Finding the man who’d killed my brother was easy. Everyone knew who’d done it, they just didn’t care enough to act on that knowledge.
I snuck into his place at midnight- the lock was cheap and nasty and posed no obstacle. Same as the man.
The idiot had left his revolver in an open drawer, and loaded to boot. Fucking amateur.
He was too out of it to do much. He just leered at me from his couch through a haze of liquor and coke.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I took aim.
“You don’t have the g-”
I shot that sneer right off his face. His nose collapsed in on itself in a concave mess of splintered bone and half his teeth hit the carpet, carried by a fountain of blood.
Instantly I felt regret. He’d died too fast and I hadn’t had a chance to crow over him, to make him hurt.