Trazelli sat in his wing-back chair in a black silk robe smoking a very large cigar.

I should have killed him when I had the chance! Why did I let him go? Am I going soft?

He looked out the window. One of his guards had spotted a squirrel crossing nimbly over a power line. He shot it, though with his silencer on, so it barely made a sound. He raised a fist in triumph.

Dimwits

Trazelli began pacing from one end of the opulent room to the other. He paused in front of a giant painting of his father. The inscription read “Lean not on others, Eliminate them.”

“You’re right Dad, time to take matters into my own hands!”

Trazelli unlocked his bottom desk drawer and pulled a shiny 357 out of its case. He examined it very carefully, almost in awe.

“You and I have had some good times, haven’t we, Destiny?” The gun gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

“It’s time we make some new memories.” He smiled, evilly, and took his shoulder holster into his dressing room. He got dressed and packed.