(no subject)
Claude hadn't been able to bring himself to get rid of Claire's teddy bear, especially after he'd seen the video and known for sure that she was gone. It wasn't even one of the ones that he'd given her, but it was hers just the same, and Claire was the only person on the island who'd really given a crap about him. Well, maybe Peter, but at times that was debatable.
Still, he'd found some use for the bear now. He'd had to go to the compound to get a knife sharp enough for the project, and so he was sitting on the steps outside as he gutted the poor thing, leaving just enough stuffing for padding before sliding up into the bear's belly the box of shiny new rounds for his shiny new gun. He shook the thing and it rattled musically.
The new gun that the island had bestowed upon him was a military issue Colt M1911 semiautomatic handgun, worlds better than the old revolver he'd been carrying for over fifteen years. It was still small enough for him to carry with him, but it packed a bigger punch, and the large box of bullets was a blessing as well since he'd been almost out.
He'd heard that the police and the Council had ruled Sylar's death to be self defense and that no further investigation was going to take place. He was glad of that; he hadn't wanted to have to testify, he was never good at that sort of thing. Part of him was glad that Peter had been the one to do the guy in rather than Claude having to shoot him - if only because Peter was a more credible self-defenser, and well, it probably did Peter some good to know that he could take care of himself. Grow up a little.
Though another part of him would have spared him that. It didn't matter why you killed someone, didn't matter if they deserved it, how evil they were. The first time you kill a man, it eats away a little at your soul. It gets a little easier each time, Claude knew that, but sometimes he wondered if it was just because there was less soul to eat by then.
He pulled the gun out of his coat pocket and clicked it open, sliding the one bullet he'd kept into place.
Still, he'd found some use for the bear now. He'd had to go to the compound to get a knife sharp enough for the project, and so he was sitting on the steps outside as he gutted the poor thing, leaving just enough stuffing for padding before sliding up into the bear's belly the box of shiny new rounds for his shiny new gun. He shook the thing and it rattled musically.
The new gun that the island had bestowed upon him was a military issue Colt M1911 semiautomatic handgun, worlds better than the old revolver he'd been carrying for over fifteen years. It was still small enough for him to carry with him, but it packed a bigger punch, and the large box of bullets was a blessing as well since he'd been almost out.
He'd heard that the police and the Council had ruled Sylar's death to be self defense and that no further investigation was going to take place. He was glad of that; he hadn't wanted to have to testify, he was never good at that sort of thing. Part of him was glad that Peter had been the one to do the guy in rather than Claude having to shoot him - if only because Peter was a more credible self-defenser, and well, it probably did Peter some good to know that he could take care of himself. Grow up a little.
Though another part of him would have spared him that. It didn't matter why you killed someone, didn't matter if they deserved it, how evil they were. The first time you kill a man, it eats away a little at your soul. It gets a little easier each time, Claude knew that, but sometimes he wondered if it was just because there was less soul to eat by then.
He pulled the gun out of his coat pocket and clicked it open, sliding the one bullet he'd kept into place.