A Woman, Cigars & M1911

The time is 8:43 P.M.

The two floor house that belongs to Nathan Koniec, former U.S. and Royal Marine, as well as ex-assassin and currently employed as a mercenary. And now Olivia Rose, a Kobold whose parents who died in an anti-bill protest turned riot after the leader was killed from a single high caliber sniper round to the head, and all around fitness fanatic like all in her family, was dead quiet. Save for the faintest sound of a lit cigar that sent streams of smoke into the air.

It is here that we find him, Nathan. A man that in all honesty, has endured a lot of shit in his life. However, only two people know this, one of which is now dead. Himself, and his former lover and commanding officer, Eleanor Sloane.

A woman that Nathan cared for deeply, not just because she was, as just stated his lover, but because she saved him.

Nathan sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at one of the two objects upon it. An ashtray, filled with just that and three burnt out cigars and a loaded M1911. Hammer cocked back revealing the primer of a live round in the chamber ready to be set off.

How long had he owned this? Too long. How many times had he used it against others? Too many. How many times were those almost against himself? Nathan thought for a moment before saying aloud,

"Not enough…"

The ex-assassin took a long drag of his cigar. His fourth one in the past two hours he had been sitting at the table. As the flavor filled his mouth, he held it for a few moments before exhaling. The waves drifting up into the air in a, what some would call, beautiful display as it eventually disappeared from sight.

After Nathan had left the funeral home, he found himself at the Understudy and proceeded to drink to the point that Emily eventually told him to leave. Not because he was being rude like the time previous but for his own health. And after trying to protest just a little, Nathan agreed; after handing her his bike keys of course. After doing so, he slowly stumbled out of the pub and began making his way home. The same route he would always walk when too drunk to ride.

The man took another long drag before exhaling it followed by a deep sigh. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes lightly before focusing them back onto the pistol. And after a full minute of staring he found himself scoffing at the item as a smile crept onto his face. Though it was not one of happiness. No, it was one of melancholy.

His mind thinking back to when he was in this exact same situation. So many nights being this drunk, smoking cigars, staring at the same pistol, at the same table. Three years ago in 2013.

He then thought of whatever Eleanor was now had said to him only hours ago. How her words went from hateful and filled with malice to that of love as she spoke of the night she and he had met.

He remembered that night, even now in his drunken state. The same night he was this drunk three years ago. But instead of making his way home and doing what some would call a nightly ritual of smoking a heavy amount of cigars; all the while staring down at the loaded M1911, trying to work the courage of finally using it against himself, this one went differently…

The rain poured heavily from the night sky as the people of London, both tourist and citizens, walked and drove through the streets. A vast majority didn't mind it, used to the odd weather that would take the city over. One of these people was that of a fiery red haired woman with sapphire eyes who stood at 5'6". She wore a purple trench coat beneath which was a green shirt. Her jeans were just a bit wet while her black shin high zip-up boots protected her feet. The fully extended black umbrella did its duty well, keeping her dry from the rain that came crashing down.

She walked the walk along the River Thames, her eyes glued to the vast beautiful cityscape that glowed from the lights that kept it lit. She had enjoyed her first full day back home from her most recent assignment. Riding her motorcycle through the streets and stopping in at Mike's. Saying hello to the man she had known for many years followed by parking it back at her house before walking to her favorite pub; all the while taking in the city at a much more slower pace. She had drank, met up with old friends all the while making new ones. Talking and drinking the hours away into the night as the rain slowly crept along the sky before beginning it's descent upon the city. After saying her goodbyes she had begun making her way home and soon found herself in the Jubilee Gardens.

It was then she took notice of a figure slumped up against one of the steps that connected to the grass covered fields. From the size she could tell it was a man. His attire being a long black leather jack, blue shirt, khaki cargo pants and brown boots; all of which were soaked through. He had short brown hair and seemed to be well tanned.

As the redhead walked up upon him, she took notice of the bottle in hand. Just barely being held onto by weak fingers. She tilted her head at him, wondering why it is he would be in this situation. Then just as she was about to pass, her eyes met his.

She stopped in her tracks.

Pale blue orbs stared deeply into her sapphire. Eyes that held only the emotions of despair and misery. Their gazes stayed locked, not daring to break the connection.

