The Pitbull: Butcher of Jefferson Street
By day, I’m a retired MMA fighter who now works as a plumber. By night, I am The Pitbull, a vigilante who kills the criminals that the cops are too scared to go after.
After I broke into the Blue Paris nightclub and got revenge on the gangster who killed my son, I thought I may be ready to retire. But I was wrong. The fury I felt in my heart didn’t die when he did, so I carry on, as The Pitbull.
After two months, I’d finally found him.
For over a year, a serial killer that the local news had called The Butcher of Jefferson Street had been hard at work. According to witnesses (the few he left), his MO was to pick up girls at the grimiest, filthiest bars & clubs in the city, drug them, and take them outside to an alley. From there, he’d tear them apart and leave them for dead, on the spot, before disappearing.
The police didn’t give a crap about it, not while it was happening at bars in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. But I cared, and if they weren’t going to do anything about it, I was. So for two months, I hung out in and around all of the worst drinking holes in the city. I even had a pattern of which ones I’d go to on which nights, never repeating the same ones within the same week, to avoid the killer catching onto me.
And then, finally, it happened. After an two hour stakeout outside The Wormhole, I saw a blacked out girl being helped out by a man in a long trenchcoat. He then dragged her into an alley next to the club.
“Finally.” I said as I made my move.
_____
I followed him into the alley, and saw The Butcher place the girl behind a dumpster. Then, I slipped my mask on and yelled “STOP!” before drawing my gun and firing in his direction.
“That was a warning shot.” I replied. The only reason I fired a warning shot first was because at that range, I may have accidentally hit the girl. “If I have to fire again, it won’t be a warning.”
“You a cop or something?”
“Do most cops wear dog masks?” I asked. “Now let her go and come with me, or else.”
He then took off running. I fired at him two more times, but missed, and then took off running after him.
_______
He returned around the corner. I turned it too, and shot again, this time, getting him in the back. He then took cover behind a delivery van.
“Come on out!” I ordered, but he stayed hidden. So I turned around the van, hoping to put him down with my fifth and last shot.
But I wasn’t so lucky. The moment I was in his periphery, I lunged
towards me, and tried to take the gun.In the struggle, I accidentally fired and ended up hitting the wall of the Chinese restaurant beside us.
I then simply let it go. He attempted to fire at me; I’d have deemed it an insult if he didn’t. But he immediately discovered the gun was out of ammo. After tossing it aside, he then turned to a new form of ammo; his blades.
He pulled two knives from underneath his coat and threw them at me. I dodged one, but the other got me in the shoulder. My body armor stopped most of it, but it still pierced at least half an inch into my skin.
“Damn.” I yelled out as he then came at me with a flying sidekick. It knocked me into the wall behind me, and before I could recover, he then threw a roundhouse kick at the side of my head.
I was knocked to the pavement. He then pulled another knife and said “Shame, I was hoping for someone prettier than you to be my next kill. But you’ll do more than satisfy my appetite.”
He tried to stab me in the chest. But I caught his wrist, and stopped his hand before the blade could pierce my chest protector. I then stood up, and pushed him back.
He came at me with a slash. It sliced the back of my arm; hurt like Hell, but wouldn’t be fatal. I then stepped in closer, and popped him right in the nose with my fist. I then followed up by bending over and shooting in for a double take leg takedown.
Once I had him on the ground, I started pounding him with hammerfists. For a few moments, I thought victory was at hand, until he pulled a pocket from his coat, and stabbed me right in the gut.
If it had been a full size knife, I’d have probably died right there. But since his last blade was just a pocket knife, it only barely pierced my armor. But it still stopped me, and gave him the chance to push me off of me, jump back up, and kick me in the head while I was still reeling from the stab.
He tried to kick me again, but I quickly put my hands up to protect my face, and blocked his shin. I then put him in an ankle lock, and didn’t let up until his ankle was dislocated.
I then wrapped his arm around his neck, to try to choke him out and finish him off. He then began slicing at my arm; so instead, I grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him into a wall. He hit the brick head first, basically knocking him out cold.
From there, all I had to do was finish him off with his own pocket knife, and then, I left him there. My work was done, time to go home and let the city take things from there.
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