“Mrs. Winkleson!” the ambitious reported shouted, motioning his camera man to follow him closer to the Winkleson front door. The elderly woman was just coming out of her home that morning, her face covered in dried tears. “Oh Mrs. Winkleson! Tag Swagger with Channel 6 News. Your son was just found mysteriously dead in the middle of the roads of Destiny City, his young body nearly unidentifiable from the brutal mutilation of being run over by a vehicle before it was noticed. The death questionably the cause of the recent short-skirted terrorist attacks. How are you coping with this? Tell me, how does it feel?”

He pushed his microphone into the woman’s face, just barely an inch away from her trembling frowned lips.

“Mr. Swagger,” her voice shook. “Get that blasted microphone away from me and get off my porch. You despicable vulture! How do you sleep at night?”

The old woman scurried back into her home, slamming the door behind her.

“Keith, turn off the ******** camera,” Tag said, snapping his fingers at his cameraman. “And be sure to erase that tape, you know the drill.” It wasn’t the first time that he had a door slammed in his face, was denied an interview, or called out for being insensitive. Hell, that was part of the job – he was very much used to it. Did she have a point, he wondered? Was there a line somewhere that he had crossed? How far gone was he?

“How do you sleep at night?” The question ringed through his mind throughout the workday. No matter how many stories he tried to get involved in, how many hours of work he tried to distract himself with, how many cigarettes he smoked, how many drinks he drank; the question taunted him. ”How do you sleep at night?”

He stumbled home, drunk after trying to drink away his anxieties, tossing his keys onto the end table as he locked his apartment’s door behind him. He fumbled to refrigerator and grabbed a beer, popping off the cap on the counter as he hopped onto it and took a seat. The question still followed him, plaguing the room and his mind. It was inescapable. The voice must be silenced.

He closed his eyes, trying to think of something else – anything else. But his mind kept gravitating towards the Winkleson front porch – Mrs. Winkleson standing there questioning, ”How do you sleep at night?”

He opened his eyes and he was there – standing just where he stood that morning at the Winkleson front porch. He was no longer Tag Swagger, but Lieutenant Osumilte, agent of the Negaverse. It was well past midnight and the lights of the house were all dimmed off and all was quiet inside. He reached for the doorknob and twisted it – locked. Damn.

He looked around, noticing a fake rock by the porch. He lifted it and looked at its bottom – a spare key hidden without subtly. Silly woman. He unlocked her door and invaded her home, creeping through her dark house to her bedroom. He watched her for a moment, sleeping soundly in her bed.

”How do you sleep at night?” the voice echoed.

Osumilite tip-toed to the side of her bed, his shadow in the moonlight masking her sleeping body as he reached one hand onto her. She awoke and tried to scream, but his hand jerked and covered her mouth. He then slammed his other hand into her chest, gripping onto her starseed – her source of life – and yanked it out of her body.

She was dead, and the voice had stopped.

He pocketed her starseed and staggered around her home. He popped open a box on her dresser – the jewels inside sparkled from the moon’s beams crossing through the window. There were thousands of dollars in jewels, all of which ended up in his pocket as well. He grabbed a notepad from one of her counters and scribbled a small note:

Lock your doors, citizens.

- The Senshi
-
He gently placed the note on Mrs. Winkleson’s corpse and left her home quietly, leaving the door wide open.

Tag Swagger returned home that night with thousands of dollars in jewels to place in his collection of stolen loot that he had earned on his nights draining energy. He looked at himself in the mirror above his dresser, grinning in delight.

He was a smug, arrogant man who used people on a daily basis, cared little for their feelings and slept with woman after woman without a care for their personal lives. He drank heavily, smoked like a fiend and treated everyone he knew like s**t. He drained energy from lonely citizens, looted their cash and prize possessions. He broke into elderly women’s homes, murdered them and stole their jewels.

How did he sleep at night?

“I’m awesome,” he smirked. “That’s how I ******** sleep at night.”

((Word count: 815))