Pity began to form in her core. Why was he like this? What could have happened? It was then out of her peripherals she took notice of the dog tags through his rain soaked shirt. The pity she already felt for the man became even more intense as it soon all made sense to her. After all, she was no stranger to the life of a soldier.

However, as the seconds passed, she began to notice something else: the faintest of flickering lights. A light that was of life. She could see that deep down, behind what was held within his despair, misery ridden eyes now, he was trying desperately to hold on.

Slowly, she held her hand out to him. She didn't know why she did such a thing, but she couldn't help but do it. The man only stared, his eyes having shifted to the outstretched, as if it was something he had never seen before.

"You know," She said, her accent thick with Irish descent. "You'll catch a cold if ya keep sittin' there like that." The man didn't respond, only kept staring. And it wasn't until a full minute passed that the woman moved the umbrella so that the rain ceased pouring onto him. His head moved, eyes now peering up at the act. "There? Isn't that better?" She asked, but he didn't respond. Instead he only looked back to her, the look in his eyes never shifting.

Regardless, she kept pressing,
"If you want, you can come with me. It's definitely a lot dryer where I'm going." The man, again, didn't respond. He only stared, his pale blue eyes boring into her own sapphire before looking back at her hand. "Come on," She suddenly said, catching his attention. "Just take my hand and let me help you." This finally caused a reaction from him: a few simple words.

"I don't deserve help…" The woman could only frown before proceeding to sit on the step next to the man; umbrella still covering them both.

"And why do you think that?" She asked, though she could already guess the answers.

It took a few moments, but he eventually answered. His tone emotionless.
"Because of the things I've done."

"Oh? And what would those things be?" Again, she could already tell the answer. Again, it took him a few seconds to respond.

"I've killed… so many people…" His tone was now filled with misery.

"I'm guessin' from your time as a soldier." The man only nodded. "And from your accent, you're American, yeah?" He nodded again. "I see. I'm a solider, you know? Granted, not in the traditional sense. Nonetheless, I've been on the battlefield plenty of times. I've killed my fair share of people." He didn't respond this time until another minute had passed.

"But… the people I've killed… they were-" Suddenly a crack of lighting hitting a nearby building followed by the roar of thunder interrupted the man, causing both to jump at the sudden sound and display.

"Shite!" The woman yelled, staring wide eyed along with the man. Then, she began to chuckle before looking back and asked with a wide smile, "Now, if that doesn't convince you to come with me, I don't know what will." He didn't respond, instead only kept staring at the just now struck building. He shifted his gaze back to hers.

After a few moments he simply nodded with a sigh as he began to get up. As he stumbled onto his feet, he went to take a drink from the bottle, but she swiped it from his hands. He looked groggily, his reaction slow as she absently tossed it up and down in her hand.

"Ah, ah, ah. No more drinkin'. You've had plenty." The man looked as though he was about to argue, but remained silent before stuffing his hands into his pockets with a nod. The woman smiled wider at this before disposing of it into the trash as she began making her way home.

But after a few steps, she took notice that he was not beside her. She looked back, only to see he was now walking in the opposite direction.

"What the hell?" She said before jogging up beside him. "Oi! My place is the other way. I thought we had an agreement back there." The man only glance down at her, his full height now prevalent along with his size. But it was not a threatening look. No, it was one of worry and, strangely enough, care.

"It's better… you just forget… about me." He said slowly, having to think out the words. She gently grasped his arm, but he kept walking.

"No." She said sternly. "We agreed that you'd come with me so you can get out of this rain." He looked back to her, then to her hand and tried to break free from her grasp. But she tightened her grip, keeping him there.

It was then she saw annoyance rise in his eyes. He tried again, but to no avail.
"Why do you… Why do you even care?"

"One soldier helping another." He only raised an eyebrow to this before trying a third time to break free from her grasp. "Just knock it off and come with me!" She said more sternly, trying to break through his drunken mind.

"No." He simply said. "I-I don't need your help." He paused, his movement ceased as he now stared down at the ground; sadness easily visible in his eyes again. "I don't deserve anyone's help…" The woman felt pity rise back within her before stepping in front of the man, blocking his path, but also so that he would look at her.

"Why do you think such a thing?" His gaze shifted from the soaked ground to her, and she couldn't tell if he was crying or it was the rain.

