[Espy]

The quiet click-clack of the gun resounded in Dante's ears, like a guillotine being set into place. How had he not been prepared for this...?! Soft...too soft. You've grown too soft, assassin! a voice inside him laughed. You're protecting your brother, true, true...but what has he brought to you? Only the end of your life!

The essence of fear sank deep into him, piercing through his mind. He had been sane before, yes, but sanity ran from the deepening pool of black despair that was emanating from the purple aura. It also scored a direct hit on the assassin's mind. He doubled over from the mental assault.

The shame that had threatened to overflow from Dante's eyes spilled out, and Dante drew his left hand across his face. Stop...stop laughing! He was sick and tired of being constantly reminded that he should've been the one to die, he was the weaker one, he was blind. But instead a cruel twist of fate had poisoned his brother, not him. You wanted to die at the time, right? Well, here's what you wanted~ A barrel point right at you, you murdering, sinning bastard!

And he couldn't deny it. How many people had he killed for the money? And what was the money for? Women, drink, gambling~ You know it, don't you. You deserve to die!

In his mind's eye, he saw the executioner pull the rope; he saw the blade descending, slowly, ever so slowly...And he was helpless at the bottom, tied, cornered, shunned...

The voice of his will screamed at him. How could he die here? He had survived the riots, the fires, the ghetto, the death of his parents, then of his brother...How could he die here, of all places? He was a survivor. He was named for being a survivor, ever since he had narrowly escaped death at birth. He was Dante.

His sanity returned, and in self-defense, he grabbed his guns from three feet away and held them up, both pointed at the gunman, ready to shoot at the slightest movement.