Sigvald swiftly stood up from his seat and stormed out of the courtroom. If he stayed there any longer he may have shot Marksman where he stood. The doors slammed shut on his way out and the entire courtroom fell into silence momentarily. The judge, returning to the matter at hand, brought the court into order and resumed the session.

“Self-defense? Self-defense from what? The man was unarmed for God’s sake!” Sigvald hissed under his breath.

He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. This is how it always goes, Sigvald thought despondently. It never goes our way. It doesn’t matter what we do. But he didn’t entirely regret coming here. After all, the failure of this case only served to strengthen his resolve. An all too familiar voice rang in his ear. A visit from his father. His father turned the corner and strode swiftly over to Sigvald.

“Good to see you again my son. How’ve you been?” he asked politely.

Sigvald sighed in frustration. He randomly threw a pebble at his father.

The pebble flew across the room. His father dodged it with ease. His gentle grin was more disturbing to Sigvald than his other expressions. Sigvald chuckled slightly as he flipped a coin in his hand.

“I thought I locked this hallucination away,” muttered Sigvald.

Sigvald’s father only had three-quarters of his face intact. The top left side of his face had been ripped off by a heavy caliber blaster bolt. It was merely outlined with flesh and an exposed cheekbone. His scalp was covered in burns and the skin had turned black and crispy. Some of it peeled off dangling from his forehead like hair.

His body was in no better shape. His arm was purely metallic. It was rusted and brittle. It made a goosebump-inducing squeak every time he moved it. He wore nothing but damaged armor. It was dented badly as if it had received plenty of bolts over the years of serving in the war. Sigvald could barely look at the hallucination of his father. It was the last sight he saw of him.

The image was burned into his memory, scarring him. But it also fueled him. The hallucination reminded him of his goal. His goal was to stop the oppression of the rich on the poor. Remove the usurping of wealth and break down the systems of society that favored those who had money instead of those who had the will.

“That is no way to speak to your father.”

You’re not my father. My father died along with the rest of my family, Sigvald thought. You’re not even real.

His father cracked a wry smile, “Just because I’m not real, doesn’t mean I’m always wrong. In fact, I know you better than you know yourself.”

That much, I can’t deny, Sigvald conceded. He heard the judge’s gavel slam on the table and a booming voice emanated from the courtroom. One that made his eyes close with disappointment. He dropped his head as the verdict was given.

“Innocent!”

A resounding round of approval from most of the courtroom made him wish he’d never attended this case. I bet if I topped the price Marksman was paying that judge, he’d charge guilty...

“It seems nothing has changed since the days the family was around,” his father mumbled with a sigh. “I doubt it ever will.”

Sigvald stepped aside as the attendants of the case exited the room not perturbed in the least. He drew his hoodie over his head, concealing half of his face. Ethan walked by along with an old man in a walker. Those two were the only ones who seemed to be disappointed by the outcome. Ethan began to speak with the old man. Sigvald turned the corner and leaned against the wall behind Ethan. He listened to their conversation. What are the odds I ran into him? he thought.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cid. I’m so sorry...” Ethan whispered. “I sh-sh-should have never intervened. Maybe Wesley would have been alive if I didn’t run like an idiot towards that bastard! I understand if you hate me. If y-you want to kill me for vengeance. Then go ahead...”

Sigvald’s mouth dried up as he was nearly lost for words. Is he talking about avenging Haley? Sigvald thought. Sigvald began to walk towards Ethan as he heard the gun click. He couldn’t see what was happening but he was certain the man was going to kill Ethan.

“Do it... Make me pay my penance...” Ethan gulped as he revealed his weapon from its holster and handed it to the man.

Sigvald quickened his pace. Then he heard the gun hit the ground and slide across the tiled floor. He exhaled a breath of relief and decided not to interfere.

“Words do not bring justice; actions do,” advised the old man.

