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Description
Quiet Contemplation

Chantal sat on the cold stone floor, her back to the wall, her gaze fixed on the statue of Tyr in front of her.

It’s just a statue, you know? Tyr isn’t watching this. But I am.

Her heart threatened to break at the thought of the last time she had spent the night in this room. How very different things had been then.

And who’d have thought I would do this twice in my life?

How she wished the door would open again, to show his graceful figure. Just like last time. He had come to her, come with sarcasm and advice. And shortly before he left, a grudging offer to take her place.

To be her Champion.

How could she have missed what that meant? Sure, he had disguised the offer with scorn, made it seem like he just wanted another opportunity for payback to Luskan. How could she let herself be fooled by such a flimsy pretence? For a man like Bishop, to offer to take her place in a fight to the death, a fight against an opponent as formidable as Lorne, with a very high probability of dying – how could she not have seen the meaning of that?

Revenge on Luskan might be a strong motive for Bishop – but he’d never risk his life for it. He’d strike only when the odds were in his favour. And a one on one fight with Lorne... the odds had not been very favourable.

But still, he’d offered. Scowling, his eyes not meeting hers. Letting her only see his angry mask.

And she had taken it at face value.

She had not taken him up on his offer. She could not do that. The only life she would risk was her own.

But she remembered thinking about it for a moment, imagining Bishop facing Lorne. Imagining him falling under the relentless blows of that cruel falchion. Remembered finding that image too painful. Remembered telling herself that she just could not see one of her companions die in her place.

A tear rolled down her cheek while she contemplated the many mistakes they had made in the past. The many opportunities they had missed.

Gods, we’ve been so stupid. So blind.

And now here they were. Tomorrow, they would face each other in the arena. Right now, he was in the room next to hers. Separated only by the wall in her back. It was almost too much to bear.

All she wanted to do was run into the next room, throw herself at him. Beg him to come back. Crawl, if that was what it took. Hells, she really would not mind crawling at all.

Who’d have thought I would ever sink so low?

But she just did not care. A life without him just held no allure anymore. What was her pride compared to the vast emptiness of her life stretching ahead of her? So if it took crawling, she was willing to crawl.

She sighed. If only it were so simple. Of course she could just barge into the room next door. Maybe she could even convince him to stop running from her. From himself. But then, he would hang in the morning. And she still would have lost him.

So she stayed, painfully aware of how close he was. So close, but out of reach nonetheless. It was torture. It was...

A loud voice outside the room caught her attention.

“Damn you, man, get out of my way! That is my niece in there, and I will talk to her! You will not hold me back!”

“Sir, the Champion of Neverwinter has requested specifically that her contemplation not be disturbed tonight. I’m afraid I can’t let you pass.” The quiet, soothing voice of Hlam was a stark contrast to Duncan’s aggressive organ.

Chantal smiled sadly. Good old Duncan. So Neeshka had put two and two together and had alerted him to what was happening. Chantal just hoped the tiefling would refrain from telling Casavir as well.

First, she really did not want to sow any conflicts between those two. They were so happy together, Chantal would hate to be the source of any twist. She did feel guilty for the way she had led Neeshka around by the nose, she really did. She would not have done it if she had seen any other way.

But how could she have done it without Neeshka’s help? She could hardly have talked to Bishop himself. If he had known she was here, he would have sniffed a rat immediately. And that would have spoiled everything. So she had to use Neeshka.

That’s exactly what you did. You used your friend.

And she was ashamed of herself. But she would do it again in a heartbeat.

Second, Casavir would be so much harder to handle than Duncan, if he knew.

As if on cue, Duncan’s loud voice broke into her thoughts. “Champion of Neverwinter, my ass! Getting herself killed is what she does! I’ll drag her out of here! You can find someone else to fight that viper. Because there’s no way in all hells I will let my niece face him tomorrow!”

“Sir, your niece volunteered for that role. I will have to ask you to leave...”

Hlam’s voice was cut off. Chantal heard a short commotion, then the door to her room opened and Duncan stormed in, looking like thunder. Chantal lifted her face and smiled up at him.

“Hello, Uncle”, she said, tenderly.

Duncan stopped before her, hands on his hips, his hazel eyes glaring daggers at her.

