Note: Last chapter . . . or I may do one more after this haven't decided . . . hell, I practically JUST had the idea to continue it ^_^ Have fun

Duke Red's POV

My son looked pretty happy with himself, considering they were victorious. Him and his Marduks. Him and MY Marduks.

My gun was tucked away safely under my coat. My right hand reached through the thick, cotton folds, my fingers wrapping themself tightly around the handle . . . pulling it out . . .

I watched for a few seconds more, my vistorious son walking forward towards the fire, his own gun held in his hand. Time he did a little work . . . Or, well, so he had planned.

I realized then that I had had my gun pointing at him. Had it there, didn't I? Intended to use it, did I not? Well . . . that was all a gun was for in this city, shooting . . . hurting . . . killing . . .

My index finger was resting on the trigger, and even I was anxious to squeeze it . . . I know, I'm not the murderous type . . . but this . . . was necessary . . . anyone would agree with me . . . Right?

Still . . . I waited . . . Something was keeping my from squeezing the trigger, something . . . was wrong. Was this even right? Should I? No! I was questioning myself. But why? There was no doubt in my mind that I shouldn't shoot Rock . . . No . . . there wasn't. There couldn't be. This was right and I had no further use for him. Tima was complete, and the Marduks of Zone One were destroyed. That's all that mattered now. The rest could be terminated without his help.

Now I'm set. I've got no other ostacles there, standing in my way. Nothing to stop me . . . so I pulled . . . slowly. He turned around, looking at me. He shook his head roughly, his sunglasses askew. His clear blue eyes had a look of . . . fear? Sadness? Confusion? Anger?

So many emotions! It seems that like so many others before him he has succumbed to the living the life of a common person . . . run by their emotions. My hand had begun to shake but I steadied it. He looked at me for a few moments, and I raised my gun again, setting my finger, getting ready.

"Why, father? Why?" he asked. Stupid boy. Idiot, foolish. I can't believe I ever claimed that wretch, that child, as my son! But . . . wait . . . I never did claim him. As much as he tried to be my son, I never let him. A now? Now . . . I'm letting a robot replace him and my daughter . . . but that was Tima!

And really . . . now I realize that that's really what Rock is . . . a child . . . but he's never acted like it, has he? Working so much farther than he needed to please me, to do what was asked of him. He was given a man's job and performed it even better than a real man could have done.

But still . . . I had no use for him. Without another thought, I pulled the trigger one last time.