This is pretty much just a drabble. My first Black Cat fanfic~
Not too sure about it, but... eh.
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Cat (but I wish I owned Train!).
Narcissistic
Shoot.
Don't shoot.
Shoot!
Don't shoot, Train. Don't shoot.
It was an inner battle raging within him, so fierce that it felt like his mind would give out, or he'd just give up and be done with it and –
shoot.
No, but he couldn't shoot. He couldn't will himself to pull that trigger. His aim was precise, as always, there was no way he could miss, but he just couldn't do it. He'd sworn to himself; as a sweeper, he…
Ah, but Train, his mind taunted him, sang a deep-throated lullaby of malicious intent that was so horrible that he almost did it, he almost pulled the trigger, but not quite. You've done this so many times before. You've killed, Train, so why not once more? Just moved your finger and it's done. Shoot, shoot, shoot, Train, shoot it!
If he weren't so damn stubborn, then he'd say that he was probably going insane. On the other hand, maybe he was always insane, but he hadn't realized it until just now – now that his hand was trembling, the gun becoming less steady, and now, no, if he shot now, then he would miss, and he couldn't miss because –
No, he couldn't shoot. Period.
Come on, Train, it's a life or death situation, isn't it? Just this once, pull the trigger and see that bullet pierce and tear through skin, see the blood rain down like the perfect storm that you know you miss. If you don't shoot that gun, you'll die.
And in the end, it was all up to him. It always had been, hadn't it? Hadn't it? Yet, the person on the other end of the gun never had a choice. He realized that, though it seemed like a good idea, it was selfish. He was selfish, arrogant, cocky, way too over-his-head. It was all up to him. It was his choice, too, right?
No, wrong. You're wrong, Train. You never had a choice. You have one option and one option only. That option has now disappeared. You've long since been powerless in making choices; as soon as you picked up that gun, everything became out of your grasp.
Hades just fueled him on. He was only a marionette, with Hades being the puppeteer, making him dance, making him sing – behind the curtain, Train Heartnet had never been the one in control.