Grief Part 2 - Reese (part 1)
Title: Grief Part 2 - Reese (part 1)
Author: zootsuitzappy
Pairing/Characters: Reese, Finch, (brief) Fusco, and another character who will remain unknown so as not to spoil plot (hint of Rinch if you so choose it~)
Rating: PG
Summery: Whoever did this, was going in the ground.
Word Count: 2853
Warning: Major character death
Author's note: I finally finished it. THIS IS THE END OF MY DEPRESSING DEATHFIC FOR PERSON OF INTEREST. Please enjoy the suffering I've written. =3 Now I can comfortably move onto the two fluffy smutty Rinch fics I have planed~
(Edit: story exceeded limit, so have to cut into two parts, part two)
Grief Part 1 - Finch, Grief Part 1 - Finch: Epilogue
Reese
We were just walking around in New York. Just part of the crowd of people who didn’t know we existed. I’d just wrapped up a number and was feeling a little sore, but I needed to walk off the adrenaline energy that I always get with a number. It seemed like Finch also had some energy he needed to burn. Or maybe he was finally taking my advice about exercise.
Eventually the chill in the air got to be too much, and we both agreed to take the car back to the library. We started heading to where Finch had parked the car, and my guard was down. I was just enjoying the walk with Finch, the nice companionable silence between us making me smile. A few people going in the opposite direction walked past us, but I didn’t even look back at them as we reached the black car.
As Finch made his way towards the front seat, I intercepted him. He gave me a questioning look as I took the keys from his hands with a smirk. “I’ll drive, Harold.” He raised brow and gave a small frown but otherwise didn’t protest.
“Suit yourself, Mister Reese,” his voice was dry and in that tone that meant he wasn’t really mad, but wanted to sound affronted. He then began to make his way around the car. I should have noticed. I should have sensed … but I didn’t.
The next thing I heard was the ringing after the shock wave. I was thrown back, landing painfully on my left shoulder and elbow. The ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop, and it muted everything else around me. When I could finally put together what I was seeing, the sight of a burning car was what greeted me. I had to blink a few times before I could process getting up, and even though I couldn’t hear my own voice, I knew I was calling out to Finch.
My stumbling steps found their way to where he had been tossed, and I fell more than knelt down to him. His suit and coat were smoldering slightly, but not enough to catch fire. The ringing was dying down a bit, and I could hear the echo of my voice and the crackle of the burning car as I tried to shake Finch.
“Harold! Harold!”
Belatedly, I noticed the blood on the pavement where his head had been, I gingerly touched the back of his skull only to pull away as I felt the blood. By now the ringing had all but stopped, and now the sounds of the fire engulfed my sense of sound. His glasses had been knocked off him, and the only thing I could think to do was slap him gently to try and get him awake.
“Finch.. Finch! Harold, wake up! We’ve got to get out of here!” My voice held a panic in it that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He wouldn’t respond, and I glanced around with my eyes darting everywhere. I spotted a car not far off, and made the hard decision to leave Finch’s side and break into it. I left the door open and rushed back to the reclusive billionaire’s side.
I gently picked him up, cradling his awkward weight in what was most commonly referred to as “bridal style” and carried him to the car. Once he was safe in the back seat, I took the time to scan everything around me. There weren’t many pedestrians this part of town, but I did spy that a man in a black coat had been heading our way.
Instincts were in full control, I just bolted at him. I had done many a super-human things throughout my career, though I surprised even myself with how fast I closed the distance between us. The man had only managed to take four steps before I tackled him to the ground, my forearm nearly crushing his throat. A sense of de ja vu flashed through me of another time where I’d been in this position, but this was different. I was hesitant about killing that man, I wasn’t on this one.
My voice was gravelly from everything that had just happened, but from the look the guy under me gave me, I knew that my face still held that threatening demeanor. “Did you do this?” He gasped for air, but I only pressed my arm into his esophagus harder and repeated my question through clenched teeth. He gave a small nod and I let him have a bit of air.
I clenched the top of his coat and jerked him up so I could growl straight into his face. “Who do you work for?” The man weakly whimpered but kept silent, which frankly pissed me off. I abruptly let go, letting his head hit the hard ground before grabbing him again. I narrowed my eyes dangerously, and he quickly fumbled inside his coat.
