Snippet #2754787

"Please don't kill me," whimpered the man.
Zodd stared down at the supposed "constable" in loathing. This man was supposed to be a warrior. He was supposed to protect the citizens.
When the man first saw Zodd, he shot him. Shot him, with a pistol, just because he looked frightening. Granted, it hadn't actually harmed Zodd, but Zodd still felt hatred at this man. He could have been just a passerby, a person seeking help from the police. And this man, this bastard, had shot him for what he apparently thought was threatening.
To be fair, Zodd had been intending to be a bit threatening. He'd wanted to challenge the man to a fair duel - not necessarily to the death, as Zodd had not felt like bloodshed. But then he was shot. Zodd had roared, and the man had fled down this alleyway, where Zodd eventually pinned him down.
He wanted to kill this man. So badly. His kind should be wiped off the Earth.
"I-if you don't kill me, I will leave you alone," stammered the constable. "I'll not report you. Please."
Zodd stared at the man. He then grunted, getting off, walking away.
He still didn't feel like bloodshed. Even though this man was cowardly, Zodd ought to give him a second cha-
Click.
It was the faint sound of a gun loading. Zodd spun around, finding the constable standing up, pistol raised at Zodd's head, ready to fire. No doubt visions of glory had been swimming in his head, but now they fled as fear took it's place.
With one fell swing of his arm, Zodd sent his giant cleaver soaring, cutting through the man's torso before burying itself in a crate. The man fell in two pieces.
No. No more life for those who did not deserve it.
"I kill, therefore I am," he reminded himself. He must always remember that.
He walked away, the corpse left to rot.