Template:Custom Vigilante Stories

An ex-police officer is enraged by the increase of crime on the streets of his town. While he was fired for his violent and rash methods, he has a strong sense of justice. As the death toll in the town rises, his anger only grows as he finds the criminal's identity is obvious. That night, he makes his final, heavy decision. If the law won't take down this fiend, he'll have to do it himself. He fishes his pistol out of the end table beside his bed, loading it with two bullets. One to kill, and one for backup. He usually didn't miss, but it paid to be cautious. Using the shadow of the night as his disguise, he sneaks into his suspect's house to find them cleaning a bloody knife. I knew it, he thought, his lips curling in disgust at the sight. Letting out a quiet, steady breath, he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. His suspect hit the floor, all signs of life disappearing from their body. Pleased with the results, the man slips back into his home and climbs into his bed. He sleeps soundly, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The following morning, a panicked frenzy meets him in the square. The Doctor had been discovered dead in their home after doing surgery on a wounded patient. Nausea washes over him. The Doctor. He had killed the Doctor. Self-preservation pins his lips together during the day, and misery drags his feet back home that night. He finds his gun resting on the end table, just where he had left it after slaying an innocent soul. The weight returns, crashing down on him heavier than before. One bullet left. (Creative Writing Stories 1st place, credit to TheDetectiveL)

The Vigilante was a simple man at first, he was running for Mayor, and had a nice family and kids. But when he began to crack down on organized crime, his family was murdered as a direct threat to him. Ever since then he's realized the legal system was a joke. The Jailor would murder a town member and get killed by the Serial Killer, the Sheriff couldn't tell the difference between the head of the crime family or a Lookout, and the Investigator can't tell the difference between a Serial Killer and a Doctor! Even the position he once vied for was corrupt and dangerous, not to mention oft held by imbeciles. Now he's taken the law into his own hands, willing to kill for it. But, sometimes he hinders the town more than the law. If he kills someone that is part of the town, even an idiotic Sheriff doesn't deserve to die. Just last night he shot the Investigator and he can't deal with the guilt. He ended the life of a law-abiding citizen in the name of justice. Now there is only one way to give those he's killed justice, taking his own life. He has the own weapon for himself, and now, haunted by the ghost of his victim, he's too guilty to carry one. I'm sorry. BANG! (Creative Writing Stories 2nd place, credit to williamthered)

Taking the law into your hands hadn't been the plan. No, not at first. As the Sheriff's right hand man, you were sure that you would bring members of The Family to justice. Serial Killers, Werewolves, Witches. No person or creature against the town would escape you or the Sheriff's watchful eye. Gun always at the ready, you were more than ready to rid the town of evil. Until one day, when left at the office alone, you found it. A large envelope with the Sheriff's name on it, stuffed to the brim with cash. Your stomach plummeted when you recognized The Family's insignia gracing the seal. Dropping your badge on the desk, you walk away from that life, promising yourself that you would do whatever it takes to deliver true justice to the town of Salem, your trusty gun at your side. (Creative Writing Stories 3rd place, credit to BloodOfInk)

A man stands alone with his head wrapped in a silvery cloak. He has only one goal- death to those who killed the Town. To kill the Mafia is his plan. He slowly makes his way to the house across the road, knowing exactly what to do. He opens the door. As his boots click across the wooded floor, he sees a woman standing in the corner of the room, a bloody knife in hand. He slowly clicks the pistol and takes aim at the figure. One moment passes and then BANG! The woman falls to the ground, blood trickling from her head. Without stopping to regret his decision, he flies out the door, returning to his own home. The next day, the woman is lying dead on the streets. To his shock, medical forms are scattered all around her and pills from her bag are strewn across the floor. It was clear she was a Doctor. With the heaviest guilt, as night falls, the pistol is put against the head of another victim... himself. (unregistered contributor)

Known to many as the man wearing "Hockey pads," the Vigilante prowls Salem's streets at night in search of justice. Armed with the pistol his father gave him before he was whacked by the Mafia, the Vigilante ignores the town's rule of death by lynching and takes a shot at whoever he deems evil. If he spills innocent blood, however, the next bullet from his gun will end the grief that plagues his mind. (unregistered contributor)

The Vigilante doesn't like the rule of death by lynching in the Town of Salem, so he decides to bend that rule. Picking up his gun and loading it with his 3 bullets but also a secret bullet that he found in the grave of the fellow town, he prowls the streets of Salem, shooting anyone he deems evil. However, if he finds out that he had shot and killed a fellow town member, he will use his final bullet the next night-the one that ends his life. (unregistered contributor)

