Forty-two. Million. That was the number. A magic number. He had known this even before he was born. That number had swam around in his head, haunting him. Once he had graced the world with his presence, he realized he was inadequately equipped to use the magic. So he waited. And watched. For ten years. He was only ten years old, but he discovered some hard truths in those years.
People were cruel. In every possible way. And he didn’t believe that most of them deserved their lives. That’s when the lightbulb went on. If he couldn’t make others realize that their lives were precious and they should enjoy every minute that they have until the end, he wouldn’t let them live.
He was smart enough to know that he couldn’t get caught. Nor did he want to be. He had a mission and intended to fulfill it. So he formulated a plan. Calculated and re-calculated until he thought he had it. Finally he knew the question to the answer he’d had in his head all along; how many people was he going to kill?