“Don’t you Hello, Uncle me, young lady! That’s a fine trick you played me, but enough is enough! You will get up immediately and come back to the Flagon with me, you hear?”

Chantal smiled at him again, affectionately. “I really do love you, you know?”, she said.

He pointed at her, his finger shaking in front of her eyes. “Don’t try to sweet talk me, girl! You get up already, I’m not leaving here without you!”

“Well, if that is so, better sit down – it’s going to be a long night”, she said, mildly.

“Enough of this banter! You’re coming back with me now!”

She looked at him, steadily. “No”, she just said.

He stared down at her for a moment, and she could see the anger in his face dissipating, leaving only bewilderment and fear behind. He sunk down the wall next to her, looking deflated.

“Daeghun is going to kill me for this”, he said, helplessly.

Chantal took his hand and squeezed it. “Father knows very well that I have my own will. He will not hold you responsible.”

“That’s what you think”, Duncan said bitterly. “You won’t believe the things I mysteriously found myself being responsible for over the years.”

She chuckled slightly. That sure sounded like Daeghun.

Duncan turned to face her. “At least, let me fight him tomorrow”, he pleaded.

Chantal nearly laughed. “Duncan, I know you have a colourful past, and I’m sure you’ve seen your share of fights in your time. But tell me, when was the last time you picked up a sword? Moved in armour? You’re out of training. Bishop would wipe the floor with you. You know that.”

For a moment there was a challenging spark in his eyes, but then he sighed and nodded. “He would. I know. But at least it would not be your life at stake. And if someone gets killed in the process, it seems only fair that it be me. Because I saved his life so long ago. If I just had let him die, as he so fully deserved, none of all that would have happened. And if that was not enough, I have been so stupid as to force him on you, even though I knew him for what he was. I am to blame for everything he ever did to you. So it’s me who deserves to die by his hand, not you. Please, let me go in your stead.”

She gave him a tender peck on the cheek, resting her head at his shoulder for a moment. “You and Daeghun really are all the family I could ever wish for”, she said warmly. “I thank you for your offer. But you know I can’t let you do this. You would just die, and I could not bear that. Besides, this is something I have to do. It’s personal.”

“Why, lass?”, he asked, still sounding helpless. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, smiling. “Because I have to.”

She saw his eyes widen, something like horror showing in them. “You love him”, he whispered.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“But... but why? Don’t you know he’s a killer? Don’t you know what he’s done?”

She stroked his cheek, soothingly. “I know very well that he is a killer. I experienced that first hand, remember? And I know what he did. Well, some of it, but enough. I know what he is.”

“But then... how can you love him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just do. And I can’t let him die. I simply can’t.”

“Lass, if you go out tomorrow, hoping for his tender side to get the better of him, you’ll die, you know that? That man doesn’t even have a tender side! I’ve known him far, far longer than you. Once I thought there might be hope for him, so I saved his life. But that was a mistake, I know that now. There’s nothing good in him, believe me! He’s merciless, cold blooded, ruthless. He will not hesitate to kill you!”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe you’re right, he won’t hesitate. But I believe you are wrong about him – he’s not as cold as you think. He’s just buried that part of him deep, deep down. But it’s still there.”

She saw the deep sorrow in his eyes as he shook his head. “I think you’re wrong about that. What did he do, trick you with sweet words? You can’t believe anything he says, you know? Never known anyone who lied that easily, not even your tiefling friend.”

Chantal just had to laugh. “Trick me with sweet words? Are you serious? This is Bishop we’re talking about, remember? Sweet words, my ass! He could not find any if his life depended on it! The closest he gets to sweet talk is being mildly annoying.”

Duncan was silent for some moments. Then he asked, hesitatingly: “Is there anything I can say or do to make you see reason?”

She squeezed his hand again. “No”, she said, softly. “I have made up my mind. I have to do this. There’s nothing you can do.”

She saw tears shimmering in his eyes, and he drew her into his arms, holding her tight. “Oh lass”, he whispered.

She hugged him back, enjoying the comfort of his embrace for some moments. Then she drew back and smiled at him.

“You’ll have to go now”, she said. “May the gods be with you, Duncan. And tell Daeghun I love him. That’ll make him squirm.”

He got up, wiping away the tears. “You can tell him yourself afterwards”, he said gruffly, trying not to sound desperate. “I don’t want to be at the receiving end of one of his cold stares.”

