Reacting swiftly, yet calmly, Damien searched the trunk for anything useful in dispatching this woman. He found over a hundred bibles and a knife hidden in the compartment with her spare, for protection he assumed.
"Brilliant fucking place to keep that, must be a natural blonde," Damien again muttered to himself.
After Damien found a lighter in her road survival kit, he got a great idea. He used the woman's keys to open her car, and placed her body in the back seat. Like a man possessed, he feverishly began removing and crumpling bible pages, which he then tossed inside the driver side window. After 10-15 minutes of tearing and crumpling, the vehicle was quite full and ready as far as he was concerned.
As he tore free one final page of verse he again spoke to his victim, "you still gonna love the bible?" he asked mainly to humor himself. He lit the final bible page aflame and tossed it into the vehicle. The fire would burn the body beyond recognition, especially once the gas tank exploded. He would not have time to stay for that, though, he had a taste for murder again and the fiend was ready to gorge himself.
Damien quickly left the scene of his crime, but he searched the streets in his immediate vicinity feverishly for another victim. The knife in his hand was begging to be jabbed through skull or between ribs, Damien wasn't sure which one yet, but who was he to deny a knife's wishes?
Damien spotted a man talking to a drifter; the man was audibly chastising the poor drifter for making improper decisions with money in his life. The man was like a walking, talking billboard for every single Jewish stereotype and Damien immediately thought of him as another high and mighty Jew tight-ass that the evil would certainly enjoy ridding the Earth of. He made Damien angry enough to stab the shit out of and Damien approached him swiftly.
"You starting to feel better about yourself, yet? Abusing this unfortunate gentleman, does this make your life complete? We can't all inherit a fortune, can we?" Damien began. “For your sake, I really hope it makes you feel good.
As he approached the man, he held three dimes in his hand so the man could see. When Damien tossed the change at the man's feet he immediately bent down to pick it up. "You elitist piece of shit!" Damien raged.
Damien lifted the blade high above his head and put everything he had into stabbing the bald spot of his enemy's skull. The knife sank six inches deep into the skull of his victim and, as the man shot upright, a dazed look of agony painted his face hilariously.
As he collapsed face first on the floor, Damien went for his knife. He placed one boot firmly on the top of the man's skull and pulled with all his might. The knife jerked free, its serrated edge adorned with delightful hunks of chewy brain matter. Damien couldn't help but jab the knife in his head a couple more times just for fun, collapsing most of the man's skull and slicking the ground with blood and fluid. After carving "Jew Trash" in the man's forehead he was on his way again.
Damien dashed to his nearby car, the heat was on at the flaming wreck he had left of the Christian, while police and fire agencies battled the blaze.
Damien hopped in his cozy sports utility vehicle and headed for the suburbs. Nothing excited Damien like the thought of murdering worthless, complacent, suburbanites; but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun on the way there.
Damien headed north down the interstate, but he quickly grew tired of the freeway. He exited and found his way onto one of the busier five lane roads and headed north towards the suburbs. The landscape grew increasingly pleasant as he neared the suburbs, but then he spotted a young girl adorned completely in black who was hitchhiking; of course he stopped.
As soon as she got into the car, Damien was immediately attracted to her. She had a gorgeous face, the palest white that was outlined in jet-black makeup. She requested a destination, noticeably showing no interest in him, but that didn't stop Damien from thinking about a sensible strangling and a bit of the old in-out in a nice deep, dark place. Of course, however, she ruined the fantasy as soon as she began to babble whatever bullshit resided in her empty head.
"Can you tell I'm a Wiccan?" she began innocently. "I love the goddess and the unparalleled beauty of nature."
For ten minutes she continued on about love and nature; then Damien reached his boiling point.
