Dark Moonlighting by Scott Haworth Page B

swear to God.”
    “Oh, it’s far too late for that now,” I
answered with a shake of my head.
    My slow approach towards him had brought me
to his original position in front of the computers. Trevor was
still backing up, careful to keep a gap of about ten feet between
us. It was of no concern to me. A ten-foot gap was not really a gap
at all given my abilities. I took delight in his fear, enjoying
every second of his pathetic attempt to escape. I quickly bent
down, snatched a mouse and ripped its cord from the computer. I
kept my vision locked on my prey’s eyes so I could enjoy his
terrified reaction.
    “I’ll shut the whole company down!” Trevor
stammered as his voice cracked. “I’ll get a real job that doesn’t
involve annoying people. I’ll volunteer at an animal shelter and
help adorable puppies and kittens. I can give up my sinful ways and
join the priesthood, anything you want! Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.
Okay? I’m sorry!”
    “How many spam e-mails do you send out a
day?” I questioned, ignoring his plea for mercy. “300,000? Half a
million?”
    “No, man. Nowhere near that much. I’m just a
small time guy. I mean, look at this operation,” he said as he
motioned around the near empty room. “My max volume is like…
10,000. Tops.”
    “Strange then that of such a small number of
spam e-mails that you send out, I would personally receive 143 in
the last week that could be traced back to you.”
    “It must be a glitch,” Trevor explained. He
glanced back and discovered that he was nearing the far wall of the
room. “I’ll fix it. I swear to God I’ll—”
    “You send out thousands of e-mails, and you
get maybe a fraction of a percent of the people to fall for it? Who
doesn’t know about spam by now? I have to imagine you mostly
swindle adorable grandmothers who have just learned how to use a
computer. But hey, it’s all free for you right? You annoy millions
of people, but the hell with them. Anything to make a buck.”
    “You’re right,” Trevor emphatically agreed as
his back hit the wall. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a
terrible—”
    I stretched the mouse cord out between my two
clenched fists. “You’re a blight on humanity. A pathetic organism
that survives at the expense of decent human beings. You’re a
virus. You don’t deserve to exist.”
    I closed the gap between us in a blur of
speed. He was in the process of pulling his arm back to throw a
punch when my hand clenched around his throat. I spun him around,
wrapped the mouse cord around his neck and squeezed it tight. His
fingers clawed desperately at the cord, scratching gouges out of
his own flesh in the process. After a few seconds his body went
limp from a lack of oxygen.
    I removed the mouse cord from around his neck
and let his body fall to the floor. Adrenaline surged through my
veins as I inspected my victim. Tiny trickles of blood flowed from
the self-inflicted wounds in his throat. I ran my index finger
through the precious fluid, closed my eyes and inserted the finger
into my mouth. The wonderful taste made me moan in delight. I
grabbed Trevor by the hair and dragged him back to the center of
the room. Two mouse cords were enough to properly bind his arms and
legs. He was no match for me physically, but my next task would be
easier if he was bound. Next, I removed two objects from the
pockets of my pants. The first was a gag that I carefully inserted
into his mouth. I was confident that the neighborhood was abandoned
this late on a Saturday night, but I could not risk a random
passerby overhearing the commotion. The second object was what was
going to cause the commotion. I unfolded the sheet of printer paper
and waited anxiously for my victim to regain consciousness. It took
less than five minutes, but it felt like an eternity.
    I stood over him menacingly with the piece of
paper while he woke up. When his eyes went wide in terror, and he
tried to scream through the gag, I was confident that he