Warning: Character death.
THE DIFFERENCE
Schuldig knew a lot about dying. Knife wounds, shot wounds, strangulation, drowning, electrocution, poisoning, internal injuries from beatings or telekinesis, more or less natural strokes, getting mauled by animals, drug over-dose. He'd seen them all, caused a good number of them and enjoyed every single one. Enemies, targets or completely random strangers, each different, each delicious. Last gasps, expressions, desperate screams just before: he kept details of them as souvenirs.
So this wasn't anything new at all.
But, still, Crawford's body was resting lifelessly in his lap and he couldn't even move. This death – it was all wrong. It hurt.
END