Penalties

I loved it so much. It gave me power, power that no man has ever tasted before. I played God, deciding how and when those bastards would die. I had many techniques, all of them painful. My personal favorite, I would take a crochet needle and lodge it into the son of a bitch's temple. I would slowly pull it out, taking with it a chunk of their brain. As they crumpled to the floor, paralyzed, I would let out a blood-curtling cackle, something I couldn't do without partaking in my passion. They would gaze up at me, their eyes full of life, full of terror, and defenseless. At this point, I would begin to feel the power. We would gaze at each other for hours. I could see in their eyes, the portal to their dark souls, that they were trying to get up and strangle me. But I had the power, not THEM!
After amusing myself for several hours, I would douse them in lighter fluid and make a trail leading to them all around the cold, dark warehouse. I would then drop a match. As they suffered in their paralytic state, their hollow eyes would follow the dancing flame as it circled them, looking as if it were performing a sacrificial dance. Ever so slowly, the flame would close in on its prey. Then, in a burst of light, it would start to consume the shit bag called a human. I could see their cold eyes wanting to scream, and that's when I could see how the bastards would look burning in Hell. Nothing made me happier than to see the body burning, the god-awful stench of burning flesh filling my lungs. The last thing that would fill their ears would be my cackling laughter as their body was being incinerated. That was when they realized they had really fucked up.
Another one of my favorite techniques was to take a thin needle and to shove it through their jugular veins. Blood would shoot out in thin streams, about the size of stream that comes out of a water gun. Their hands would fling themselves to the throat, trying to stop the red from leaving the body. But, their effort were always in vain. The blood would seep through the cracks between their fingers, bathing the hands. Eventually, their legs would get weak and they fell to the ground, and I could hear them drowning in their own blood. As they tried to yell out and curse me, the only thing that was emitted from their mouth was red bubbles that would pop and splatter their face with a deep red. Slowly, ever so slowly, the life would creep out of them. Sometimes, when I really wanted to see them suffer, I would start off by chopping off each appendage, one by one. Then, I would hack at the elbows and knees with a dull axe until they separated from the body. Then, I would play Russian Roulette with them, aiming at their throat. Each time the hammer clicked, they cringed in fear. Each time it was my turn, I aimed it at my head. I could see in their eyes that they wanted to see my brains spattered on the floor of the warehouse. But I always knew where the bullet was, I never lost. When the bullet penetrated their throat, their body would jolt. They would wrythe in pain, and what was left of their limbs would beat against the floor, splattering blood everywhere, only killing them faster. The thumping would slowly lighten, their eyes would slowly glaze over. The pupils would widen, consuming the entire eye. Then I would know the mother fucker was finally dead.
My name was Justice, I gave out punishment, always being the death penalty. Now, I'm behind the confines of these bars. All because I got rid of those sick bastards, those damn freaks. They paid for what they did, that got what they deserved. They should have thought twice before messing with children. They burn in Hell for what they did. I will get out of here, and I will complete my duties. I'll see them suffer the consequences once more...