I snatched his wrist in a vice grip, stilling his movement. I pulled his arm away and kept eye contact as I searched his coat. He had a small revolver in one inside pocket, but also a cell phone. I pulled both out, tossing the gun and briefly putting my attention on the phone’s contacts. There were only a few, a pizza place, an unknown number, and someone named “CE”.
I brought my gaze back to the man and indicated the phone, “Your boss in here?” A flash of fear swept through his brown eyes, but then he seemed to gather some courage. He stuck his chin out at me, and his voice held false confidence.
“Boss’ll tear you apart. You can’t touch ‘em.”
I slowly tilted my head to the right, giving him an almost pitying look. I then frowned and slammed his head back down on the pavement, he was dazed and I knocked him out with a hard punch to his face. I left him there as I rushed back to the car, pocketing the phone. Finch was still unconscious in the back seat, so I hot wired the car and drove us to the library as fast as I could.
This time when I tried to rouse Finch, he responded. The relief I felt was tremendous, and I couldn’t help the small smile I gave him as I saw his eyes flutter. I was half way in the back of the car, but I didn’t want to move him out just yet. “Hey there Harold... just hang on ok?” my voice was soft, perfectly hiding the deep concern I had.
His eyes slowly made their way to look at me, though he probably couldn’t see without his glasses. This thought was confirmed when he made a face that showed nonrecognition. I moved closer so he could make out more than just a blob, and now I could feel the slow and shallow breaths he was taking.
“...John?” his voice was harsh and slightly slurred, the signs weren’t looking good. I shushed him and got my arm around him to lift him up.
“It’s gonna be ok, Harold. We’re at the library.” He seemed to fade out for a second and I noticed that the seat was bloody. He hadn’t stopped bleeding, the head injury must have been worse than I thought. I swallowed thickly and tried to move him, but his hiss of pain stopped me.
His blurry gaze locked on mine and the look he gave me was that of resignation. I knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth to try, and I wasn’t going to have it. And even though I wanted nothing more than to just make him not say the words I feared, to just take him inside and bandage him up, my limbs were frozen in place.
“Sorry... John. I told you... we’d wind up... dead.” I had started to shake my head while he was talking, my expression a mix of an angry frown and a sorrowful pout. This couldn’t happen like this. I was the expendable one. He was vital, irreplaceable, there could be another John Reese, but there would never be another Harold Finch.
“Don’t talk, Harold. I’m gonna save you. It’s my job remember?” I forced myself to believe my words, to sound twice as confident as I felt. A shaky hand fumbled to grab one of mine and it seemed to be the only thing anchoring him. His breaths had become a bit more ragged, and I could tell he struggled to form words.
“Thank you... for working... with an... eccentric man.. like myself,” he forced a genuine smile and I felt a lump form in my throat. His breath hitched and with one last burst of energy he whispered to me again, “Thank you.”
The arm I had around him tightened as I felt him sink into it. I struggled with my emotions as I watched him die in my arms. A look of pure agony made residence on my face as I stayed there, half in the car holding the one man who had saved me and given me an honest purpose. The one person who meant something to me in so long.
I somehow managed to get him into the library and clear a desk to lay him on. I didn’t care about all the things that clattered to the floor, or the papers that were scattered. All I could focus on was Finch laying on the table. Running on auto, I grabbed one of my spare shirts I kept here and wet it using the sink in the bathroom. I slowly cleaned up his face, placing his spare glasses gently on his face.
He looked more like the man I knew now. His suit was ruined, so I covered him with the blanket I had convinced him to keep here since I knew he fell asleep here more than anywhere else. With another long look, I pulled myself away and went to the computer. I pulled out the cellphone I’d taken from the bomber, and dialed the unknown number.
I wasn’t nearly as good with the computer as Finch was, but I at least knew how to track someone’s GPS cell signal. The first number, the unknown, lead to a building I recognized as a good payday spot. I made a note to go there next. As I tried the number labeled “CE”, the signal rung for two beats, then was cut off.
Whoever the boss was, they were smart. My mental list of suspects went down considerably. Putting the address for the payoff location into my phone, I got up and began gathering all that I’d need. I’d make sure the bastard who did this was in the ground.
I made my way over to the payoff location with a gun at my hip and adrenaline running in my veins. They weren’t too happy to see me there, but a few bullets in a couple of their buddies made them real talkative. It was almost amusing how fast they turned on their boss. Unfortunately, they knew next to nothing useful. I did however manage to get a cell number of their boss’s number two guy, who was not nearly as smart as their boss.
