Not that the man had a breadth of experience when it came to homicide, but before this night he would have wagered his victim to be the most troublesome while still breathing.
Yet here he was, chasing a slippery corpse down several flights of stairs. Trying to catch the thing before a hapless bystander should be taken out at the knees.
Oddly, this was more exercise than the deceased had ever experienced in life - just one of the many reasons our man had turned murderer.
It was not done in abidance to a warped code of morality, nor some skewed perception of justice.
More an act of pragmatism.
The newly baptized killer had reasoned that the world has need for saints and villains, but the sloths and glutinous of the species are simply taking up space. Space that should be made available for valuable players in the game to come . . . or in the case of his corpulent victim, an abundance of spaces.
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