What the Dark Might Bring (2603 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by comicbookguy (View user info) at 2005-07-24 20:45:44 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
John Ramsey the third was born into substantial wealth.
He was the only son of a superficial socialite and a wealthy politician, industrialist, and philanthropist.
At age 8, during a family vacation to Egypt, John inexplicably lost his parents and tour group during a supervised visit to the pyramids. He was found 4 hours later, shivering, barely able to stand, blabbering through uncontrollable tears that he never wanted to be left alone in the dark again.
At age 12, the violent temper, which was uncharacteristic of both his parents, bizarrely caused John to punch a six year old in the face because the young boy unfortunately bumped into him in the school halls.
At 15, John was arrested for beating a girl to a bloody pulp after she refused to kiss him good night at the end of a first date. He was tried as a juvenile and given 500 hours of community service, much to the chagrin of the girl's family and those in courtroom attendance.
At 17, John got a girl pregnant. Unfortunately, he achieved this by raping her. Despite his model good looks, John was not very subtle, and every so often he would meet a girl who refused to succumb to his forceful sexual advances. His father, desperate to maintain a solid reputation amongst rich elite, wrote the girls alcoholic/junkie mother a $50,000 check with the intention that she would leave town and get her daughter an abortion. Like many of John's dilemmas, a simple cash influx from his father made all problems go away.
**
In his downtown condominium in the heart of the big city, John Ramsey looked at himself in the mirror and realized just how glorious it was to be him. His father had gotten him a top executive position in his giant conglomerate of a company, a title which endowed him with stock options, profit sharing bonuses, and a substantial 4 million dollar a year salary. A generous gene pool had given him his mother's piercing blue eyes, sandy brown hair, and his father's broad shoulders. With a perfect smile and charming personality to boot, perhaps the only chink in Mr. Ramsey's infallible armour was his fear of the dark, though years of therapy up until he was 15 seemed to have substantially quelled some of those fears. Nonetheless, John Ramsey's apartment was fully lit and unbeknownst to any of his female companions, he still slept with a night light, a habit he had yet to break despite the professional help. It was for this reason that John Ramsey never spent the night at another women's house, nor allowed a woman to spend the night with him after sex. If it were another man, perhaps his lovers would have questioned this behaviour, but this was John Ramsey, wealthy and powerful executive, and thus his many sexual conquests considered it privilege enough to bask in his company.
On this particular night, Mr. Ramsey was awaiting the company of a tall, blue eyed brunette he had the pleasure of meeting at a bar last week. Unfortunate circumstances had prohibited them from getting together after hours that very same night, but John knew that tonight he would satisfy his strong sexual appetite which he likely inherited from his father.
Unfortunately for John, the night was about to be ruined because without so much as a warning, John's $2M penthouse on the 48th floor of the Walton Street Apartments lost complete power, turning the previously brightly lit apartment into a sea of black.
John instinctively grabbed the kitchen counter and steadied himself. His attempts at taking slow, deep breathes in order to lower his rapidly increasing heart rate to a level of normality was effectively thwarted by the sound of a raspy voice that John could only describe as pure sin.
"Hello John." The voice was terrifying. John's knees felt weak.
Memories of Egypt began to overwhelm him.
"Scared John? I thought you would be. Not a big fan of the dark eh Johnny? You fucking pussy."
"Who...who are you? What do you want?"
The man laughed.
"There's going to plenty of time for formalities John, don't you worry. Just know that I am a very scary man and quite simply, I'm here to fucking kill you."
The casualness of the man's voice sent John into a blubbering panic.
"Listen! I have money, I can give you anything you want! I..."
"John, are you fucking shitting me? No shit you have money. I can see you standing there in your bowling alley of a kitchen."
John's breathe became shallow as he broke into a cold sweat. He slowly felt around the counter for something, anything, that he could use to protect himself from this man.
All of a sudden he heard the THUD.
He jumped back in horror, banging his knee into the corner of the counter.
"I'm afraid I've made a mess of your kitchen floor John. Blood tends to do that."
"Blood?" John thought. Then it him. "Oh God...Carla...."
"It's a damned shame too John. She was a sexy bitch. And by the way, her name was Lori."
As he struggled to make sense of what was going on, John felt a pool of liquid surround his feet.
"Lori bled a lot John."
He threw up all over himself.
John's wretches were like music to the man's ears. He drew much pleasure in his suffering.
The man's laughter cut into John like a white hot knife and he instinctively began to cry.
The man suddenly snapped.
"You fucking pussy, stop fucking crying! You snivelling shit, you think this is hardship motherfucker? You were born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth! I on the other hand came into this world with a cock in my ass John. You know what that means? I've been fucked my entire life."
"I...but I..." fear stifled him from forming any cogent words. He tried to take deep breathes.
"What does this have to do with me?" he finally croaked out.
"You know what I love about rusty knives John?" the man mused, completely ignoring his question. "When you cut off somebody's fingers, it takes just a little longer for the knife to get through the bone. I like that, because it ensures that the person whose fingers you're cutting off screams just a little bit more."
John whimpered.
"Look at you John. Not so tough in the dark are you? It's a little different when you have no control. Remember Egypt, John? That was scary, wasn't it?"
John recoiled in horror. "How do you know about that?"
"BOO MOTHERFUCKER!"
John tried to scream, but the fear consumed him. He fell to his knees and began urinating himself. In just five minutes, this man had erased over five years of emotional therapy.
"You know what I love about the dark John? The unknown. The fear. I've lived my whole life in dark John. I embrace it. And you? I can smell your fear all the way over here John. Look at you, you snivelling cock. You're too afraid to move. Just see how pathetic you are, lying in your own urine."
John just lay against the counter, his eyes closed, shaking uncontrollably, tears rolling down his face. He couldn't breathe.
"You know what I love about the dark John? The unknown," the man repeated. "You just don't know what the dark might bring John, and guess what it's brought you today."
The man grabbed a clump of John's hair and slammed his head against the counter.
Without warning, all the lights in the apartment turned on. The lights blinded John for a second as his eyes adjusted to the seemingly powerful light. When he opened his eyes, he wished a thousand times that he hadn't.
Staring down at him was the most wretchedly disfigured face he had ever seen. The man removed his night goggles and stared at John with dead, grey eyes.
"It's time to get to the formalities John. 21 years ago, a woman gave birth to a baby, six weeks premature."
John shut his eyes tight, wishing, praying, miraculously hoping that it would all go away.
The man slapped him. "Fucking pay attention John!"
John slowly looked up at the man.
"Still confused? Doesn't really matter anymore I suppose. Stupidity and greed must be hereditary. Why else would your father give money to an alcoholic junkie and expect her to pay for her daughter's abortion, let alone support a child and her teenage mother?"
Realization dawned on John's face as the man pulled a knife from out of his pants.
"You know what I love about the dark John? You never know what the dark might bring, and today it's brought you your death."
The man licked his knife from shaft to point.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is John Wilkins, but you can call me John Ramsey the fourth. I am your bastard son. And I'm here to fucking kill you."
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Submitted by GreatOdensRaven (user info) at 2009-06-12 15:39:57 EDT (#)
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