This number was traceable. It seemed to be a personal phone, not one of the burn ones meant for “on-the-job”. Realizing I wouldn’t able to do this myself, I sent Fusco a lengthy text. Before I gave him time to read it, I dialed the number and pressed the smart phone to my ear.
"Lionel. This will be the last favor I call." I began without preamble. Fusco’s voice was mixed with doubt and shock.
"What are you talking about? I'm free after this?"
"Yes Lionel. You won't be hearing from me again. I gave you a text with an address. Go to it and follow the instructions. To the letter Lionel." My tone was dead serious, and he paused for a long moment before he replied, the doubt nearly gone from his voice.
"What? So ... that's it? I just go to this address, and that's it?" he seemed almost relieved that that was all I was asking, though I’m sure he was thinking there was something more to it, some hidden hook. On another day I might have grinned at his suspicion. It would have meant he was learning. But my mind had no room for feeling proud at teaching him. I had a mission.
"Do exactly as it says in the envelope I will leave for you, and you'll never see or hear from me again." I hung up before he could ask any more questions. I tossed the phone aside, having no further use for it at the moment. I grabbed a sheet of paper and pen and began to write. I had to pause a few times, my gaze and thoughts travelling to the room where I knew Finch still was. When I’d finally finished the letter, it was well past 10 in the morning. This had all started 4 in the afternoon the previous day.
With the call and letter to Lionel over with, I only had one thing left. I hadn’t slept in over 48 hours, but my mind didn’t feel tired. On the contrary, I was filled with barely pent up energy in the form of rage. Rage that was infused with the power brought by loss.
His keys, the ones to one of the many spare cars, were weighing in my hand like a human heart. And I’m regretful to say I’ve had the experience of that particular feeling. Speed limit was a distant memory as I drove to the location where the idiot’s cell was located. I had a sick sense of both satisfaction and dread as it lead me to Brighton Beach. As I neared the point where the cellphone, and thus the last of the group of people responsible, was located, I didn’t even let up on the gas.
What better way to say “Hello” than to drive right through the door? I took out three guys with that entrance, so there really was no down side. Okay, the car got totaled. But that hardly mattered at the time. I hadn’t taken more than a step out of the smoking black vehicle before I started to open fire. I didn’t spare them even a second glance once they went down. No knee shots, all straight to the vital zones, therefore they wouldn’t be getting up anyway.
I had gone through two ammunition refills and three different guns by the time I saw him. My face was set in cold blooded stone, and I stopped my assault to stare at his deceptively disarming face. One that currently held mock confusion written all over it.
“I knew it was you. Elias.”
“John! What are you doing here?” he dared to sound surprised at my being there.
“I thought it was obvious. Putting my skills to very good use.” I pointed my gun at him and took slow menacing steps towards him.
“I thought you didn’t kill anyone John.” He looked almost... scolding at me.
“I make an exception for murderers.” I hissed in response.
“Murder? What are you talking about John? You honestly cared about the Russians?” he brought up the murders he’d had committed back when I first met him. Back when I thought he was no one but an innocent high school history teacher by the name of Charlie Burton. Back when he reminded me of Finch. That thought was nearly a blow and I subtly winced.
“No, Elias. I’m talking about Finch.”
“Who? Wait, you mean your friend you called when you saved me that day?” he sounded nearly mocking, but he kept his bespectacled face passive if almost innocent looking. It didn’t fool me. I would shoot him if he made the wrong move, and he seemed to sense that he’d touched a nerve.
“Yes Elias. Finch. The man your men killed.”
“What? I didn’t know that was the man who was your friend! I told you I’d stay out of your way John, I didn’t mean to cross that line. Especially not after Carter.” His denial of everything nearly made me pull the trigger. Nearly had me shoot him right between the eyes and kill him that second. But that would be too easy, too fast.
“Doesn’t matter Elias. Your men are dead. You and I are the only ones left. You know you can’t escape me, Elias.” My voice and mind suddenly felt a calming clarity, and it reflected in my face. I looked almost.. disinterested in the whole thing. I could tell that’s what unnerved him the most.
“... What are you going to do John?” he asked quietly, by now only a scant six feet between us. I gave him a predatory grin, my finger slipping from the trigger.