She got up as well and gave him another kiss on the cheek, then shoved him in the direction of the door. He hugged her once more, fiercely, then turned and left the room without looking back.

It’s just a statue, you know. Tyr isn’t watching this. But I am.

That’s what he had said to her that night, when he had come to her while she was going through that farce of a vigil.

What ever had driven him to do it? Go there and offer to take her place?

She had me on a leash even then.

He’d never have admitted it, not to others, not to himself. But even then, he did not want her to die. So he told himself that he’d love to have a go at Lorne. Because Lorne bothered him. He snorted.

Gods, I’m such a good liar, I even fool myself.

And now, here he was, staring at some piece of stone that was supposed to represent the high and mighty Tyr.

And, are you watching, mate? Probably laughing your ass off at my expense, if you are.

Bishop smiled bitterly. Not that he could not understand. He was a joke, he knew that perfectly well. All that talk about only those deserving to live who could defend themselves, and then he let himself be knocked out by a simple barkeeper with a cudgel. After he had rushed in to defend the ice maiden’s honour, drunk as a pig. In a place where he damn well knew better than to show his face.

So he absolutely deserved what was coming.

That did not mean he would not fight for his life tomorrow. He would grab this chance at freedom. And then he would leave and go far away.

He sighed, shifting position a bit, making the chains they still held him in clank with the motion. Suddenly, he stopped, listening intently.

He had heard a loud, male voice in the corridor. Over the clanking he could not be sure, but he thought it sounded like Duncan.

Oh, nonsense! What would Duncan do here?

Come and gloat.

Well, maybe. But judging from his face this afternoon, Duncan was not entirely happy to see him die. And the man was an idiot, but there was no malice in him. He would not gloat at someone about to die.

Besides, I might still live.

Maybe he came to volunteer as Champion.

The thought made Bishop snicker. That would be a sight to behold. But he sincerely doubted that it would be so easy.

Wonder whom they’ll send in?

Well, the paladin was probably more than willing to get his chance to kill him.

Fine by me.

He’d been aching to give the self-righteous fool a good thrashing anyway. He was not sure if he could defeat him in close combat, but he was very sure he would be able to make him bleed profoundly.

Might even be worth dying for, getting the chance to play bash-the-paladin.

He sighed again, leaning his head back at the wall, closing his eyes. His mind wandered back again to the night of her vigil. It really had been hard to find a moment to talk to her alone, with all the coming and going.

Somehow I doubt someone will show and offer to take my place.

He snorted. Not likely. But there had been a queue of people offering for her...

Seems like she’s better at making friends than you.

He barked out a short laugh at the thought. If that wasn’t the honest truth. Well, he’d never been interested in making friends. It all ran down to his old maxim. Any attachment made you weak. In that respect, friends were no better than lovers.

Besides, he did not need friends. He got by very well on his own.

But she... that had been another matter entirely. People just seemed to flock around her, full of admiration, eager to follow, drawn to her light, her strength. She did not even seem aware that she did it, but you just had to look at that ragtag band running around with her. The dwarf, two elves, the half-demon, the paladin, the gnome, the sorceress, the farm girl, and later even the Githzerai and the warlock. Not to mention himself. A crowd that would normally be at each other’s throat in seconds, working together. Because of her. Just her presence did that.

I miss her.

He clamped down at the thought, trying to shove the feeling of loneliness away. He did not need her. He did not need anyone.

But the thought lacked conviction.

He imagined her scent, her laughter, her touch. Remembered holding her in his arms, remembered how he had felt, holding her close.

Warm. Contented. Safe. Like he had found his haven at last. Happy. And sad at the same time, knowing it could not last.

Maybe I should have stayed. Should have taken the chance.

No! Never again, remember?

He conjured up the other images, the images of Sarah’s body, broken, bloody, defiled. Lifeless, dead. Ripped from him, ripped from life, because someone wanted to cause him pain. Because of him.

The thought helped steeling himself against the longing in his heart.

Never again. Never again would he offer anyone the chance to do that to him.

Tomorrow, he would go out there and kill whomever they sent in against him. He did not care who it was. He would kill, or go down trying.

And if he survived, he was out of here. He would leave this sorry piece of the world behind. This piece of the world, and her.

Forever.

