[ WP ] The hero beats the villain by stooping even lower .

Sometimes, you realise you're halfway into a field of filth, and you've just got ta keep going. 
 
 It started awhile back, though I did n't know it at the time. Members of my old unit started going missing; Jacobs, Bennett, Smith. One by one they fell, until the old general finally let on to me that something's up. He tried to give me some protection, I'll give the old man his due, but those'guards' were like lambs to the slaughter. They came for me, those with wicked minds and black hearts, but these old hands remembered the training of their youth, and I was able to hold my own. 
 
 They took her though. 
 
 I chased, like a madman on a one way trip to hell I was a picture of obsession, mind and body as one. I discovered my tormentor then. It was Bennett from my old unit, I had been betrayed. They tried to blackmail me, tried to use my love for her to control me, to turn my actions for them. No. 
 
 I fell into my work, working these muscles again in ways I never thought I would. I killed again. For her. I left corpses on planes, threw people from cliffs and spilled the blood of those who stood in my way. I was incensed, and the fury worked my body, my anger a lubricant to my actions. I stole weapons, and killed guards upon my arrest. Innocent men working for society, earning a living. Gone. Never to see another christmas or feel another kiss. All for her. 
 
 I traced them down to an island, and with a little help from a new friend I was there, with all the stolen weaponry I would need. I was the night made flesh. 
 
 I killed again, on a greater scale than before. My brain was locked on her, intent on her as I spilled the blood of hundreds. I Skewered and I shot, I snapped necks and let explosions boil the insides of my enemies as I slaughtered all; husbands, brothers, sons... fathers. They all fell, one by one. I walked through fields of blood, fields of pain, fields of unsung memories and broken dreams. All for her. 
 
 I was nearing her then, and like a hound smelling the blood of it's prey I was driven to her, her and Bennett. My betrayer. 
 
 We fought like gods. Sweat and power fed our own testosterone, though we were equally matched, like yin and yan, white and dark, love and hate. I do n't know how long we fought, how long our bodies collided against each other, with muscle and sinew locked into the dance of the dead. I remember being tired though, so tired, as we wore into one another, tired and in pain. 
 
 Finally it ended, a chance throw of a pipe met the gullet of my foe, and as the blood bubbled from his lips, the madness in him was no more. 
 
 I have killed. I have killed a lot. All for her. All for my Jenny. 
 
 And I would do it again in an instant, if anyone tested me. I'd be back.