Sigvald fell to the floor as he sat with his back leaning against the wall. Sigvald’s father had conveniently sat on a chair staring at Sigvald throughout the conversation. He stood up and walked over to him and kneeled next to his son. His father looked him up and down as Sigvald pinched the top bridge of his nose. He brought his own forehead as close as possible to Sigvald’s and held his gaze.

“You heard what he said, son,” he whispered. “You know what you have to do...”

Sigvald approached the building after sunset. Ethan said that both he and Marksman would return to deliver some documents. He’d decided the fate of that man. He was going to kill him. The question was whether Ethan would let him do it or not. If he was anything like Steve, he’d try to stop Sigvald from doing what he was about to do.

He walked down the poorly lit street. He did not walk quickly enough to arouse suspicion but he didn’t stroll either. He imagined the satisfaction of killing that man in his head. The penetration of the bullet, the splashing of the blood, and the screaming that would slowly fade away in front of him. He’d watch as Marksman pleaded for his life like a pathetic worm. Sigvald imagined every. Single. Detail.

Turning into the alley behind the building, he attached a silencer to Ethan’s gun he’d picked up earlier on. With pinpoint accuracy, he shot all the bulbs attached to the wall. The entire alley plunged into darkness. The only light source shone from behind him. A streetlight that cast barely enough light for someone to see.

From behind the massive wastebin emerged his hallucination. The same horrific form of his father stepped out and stood next to him.

“What do you plan on doing to the man? Will you kill him?” he asked.

“No,” Sigvald replied. “Not before I make him suffer. I want to enjoy this.”

His father’s lips curled into a wicked smile. He nodded approvingly, “That’s my boy.”

The back exit to the building opened into the alleyway. Marksman walked through with a smug look on his face. He was proud of the fact he had just gotten away with murder. Sigvald approached him and removed the safety lock on the gun in his hand. The nuclear power cell hummed as it powered up.

Marksman’s eyes grew wide, “Look, I don’t want any trouble. You want money? Here, take all of it! Just don’t shoot me!” He took out his wallet and emptied all the cash on the floor as if expecting Sigvald to run after it.

“I don’t want money,” Sigvald stated blandly. “You aren’t as powerful when you’re not sitting on your throne of riches and jewels you stole.”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped.

“That day. That day when the war ended. Where did all the money plundered from the enemy go? To the poor who needed it? Or to the rich who wanted it?”

“Those bastards don’t deserve anything. All they’re good for is labou-”

Sigvald’s fist slammed into his face. The force of the blow knocked Marksman to the ground. His face grazed against the pavement littered with glass shards from wine bottles. Sigvald picked the man up off the ground with both his hands. He shoved him into the wall. Marksman’s nose bled. The left side of his face had been cut.

Sigvald caressed Marksman’s face with the barrel of the pistol. He shot him in the thigh. Marksman shrieked as his leg began to bleed as well. Sigvald grinned. The grin widened until he began to laugh mockingly. He picked up a glass shard from the ground. He drove it into Marksman’s ear. The jagged glass scraped the skin off the ear as it entered. It was narrow enough to hit his eardrum. Sigvald pulled it out of his ear and discarded the shard. At this point, he was bleeding from almost every place in his body.

The back door opened and Ethan walked out. Sigvald snapped his head over to Ethan. He motioned for Ethan to move on.

“You did what you could, man. Now let me handle the rest,” he whispered.

“What do you mean by handle?” asked Ethan.

“Avenge the innocent...A life...for a life... Keep walking Ethan.”

Sigvald heard Ethan’s footsteps fade. He knew Ethan didn’t look back. Marksman had to die. He had to pay his penance.

“Rider! Please! I have a family! I just want to see them again!”

“Avenge him! That’s who you are, aren’t you?” hissed his father’s voice in Sigvald’s mind. “That’s what you live for. You can’t just stop here. You have to kill all of these oppressive, putrid bastards! Change the world, my son. It all starts with pulling this trigger. Remember who you are. You’re no hero; you never will be.”

I'm no hero. I wish I was one, but I'm not. I never will be.

Bang!