Staring down the nose of a gun and mentally preparing himself to pull the trigger never got any easier. Not when it was like this. It was easy to kill someone who was trying to kill him or someone close to him, someone he'd taken into his pseudo-family (because 'friends' just wasn't a word he would ever allow himself to use, not with how overused it was in the group he'd once been in), but it was an entirely different thing now.
How many times had he done this? It seemed like hundreds now. Did this make him a mass murderer? Did it count as a high body count if it was done the way he'd done it? Between the shootings and the strangling and the explosion, how many people had he killed now and how many times over?
He'd killed people who he knew had nothing to do with his problem -- and he'd killed people who were as guilty as sin. He'd done everything he knew to do to stop what was to come... and he'd watched how it had changed nothing. That future was still in motion. It would still happen.
So he'd gone to the source, the very moment when everything would begin to fall into place. He was staring down the nose of his gun, the same gun he'd used to end countless others, at a person he'd never tried to take out before...