Damien pulled into a Taco Bell just after he passed the police station and, feigning hunger, pulled into a parking spot near the back. After telling the girl his wallet was in the glove box, she searched for it long enough to allow him time to pull out his knife. When she glanced back at him he jerked her head back and haphazardly hacked out each of her eyeballs. Perhaps he simply crushed her orbital bone and they popped free, then he cut them free and they fell in her lap. In doing so, her eye sockets were badly cut and each began bleeding profusely. She struggled and began to scream, but Damien quickly punched her in the throat silencing her.
"What is beauty to you now, you superficial cunt?" Damien taunted. “And did you just call yourself a Wiccan? You’re a goddamn ignorant fucking hippie who for some reason feels drawn to darkness, you’re the new breed of yuppie and hippie and that’s just not gonna do.”
He handed the girl the knife, already knowing what would be the outcome. The girl stabbed herself in the heart, through the side of her chest to avoid scarring her breasts, as any superficial bitch would do. The knife tore through her side like a sheet of paper, easily plummeting into the depths of her heart. When he jerked his knife free, blood rocketed out of the gaping wound as Damien again stabbed her and twisted his knife free. Damien couldn't help but laugh, quickly pulling her from the vehicle and leaving her corpse in the lot, before he again sped off further north. Witnesses could only stare in amazement.
Several miles down the road Damien spotted another hitchhiker, this one male, again dressed all in black. Again he pulled over and picked the guy up. The kid was maybe 19-20 years old, thin as a rail, with his hair pitifully dyed black, adorned with several pentagrams and inverted crosses. Damien thought he had at last met someone he could get along with.
The boy spoke very little at first, saying only that he was heading home (conveniently, for Damien, located in the suburbs) and something about being surprised a Satanist actually found a ride. This peaked Damien's curiosity and he couldn't resist accepting the lad's invitation to come in and smoke a doobie in exchange for the lift.
Unfortunately this only led to the Damien’s disappointment. The house was beyond disgusting; the stench of his host quickly became unbearable once he removed his shirt revealing his scrawny, dirt-covered body. Damien could hardly tolerate sitting near enough to him to smoke the doobie, every time he lifted his arm to pass the doobie a wave of stench overpowered Damien's senses.
Once the two men were high, the boy began shooting his mouth off about how he had spoken to the devil. How he was just so evil he didn’t need a job and he could just play guitar and live as he likes. He claimed Satan had given him license to live as he please, and with his parents money he was set.
Damien was so irritated he could barely manage his anger when he offered to buy the kid as much LSD as he could find. Just fifteen minutes later, 34 hits of acid were to be delivered to their door.
While they waited, though, Damien asked to watch the news. His host complied, and sure enough they were talking about his handiwork. Apparently they were well aware that it was one man, they knew about the car and all the fake information Damien had taken from the old man, and all they knew was "last seen heading north on blah blah blah; no description available." Damien was pleased to see his host was too wrapped up in himself to notice the report was about his guest.
Then there was a knock at the door and Damien purchased every hit of LSD the guy had to sell to him and thanked him for his services. He purchased 34 hits, as they had hoped, then returned to his host.
"You can only have these if you take all 34, right now, all at once," Damien informed his host.
His host didn't even reply, accepted the obvious challenge to his drug intake ability, and placed all 34 hits onto his eager tongue. It wasn't long before he began to freak out and Damien began his search of the premises. It also wasn't long before he found something perfect.
Damien returned to his host with his hosts' two pets. Two enormous Saint Bernard’s clumsily joined their master who very well may have been too fucked up to even recall what a dog was. Damien also had snatched his hosts' camcorder and a fresh, blank tape.
Damien worked quickly; he did not want his rental car to be spotted by police or a neighbor. He tore the clothes from his disgusting host and bent his dirty ass over the coffee table. He tied his torso to the table with some rope he had found in the garage, and his host was restrained in a position kneeling over the coffee table. Damien only had to stroke the dogs’ cocks for a few moments before they became excited enough to both go after their exposed master, but once they did there was no stopping them.
