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ToxieTheToxicAvenger
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Jon watched the group below.

What would he do?

What else could he do?

He... after everything he did. Why'd it have to be so hard. It wasn't hard to shoot Al like that, to just drop him. Why was he having troubles now?

Do it! Pull the trigger, shoot him already!

Jon stared at the reflective metal of the revolver. He stared at the form in the distance, the one he chose.

Pull the trigger. Do it now!

End it. End him.






What in the fuck was he doing.

Jon lowered the gun and turned around, trudging back behind the trees. He sat down, he had to take off the mask, it was choking him. He needed fresh air.

His hands grasped at the nylon wrapping around his head, peeling it off. He felt sick, he leaned to the side and wretched.

Nothing but spit and stomach pains came out.

This was fucked up, he was fucked up! He couldn't do this... He should just go down there, just... talk to him.

He hadn't talked to anyone in a whole day, and he was already losing it.

God, what would Michael think? Barry?

Yeah, he should... he had to just... Talk.

Just talk.

He grabbed the mask and the gun.

That's what he'd do then, he'd go down there, and he'd talk.

He turned back around and walked past the tree he was hiding behind.



Then he saw her.

The girl who tried to jump him, the one who was playing the bait game with Al. The one with the severed head.

She was with Brendan.





The realization hit him like the floor when Alex caught him. It didn't matter what he tried to rationalize, it didn't matter that he tried to help. No matter which way he looked at it, Brendan was with people who tried to hurt him. Brendan helped the people who killed so many others.

Brendan was one of them now, and the only way to really win this was to be like him. If Jon really wanted a chance to change things...




Jon would have to be one of them.










Jon put the mask back on.

He raised the revolver.

He fired.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Apr 19 2017, 10:37 AM.
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