Description
Quiet Contemplation

Chantal sat on the cold stone floor, her back to the wall, her gaze fixed on the statue of Tyr in front of her.

It’s just a statue, you know? Tyr isn’t watching this. But I am.

Her heart threatened to break at the thought of the last time she had spent the night in this room. How very different things had been then.

And who’d have thought I would do this twice in my life?

How she wished the door would open again, to show his graceful figure. Just like last time. He had come to her, come with sarcasm and advice. And shortly before he left, a grudging offer to take her place.

To be her Champion.

How could she have missed what that meant? Sure, he had disguised the offer with scorn, made it seem like he just wanted another opportunity for payback to Luskan. How could she let herself be fooled by such a flimsy pretence? For a man like Bishop, to offer to take her place in a fight to the death, a fight against an opponent as formidable as Lorne, with a very high probability of dying – how could she not have seen the meaning of that?

Revenge on Luskan might be a strong motive for Bishop – but he’d never risk his life for it. He’d strike only when the odds were in his favour. And a one on one fight with Lorne... the odds had not been very favourable.

But still, he’d offered. Scowling, his eyes not meeting hers. Letting her only see his angry mask.

And she had taken it at face value.

She had not taken him up on his offer. She could not do that. The only life she would risk was her own.

But she remembered thinking about it for a moment, imagining Bishop facing Lorne. Imagining him falling under the relentless blows of that cruel falchion. Remembered finding that image too painful. Remembered telling herself that she just could not see one of her companions die in her place.

A tear rolled down her cheek while she contemplated the many mistakes they had made in the past. The many opportunities they had missed.

Gods, we’ve been so stupid. So blind.

And now here they were. Tomorrow, they would face each other in the arena. Right now, he was in the room next to hers. Separated only by the wall in her back. It was almost too much to bear.

All she wanted to do was run into the next room, throw herself at him. Beg him to come back. Crawl, if that was what it took. Hells, she really would not mind crawling at all.

Who’d have thought I would ever sink so low?

But she just did not care. A life without him just held no allure anymore. What was her pride compared to the vast emptiness of her life stretching ahead of her? So if it took crawling, she was willing to crawl.

She sighed. If only it were so simple. Of course she could just barge into the room next door. Maybe she could even convince him to stop running from her. From himself. But then, he would hang in the morning. And she still would have lost him.

So she stayed, painfully aware of how close he was. So close, but out of reach nonetheless. It was torture. It was...

A loud voice outside the room caught her attention.

“Damn you, man, get out of my way! That is my niece in there, and I will talk to her! You will not hold me back!”

“Sir, the Champion of Neverwinter has requested specifically that her contemplation not be disturbed tonight. I’m afraid I can’t let you pass.” The quiet, soothing voice of Hlam was a stark contrast to Duncan’s aggressive organ.

Chantal smiled sadly. Good old Duncan. So Neeshka had put two and two together and had alerted him to what was happening. Chantal just hoped the tiefling would refrain from telling Casavir as well.

First, she really did not want to sow any conflicts between those two. They were so happy together, Chantal would hate to be the source of any twist. She did feel guilty for the way she had led Neeshka around by the nose, she really did. She would not have done it if she had seen any other way.

But how could she have done it without Neeshka’s help? She could hardly have talked to Bishop himself. If he had known she was here, he would have sniffed a rat immediately. And that would have spoiled everything. So she had to use Neeshka.

That’s exactly what you did. You used your friend.

And she was ashamed of herself. But she would do it again in a heartbeat.

Second, Casavir would be so much harder to handle than Duncan, if he knew.

As if on cue, Duncan’s loud voice broke into her thoughts. “Champion of Neverwinter, my ass! Getting herself killed is what she does! I’ll drag her out of here! You can find someone else to fight that viper. Because there’s no way in all hells I will let my niece face him tomorrow!”

“Sir, your niece volunteered for that role. I will have to ask you to leave...”

Hlam’s voice was cut off. Chantal heard a short commotion, then the door to her room opened and Duncan stormed in, looking like thunder. Chantal lifted her face and smiled up at him.

“Hello, Uncle”, she said, tenderly.

Duncan stopped before her, hands on his hips, his hazel eyes glaring daggers at her.

