"Shoot him, Debra!"
Deb stood motionless, gun raised, staring at the who people in front of her. On the right, Maria La Guerta; ex-wife, Captain, whore. On the left…the man she loved. Dexter Morgan. Her brother, but thankfully, not by blood. He was dressed in plain clothing, a butchers apron draped around his firm form. She thought he looked ravishing; but probably not the best time to bring the fact up.
Dexter dropped the knife in his hand and raised his arms in the air…arms that she so wished were draped around her shivering form at that very moment. "She's right, Deb…you're a good person. Do what you gotta do."
A good person. What did that even mean? Would a good person be standing here, gun pointed, at two of the most important people in her life? Would a good person swear every curse word imaginable at the drop of a hat? Would a good person wipe from back to front because she kind of enjoyed the texture it brought?
A tear came to her eye. "I'm…I'm not a good person Dex."
"None of us are good people, Deb. I mean, look at La Guerta. She slept her way to the top and didn't even have any qualms about getting Matthews fired."
La Guerta shrugged nonchalantly. "…neither is Dexter, Lieutenant. He kills people, chops up their bodies, hires a nanny to watch his born-in-blood son every waking hour of the day, killed his own brother, got his ex-wife killed, framed his ex-wife's husband and sent him back to…"
Dexter rolled his eyes at how much of a bitch La Guerta was, and had been, for many seasons. "Alright…you've had your turn. You have to choose, Deb."
Deb swayed back and forth, gun rotating between the two standing before her. Finally, it rested upon one of them. She had made her choice.
"Maria…I hear you give the best blowjobs in Miama?"
La Guerta smiled. While she hadn't been happy at the accusation at the time, it was nice to get a little recognition for good work. Her scout leader from when she was 7 would have been proud of how far her oral sex skills had taken her in life. "Why…yes, Deb. I believe I do."
"Then suck on this."
Deb lunged forward and plunged the gun into La Guerta's open mouth, and then pulled the trigger. The gun exploded inside her and blasted it's contents all around the Captain's throat and cheeks, plastering her with a sticky liquid. Unfortunately for Maria, she spat it out to discover it was dark red. Blood. Her blood.
She dropped to the floor and lay still, finally dead after seasons of meaningless storylines and broken relationships. Dexter studied the open hole where her mouth once had been, blood steadily pouring out of the fatal wound. With a sly grin, Debra noticed a bulge in her brother's pants. She slowly leaned down to touch the quivering member…
…but Dexter moved away, just out of reach. Grabbing the bloody body, Dexter nodded towards the door. "Do you mind, Deb? I've got a…uh…claim to test."
Debra sadly made her way out of the container as Dexter pulled down his pants and began to make love to the bloody hole in La Guerta's head, moaning out something about Ghost Harry and Dark Passenger is making me do it. Crying silently, she fell to the ground, wishing against all wishes that it had been her head that Dexter had been fucking instead of the dead Captain's.