November 21st
A crowd gathered, suffering through the chill. They all wanted one thing: To see UV's handiwork. He hit another area, this time being a father who was supposedly using his daughter in disgusting ways. The daughter and mother refused to talk about UV, and what he said. The crime happened in a nice suburban home, the last place one would expect such a heinous act to happen. The mother made the call as soon as her daughter confessed. She knew that Matt would find a way to get out. He had a bad temper, she was scared of the consequences. She heard a rumor about Ultraviolence. If you make a Facebook post, there's a chance UV can see it. Fans started using the line 'UV Save Me' as a serious call for help. UV answered her prayers.
Summer waded through the crowd, getting to the front porch where the police guarded the entrance. She flashed her press badge. "I'm with The Minute."
The cop shrugged. "So?"
"So let me in! I know the detective."
"Yeah, right. And I'm–"
"Let her in," a voice said. Turning around, Detective Leon Barker stood at the door, looking superior. He looked more like a model than a detective with his fine jaw, fair white skin, neat stubble, and short hair that covered his eyes a bit. He sighed upon saying that. "Like we're gonna find anything anyway."
The cop reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Summer to walk in. She followed Leon. "What happened here?"
Leon scoffed. "No thank you? A kiss?"
She groaned. "Thanks, asshole. And you blew your shot already."
"Come on. It was a hard case. You expect me to… Know what, not the time."
"When is it ever?" Summer asked with a smug face. "Now deets. Tell."
With a huff, Leon walked over to the living room, the scene of the crime, already in the process of being cleaned. "Hours ago, Isobel Elliott made a post to Facebook asking for UV to take care of her husband, Matt Elliott. He allegedly was molesting her daughter, Mia Elliott, age 15. Ultraviolence comes in, castrates Matt, and kills him." He points to the UV symbol on the wall above the fireplace. "Written in Matt's blood. Evidence shows that he was still alive when he castrated the fucker."
Summer was writing, shaking her head slowly. "Can't say I feel bad, but damn."
"Really living up to the name. But this isn't the law. We can't prove if he even did those things, because he's dead."
"You don't believe Mia?" Summer asked.
"I believe her. But I'm not the law. I'm not a jury. Everyone deserves due process."
Summer shrugged. "Sure. If he did what he did…"
"He deserved it. Yeah." Leon put his hands in his pockets, looking at the bloody floors, the stained carpet. "The job doesn't get easier. And we're no closer to getting an ID. You talked to the guy right?"
"Hardly. He sent me a letter and a tape. What you saw in the article was literally all I had on the guy."
Leon rubbed his chin, thinking of anything. "All we can do is check cameras, and hope he slips up."
Summer looked a bit surprised. "You can't get any ID? No fingerprints?"
"The problem is the blood. There's so much mixture of blood and carnage, I don't know where the flow starts and the trail ends. Bodies are piling, and we can't ID them all quick enough since we react to the fucker and his movements." He walked over to a blood stained picture of the former family, so happy on vacation. When did it all go wrong? Was it always this bad?
Summer was not too far. "More will come. You got this."
Leon shook his head slowly at the entire situation, continuing to stare at the damned family. "Maybe."
November 22nd
Dante and Rose hung out at Jackie's place while he was out doing what he always did at night. They decided to watch TV. Rose laid on the couch, while Dante rested on the floor, leaning on a cushion. He glanced at her every now and then. While he'd get over it, his heart yearned for her. He valued her in such a high regard, he didn't care about the romance. He could trust her with anything. He was hooked, and needed that woman in his life, no matter what. But sometimes, he wished he could share the love only lesbians can provide. "Yo, Rose. If I turned into a girl, would you date me?"
"Pfft," Rose laughed out, shocked at the odd question. "I have no idea how to answer that question."
"What, you calling me a ugly woman?"
"Of course not, Dante. You trying to tell me something?"
Dante laughed with her. "Aye aye, don't turn this on me! It's a what-if that you have yet to answer."
She shook her head, smiling. "Whatever. No, cause you're too good at annoying me. And you don't listen to my recommendations! Did you listen to How Soon Is Now?"
"Yes, god! And don't pretend you don't enjoy my company."
"I won't boost your ego, jock."
As the two finished chuckling, the TV blared more news about Ultraviolence, this time raiding a man's house. Theo Saunders, a judge, recently knowingly sent an innocent black man to jail for decades, apparently he was really late to golf that afternoon, as he was seen golfing that same day. He was found in his office, gutted with a machete stuck in his chest. Out of shock, Dante spoke his mind. "Damn, Jackie…"
Rose turned sharply. "You knew?!"
Dante looked at her with an amused face. "It was pretty obvious."
"Man… The whole neighborhood's gonna know at this rate."
"Not like I'd snitch."
"If you do, I'll gut you, Dante."
He smirked. "You promise?"
November 23rd
The dark depths of the sewers was the last place anyone would look for any crime. That's where the Haitian gang, The Roseline Boys, reside. Armed with machetes and AKs, they push product through the shitty sewers, arriving at their destination in record time. No traffic, no problem. Sounded like a perfect hit for Jackie.
Eight bodies lay dead. One with bullets in his stomach, chest, and head. Many with stabs to the face and neck, blood still oozing into the nasty water. Rats already began feasting on the dead, as they scurry to their warm, shit-covered meal. Jackie walked with purpose, bleeding from the forehead again, holding a blood soaked machete to the next room. He kicked down the door, seeing a Roseline boy waiting for something. The rush of the water was too loud to figure out a winner. It was too late for him to react, as Jackie swung and almost cleaved the man's head in two. He hit it at an angle, so it was stuck in his head as he fell dead. Another rushed through another door on the other side of the room. He dove to the side and shot a man twice in the chest, making him fall, holding his body to contain the blood somehow.
Jackie stepped over the man, popping him in the face to finish him. He looked up to see a drug lab, and some of the Roseline Boys cower in fear. They were speaking in Creole, so he couldn't understand, but he understood one word.
Ultraviolence.
He smirked. They were truly scared. He smirked, walking toward them. He grabbed a can of gasoline and poured it everywhere. None of them tried to attack UV as he calmly emptied the can. He began speaking. "You make and distribute crack. You use these sewers as a system of abuse. I cannot let you continue to poison the city." Once empty, he tossed the can and pulled out a box of matches.
One of the Roseline Boys got bold and charged UV. He quickly popped him in the leg, immobilizing him, lying in the gas. Jackie lit the match. "You all deserve… Violence."
With a simple toss, the room was set ablaze. The thug who was shot burned immediately, screaming in agony, wailing loudly. It was a disturbing sight, seeing a man char, his skin melting as he died slowly. The rest of the Boys tried to escape his fate, but Jackie closed and bar the door quickly. He could hear the yelling for help, the moment the fire caught up to them, then… Silence. Nothing. The fire raged, the sewers flowed, but nobody spoke. Jackie put his forehead against the metal door, feeling the heat of the flame on the other side. In a sense it soothed him. He ignored the smell of a burnt corpse. This was for justice. He needed to do this, he thought. UV disengaged from the door and calmly walked over the bodies, writing UV on the sewer walls using spray paint.