“Don’t you Hello, Uncle me, young lady! That’s a fine trick you played me, but enough is enough! You will get up immediately and come back to the Flagon with me, you hear?”

Chantal smiled at him again, affectionately. “I really do love you, you know?”, she said.

He pointed at her, his finger shaking in front of her eyes. “Don’t try to sweet talk me, girl! You get up already, I’m not leaving here without you!”

“Well, if that is so, better sit down – it’s going to be a long night”, she said, mildly.

“Enough of this banter! You’re coming back with me now!”

She looked at him, steadily. “No”, she just said.

He stared down at her for a moment, and she could see the anger in his face dissipating, leaving only bewilderment and fear behind. He sunk down the wall next to her, looking deflated.

“Daeghun is going to kill me for this”, he said, helplessly.

Chantal took his hand and squeezed it. “Father knows very well that I have my own will. He will not hold you responsible.”

“That’s what you think”, Duncan said bitterly. “You won’t believe the things I mysteriously found myself being responsible for over the years.”

She chuckled slightly. That sure sounded like Daeghun.

Duncan turned to face her. “At least, let me fight him tomorrow”, he pleaded.

Chantal nearly laughed. “Duncan, I know you have a colourful past, and I’m sure you’ve seen your share of fights in your time. But tell me, when was the last time you picked up a sword? Moved in armour? You’re out of training. Bishop would wipe the floor with you. You know that.”

For a moment there was a challenging spark in his eyes, but then he sighed and nodded. “He would. I know. But at least it would not be your life at stake. And if someone gets killed in the process, it seems only fair that it be me. Because I saved his life so long ago. If I just had let him die, as he so fully deserved, none of all that would have happened. And if that was not enough, I have been so stupid as to force him on you, even though I knew him for what he was. I am to blame for everything he ever did to you. So it’s me who deserves to die by his hand, not you. Please, let me go in your stead.”

She gave him a tender peck on the cheek, resting her head at his shoulder for a moment. “You and Daeghun really are all the family I could ever wish for”, she said warmly. “I thank you for your offer. But you know I can’t let you do this. You would just die, and I could not bear that. Besides, this is something I have to do. It’s personal.”

“Why, lass?”, he asked, still sounding helpless. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, smiling. “Because I have to.”

She saw his eyes widen, something like horror showing in them. “You love him”, he whispered.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“But... but why? Don’t you know he’s a killer? Don’t you know what he’s done?”

She stroked his cheek, soothingly. “I know very well that he is a killer. I experienced that first hand, remember? And I know what he did. Well, some of it, but enough. I know what he is.”

“But then... how can you love him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just do. And I can’t let him die. I simply can’t.”

“Lass, if you go out tomorrow, hoping for his tender side to get the better of him, you’ll die, you know that? That man doesn’t even have a tender side! I’ve known him far, far longer than you. Once I thought there might be hope for him, so I saved his life. But that was a mistake, I know that now. There’s nothing good in him, believe me! He’s merciless, cold blooded, ruthless. He will not hesitate to kill you!”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe you’re right, he won’t hesitate. But I believe you are wrong about him – he’s not as cold as you think. He’s just buried that part of him deep, deep down. But it’s still there.”

She saw the deep sorrow in his eyes as he shook his head. “I think you’re wrong about that. What did he do, trick you with sweet words? You can’t believe anything he says, you know? Never known anyone who lied that easily, not even your tiefling friend.”

Chantal just had to laugh. “Trick me with sweet words? Are you serious? This is Bishop we’re talking about, remember? Sweet words, my ass! He could not find any if his life depended on it! The closest he gets to sweet talk is being mildly annoying.”

Duncan was silent for some moments. Then he asked, hesitatingly: “Is there anything I can say or do to make you see reason?”

She squeezed his hand again. “No”, she said, softly. “I have made up my mind. I have to do this. There’s nothing you can do.”

She saw tears shimmering in his eyes, and he drew her into his arms, holding her tight. “Oh lass”, he whispered.

She hugged him back, enjoying the comfort of his embrace for some moments. Then she drew back and smiled at him.

“You’ll have to go now”, she said. “May the gods be with you, Duncan. And tell Daeghun I love him. That’ll make him squirm.”

He got up, wiping away the tears. “You can tell him yourself afterwards”, he said gruffly, trying not to sound desperate. “I don’t want to be at the receiving end of one of his cold stares.”