"Because-… because of the people I've killed… and those I've let die…" His voice cracked with each word as he tried to hold back the tears now easily visible. "So many… I've let so many of my friends die… my family…" The woman could now only stare at the crying man. His body shaking with every sob. Slowly, she brought a hand to his cheek. Her thumb gently rubbing away the rain and tears. He looked at her, the soft hand seeming to calm him down just a bit. "A-and… the amount of people I've killed… oh, Gods… so many…"

"Shhh." She shushed, her voice gentle. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You know as well as I do, that if you didn't do it, you wouldn't be here right now." But he shook his heads at the words.

"N-no, you don't understand… I-I don't mean them…" The woman only raised an eyebrow. "Gods… S-so many…" He tried to keep speaking, but his sobs made the words incoherent. The woman could only watch in sadness as the man before slowly began to fall to his knees. His body trembling with each cry he let out. But as he did so, her hand never left his face. Her thumb never stopped stroking his cheek.

When he had finally come to a stop in his descent, his sobs only becoming stronger, the woman carefully placed the umbrella on the ground so that both hands may caress his face. She made him look at her, caring sapphire eyes gazing into despair filled pale blue.

"It's all right." She said gently, her voice filled with genuine love. "Everythin' will be all right." The man now stared wide eyed, stunned at the words. Then, he let out another sob before wrapping his arms around her waist. She only embraced it, tightly, yet gently pulling him close. Her hands running through his slick hair in a calming manner all the while shushing him.

And as seconds became minutes, his cries slowly died down. Sobs becoming sniffles. Tears ceasing to a halt.

He pulled his head back, gazing up at her, as she did the same down at him.
"There. You feel better, love?" He only nodded while rising to his feet. When he stood at his full height, she wiped away the remaining tears before rubbing her thumb against his cheek like before. "Now, how's about we get out of this rain?" She asked, smile to sweet and full of care. He simply nodded causing her to widen the smile before picking the umbrella back up and holding it above the two. Then, the two began their walk towards home.

"Tell me, what's your name?" She asked while linking her arm around his own massive one. He glanced at her and after a few moments, he answered,

"M-my name? It's… It's Nathan." The woman only continued smiling.

"Well, Nathan, my name is Eleanor. It's nice to meet you."

And for the first time in months, Nathan smiled. He pulled his arm closer, bringing her with it as he said,
"It's nice… to meet you too, Eleanor…"

His pale blue eyes stayed locked upon the M1911. He remained silent after the words.

Then, he picked it up.

He looked at the hammer, seeing the primer of the round ready to be struck. He pulled back the slide, examining the chamber to see the round sitting there. Confirming what he saw. He let it go, allowing it to slide back into place with a slight metallic clank.

He turned it, gazing at the full body of it while rubbing his thumb against the grip. Eyes reading over the remains of the serial number that had been scratched out. Not by himself, but by the piece of shit that used to wield it. Some random insurgent. He remembered that day as well. The first human he ever killed…

Gunfire echoed throughout the city as firefights ensued. Marines moved through the streets, taking out any all hostile forces they came across with extreme prejudice. It is here that Nathan found himself, M249 loaded and ready to take down the first terrorist bastard he saw. His mind thinking both tactically, as well as gung ho. He wanted to do his country proud, all the while protecting those back home. And if it meant killing some piece of filth in this third world shithole, well he'll gladly oblige.

These were Nathan's thoughts back then. His mind still young, still maturing. Not having experienced what he had been through now. He was brash, excited, but most of all, impressionable and easily fooled by the speeches given by bureaucrats and those senior to him in the Corps he had wanted to join all his life.

And here he was, ready to do what he had signed up to do: Kill.

A fist was raised by the Ready, or Rifleman, Burnett, the point man of the four-man fireteam. Nathan was the Fire, or in simpler terms: The guy that carries the LMG, his being a M249 SAW. He kept himself ready, hand gripping the handle tightly, finger ready to dash towards the trigger and send streams of lead down range.

The Team, leader of the fireteam, Holtan, moved up to the Burnett. The two spoke quietly as the Burnett pointed something out. After another minute, Holtan only nodded as he came back to Nathan and his Assist, the Marine that held extra ammunition and barrel for the Fire, Bowers.

"Possible bad guys in the building across from us. You two stay here and watch for any movement. If you do, lay down cover fire at a sustained rate." Nathan gave a thumbs ups, while Bowers said in confirmation,

"Oo-rah!" Holtan nodded as he went up behind Burnett. He took a deep breath before tapping his shoulder and the two were off towards the building; rifles raised and ready to fire while Nathan and Bowers set themselves up.