“You crossed the line Elias. So I’m destroying it.”
Author: zootsuitzappy
Pairing/Characters: Reese, Finch, (brief) Fusco, and another character who will remain unknown so as not to spoil plot (hint of Rinch if you so choose it~)
Rating: PG
Summery: Whoever did this, was going in the ground.
Word Count: 2853
Warning: Major character death
Author's note: I finally finished it. THIS IS THE END OF MY DEPRESSING DEATHFIC FOR PERSON OF INTEREST. Please enjoy the suffering I've written. =3 Now I can comfortably move onto the two fluffy smutty Rinch fics I have planed~
(Edit: story exceeded limit, so have to cut into two parts, part two)
Grief Part 1 - Finch, Grief Part 1 - Finch: Epilogue
Reese
We were just walking around in New York. Just part of the crowd of people who didn’t know we existed. I’d just wrapped up a number and was feeling a little sore, but I needed to walk off the adrenaline energy that I always get with a number. It seemed like Finch also had some energy he needed to burn. Or maybe he was finally taking my advice about exercise.
Eventually the chill in the air got to be too much, and we both agreed to take the car back to the library. We started heading to where Finch had parked the car, and my guard was down. I was just enjoying the walk with Finch, the nice companionable silence between us making me smile. A few people going in the opposite direction walked past us, but I didn’t even look back at them as we reached the black car.
As Finch made his way towards the front seat, I intercepted him. He gave me a questioning look as I took the keys from his hands with a smirk. “I’ll drive, Harold.” He raised brow and gave a small frown but otherwise didn’t protest.
“Suit yourself, Mister Reese,” his voice was dry and in that tone that meant he wasn’t really mad, but wanted to sound affronted. He then began to make his way around the car. I should have noticed. I should have sensed … but I didn’t.
The next thing I heard was the ringing after the shock wave. I was thrown back, landing painfully on my left shoulder and elbow. The ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop, and it muted everything else around me. When I could finally put together what I was seeing, the sight of a burning car was what greeted me. I had to blink a few times before I could process getting up, and even though I couldn’t hear my own voice, I knew I was calling out to Finch.
My stumbling steps found their way to where he had been tossed, and I fell more than knelt down to him. His suit and coat were smoldering slightly, but not enough to catch fire. The ringing was dying down a bit, and I could hear the echo of my voice and the crackle of the burning car as I tried to shake Finch.
“Harold! Harold!”
Belatedly, I noticed the blood on the pavement where his head had been, I gingerly touched the back of his skull only to pull away as I felt the blood. By now the ringing had all but stopped, and now the sounds of the fire engulfed my sense of sound. His glasses had been knocked off him, and the only thing I could think to do was slap him gently to try and get him awake.
“Finch.. Finch! Harold, wake up! We’ve got to get out of here!” My voice held a panic in it that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He wouldn’t respond, and I glanced around with my eyes darting everywhere. I spotted a car not far off, and made the hard decision to leave Finch’s side and break into it. I left the door open and rushed back to the reclusive billionaire’s side.
I gently picked him up, cradling his awkward weight in what was most commonly referred to as “bridal style” and carried him to the car. Once he was safe in the back seat, I took the time to scan everything around me. There weren’t many pedestrians this part of town, but I did spy that a man in a black coat had been heading our way.
Instincts were in full control, I just bolted at him. I had done many a super-human things throughout my career, though I surprised even myself with how fast I closed the distance between us. The man had only managed to take four steps before I tackled him to the ground, my forearm nearly crushing his throat. A sense of de ja vu flashed through me of another time where I’d been in this position, but this was different. I was hesitant about killing that man, I wasn’t on this one.
My voice was gravelly from everything that had just happened, but from the look the guy under me gave me, I knew that my face still held that threatening demeanor. “Did you do this?” He gasped for air, but I only pressed my arm into his esophagus harder and repeated my question through clenched teeth. He gave a small nod and I let him have a bit of air.
I clenched the top of his coat and jerked him up so I could growl straight into his face. “Who do you work for?” The man weakly whimpered but kept silent, which frankly pissed me off. I abruptly let go, letting his head hit the hard ground before grabbing him again. I narrowed my eyes dangerously, and he quickly fumbled inside his coat.