She got up as well and gave him another kiss on the cheek, then shoved him in the direction of the door. He hugged her once more, fiercely, then turned and left the room without looking back.

It’s just a statue, you know. Tyr isn’t watching this. But I am.

That’s what he had said to her that night, when he had come to her while she was going through that farce of a vigil.

What ever had driven him to do it? Go there and offer to take her place?

She had me on a leash even then.

He’d never have admitted it, not to others, not to himself. But even then, he did not want her to die. So he told himself that he’d love to have a go at Lorne. Because Lorne bothered him. He snorted.

Gods, I’m such a good liar, I even fool myself.

And now, here he was, staring at some piece of stone that was supposed to represent the high and mighty Tyr.

And, are you watching, mate? Probably laughing your ass off at my expense, if you are.

Bishop smiled bitterly. Not that he could not understand. He was a joke, he knew that perfectly well. All that talk about only those deserving to live who could defend themselves, and then he let himself be knocked out by a simple barkeeper with a cudgel. After he had rushed in to defend the ice maiden’s honour, drunk as a pig. In a place where he damn well knew better than to show his face.

So he absolutely deserved what was coming.

That did not mean he would not fight for his life tomorrow. He would grab this chance at freedom. And then he would leave and go far away.

He sighed, shifting position a bit, making the chains they still held him in clank with the motion. Suddenly, he stopped, listening intently.

He had heard a loud, male voice in the corridor. Over the clanking he could not be sure, but he thought it sounded like Duncan.

Oh, nonsense! What would Duncan do here?

Come and gloat.

Well, maybe. But judging from his face this afternoon, Duncan was not entirely happy to see him die. And the man was an idiot, but there was no malice in him. He would not gloat at someone about to die.

Besides, I might still live.

Maybe he came to volunteer as Champion.

The thought made Bishop snicker. That would be a sight to behold. But he sincerely doubted that it would be so easy.

Wonder whom they’ll send in?

Well, the paladin was probably more than willing to get his chance to kill him.

Fine by me.

He’d been aching to give the self-righteous fool a good thrashing anyway. He was not sure if he could defeat him in close combat, but he was very sure he would be able to make him bleed profoundly.

Might even be worth dying for, getting the chance to play bash-the-paladin.

He sighed again, leaning his head back at the wall, closing his eyes. His mind wandered back again to the night of her vigil. It really had been hard to find a moment to talk to her alone, with all the coming and going.

Somehow I doubt someone will show and offer to take my place.

He snorted. Not likely. But there had been a queue of people offering for her...

Seems like she’s better at making friends than you.

He barked out a short laugh at the thought. If that wasn’t the honest truth. Well, he’d never been interested in making friends. It all ran down to his old maxim. Any attachment made you weak. In that respect, friends were no better than lovers.

Besides, he did not need friends. He got by very well on his own.

But she... that had been another matter entirely. People just seemed to flock around her, full of admiration, eager to follow, drawn to her light, her strength. She did not even seem aware that she did it, but you just had to look at that ragtag band running around with her. The dwarf, two elves, the half-demon, the paladin, the gnome, the sorceress, the farm girl, and later even the Githzerai and the warlock. Not to mention himself. A crowd that would normally be at each other’s throat in seconds, working together. Because of her. Just her presence did that.

I miss her.

He clamped down at the thought, trying to shove the feeling of loneliness away. He did not need her. He did not need anyone.

But the thought lacked conviction.

He imagined her scent, her laughter, her touch. Remembered holding her in his arms, remembered how he had felt, holding her close.

Warm. Contented. Safe. Like he had found his haven at last. Happy. And sad at the same time, knowing it could not last.

Maybe I should have stayed. Should have taken the chance.

No! Never again, remember?

He conjured up the other images, the images of Sarah’s body, broken, bloody, defiled. Lifeless, dead. Ripped from him, ripped from life, because someone wanted to cause him pain. Because of him.

The thought helped steeling himself against the longing in his heart.

Never again. Never again would he offer anyone the chance to do that to him.

Tomorrow, he would go out there and kill whomever they sent in against him. He did not care who it was. He would kill, or go down trying.

And if he survived, he was out of here. He would leave this sorry piece of the world behind. This piece of the world, and her.

Forever.