Justice
It was something he strived for every day of his life, that pinnacle of purity that all people yearned for, but often abdicated. Justice. Justice was blind, but he couldn't afford to be. He was its eyes, ears and teeth, its unrelenting enforcer. Ensuring the scales balanced.
A hard and thankless job, but it had to be done. He'd walk their line, do whatever was necessary to get back.
The job was that important, not merely his livelihood, but his life. He wondered why no one seemed to get that.
He also wondered if he would ever find his justice.
EDIT: added another (this was inspired by a story I just read at fanfiction.net - Sticks and Stones by the wonderful Scribere Est Agere)
Justice, Part Deux
He slowly lowered himself to the bed and slid between the sheets, pulling up the blanket that meant comfort to his weary mind, comfort for his bruised and battered body. Bumps and bruises were an occupational hazard, tonight’s beating was more than he’d ever endured. He’d paid a harsh price for justice tonight - with the pounding of his flesh. The battering, a new marker of his enduring legacy.
Tomorrow, the battle would begin again, as it always had. Tonight he no longer sought justice. Tonight, he sought a soothing refuge from pain, as he surrendered to sleep’s seductive embrace.
