A comforting hand on his shoulder, a gun in his hand, and a body at his feet, he had done his job.
"You had no choice Napoleon. He had a gun pointing at my head."
Was this what he had become, solving the world's problems by killing. He knew he had no choice but to kill the traitor, but this man had been his friend, a fellow agent.
"He had betrayed us," Illya spoke quietly trying to soften his partner's pain.
"It doesn't make it easier to accept." He said putting the gun away.
Walking away, he didn't look back,