Blood has always been an intriguing subject. Especially when I was a child. It’s the iconic life source of all mortals. The symbolic red liquid the continuity of life and also its end.

Its ties even reach to that of murder. When Cain slaughtered Abel, when life speeds out of the man’s eyes, the first murderer could clearly see the crimson stains that tainted his visions.

His hands were colored red that day and humanity with him. I gingerly rubbed the continuously dripping liquid that corrupted my once clean, pale fingers. The noises outside, both blaring and buzzing with both offers of reward and justice went deaf on my ears.

Blood spatters coated the once crisp charcoal black suit. The black pants and formal shoes were dyes with an eerie crimson paint. If it wasn't for the dripping blood, my attire would have blended into a funeral.

Though I suppose it's only fitting that the one that committed the murders of countless innocent victims would wear black. One final act of respect before separating their souls from their fragile bodies.

"Are you proud of me?" I murmured, my eyes mesmerized by the red liquid that poured out of my fingertips.

A barrage of sounds crashed into my ears. My body twisted, my hands instinctively feeling for the familiar metallic feeling of my only weapon.

The solid comfort of my gun rested on my right hand, my eyes targeting the source of the sound. In the entrance, a variety of new characters entered my vision. Cops and demigods swam in my mind’s eye. The noticeable trail of energy that their very being radiated almost blinded me. their reaction, illogical yet understanding reached their faces. The cops, trained and experienced with all manner of crimes choked in descending horror at the mutilated bodies before them.

The demigods, the heroes of this forsaken Earth fared better. Barely but better nonetheless.

I must commend them. It takes guts and a strong stomach to handle the sight. Though I am sure that their divine senses and enhancements helped improve their chances. Their strengths are no joke.

My eyes traced one of the newly discovered heroes drawing his weapon.

Oh, my.

Click.

The hero paused.

The familiar metallic feel intimately met my skull.

Did their parents ever tell them to respect the dead?

XXX

I never understood the need for heroes to dress differently from cops. It's like demigods have a certain need to feel special and while they certainly are, the unique clothing had several cons that they can't properly take care of.

Though I suppose that being blessed by a divine deity would give them certain benefits that would counter this.

I honestly don't know or care.

I inspected the demigod closely. A gray form-fitting suit coated a male body. A sword of some kind was attached to his back along with a blindfold that hid his eyes. Despite this, I couldn't help but feel as if he was watching me.

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One of them stepped closer. A female this time. She eyed my appearance warily. Her eyes, however, watched my gun with an almost zealous glare. "I don't suppose I could ask you to raise both your hands up while we read you your rights?"

"You supposed correctly." My voice aired out dryly. The woman sighed before hardening her glare towards me. Her form tensed but she didn't move.

I would rather think that was a wise choice on her part.

Another dead body would have joined this already gloomy atmosphere if she moved.

I was going to do it anyways.

They don't know that, however.

"It's a shame then," the blind man continued the conversation. His tone was idler than the woman yet more firm. "We were willing to pay a ransom for the release of your prisoners." His voice became void of emotion. "Alive."

I scoffed. "Indeed and I am sure that you all were willing to let me go after I get paid this 'handsome' reward."

"Perhaps." His voice shifted back into a more idle tone. "Though I am afraid that we will never know."

"It is a shame." My finger pressed lightly on the trigger. The heroes tensed at my action. I gave a grim smile. "That you do not understand."

"Then help us understand." Curiosity yet caution filled his voice. He gripped tightly on his sword. "What is your motive here? You hit a bank, kill every single innocent life in the room then proceed to aim your gun at yourself."

"Think back to what you just said." I gave a smirk. I watched as he silently contemplated his words. "Now give me your conclusion."

The blind man grit his teeth. "You're insane."

I hummed silently before shaking my head. "Not quite."

"An extremist. One of those cult fanatics." The disgust in his voice was evident.

"Warmer." I nodded. "Though not warm enough."

I could feel the heat of his glare from here. "I have no clue."

"It's because you simply do not understand." I gave a throaty chuckle. "Do you easily think that any amount of money can ease a dying man?"

The dots connected.

"Suicidal with the motive of taking as many lives as possible." The hero's mouth twisted into an ugly expression. It seems he understood my plans.

Not all of it but he's close enough for me to worry.

I bowed in a grandiose fashion, the comfortable weight of my gun still pointing at my skull. I gave one final smile.

Tonight, I offer up a prayer. A prayer filled with blood. Oh god, oh lord, oh mighty judge of death, tonight I offer a token of gratitude. Will you reject me still after this festival of murder?

The demigod seemed to have predicted my actions. His sword flashed in the night as he moved at speeds no human can match.

To me, everything moved in slow motion.

As my finger finally pressed the trigger, only one thought breached my mind.

"Are you proud of me now?"

And with this, I offer up the ultimate sacrifice.

I never understood the need for people to dress like it meant anything. Here I am dressed in a black suit that fits their rules of a civilized society but on the inside, I will never be one of them. I wonder if they would accept me if they saw me sitting here drenched in the blood of their wife's and children.

Here I am surrounded by the police and properly some of those annoying demigods and the only thing I can think about is the sweet smell of blood surrounding me.

Some lore I should know - When they first arrived fifty years ago the world applauded them, but I was the only one that sees them for who they really are, self-proclaimed heroes who denied us paradise. But even the world knows that they are not the role models we make them out to be, they started as incomputable hero's who fought for life but they couldn't deny their only weakness. That they were still humans. They behave like they are the ideal being but you can tell they are flawed by only looking at the practical costumes they make for themselves and walk around like they are gods. I wonder if god enjoyed seeing them kill each other for useless things like money and power.

'Why do you still reject me?' I heard the voice of God. Why couldn’t he understand that everything I  have done was because I wanted to make him proud? But even now while I'm sitting surrounded by offerings he is still not happy, what can I do to show him my love for him. What kind of offering do I need to make?

 If only he understood that no amount of money can replace my last offering to my god.

I have killed hundreds of people but I always felt that something was missing, the last piece of the puzzle. The ultimate sacrifice.