You are standing over the person that tortured and murdered your family ... what do you do ?

Sweat dripped slowly down both men's necks, gathering in a small pool around the lesser man. John was gasping on the floor, the firm hands that were clasped around his neck cutting off all supply of oxygen. His vision began to flux, a rainbow of colours that fluttered in and out of view, but he was conscious enough to see that the man in front of him was strong. Stronger than an ox, it appeared, but details were n't important right now, not when John was gradually losing the one thing that he prioritized more than money; his life. He kicked out a few times, not due to him trying to escape, however. His body was in spasm, resorting to desperate measures to avoid the cold clench of death around it. Only when the fog had started to fade in did the hands around his neck cease their tightening. They released their hold and returned to the side of their owner. 
 
 His vision was swimming, his lungs desperate to intake enough air just to keep him alive, his muscles aching with lack of oxygenated blood to satisfy them. Whilst John was groaning on the floor, his attacker stood indimidatingly, towering over the poor man. A sharp jab sent John sprawling, collapsing into a heap on the ground. Screams of a family ricocheted around the alleyway, and John's peripheral vision displayed a young man impaled to the wall on a red hot, keen poker. A sudden excruciating pain shot through his abdomen, imitating the pain the young man must have felt. 
 
 It was now that he was aware that the man that was previously choking him had his hands raised, like he was beckoning. The man slowly turned his hand over, and John descended into a world of madness and panic. Feelings of fear were bounding around his mind, and the man disappeared, replaced instead by a group of four who stood in front. He recognised three of them, having killed them and robbed them the previous week, but the other man, a tall, muscular man, was someone John had never seen before. A sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe this was the man that stood in front of him, desperate for revenge. The moment the thought entered his head, three of the figures melted into the shadowy form of a skull. It opened it's mouth unnaturally wide, and smoke erupted from it, surrounding John. Pain flared through him, like a thousand white hot knives pressing against his chest. Collapsing, he started to scream and shout for life, for mercy, for death. 
 
 `` End it, for gods sake! Please, I'm sorry, just let me die!'' 
 
 A slow drawl followed his screams, undoubtedly spoken by the man. 
 `` Fuck you.'' 
 
 The skull enveloped John, and he paled, a blinding light blinding him. The pain numbed, and thousand of images flickered through his eyes in a split second, pictures of everyone he loved and killed, everything he enjoyed and despised. The final image shown in this limbo state was the picture of the man, smiling. 
 
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 The nurses did n't even have to check over him to tell he was dead. The emancipated skin that layered the bones, the dry lips that cracked with every movement of the hospital bed. His face however, was the clear evidence. The mangled jaw, the twisted and bloodied nose, the eyes that were violently and unceremoniously gouged out. His neck was a mass of blue, clearly swollen beyond what was possible to survive. The man was sent straight to the morgue, where he was swiftly cremated, as per his wishes. As the ashes were processed through the crematory, a tall man stood over it and smiled sadly. It did n't have to come to that, to use his psychic powers and telekinetic abilities to make someone suffer. However, he deserved it. He killed his family, after all.
