This was just too good. Grayson couldn't help that his smirk was almost making his jaw hurt it was so wide -- he was pleased enough in the haze of smoke to watch Dearborn die, to watch his life fade away from him slowly until there was nothing left.
He hadn't been able to watch his first -- well, victim, he supposed -- die, but that was before he'd understood how to properly channel his hatred into this -- this -- it was perfect. He was far too engrossed in this to hear the footsteps behind him, heavy and even, until he felt something hard splinter against the back of his head.
Grayson barely had time to see spots before he was down on his knees wheezing, spitting out blood that just pooled in the chin of his mask and ironically enough gave everything an odd red tinge. He groaned, bringing his hands to the back of his head.
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