The Vigilante angrily pleads his case to the town, pointing at the woman who he suspects being the Mafia member who is responsible for the latest casualty in town. Many people vouch for the woman, and any attempt to get her hung is thwarted by the setting sun. As the Vigilante goes home with his head down, he sees out of the corner of his eye the woman grinning at him, taunting him, as she walks to her home. The Vigilante desperately wants justice to be served, with or without the town. As the moon creeps behind the clouds, the Vigilante slowly opens his father's old wooden chest and retrieves an antique pistol. “Three bullets left? I'll put ‘em to good use dad, I'll make you proud”. Adrenaline pumping through him, he quickly rushes out the door, runs to her house, kicks in the woman's door, lines up his shot and fires a bullet at her before she can react. The Vigilante flees to avoid detection, but not before noticing the woman's belongings, and how they don't seem like something a Mafia member would have. As the Vigilante returns home, doubt and guilt flood his mind, what if she really was innocent? Sick to his stomach, he desperately waits for the sun to come up, to be able to see what the woman truly was. (credit to Aurum Nummus)

The Vigilante left the Mayor's house, angry. The Vigilante was pleading with the mayor to give him permission to shoot a suspected mafia. The Mayor denied him. The Vigilante stomped home, angry. He was so mad, that he could not sleep. Lying in bed, he turned around to his night stand. A small revolver was gleaming in the moonlight. He picked it up, and looked at the suspected mafia's house. The Vigilante smiled a maniac-like smile. When his deed was done, the Vigilante comes home, with a feeling of dread. As the sun rises, to his horror, he realizes the true identity. The Vigilante went home, and all the Town folks heard that night was a loud gunshot.

A little boy comes running out of a burning building. The Arsonist did this. And the Mafia helped. His father and the rest of his family died in the fire, never to be seen again. He serves for justice. He fights for Salem. Every person he kills, he ALWAYS uses his pistol that his dad gave him for his 10th birthday. The pistol is capable for many things, killing, justice..... guilt. For if the boy, now a man, kills someone innocent, he takes it as killing himself. He says to himself, "I mean, why not? I killed them. I can't take it back." He then kills himself, having children and a wife, and says goodbye in his last will. The note says, "Goodbye, my precious family, and have a good time without me. Always serve justice. And never, EVER, give up to the mafia. To the evils, to the murderers. And protect Salem, Tophios (his son), and always go with your heart." The children cry, the mother weeps, and Tophios remembers. He remembers the pistol. He had to get it back! He goes to the crime scene again, and reaches over to the pistol. There was a tag on it. It's name was..... Tophios. He, HE, was named after a pistol. An important pistol. A pistol that would serve for the years to come by in Salem, killing people that seemed suspicious to the Vigilante, The Ones That Follow Their Heart. (unregistered contributor)

The man threw down his hat angrily upon entering his home. How dare they fire him! He was the town's best investigator and they fired him even after having proof that the "transporter" was really the arsonist! But now he was going to take justice into his own hands. The man opened up a small box, and pulled out a pistol. It had three bullets left in it. Three bullets for three enemies. The man smiled bitterly. Now it's time for the arsonist to pay. (credit to LittleMissFanGirl14)

