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post #5 of (permalink) Old 08-28-16, 11:03 PM
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Conscience- 918 words

Sometimes, bad things can be beautiful. Blood on the snow is one of those things. I donít know why- honestly, it might just be the contrast. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, and although I know I shouldnít be enjoying it, itís not like I can really help it.

Just keep telling yourself that, Clynt. Might make it easier.

Seriously, itís actually rather pleasing to the eye. The splatter patterns are pretty interesting. I donít generally see those on snow, and itís somewhat distracting. Hard not to lose myself in the intricate relationships between each dotÖ

It is quite nice, isnít it? Still, Clynt, I think itís time to move on.

Hands are really cold. Or I just canít feel anything with them anymore. Sort of on autopilot now, so the latter wouldnít surprise me. With a bit of effort, I depress the lock switch and break the revolver open, spent brass tinkling out of the cylinder and dropping to the stained snow at my feet. All six, for one target. That was rare. These were big rounds, nearly the size of my thumb, and they had quite the impact. Normally something really big and tough would take all six, but not this time. Heíd been dead even before I fired the last four, maybe even one before that.

Youíve got more ammunition, Clynt. Donít worry about it. It was worth it, after all.

Belt pouches are hard to get open with numb fingers, but I can manage. The clipís a simple matter, disposable; reloading, I drop it to the snow, too. Six more rounds; snapping my weapon closed, Iím still not quite sure what theyíre for.

Oh, you know, Clynt. Itís okay. This will be the least painful thing for the rest of your existence.

Could just use one for that. Didnít take more than one. Not like I can just keep shooting, after all, like I did to the inquisitor. Vanclev had gone down on the first one, and the second had just made sure of it. All those nice furs, all bloody and wet. The rosette, dropped into the snow. So unceremonious, soÖ so easy. If it was possible for a corpse to look peaceful with the back of its skull missing, Vanclev was doing it. Heíd fallen flat, remnants of his head turned slightly to the left, right hand up, clutching at the snow with thin fingers. Eyes rolled back, white- well, the one that was intact. The other wasnít there anymore. Couldnít really see from the front- that part was in the snow- but through the mess that Iíd made of his cranium, it was pretty visible that there wasnít much left in that area.

Focus, Clynt. Youíve done the important work. Time to finish things up.

Daggers in my head. It hurts. A lot. In my neck, too. Like something digging bladed fingers into me, rooting around inside my body. I hurt a lot normally- Vanclev and I had done some pretty hardcore stuff over the years, and I had the scars to prove it- but this was a bit different than the normal aches and pains. Shit, now I know what itís like to be a pack animal, goaded on against its will.

Clynt. Iím starting to get angry. And you donít want me to get angry. Things will not go well for you. Release me, release yourself, or bad things are going to start happening and you are going to watch through your own eyes, unable to do anything about it.

Yeah, Iím not a fan of bad things. And he knows where Jinna and the kids are. Heís in my head, after all. I actually like Jinna, and would rather her just go on, even if she was in that pathetic little hovel with that bastard she ran away with. At least Therise and Merie had a home that made some sense to normal people.

Exactly, Clynt. And Iíll have a lot of fun with them, should you keep stalling, but I think itíd get boring very quickly. Human screams stop being entertaining after a little while, after all. Iíd rather you just let us both go now. And Iím sure you would, too.

Fair enough. I mean, if I let him go, he goes and enjoys his time unbound. If I donít, then he takes full control and starts destroying everything he can in the cruelest way possible, before someone else tries to contain him. And before you know it, theyíve got another possession on their hands. Or theyíll imprison him, try to get him to work for them- and that wonít work out. Vanclev tried it, and look what happened to him.

Iím glad you can see reason, Clynt. Now- do me a favor and see what that gun tastes like?

Oily. Not quite appetizing. Doesnít really have to be, though.

Donít worry. It will be gone soon enough.

For a moment, I rest the tip of my finger on the trigger. This really wasnít how Iíd expected to go. Honestly, Iíd thought someone would stab me in my sleep. Donít know why. Either that, or a starship accident. Spent a lot of time on those death traps, and atmospheric equipment went wrong a fair amount of the time. Had a couple friends whoíd bought it without even noticing, aboard a freighter when the air-mix went wrong.

Shit, itís hard to cock at this angle. One click- two clicks. There we are.

Goodbye, Clynt. No hard feelings.
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