Saints.

Alex stared at the limp, lifeless body that hung from the ceiling, as it swayed back and forth in a delicate rhythm. The girl's neck had been cut, and her tongue was grotesquely ripped out, and was barely visible from the layers of red and brown blood that flooded from her open wound. The barbed wire that she was hanging from was old and rusty and poked her skin in several places along her neck. She was beautiful, even in death, Alex noticed. Another victim of the Saints. He was wondering why she was displayed outside his house.

Alex got home. The girl's death had not effected him. The Saints killed a lot of people in his area, Drug addicts, dealers and prostitutes mostly. Alex was not afraid, mostly because he was a law abiding citizen. The Saints were more of a vigilante group with a slight difference. Anyone from the local law enforcement to the sweet old woman who sold you cigarettes even though you were underaged could be members. Hell they could be the leaders of your local branch. Most people described them as horrible, gruesome people who take too much into their own hands. Alex disagreed. He thought they were heroes! He loved how they seemed to be the only people dedicated to wiping the metaphorical scrum off the street.

The wind was ferocious that night, and Alex almost missed the rhythmic knocking on his door. He sat up on the couch where he had fallen asleep and checked his watch. "Four A.M. Fuck!" he said under his breath. It was likely just a police check. The knocking sounded again. "I'm coming" Alex said, more to himself than the unknown visitor. He opened the already unlocked door and saw a young woman, in her twenties, probably. "Do you have a phone?" she giggled, obviously pissed drunk, he could smell it off her.

"Yeah I have a phone." Alex sighed. "Here, I'll go get it for ya."

"K k!" she exploded, and continued to dramatically fall to the floor and roll around, kicking Alex's various garden decorations.

Alex returned with his mobile about five minutes later. The girl was gone. She had probably wandered off in her drunken state to reek havoc around the neighborhood. This was the reason that Alex liked the Sai... His though was cut off mid sentence by a dull thud cover head. It sounded someone walking cautiously over a hardwood floor in high-heels. Alex could hear a small scraping sound. This person was dragging something. Something heavy.

He quickly jumped and went straight to the nearest wall. She would not sneak up on him from behind. The living room was illuminated by a soft flicker from the old TV, and it made the room look smaller than it was. The darkness looked like it was over powering the tired light. The street lamp outside partially helped with lighting the room. He could spill see the young girl hanging from the street lamp. Her body still swayed with the vicious wind, like she was dancing with Death himself.

Alex grabbed the nearest weapon, which was a black, metal poker from the fireplace. It ended in a gentle curve, and deadly point. After a quick scan of the room, he approached the stairs, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He felt, excited. All this shit had been happening, with random people being killed outside his home, it would feel good to whack someone over the head until they're unrecognisable. He relished in the thought.As soon as he got upstairs he felt something large and blunt hit him in the back of his head, and he completely blacked out.

Alex woke up with a thumping headache. He was tied to a very uncomfortable chair and trying to adjust himself just made him more uncomfortable. He didn't recognize where was, but that was probably because it was dark. He could hear someone talking on the phone. She sounded a world away, but I'm his blurry vision he could make out the light of a phone and the softly illuminated face of the drunk bimbo from earlier. She was pacing, but speaking calmly.

"Yes, I got your mark. It was thus guy right? Okay, I'll have a report on Tuesday. Because my kid's birthday is Monday. K. Right bye." she snapped her flip phone shut.

"Who are you?" Alex asked calmly, trying to appear strong.

"My name is Madeline" she said, as she lightly caressed the side of his face, and the punched him. The pure shock and pain was enough to make Alex screech, then whimper slightly. "I will be your Saint today" she smiled as she pulled her face close to his. The already swollen bruise on his left cheek made her laugh. "Your weak!"

"Why am I being treated like this!" Alex screamed, mostly to drown out her laughter. Madeline ignored him as she slipped into a pair of latex gloves that reflected the glow of the streetlight. He was still at home, he thought. Now that his vision was focusing he could make our the thick barbed wire swirling over the top of the lamppost. "That girl" he said. "She was put there so you would know which house to come to?" he asked.

"Yes the whore was" she smiled "please address her as a whore, even in death, she is nothing but filth." Madeline spat out the words like poison.

"Why am I being treated like the scrum of the streets?" he asked calmly, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

"I don't know" she answered almost with sympathy in her voice. "I just got orders to take you out." She whispered, followed by a short silence, broken by the sound of her drawing out her comically over sized knife. Madeline leaned in close. "I promise, Alex DeMarta," she whispered. "This'll only hurt a lot."