I snatched his wrist in a vice grip, stilling his movement. I pulled his arm away and kept eye contact as I searched his coat. He had a small revolver in one inside pocket, but also a cell phone. I pulled both out, tossing the gun and briefly putting my attention on the phone’s contacts. There were only a few, a pizza place, an unknown number, and someone named “CE”.
I brought my gaze back to the man and indicated the phone, “Your boss in here?” A flash of fear swept through his brown eyes, but then he seemed to gather some courage. He stuck his chin out at me, and his voice held false confidence.
“Boss’ll tear you apart. You can’t touch ‘em.”
I slowly tilted my head to the right, giving him an almost pitying look. I then frowned and slammed his head back down on the pavement, he was dazed and I knocked him out with a hard punch to his face. I left him there as I rushed back to the car, pocketing the phone. Finch was still unconscious in the back seat, so I hot wired the car and drove us to the library as fast as I could.
This time when I tried to rouse Finch, he responded. The relief I felt was tremendous, and I couldn’t help the small smile I gave him as I saw his eyes flutter. I was half way in the back of the car, but I didn’t want to move him out just yet. “Hey there Harold... just hang on ok?” my voice was soft, perfectly hiding the deep concern I had.
His eyes slowly made their way to look at me, though he probably couldn’t see without his glasses. This thought was confirmed when he made a face that showed nonrecognition. I moved closer so he could make out more than just a blob, and now I could feel the slow and shallow breaths he was taking.
“...John?” his voice was harsh and slightly slurred, the signs weren’t looking good. I shushed him and got my arm around him to lift him up.
“It’s gonna be ok, Harold. We’re at the library.” He seemed to fade out for a second and I noticed that the seat was bloody. He hadn’t stopped bleeding, the head injury must have been worse than I thought. I swallowed thickly and tried to move him, but his hiss of pain stopped me.
His blurry gaze locked on mine and the look he gave me was that of resignation. I knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth to try, and I wasn’t going to have it. And even though I wanted nothing more than to just make him not say the words I feared, to just take him inside and bandage him up, my limbs were frozen in place.
“Sorry... John. I told you... we’d wind up... dead.” I had started to shake my head while he was talking, my expression a mix of an angry frown and a sorrowful pout. This couldn’t happen like this. I was the expendable one. He was vital, irreplaceable, there could be another John Reese, but there would never be another Harold Finch.
“Don’t talk, Harold. I’m gonna save you. It’s my job remember?” I forced myself to believe my words, to sound twice as confident as I felt. A shaky hand fumbled to grab one of mine and it seemed to be the only thing anchoring him. His breaths had become a bit more ragged, and I could tell he struggled to form words.
“Thank you... for working... with an... eccentric man.. like myself,” he forced a genuine smile and I felt a lump form in my throat. His breath hitched and with one last burst of energy he whispered to me again, “Thank you.”
The arm I had around him tightened as I felt him sink into it. I struggled with my emotions as I watched him die in my arms. A look of pure agony made residence on my face as I stayed there, half in the car holding the one man who had saved me and given me an honest purpose. The one person who meant something to me in so long.
I somehow managed to get him into the library and clear a desk to lay him on. I didn’t care about all the things that clattered to the floor, or the papers that were scattered. All I could focus on was Finch laying on the table. Running on auto, I grabbed one of my spare shirts I kept here and wet it using the sink in the bathroom. I slowly cleaned up his face, placing his spare glasses gently on his face.
He looked more like the man I knew now. His suit was ruined, so I covered him with the blanket I had convinced him to keep here since I knew he fell asleep here more than anywhere else. With another long look, I pulled myself away and went to the computer. I pulled out the cellphone I’d taken from the bomber, and dialed the unknown number.
I wasn’t nearly as good with the computer as Finch was, but I at least knew how to track someone’s GPS cell signal. The first number, the unknown, lead to a building I recognized as a good payday spot. I made a note to go there next. As I tried the number labeled “CE”, the signal rung for two beats, then was cut off.
Whoever the boss was, they were smart. My mental list of suspects went down considerably. Putting the address for the payoff location into my phone, I got up and began gathering all that I’d need. I’d make sure the bastard who did this was in the ground.
I made my way over to the payoff location with a gun at my hip and adrenaline running in my veins. They weren’t too happy to see me there, but a few bullets in a couple of their buddies made them real talkative. It was almost amusing how fast they turned on their boss. Unfortunately, they knew next to nothing useful. I did however manage to get a cell number of their boss’s number two guy, who was not nearly as smart as their boss.