Nathan took a knee and raised his M249, sights resting on the building, while Bowers took aim with his RCO.

As Burnett and Holtan took another step towards the building, Nathan felt his nerves begin to set in. His breathing was faster along with his heartrate. He had to fight the urge to place his finger on the trigger, but stayed true to his training.

Calm down, Nathan. He thought to himself as he took a deep steady breath. But just as he was about to let it out, a gunshot took its place.

"Contact front!" Someone yelled. Nathan didn't know who. All that he did know, was that it was happening!

He scanned the building, eyes rapidly looking for a figure or barrel of a rifle. He instantly found it on a first floor window. He took aim and opened fire all the while yelling out,
"Die mother fucker, die!" at the top of his lungs! In between each shout, he'd let off on the trigger. Giving the barrel just enough time to cool itself before he would reopen fire!

Rounds ripped through the air. All hitting either the sandy ground, metal of a nearby car that Burnett and Holtan took cover behind, or the side of the building they fired at.

"I'm moving up!" Burnett shouted.

"Understood! Give him covering fire!" Holtan shouted back.

Fuck yeah! Nathan shouted in his mind, as he switched to a rate of rapid fire. His spent rounds tripling. Each punching into the side of the building and through the windows as Burnett shot from cover and towards the door.

As soon as he reached it, he pulled a grenade from its pouch and pulled both safety pin, then the ring. He leaned back and tossed it into one of the first floor windows.

"Frag out!" He shouted while kneeling down in on himself followed by the rocking of an explosion going off.

"Bowers! Koniec! Move up with me to the building! Go! Go! Go!" Nathan didn't think twice! Instantly he was sprinting towards the door with Bowers in tow before all four stacked up onto the door.

Then after a second of confirming they were ready, Burnett kicked the door in! He shot through it, followed by Holtan, then Koniec and finally Bowers as they all went to their assigned spots when it came to breaching.

All four pairs of eyes searched the room and after finding no hostiles they got back into standard formation and made their way towards the stairs. Burnett kept his M16 trained on the stairwell, ready to fire.

As the four made their way up them, they listened carefully for any sound of movement above them. And when they reached the first floor landing, they came to the door that had housed the initial shooter.

Bowers tapped Koniec's shoulder, followed by Koniec doing the same to Holtan, and Holtan to Burnett. Then, a second later, Burnett kicked the door open before rushing in. Like the ground floor, they shot in and went to their designated spots; all the while their eyes scanned the room looking for any signs of hostiles. But instead only found five dead insurgents. Then, Burnett motioned to a door closest to Nathan. Holtan nodded his head to the LMG wielding Marine, who did the same in response.

Carefully, he stood up and began making his way towards it. Nathan kept his M249 raised, sights set on the door. And with every step he took, he felt the nerves begin to set in again.

Fuck! Calm down, Nathan! He shouted in his mind. You got this! Hell, you just went through your first firefight! You got-! Suddenly the door burst open as a man screaming at the top of his lungs charged Nathan.

Before the Fire could shoot off a round, he found himself pushed to the ground. Before Nathan could try to counter attack, he suddenly felt the cold barrel of a pistol against his throat.

A M1911.

"Stay back!" The man shouted, his accent thick. "Stay back! Back or I'll kill him!"

"Fucking cocksucker!" Bowers yelled as he went to raise his M16 but was stopped by Holtan.

"Bowers, wait! All right. Slow down." The team leader began, slowly raising one hand in the air. "It's okay. Everything is okay. Just calm down." Holtan said, trying to speak in a clam manner while slowly taking a step forward. But the man saw it, causing him to shove the barrel of the pistol harder into Nathan's jaw.

"I said back!" He shouted, followed by cocking the hammer back. "Do it now or I'll kill him!"

"Whoa! Whoa! All right!" Burnett shouted. "Just take it easy."

"No! Leave the room and your weapons!"

"You and I both no we can't do that." Holtan said, but was only shouted by the man again.

"Bullshit! Do it! Do it, now!"

"Just shoot the bastard!" Nathan shouted over him, which only granted him being punched in the face by the man.

