"You've killed her. It was all your fault and you know it." He says with a voice so low it could scratch the surface. "It was your arrogance that did her in." He places a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes. If the room was any brighter I could swear I see a tear stream from the corner of his eye.

We came in here willingly but the exit didn't go so according to plan. Now I'm trapped in this fossil's basement. At least the heat from the furnace can warm me up.

My hands are tightly tied together. My feet bound as well. Thoughts of a new plan were running stale while strapped into a creaky rocking chair. I know the old man kept it to remember 'the good old days', but he failed to see years ago that there was no such thing.

In a world bathed in violence and ambition, death is inconsequential. Everyone has a goal and everyone will stop at nothing to achieve it. That's just how the human mind works, and I'll be damned if I die before I let my goals go unfinished.

The old man slams his fist into the warm furnace creating a crater like dent along the side

"I mean, what were you thinking? Storming into an Ex Mariners house for what? Money!?" He barks.

He wants an answer for why I convinced his granddaughter to break into his house with me. As nice as it would be for him to stay guessing as to why she lays in his living room choking down on her own blood, I owe it him since he did the same for me way back when.

"It was to get back at you" I say plainly. "You stole something very important to me and I just felt it was only fair to return the favor."

"How many times do I have to tell you people? I'm not that THING anymore!" He yells, I can see the veins buldging in neck. "Day in day out you all trash my yard, break my windows, steal my-"

His words enter one ear and float right out the other. I didn't come here for his sob story, I came here to make him pay.

Close to 6 Shifts ago him and his gang of uniformed grass lickers came down to the ice for their first assignment, unluckily for us we were first on the chopping block. Luckily Mom was trained in the art of Wing Chun, but not even a hero like her could fight a squad like that.

She was worn down one shard at a time, until she eventually kicked the bucket. The only reason I made it out alive was because they'd reached their quota for the day. Dad was never much help in or out of the house so he followed soon after.

The most this dusty old man could say was: "Everyone has there time. Make sure you spend it wisely because I'll be here for you in a few years."

Two young adults taken from a helpless child. I couldn't think of a better plot for revenge myself.

Life expectancy isn't long on the ice, but that would just mean I'd have to make the most of it before I punched my ticket.

With a sigh, the old Mariner grabbed his Shardgun from it's place against the furnace and held it to my abdomen.

"You could've just let it go kid." He tried to reason.

"Could you?" I ask with the same fearless expression I've held since crawling through his kitchen window.

He droops his head, unable to look me in the eyes. "I swore I wouldn't hurt nobody else again..." with a struggle he manages "and you're making me rethink that promise..."

I time it with a crackle from the furnace. It hurts like hell, but it's a lot less painful than taking 20 shards of ice to the chest.

The Mariner finally looks up from his feet, as I slip the ropes from around my wrist with a now dislocated thumb.

"Look kid, what I did was a mistake and I'm sorry I hurt you, but going after my family was a mistake" he pressed the gun closer against my skin. "I hope it was worth it"

He closes his eye unable to look at me knowing he's about to break his promise.

Knowing he's going to kill another living breathing person again.

Knowing that his past has come back to haunt him.

Knowing that his granddaughter is dead because of it.

His finger flexs on the trigger but before it could go off I grab it's barrel and turn it away from me. Shard of ice scatter against the stone floor. I pull the barrel into me, yanking the old man closer. His bearded chin asking to be checked. A closed fist lands cleanly against his jaw. He plummets to the ground in a daze. His eyes flutter in and out of consciousness.

Taking an ice shard off the ground, I cut off the rope around my ankles.

Now standing above him, his fate in my hands. I couldn't ask for a better gift. He opens his eyes for the last time looking up at me with an open mouth, ready to plead for his life.

He mutters something under his breath, but I don't allow him to finish.

"I'd say it was pretty worth it"