This number was traceable. It seemed to be a personal phone, not one of the burn ones meant for “on-the-job”. Realizing I wouldn’t able to do this myself, I sent Fusco a lengthy text. Before I gave him time to read it, I dialed the number and pressed the smart phone to my ear.
"Lionel. This will be the last favor I call." I began without preamble. Fusco’s voice was mixed with doubt and shock.
"What are you talking about? I'm free after this?"
"Yes Lionel. You won't be hearing from me again. I gave you a text with an address. Go to it and follow the instructions. To the letter Lionel." My tone was dead serious, and he paused for a long moment before he replied, the doubt nearly gone from his voice.
"What? So ... that's it? I just go to this address, and that's it?" he seemed almost relieved that that was all I was asking, though I’m sure he was thinking there was something more to it, some hidden hook. On another day I might have grinned at his suspicion. It would have meant he was learning. But my mind had no room for feeling proud at teaching him. I had a mission.
"Do exactly as it says in the envelope I will leave for you, and you'll never see or hear from me again." I hung up before he could ask any more questions. I tossed the phone aside, having no further use for it at the moment. I grabbed a sheet of paper and pen and began to write. I had to pause a few times, my gaze and thoughts travelling to the room where I knew Finch still was. When I’d finally finished the letter, it was well past 10 in the morning. This had all started 4 in the afternoon the previous day.
With the call and letter to Lionel over with, I only had one thing left. I hadn’t slept in over 48 hours, but my mind didn’t feel tired. On the contrary, I was filled with barely pent up energy in the form of rage. Rage that was infused with the power brought by loss.
His keys, the ones to one of the many spare cars, were weighing in my hand like a human heart. And I’m regretful to say I’ve had the experience of that particular feeling. Speed limit was a distant memory as I drove to the location where the idiot’s cell was located. I had a sick sense of both satisfaction and dread as it lead me to Brighton Beach. As I neared the point where the cellphone, and thus the last of the group of people responsible, was located, I didn’t even let up on the gas.
What better way to say “Hello” than to drive right through the door? I took out three guys with that entrance, so there really was no down side. Okay, the car got totaled. But that hardly mattered at the time. I hadn’t taken more than a step out of the smoking black vehicle before I started to open fire. I didn’t spare them even a second glance once they went down. No knee shots, all straight to the vital zones, therefore they wouldn’t be getting up anyway.
I had gone through two ammunition refills and three different guns by the time I saw him. My face was set in cold blooded stone, and I stopped my assault to stare at his deceptively disarming face. One that currently held mock confusion written all over it.
“I knew it was you. Elias.”
“John! What are you doing here?” he dared to sound surprised at my being there.
“I thought it was obvious. Putting my skills to very good use.” I pointed my gun at him and took slow menacing steps towards him.
“I thought you didn’t kill anyone John.” He looked almost... scolding at me.
“I make an exception for murderers.” I hissed in response.
“Murder? What are you talking about John? You honestly cared about the Russians?” he brought up the murders he’d had committed back when I first met him. Back when I thought he was no one but an innocent high school history teacher by the name of Charlie Burton. Back when he reminded me of Finch. That thought was nearly a blow and I subtly winced.
“No, Elias. I’m talking about Finch.”
“Who? Wait, you mean your friend you called when you saved me that day?” he sounded nearly mocking, but he kept his bespectacled face passive if almost innocent looking. It didn’t fool me. I would shoot him if he made the wrong move, and he seemed to sense that he’d touched a nerve.
“Yes Elias. Finch. The man your men killed.”
“What? I didn’t know that was the man who was your friend! I told you I’d stay out of your way John, I didn’t mean to cross that line. Especially not after Carter.” His denial of everything nearly made me pull the trigger. Nearly had me shoot him right between the eyes and kill him that second. But that would be too easy, too fast.
“Doesn’t matter Elias. Your men are dead. You and I are the only ones left. You know you can’t escape me, Elias.” My voice and mind suddenly felt a calming clarity, and it reflected in my face. I looked almost.. disinterested in the whole thing. I could tell that’s what unnerved him the most.
“... What are you going to do John?” he asked quietly, by now only a scant six feet between us. I gave him a predatory grin, my finger slipping from the trigger.
“You crossed the line Elias. So I’m destroying it.”