Death's Redemption Pt. 1

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          “Help! Help me,” she cried out. She yelled as loud as she could, but she knew that in this world no one helps anybody anymore. She tried to run, but they were already on top of her. She struggled to get loose, but their strength was too much for her. She tried to reach for the revolver at her side, and she had it in her grasps long enough to unholster the gun and cock the hammer. Before she could use it, the gun was yanked out of her hand.

         No help, over powered, and now no weapon. All hope left her body as the last biker got off his bike and started walking toward her. “Hello there pretty lady, lil’ scared are ya? Well don’t ya worry now, we’re gonna take good care of ya.” The stench of his breath was unbearable to the point that she nearly vomited. There were eight of them, and it was all too clear they weren’t going to let her leave. “Just do as we say and you’ll leave here in one piece. Understand?” She nodded; it was all she could do to answer him.

         She turned to look at the other five bikers that weren’t holding her back. They were going through her backpack and jacket, and taking all of her supplies. When they were done they packed up the gear and were preparing to leave. For a brief moment she thought that it was all over, but when she saw the leader coming back she knew her suffering had just began. He turned to one of the men holding her back. “Scotty, get back to your bike, call the boss, and tell ‘em we’ll be on our way in ‘bout two hours. There’s still one last place we need to search on her.” As they began to laugh and were coming towards her, she began to wish she could just die before she’d have to feel their touch all over her body.

    “Let her go,” rang an unknown voice from behind. When they turned around they saw a hooded man taking aim with a bow about fifty yards away. At that moment, it seemed like time itself had stopped. Neither side moved out of fear that it could be their last. The only sound being made was that of a flock of birds in the forest off the side of the road. The tension was somewhat broken when three of the bikers lowered their weapons.

         “This is your last chance, let the girl go now. I’m not going to ask you nicely, again,” called the hooded man. This only made the leader angry that he hadn’t already killed this mystery man. Enraged, he grabbed the pistol holstered at his side and yelled back “Oh yeah! Or wh-.” As he yelled he was cut off as a sharp string of pain ran through his hand, and then his whole arm went numb. He looked down at his hand, only to see an arrow going through the middle of his hand. He tried to pronounce a cry of pain, but no matter how much he tried nothing would come out.

         With their leader paralyzed by shock, the other bikers looked at each other hoping that someone would signal as to what they should do. Dumbfounded, they stared at the hooded man, waiting to see what his next move would be. “Alright, since it looks like the rest of degenerate ingrates want to live I’m giving you one last offer to leave here alive. Put your weapons down, let the girl go, and start backing away until I say stop,” he said to them. As they looked at each other nervously, they slowly put their guns on the ground. The moment they let the girl go and started to back away, she started toward her mysterious savior.

         As he began to regain his grasp of reality, the biker leader became furious when he saw his men were cowering away from a lone man with a bow and arrow. In his rage he grabbed his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Not even five seconds later, the woman fell to the ground and became motionless. His men stood and stared at him in both fear and awe. “What the hell ya standin’ there for? Grab your guns and kill this miserable son o’ bitch!” Fearing more the wrath of their leader than the ability of this mysterious man, the bikers began to run for their weapons.

         “Big mistake,” the hooded man whispered to himself. As the bikers frantically ran to grab their weapons, the hooded man shot two arrows killing two of the bikers. As the others reached for their weapons, the hooded man dropped his bow and grabbed three knives from inside his jacket. By the time they grabbed their guns the man threw his knives and killed another three bikers. By then the others had readied and aimed at the stranger. “Whatcha gonna do now? We’ve got guns, and last time I checked bullets move faster than arrows and knives,” taunted the lead biker.

         “Good point,” the hooded man replied. Then in the blink of an eye, he pulled out two nine-millimeter pistols out of the back of his pants. Before they could react, he fired off eight rounds from each gun. One of the bikers fired a shot that barely missed the man’s shoulder as he went down. Then, for a moment, not even the birds in the nearby forest made a sound.

         After standing there for a moment, the hooded man began moving to each body and began to say a prayer over the dead bikers. While he realized how odd it was to say a prayer for the men that had just tried to kill him, he still believed that someone should show respect for the dead in this world. After he prayed over the bodies, he began to loot them for any useful supplies he could need. Just because he’s respectful of the dead doesn’t mean that he won’t take advantage of the situation. When he got to the lead biker he was a little shocked when he heard him moan. The bastard was still alive.

         Not sure on what he should do next, he leaned in when he heard the biker stuttering something. “Who… what are you? Why did you do this? We didn’t do anything to you,” he tried to justify. “Please, you would have killed me without thinking twice if you were given the chance. As for the girl, you would have robbed, raped, and then killed her to. You did kill her,” he stated coldly. “It’s called survival of the fittest,” the biker responded. “No, it’s called taking what you want because the other person isn’t strong enough to stop you. It’s called stealing,” the hooded man chastised. They both paused there, unclear on what to do next.

         After deciding that there was no use to try to plead his case to this wannabe Batman prick, the biker just wanted to end his suffering. He tried to reach for a twenty-two-caliber pistol he had tucked in a hidden pocket in his jacket. He almost had the gun drawn when the hooded man kicked the gun out of his hand. “What the hell is it you want from me? Why don’t you just go ahead and kill me? The only reason you keep a dead man from dying is if you want something from him,” the biker inquired. “Very well then, I have a question for you,” the hooded stranger began. He leaned in and whispered his question in the biker’s ear. At the very idea of the question, the biker turned to a pale, ghostly white. “You’re mad,” said the biker. “Probably, but it doesn’t change the fact that I need the information,” the stranger explained.

         After deciding that he was going to die either way, the biker made his decision. “Alright, but I have two conditions. You have to promise me that you’ll deliver the necklace I’m wearing to my sister some day. Last I heard, she’s in Louisiana,” he pleaded. Shocked at the humanity he was finding in the dying man, the hooded man was willing to honor this man’s last request. “Very well, now what’s your second condition?” With tears of shame in his eyes, the biker made his request. “Put me to rest, end my suffering.” “What do you mean,” the hooded man questioned. “I’m a dead man anyway. I tell you what you want to know I’ll be marked for death, and they’ll probably kill my sister to set an example for others. Please, just let me try to right some of my wrongs.” Still in awe of the amount of humanity that was coming from the first biker that had made an attempt to kill him, the hooded man felt something inside of him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

         He felt hope. Hope that there was a possibility that people were still capable of great change in this world. “I accept the terms. Tell me what I need to know,” the hooded man said. Finding joy that he may have saved his sister’s life more than anything, the biker motioned for the stranger to come closer. As he leaned in the stranger also unsheathed one of his knives, and began to listen to the biker. When the biker was finished he looked at the man before him and said, “I’m ready.”

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This is the beginning of a story I started writing a few years back. I'm looking for feedback but mostly critiquing.

Link to part 2: 

Death's Redemption Pt. 2           Honoring his agreement with the biker, the stranger placed his hand over the biker’s mouth and began to press his knife into his chest. As the life began to leave the man’s eyes, he smiled as he felt that he in some way had redeemed himself for all the crimes he had committed since the change. Once the biker was dead, the stranger took his hand and closed the man’s eyes. He said a prayer over his body like he had over the others, and he reached around the dead man’s neck and grabbed the necklace he was to deliver to the man’s sister. As he drew the necklace from the man’s jacket he saw that they were dog tags that said, Captain John Bishop USMC. This murderous biker was once a United States Marine.
         After looking around at the bodies of the men he had killed, the stranger looked up to the sky and said, “It’s not easy being an angel of death.

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