"No, no, no, this can't be real," Jesse vehemently tried to deny what was in front of him. His brother's cold, unblinking eyes, his jaw agape and tongue lolling out, neck spraying steaming blood, detached from the rest of his body—forced Jesse to confront the truth. A truth he couldn't bear.
His eyes started to leak tears, his heart ached, and his head hung low.
"I'm sorry, son, but this is for your own good."
Jesse didn't reply. Someone grabbed him by the hair, forced him to look up at his brother's head.
The woman holding the head gently lowered it into the pool of blood. She didn't bother closing its eyes.
"Jess my baby" she spoke, her voice now soft and tender. More importantly, Jesse recognized the voice. The masked woman slowly removed her mask, and even with the crooked nose, he would have recognized that face.
She walked over to Jesse, holding his face in her hands. "You're all grown up now," she said.
"Mom," the word slipped out of Jesse's mouth.
"Yes, baby, mom is back to take you with her." Her eyes filled with tears, which she quickly wiped away. "Let's do this, let's be a happy family again," she said joyfully, standing in her dead son's blood.
Jesse was stunned, unable to form a reply. He just watched as his mother backed up, kissed his father, and stabbed him in the gut, disemboweling him. She didn't let go of the knife until he collapsed, lying next to his elder son.
Jesse just watched.
His mother smiled at him, waved goodbye, and pierced her own chest with the same knife.
Jesse just watched.
He witnessed the world end right before his eyes, powerless to stop it. He watched.
Until he started laughing. "HaHaHa." He couldn't stop the laughter, nor could he stop his tears.
"Good enough."
The man responsible for all of this approached Jesse with a hair in hand. But Jesse paid him no attention, his eyes locked onto the scene of carnage.
The man grabbed him by the jaw, opened his mouth, and forced a tuft of hair into it. Jesse didn't resist much and swallowed it down.
Afterward, the man stepped back, studying him with curiosity. This scene was also observed by something else—a drone flying outside, its lens trained on the room hidden in the dark, rainy night.
Hunger. Jesse felt it surging inside him, growing constantly, soon overwhelming his very sense of self. He wanted to eat, consume, devour. The urge was maddening.
"Boom!" A blast rang out, knocking everyone in the room down, except for the Pigman. He remained in place, looking up at the shattered roof as debris and dust surrounded him. His smile faded as he grimly watched the chopper hovering above. Then it rained—not water, but bullets. The masked figures flinched as bullets tore through them, ripping chunks of flesh with each hit, and then the hellfire stopped.
Dead. Everyone was dead. Only one man remained, standing beneath the chopper, unblinking.
Ropes unfurled from the chopper, and two men clad in military uniforms descended slowly.
But the Pigman didn't notice them, his gaze fixed on the chopper.
Until a figure jumped from it, making the chopper sway from his weight.
"Crash!!" His landing created a small crater in the room's floor. The figure stood up slowly.
Clad in medieval knight armor, as the dust settled around him, his features became clear—a smirk on thin lips, eyes sharp.
"I was hoping to make a grander entrance," he boomed, "alas, I'll have to make do with this, since you, sir, wouldn't stop staring at me."
The Pigman didn't reply.
"Not a talkative one, huh?" said the armored man. "Anyway, I am Sir Zack Leonard IV. You may call me Zack, and I'm here to request a duel with your esteemed self," Zack said. Beneath his stoic demeanor, the Pigman could sense the oddball's excitement.
The Pigman's smile slipped from his face.
"Not here, Zack," commanded a calm voice. Its owner was securing Jesse's body on a stretcher with the help of another soldier.
"Sir, yes, sir!" replied Zack with a booming voice tinged with laughter. The soldier's face crumpled with irritation. "Whatever," he muttered as he signaled the chopper to ascend. It lifted off, taking them with it and leaving Zack and the Pigman alone.
"There was no point in saving the kid; he's already broken" said the pigman in a calm voice.
Before he could say anything more, Zack raised his arm, his palm facing forward. "That's not for you to worry about; we have our ways," he replied.
"Now, prepare for battle," Zack said, brandishing his longsword. The Pigman readied himself for an attack.
But he didn't register anything as an invisible force struck him, throwing him through the wall. He landed outside on the ground.
"He's strong—this Zack guy," he thought as he lay in the mud. The rain had stopped some time ago.
"You are weak, good sir. Is that all you've got?" Zack's mocking voice echoed from afar.
"Well, this won't be fair then; let me help you."
Zack stepped out through the hole in the wall that the Pigman's body had created.
The Pigman slowly stood up. The other side of his face was blasted off as well, making it impossible to tell if he was still smiling or not. But it didn't matter; his lord would take care of him.
A smile spread across Zack's face. He pointed his sword to the sky and shouted, his voice booming, "LET JUSTICE BE SERVED!"
Following this, the Pigman felt a foreign strength enter his body, it felt like his master was blessing him again, but he knew it was Zack's doing. But why? And then he got his answer.
Zack threw away his sword and proclaimed, "Now justice will be served."
The man was a nutjob.