[center][img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img][/center] Marlowe had the drop on Delios. He was above him; as the man focused on the vharns. It was honestly unfair and unsporting of him. Right now he could do it; he could end Delios for good. No more sniper. No more removing fragments of metal from his arm or chest after a battle. One less Orderling harming other. He just had to jump to the tree and fall down with his blade: one easy thrust with the blade and Delios would be food for the Vharn. [i]Kill him.[/i] The voice echoed throughout his head like a cold wind. It wasn’t anything alien; nothing new. The desire, the pleasure that vengeance gave him was an indulgence he discovered in his battles with Rin. To see the fear in a young whitecloak’s eyes; his scream as metal tore flesh apart. The warm blood that came with a fresh kill. He’d given into that base desire to make them [i]pay.[/i] He’d seen his friends’ reactions to himself. Covered in blood. Laughing, almost like a child. He saw the fear in their eyes as he turned from the foolish leader to a complete monster. He didn’t want to see that fear ever again. Not from Viera. [i]If you don’t kill him now, he’s going to kill countless others.[/i] The voice always reasoned. It wasn’t evil. It was just. They chose their death the moment they donned their white cloaks. The Order had to die. No matter who was in it. They all had to die. [i]Kill him, or he kills Viera. He kills Mikael. He kills Rin. Rauz. Kath. Deya. [/i] The nightmare of losing everyone was something common to him in recent months. The constant battle took him further and further away from his friends and away from any chance at being normal again. [i]KILL HIM NOW[/i] Marlowe leapt from his branch in the opposite direction of Delios, taking cover with branches and limbs, making it difficult to be a target. Not that Delios had time to focus on him. The Vharn were trying to climb now; frenzied by fresh blood at the base of the tree—and on the rag that fell in an arc onto Delios shoulder. A torn cloth that Marlowe had soaked more blood in. The scent drove the Vharn into a howling fury. Marlowe leapt, clung and slid until the Vharn’s howls were distant. The clearing wasn’t too far away now. He could make it. He had to find Viera and the girl. He had to help them. [i]They’re all going to die. Because you were too weak.[/i] Not today. Not ever.