• His blue eyes burned cold as he stared out of the window to the darkened city, the only lights were the few left on in the office buildings and of the street lamps and passing cars.
    His pale face- bruised and beaten- was solemn as he mentally mapped the city he knew so well.
    Every alleyway, every street and building. All memorized.
    A hand pushed away the stubborn blonde locks that fell into his eyes, the knuckles on both his hands were bandaged; underneath were scars and bruising from constantly abusing his hands by striking walls until they bled or his hands simply broke.
    His frustration and anger, the overwhelming loneliness took it's toll on the young man- barely an adult, only eighteen.. So much hatred inside this mind, the mind of a cold blooded murderer.
    And the scent still lingered.

    He turned away, the sleeping form that once lay in his bed room now gone, off to protect the city he aimed to destroy.
    There was nothing left for him as he fingered the trigger of the icy steeled magnum, every chamber loaded with the care of a trembling hand.

    He was no longer the bright eyed, healthy looking child who would follow his mother. Innocently watching the crimes committed, conspiring to one day be like that. Feared. Known.
    The sweet faced little boy with a happy smile and a somewhat sane mind as he played with his brothers.

    But that little boy was dead.
    Dead like the people he mercilessly killed, laughed over, played with like meat dolls.

    He slammed his hand hard into the glass, creating a crack that let the cold outside air seep in. But he didn't feel it. He stared at the crack, turning away once more before thrusting his fist through the window, blood from his fingers along with shards of glass fell carelessly to the dirty pavement below. But he didn't feel it, the pain of the glass moving inside his hand as he cracked his knuckles.
    In a flash it was silent again, except for the soft tinkling sound of glass shards hitting the window sill.

    His paled body leaned against the broken window, adding a few cuts to the old scars and recent bruises. It tingled his skin and caused blood to run down his back the more he pressed.

    Softly he hummed as he left his spot at the window.
    He put the gun to his head that before hung so loosely from his fingers and pulled the trigger.