The Vigilante looked between the two arguing townsfolk carefully. Both were claiming to be Lookout, and both had presented very convincing log notes to verify themselves. Of course, there was no possibility of them both being Lookout, as a Transporter was confirmed as a random, so one of them was fake. But which one? He couldn't tell, and neither could the town. The Sheriff and Investigator had both been killed by Serial Killer and mafia respectively. The Jailor was torn between the two, as was the Vigilante and the rest of the town. Night fell and the town members retreated to their homes, hoping all would be revealed. The Vigilante sat at home, playing with his revolver. He opened it up. Three bullets. He had three bullets. He closed it again and looked outside at the town. He rubbed his chin in thought. This argument between those two claiming Lookout couldn't go on any longer. He had to intervene, if the Jailor wasn't going to. The town was doubly unsure as well. He got up out of his chair and walked outside. It was a cloudless night, a full moon hanging over the town. As he walked, he was still lost in thought, trying to think of which Lookout was lying. He was playing Russian roulette here, but if nobody took action about this, the town would slowly lose their people, until the mafia outnumbered them. He looked between the houses of both claimed Lookouts. One, then the other. He checked his revolver again, looking at one of the houses for a few seconds, before nodding. He'd made his decision. If this person was indeed the Lookout, he will take his own life next to the Lookout. If he wasn't, he will have done the town a huge service. He puts his hand on the door handle, looking back at the house of the other person who had claimed Lookout. No. He'd made his decision now, there was no going back. The Vigilante gritted his teeth and stepped inside. The occupant was inside and looked up with interest. He greeted the Vigilante calmly, asking what he was doing. The Vigilante said nothing, staring at this Lookout for a few seconds. Then he thought about something. If he was the Lookout, shouldn't he be watching somebody's house? As the Lookout asked if the Vigilante was okay, the Vigilante reached into his holster and produced his revolver, making the Lookout recoil in fear. The Vigilante raised his weapon at the Lookout with uncertainty and a glint of fear in his eyes under the possibility that this was the real Lookout, and after what felt like an eternity, the Vigilante pulled the trigger, ending the life of one of the claimed Lookouts. He stared down at the body for a few seconds. He had done it. This was the point of no return, now. He quietly exited the house and returned to his own, begging to lady luck that he had picked the right target. The Lookout's body was brought into the centre of the town the next morning. His pockets were searched. He was identified...as a Jester. The Vigilante had shot the Jester. While this wasn't exactly who he had in mind, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had not killed an innocent...this time. (Credit to The Nightmare Tank)

A townie had managed to convince the town that he was the Doctor, but there was one flaw in his story: the Doctor had already been long dead, and it was almost impossible for there to be another Doctor in the town. In addition, the townie had yet to give solid evidence that he was who he said he was; he managed to convince the town entirely on baseless conjecture. The Vigilante caught on to this, and went to work with his revolver. Sure that the townie was lying, he slipped into his house and discovered that the walls were strewn about with various blood-stained knives. "No sane Doctor would hang bloodstained knives from the walls," he thought, as he approached the door to what he assumed was the townie's bedroom. He entered the room to discover the townie sound asleep in his bed. The Vigilante took aim upon his target and fired his revolver at his target's head, the once sleeping townie's body falling limp, now sporting a gaping hole in the forehead. Upon his exit, the Vigilante noticed that there was a medical degree belonging to the townie hanging on his bedroom wall. Fearing for the worst, the Vigilante quickly put it out of his mind and exited the house. The next day, the townie was discovered to have been shot in bed. The Investigator and Sheriff swept the townie's house for evidence, and discovered a travel first aid kit in the townie's living room, the medical degree belonging to the townie, and a medical kit specifically designed for the self-healing of major injuries; all sure-fire signs of a Doctor. Upon hearing this news, the Vigilante, overwhelmed with guilt over what he had done the night before and feeling as if he would do more harm to the town than good, decided to put an end to it all. That night, a gunshot rang from the Vigilante's house... (unregistered contributor)

The mafia had killed his parents. Two innocent lives, melted by a man with the desire to take over the town. The Vigilante decided that enough was enough, and took his old .44 Magnum from his bedside drawer. He was down to his last three bullets. Now it was time for him to get revenge.

The Vigilante decided to lurk in the shadows for a while, in order to gather evidence, so that he does not harm the town or waste any one of his precious shots. Finally, two men were being accused of being Mafia members. The Jailor said that he would jail one of them, and so the Vigilante decided to kill the other.

The next day, it was revealed that the Mafioso and Godfather had been killed. More evidence was dug up, and someone else was accused of being the Witch. Another shot taken, another death of an evil.

Now the Vigilante, down to his last bullet, was about to shoot someone accused of being the last Mafia. He looked inside, and found folders of all kind. He was beginning to think that the person was an Investigator, but something stopped him from going home. The sight of his target, carrying a small pistol. The target must have been the Consigliere, but became the Mafioso after the Consort's death. Now sure that his last target was evil, the Vigilante hopped through the house window and blew his target's head off.

The next morning, the Executioner had searched the target's pockets. He found folders, and concluded that the dead man was the Investigator. The Vigilante hung his head in shame, wanting to kill himself in apology to the innocent he killed. Just then, the Executioner found a small pistol in the deceased's suit pocket. The Vigilante put away all thoughts of suicide, as the pistol was the one he had seen the night before.(Credit to Cptrockets30)