Damien quickly grabbed the boy’s video camera for what was going to truly be one of America's funniest home videos. Two giant Saint Bernard’s tear the hell out of the asshole of a dirty ass teenager on 34 hits of LSD. The lad didn't seem to notice, not even when one of the dogs snacked on both his testicles and cock (in turn,) maybe the sensations weren't all that foreign to him. One thing's for certain, though, there was a hell of a lot of blood pouring out of this kid's torn up anus, balls, and cock. The saints went to town on the boy for a good fifteen to twenty minutes before he finally died; with Damien taping the entire thing up close and personal. After the boy finally collapsed, Damien had one simple statement before setting the camera to shoot the scene while he escaped, preserving the evidence for the police.
"You live like a filthy animal, you get fucked and die like one, too!" he spoke into the camera and with that he exited and hopped into the SUV. The only thing he stole from the kid was a pocketknife; Damien always did have an infatuation with knives.
Again Damien hit the road. He was quite pleased that no one had seemed to spot his stolen car while he was with the boy. As he stuffed some newspaper into the mailbox and set it aflame, he couldn't help but wonder if the saint's would still be tearing into the kid when the pigs arrived. Nothing a cop hasn't already jerked off to the thought of, he supposed.
Damien calmly backed out of the driveway, leaving behind him a flaming beacon of his further destruction. Today was going to be a good day for Damien, he thought perhaps he should alert Guinness. The thought, however, quickly faded when he spotted the LSD delivery kid walking down the street. As a Good Samaritan, Damien felt compelled to pick him up. Once they were on their way to take the kid home, Damien asked him what he thought of the boy he'd just delivered to.
"Oh, Tim?" he started "Tim is a smelly, dirty fucker and I can't really stand being near him. I was pretty glad you were there, so he didn't ask me to join him. Not only does he smell like the deepest nook of a wild buffalo's asshole, but if you get him talking about any of that Satanism bullshit he tries to act intelligent and temporarily forgets how fucking ignorant he is."
Damien almost couldn't have said it better himself, maybe he finally had found the partner he had been searching for. This kid seemed intelligent, shared his views on Tim, and seemed to have an aggressive edge that could easily be turned into murder.
"And what exactly is your religious belief?" Damien could hardly contain his excitement enough to ask the final important question.
"Are you kidding me?" the guy began "religion is a most obvious sham perpetrated by governments, or some other controlling agency, to attempt to govern the morality of the people. Think about it, if only God hadn't said, "thou shalt not kill," we'd be living in dog eat dog anarchy and nobody wants that. So someone created religion to curb or create morality."
“Eloquently spoken buddy, tell me why you harbor so much hate.”
“Well, I’m super pissed right now because I crashed a car and just because it’s my third wreck in a year my parents won’t buy me another. So I had to take up dealing drugs to make a little money." The boy finished, "my parents are fucking assholes."
Damien was absolutely seething with hatred, he felt so very close to his goal. Now he not only felt cheated, but he also felt even more alone in his quest then when he began.
Damien snapped the rearview mirror off of his windshield and violently began bludgeoning the fucking prick in his passenger seat. The first blow caught him right in the temple, flesh tearing away slightly, and blood began pouring down the now unconscious kids face. The boys head slumped down as each of 47 estimated subsequent blows decimated the base of his skull. Flesh and bone gave way to an ever-expanding hole in which the mirror became temporarily stuck on several occasions.
The mess was terrible. Blood ran down the inside of the windshield and both passenger side windows, also pooling at the victims feet and in the passenger seat. Fragments of bone, brain, and chunks of torn flesh were strewn about the vehicle. The mirror had shattered after the first dozen or so blows and shards of mirrored glass littered the floor and jabbed out of the victims former skull.
The danger in driving the rental car to begin with was very high, but now compounded with this little situation was beyond risky. Damien grabbed some fresh clothes he had stored in the back and left the vehicle swiftly.
He rushed into a McDonald's restaurant, changed his clothes in the stall, washed himself a little at the sink, and tossed his bloody clothes into the trash. Then Damien learned from the counter that he was in the beautiful city of Bloomfield Hills, the carnage would continue on foot.

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