He was going to kill him. That was the only thing clear in his mind: he was going to kill him. The only coherent and planned out thought in the ces pool of bullshit that hopped from one to another in a wild frenzy. He could not hold onto one if he wanted to-. All except one, he guessed. That Jack Bright was going to kill Draven- Kondraki. Not really his own but the carbon copy of a father he couldn’t respect.
He must have been doing everyone a favor, really. Cutting the bloodline short and making sure that they wouldn’t get a repeat. That they wouldn’t get a second chance with a man who had done so much harm. This was a good thing. Bright was doing a damn good thing. He must have been, right? He thought so. Even when he, for a moment, could vaguely remember the little boy that man had once been. All of the baseball, soccer, and lacrosse games he and Clef had gone to because his father wouldn’t. All of those nights that kid had slept in his office because his father hadn’t been home. All of those nights-, and days….
It was all already in motion, huh? He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t. He looked on at that tired kid, already having bit so much more than he could chew, and pulled the gun. The lights were already blaring, the alarms were already going off. They wouldn’t even know he was gone.
