The man's hand is reared back, powerful, like a machine, geared and ready. He feels the divine strength inside of him, empowering him, pouring into every vein in his body, richer than his blood. He looks at the woman in front of him; she was a doe eyed specimen with lovely brown hair. The woman is frightened, her body curling up in an instinctive self defense mode. The man senses that he can control her. He unhinges his arm, lets it fly, and hears a thud as the palm of his hand connects with the woman's face. She lets out a scream. The man watches as blood from the woman's mouth spatters onto the ground, leaving blood stains on the mauve carpet.

The woman, shocked out of her deer-in-the-headlight trance, scampers underneath the peeling, secondhand store 3-legged table, like a mouse trying to avoid capture. The man is filled with a twisted heat that floods his body, igniting his fiery temper with a new wave of anger. He strides forward, toward the woman. His muscles flex as he deftly picks up the table, flinging it against the wall, relishing in the satisfaction that spreads throughout his body as it lodges itself in the wall and breaks apart, falling to the ground.

The man stares at the woman's pleading brown eyes. He pulls his leg back and lets it fly. It snaps against the woman's head with brute force, and dirt from the man's shoes falls onto the woman's beautiful brown hair. The woman's lifeless body slumps against the cracked wall.

Outside, the call of a police siren increases, climbing in a crescendo. The man walks over to the lone window in the mutilated room. He hefts himself out of the room. Then, he casually strolls away from the crime scene. He lifts his hand in greeting to a passing car.

He is a smooth criminal.