Justice and Mercy

Prologue

Vallesmere was silent under its blanket of darkness. The world slept as the girl in black moved silently in the dark. Her long black hair was restrained behind her head in a bun, which even now she itched to remove. Thirty feet away, in a tent, slept her target. He had done a terrible wrong, and now the city called upon justice to do its work. The girl crept towards the tent of one Jameson Howard. A man whose crimes defied description in their heinousness. Silently stepping into his tent, she took him by the ankle and dragged him outside. Jameson Howard awoke suddenly, gasping, and started screaming and thrashing from her grip. She slammed his body to the ground, sitting atop him, knife in hand.
“Jameson Howard?”
“Wh-Who are you?!” he sobbed.
“I am Justice” she buried the knife in his throat before his eyes could even register shock. Justice stood above Jameson Howard, “You should die a thousand deaths for what you’ve done. Let your rest be devoid of peace.” Justice cleaned her blade, stepping away from the corpse of Jameson Howard in disgust. What he had done was vile and despicable, but she wondered when her ‘talent’ would force her to do justice upon herself.

♣♣♣

“I can’t do it.”
“Do it, or be dubbed traitor.”
“But…”
“KILL HIM!”
“I’m so, so sorry.” And he was. Nothing tore this soul up more than the prospect of beating a petty thief to death. He looked at the trembling figure, who silently prayed on his knees. Mercifully, the young man finished the thief with a quick blow to the back of the head, killing him instantly and painlessly.
“You are pathetic, Mercy.” The thick, meaty hand of Donovan pounded Mercy’s cheek. Scowling, Donovan lumbered away, his broad form fading into the shadow of the castle.
“You don’t even know my real name…” Mercy whispered. He walked to the body of the petty thief he’d only moments ago slain. Closing the mans eyes, Mercy murmured apologies.
“How can the world be so wrong?” Mercy scuffed his leather boot, embroidered with the sign of the throne.
“When did being born condemn a man?” Mercy sat in the corner of the dungeon and sobbed, even though he knew that the king awaited his presence in the court. Every waking moment of his life, Mercy resented the birthmark between his shoulder blades. The symbol that marked him Supernatural.