"Shut up!" He shouted, grasping Nathan by the throat and lifting his Kevlar covered head off the floor. "You hear me! Shut up!" Nathan didn't respond, instead spat the blood that had filled his mouth in the man's face. He recoiled, giving Nathan enough time to shoot his hands from above his head to the pistol and pushed it to the side away from his body!

Crack!

The gun went off! The round striking the wall!

"No!" The man shouted again, now trying to wrestle the gun back into his control.

"Fuck you!" Nathan shouted back, slamming his Kevlar into the man's unprotected skull. This caused him to rock far back enough giving Nathan to get leverage and overtake the man, slamming him onto his own back. The two changing positions completely now.

Instantly he ripped the pistol from the man's hand and shoved it into the same spot he had placed it against Nathan.

Then, there was the briefest moment of silence. The two locking eyes before Nathan squeezed the trigger, sending blood, grey matter and skull fragment all over the floor.

Silence for the second time…

"Fuck! You okay, brother?!" Bowers yelled as he rushed up to Nathan, who only continued to stare at the now lifeless body. "Hey!" Bowers said, giving Nathan a light shake. "Look at me, Devil!" The Fire did so, pale teal eyes meeting with Bowers' dark brown. "You good?"

"Y-yeah…" Nathan went silent again, eyes looking back to the body before shifting to the pistol. He turned it, gazing at the full body while his thumb ran over the grip.

Holy shit… I just killed someone… Nathan thought, his mind now racing.

"Koniec!" Holtan said as both he and Burnett knelt beside him. "You sure you're good?"

Nathan looked at the team leader before giving a firm nod.
"Yeah… Yeah! Good to go!" Holtan stared for a few moments before nodding in return while patting the now pistol wielding Marine's shoulder.

"Okay," Holtan began, causing the rest to look at him. "Seems that's all of them. Let's continue on with-!" A round suddenly ripped through the window, narrowly missing Holtan's head. All four shot down to the deck as someone yelled,

"Contact!" Nathan low crawled to the window along with the others.

As the other began to speak about the current situation, Nathan could only continue to think about what he had just done. The image of watching as the man's brains splattered all over the floors and walls.

"I count at least six outside." A pause. "All AK-47s. Standard bad guys."

"Burnett, Koniec and I at the windows. Bowers, guard the door, make sure they don't get up here! Move, move!" The order snapped Nathan from his state. He looked around, watching as everyone did as ordered. Except him.

He stared down at the M1911, then a second later put it on safe and tucked it into his pocket.

No more time for sentimentality. He thought to himself as he checked how much he had left in his magazine. Running low.

"Reloading!" He shouted as he did just that. After replacing the near empty magazine with a fresh one, he took a deep breath all the while staring down at the belt fed rounds to his M249.

Right… He thought before popping his jaw, then neck.

"Good to fucking go!" He shouted before raising the LMG through the window and began sending rounds down range…

His eyes moved slowly along the design of the same M1911 he had used to kill his first human being so many years ago. The memory replaying in his head. He took a drag of his cigar before exhaling.

"I wonder how the fucker got this…" Nathan said aloud, the question coming to his mind for the first time after so many years. "Piece of shit probably got it from one of our guys…" He concluded as he took another hit from his cigar before placing it down in the ash tray.

It was then his eyes stayed locked on it. The cigar and lighter that laid next to one another. He couldn't truly remember the first time he ever smoked a cigarette or cigar. But he could recall when he began smoking them every so often…

The night sky was filled with only that of stars and the large full moon that hovered with them. Many were either asleep, looking over their gear, playing card games or whatever else they could think of to do so that time would pass.

However, while all stayed in their own collective, one Royal Marine in particular kept to himself. Sitting next to the hanger bays, Enfield across his lap and cleaning kit beside him with multiple magazines laying by. He had spent the last few hours meticulously going over it with a fine tooth comb, or in this case brush. Making sure that not a single microscopic fiber of carbon, rust or dirt was present on or inside his weapon. His four years in the U.S. Marines having trained and taught him to make sure your weapon was spotless when it came time to go into combat… or turn it into the assholes, aka Armorers.

As of now, he had taken a break. Placing the assault rifle back together before laying it across his lap and allowing the CLP to do its work. He rested his head back against the wall, eyes gazing up towards the twinkling lights that hanged above him. As he did so, his mind thought back to his past. To his buddies, his old unit and everything he had been through the last four years.

