The Vigilante

He had his face caked with dirt, his limbs and bare flesh absorbing the filthy grains through his pores and corrupting him with the aging bloodshed that nourished the Earth. In a cheap burial suit, his chest was tight, stomach sitting like a rock in a pit with its lining shivering and acid churning and bubbling with incomprehensible hunger. He hauled his maimed body, ringing with everlasting torment, out of his penniless grave like a drunken molerat. He couldn't do anything but freakishly gasp, heavily sob, claw at the solid ground with bleeding fingertips. His whole body in agony, his muscles twitching and struggling to support his weight as the look of never-ending trauma was engraved on his frigid features. Once he mustered the strength to erect and wander past the columns of graves, his arms wrapped tight around himself as his heavy footsteps invited a limp, bare feet splashing against the pools of rainwater.

Jacques Ilyes DeLaCroix, soon renamed Jacques Ilyes Bellerose, had survived death administered by the Devil’s elixir. Yes, he was the sole man to be tempted to soothe his thirst by a swig of the Devil’s blood and live to tell the tale. What atrocious act must’ve been committed by his hand to invite such faith? The answer lies within Jacques, fondly nicknamed Jack, challenging death once more before as his mother smothered him with his own pillow during his sleep when he was three years old. At seventeen Jack was raped, a scenario unheard of at the time. At twenty, Jack was abducted and held hostage, witnessing the death of two men in front of him, as he was chained inside a barn and force-fed salt water for two weeks. However, by twenty-six, Jack was a police officer who abided by the law and was a man of the Bible. No, Jack was not a religious man, but he had...thoughts, dark, ungodly thoughts, dishonorable desires, revolving around the urge to kill. The first time he shot his pistol on patrol, plunging his bullet into the back of the head of a drunk hostile beating down a woman, Jack couldn’t resist nudging the body onto its back to admire the lifelessness in his eyes. It was then that he understood “the light behind your eyes.” To him, some were better off blind.

Jack proved to be a natural whiz with a gun whether it be a pistol or musket. On horseback or on foot, he was one of the most feared men in London. The most feared, the world knew, was the notorious Jack the Ripper. The Ripper, Jack simply referred to him, as sharing the same name as a beast was atrocious. Beast was an understatement...the disembowelment and precise incisions that gaped into gashes, the scent of death reeking the city...the river of crimson weeping down the women’s throats. It caught up to his fiancée, Marian Bellerose. Marian had been home alone one night while Jack was on duty, and when he returned, she had her face sliced into slivers like a leg of ham as she was pinned to the front door of their home by the pair of garden shears they kept in the garden. It was possible sheerly because she was disemboweled, intestines draped across the garden shears whilst her kidneys and uterus nested between her feet.

That’s when he swore to be the Devil’s Bounty Hunter, the Sixth Pillar of Hell, the Vigilante. The Devil was...attracted to him, a notable figure of his time with a sense of justice thriving off the elimination of Earth’s scum. Even so, the Devil would’ve come to Jack as the man had performed a blood ritual a night prior pleading the loss of his soul for the promise of death-defying power. And it came to be. Jacques Ilyes DeLaCroix was erased from existence, not a single document or receipt validating his life as the memories his loved ones and colleges held of him were drained.

The Ripper was no man, he was a demonic spawn who breached the Hell Gates. The women found on the streets of White Chapel and across London were the lucky ones who had a soul to keep as The Ripper had a voracious appetite. The skin, bones, hair, muscles, organs, everything a human could offer would be consumed by him. Jack lived out his life hunting the Ripper, after The Ripper’s death proceeding to scavenge across the globe for the Hell Pillars spawning demons in remote locations festering armies to overrun the Earth. The sole goal of Hell was to inflict eternal damnation, undying anguish, and breaching its captivity was a sin beyond humanity's comprehension. It was a personal command from the Devil.

Then, one day, he married the woman of his dreams who he had met during his time as a Criminal Justice sophomore attending Yale. After graduation and establishing his position as a homicide detective, the two married and she bore his two sons animated by the Devil’s blood. The countdown until his slumber began, as did the ticking on the impending apocalypse whispered in his ear on the night of his first son’s birth.

It was the cruel faith he had fettered his sons into.
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0 | Jul 31st 2021 22:29