[Flashback] Mercy Is Earned... Not Given

[Gareth]

Timestamp: 59th Fall, 496 AV

It's that kind of shady room, the one almost all illegal dealings take place in. Two figures, one hooded, a few strands of white hair poking out from under the hood. The other a moderate sized man in a suit, reclining in a leather chair, speaking in a deep resounding voice.
"Look, their children. Just stab them or something, they can't fight back. I want the father traumatized."

The hooded figure looked up, his crimson eyes locking with the man's own. Slowly, the figure repeats it's previous statement.
"You are a bastard Remug, you really are."
The man, Remug, cocked his head, his olive green eyes glinting in the candlelight.
"But Gareth, it's easy money, even you have to agree with that."
The figure's eyes never left Remug, even as it slammed it's hand onto the table, it's reply cold and hard.
"I don't kill defenseless people. I don't want your money."
Remug sighed, cracking his knuckles.
"Be that way Gareth, i'll simply hire one with less... ethics."
He raised himself off the chair, the floorboards squeaking under his feet.
"You can leave. I have no more business with you."
Gareth nodded, his voice strained.
"And i with you."

Gareth's crimson eyes stayed locked on Remug, as he stepped close, and lunged, the candlelight glinting off the silver bladed dagger. Remug side stepped, grasping Gareth's hand as he twisted around, knocking Gareth to the ground.
"Is this it Gareth, you will just kill me, in cold blood... after all that morals and ethics."
Remug spat on the struggling thief.
"Petching worthless, you little worm."
Gareth strained, as his trademark smirk crept onto his face.
"You don't deserve mercy."
The white Res leaked from his palms, heading upwards, concentrating on Remug's face. Gareth willed it onwards, as it snaked down into the man's body, creeping down his lungs and into his stomach. Gareth gasped, and slowly spoke.
"Die slowly and painfully you bastard."
He stuck the dagger into Remug's chest and gave him one last Smirk.


The flames died away from the charred body, as Gareth stepped over, his eyes bloodshot and his hand's dripping with blood. The edges of his hood and shirt were charred, but he was alive. He winced, as he recalled the man's final scream, as his flesh bubbled. Alive, but i feel sick... sick at what i've done