A smile began to creep onto his lips. Memories of joy and laughter taking over his mind; before they slowly turned to darker images. Soon, the laughter became screams and images of blood accompanied by lifeless bodies or those still alive as they screamed for help.

He took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before allowing it to release. Doing so to help clear his mind of the thoughts. But they soon came back, and after trying the same method he just did, it barely helped. He began to shake, body trembling as he tried to calm himself and rid the memories.

"Fuck…" He muttered, hands coming to his eyes as tears began to prick at them. "Come on. Knock it off." He grunted as he gently slapped the side of his face. But the memories persisted.

Slap!

A hand landing onto his shoulder, Nathan jumped as he looked to the person it belonged to: Cosgrave. A rough Irishman who in the end was all heart.

"Ya doin' all right there, Koniec?" Nathan smirked as he gave a light nod. "Ya sure? What? Afraid the Devil will come for his dog tonight?" Nathan laughed at this, the usage of his previous branches nickname, Devil Dog coming into play.

Every so often his fellow Royal Marines would tease him over the label as when Nathan first joined it took him awhile to stop using the common phrases he had used the past four years. From Devil Dog to simply Devil. But as time went on he learned to cool it, though he would still use it only for those he was closest too. One of them being Cosgrave.

"Ha! Nah, and even if he is, I'll make sure he gets this Devil Dog first." Nathan said, pointing at Cosgrave, who chuckled at the action.

"Aye. Well, I'll make sure to grab your neck and bring ya with me. Don't want to be lonely on that long fall into Hell, yeah?"

"Hah, aye." Nathan responded with a nod before focusing back up to the moon. The Irishman beside him did the same before sitting next to his fellow brother in arms.

The two sat in silence, taking in the cool night air as the occasional breeze blew through. It wasn't until around 10 minutes had passed that Cosgrave spoke while pulling something out of his pocket.

"Here, have one of these. It'll help calm ya down." Nathan glanced to the objects, cigars of smaller stature. He raised an eyebrow at the objects before giving a light shrug.

"Fuck it." He mumbled as he plucked one from Cosgrave's hand and placed it into his mouth. The supplier only laughed as he pulled out a zippo lighter and flicked it open before lighting his cigar, then Nathan's.

They both puffed on them, lighting the cigars fully before they looked to one another and gave a nod; followed by taking in deep draws. Nathan held the smoke in his mouth, allowing the flavor to wash over him.

Irish Cream… of course. Nathan thought with a smirk before letting out the smoke. The cloud slowly lifting into the air before disappearing completely. Soon a sense of peace began to wash over him as the memories began to fade away. Now replaced with a light feeling in his head and his heart slowing in pace.

"There, ya feel better?" Cosgrave asked, smile wide. Nathan only scoffed with his own.

"Tch, aye. A lot better, brother. I thank ya." He said in the best Irish accent he could do, which in turn caused Cosgrave to give the same reaction.

"Tch. Glad I could help ya." Nathan let out a laugh before taking another hit from the cigar.

Nathan gripped hands with Cosgrave. All the while the two continued to smoke into the night as they waited for the greenlight to be given for the operation to begin…

Nathan stared at the burning cigar as it sat, still in the ash tray. Slowly, he pulled it out to take on final hit. The same flavor filling his mouth: Irish Cream. He held his breath, allowing the feeling to wash over him before letting it out. The smoke slowly moving up into the air before disappearing completely like always.

He gently placed it back into the ash tray before he shifted his gaze back to the M1911. He stared at the primer for the round inside and after a few moments, his mind thought back to what Eleanor had told him as he released the hammer carefully.

"You always were a strong one… But, not strong enough to endure forever… Or strong enough to save me it seems! What a pity!" Her words struck Nathan to his very core. Feelings of weakness beginning to form, and with that came doubt.

Maybe… maybe she's right… Maybe I'm not strong enough after all. Maybe… I've reached the end of my rope… His eyes moved over the M1911's body one more time, all the while gently stroking his thumb against the grip.

"Maybe, it's time you're used for one last mission." Nathan said aloud. "One last kill." He cocked the hammer back. "After all this time…" He placed the barrel against his head. The cold steel meeting his skin. "You finally get to do it." He closed his eyes, his body as still as an undisturbed pond. "You get to kill me…"

Slowly, his finger wrapped around the trigger.

He took a deep breath and released it as he began to squeeze…

CRACK…!