I don’t know if a wise man once opined as I do now, but it’s fairly common knowledge that all objects are built of smaller components.  Depending on the end result, the names of the lesser parts vary.  Atoms; molecules; cells; blocks; they all adhere to the same basic principle of the many comprising the individual.  I have found that my work is no different.  There are many singular steps that must be taken to kill one man.
     When I was younger (though not by more than a few years) I was commissioned to end the line of Lyten Xenneth, the Vicari of Garduua.  No I did not misspeak; my orders were to kill any and all blood relatives of Vicari Xenneth.  Lady Luck favored me that day, as Nathaniel Storm’s forces had drawn Garduua’s away from the royal city.  Step one, getting into the palace, was easy.  Step two was to remove any and all resistance between Xenneth and myself.  That would be the Imperial Guard (IG), and they awaited me en masse.
     How does one man defeat an army?  By killing each soldier one at a time.  Like the mission that spurred the question, the answer also has many steps to it.  First, I must choose a target.  Then, I must pick a method of execution (this second step usually only applies to the Big Three (gun, sword, or arcanum).  After a decision is made, further steps must be taken to execute the kill and you probably can see where I’m going from here.
     First I killed the men in the entrance hall, finding time to use each of my tools.  Second was the division on the main landing, followed by those in the throne room and the escape passage, et cetera, et cetera.  And finally, all of the IG’s forces had been exhausted and step two of the mission was complete.  Only the Vicari and his ilk were left.
     When I came upon him, Xenneth and his three grown sons stood with swords drawn.  Behind them, a woman crouched down in the corner, clutching a bundle to her chest.  They didn’t banter or beg as the barons had done, but charged at me with a shared cry of bloodlust.  Repeat step two of my task.
     I approached the woman in the corner.  She was dressed rather nicely, her emerald dress adorned with golden bangles various jewels.  I noted that her garb was complimentary to the late Vicari, and based on this observation, I hypothesized that she may be Xenneth’s wife, and this painted a bull’s-eye on her.  Shame.  I took a menacing step towards her and she spoke.
     “Please,” she said through a heavy accent, clutching the bundle closer to her chest, “No her.”  It was then that the bundle moved, and a rounded face peered out at me.  A small girl, about six or seven, had her arms wrapped around the Vicara, childish fear etched into her face.
     “Me if you want,” continued the Vicara, “No her.”  It occurred to me then that this girl was Xenneth’s daughter.  My orders flew to the front of my mind… but she was so young.  She didn’t deserve…
     “No her…”
     When I left that place, my pistol was two bullets lighter.
     That was six years prior to my assignment with Isabella Antriek.  I’d been twenty then and more ruthless than a Dreadnaught.   I suppose that’s why they’d picked me to kill the Xenneths instead my partner, Nathan.  Nathan was a better swordsman, a better commanding officer, a better warden all around, but he was held back by his conscience.  He was the one that dared to challenge me when I burned Baron Martin alive in his own mansion along with six hundred civilians.  I went back to Baristod expecting a court martial, and instead received praise and a new assignment.  They had picked me out because I was merciless.  Because when I went to sleep that night, my dreams would not be fraught with guilt and the butchered faces of the men I’d killed (though in my opinion, the dreams I would have would be worse).
     As these thoughts passed through my head six years later in a seedy bar a few streets away from the creaky inn where my crew and I were rooming, a question arose in my mind.  I’d spoken of components before, and couldn’t help but wonder what things made up myself.  I saw in me a splash of brutality, a bit of cold efficiency, a twisted and black sense of humor, and just touch of bloodlust.  And after I noted these things, another question popped into my head: what did that make me in the end?  A soldier?  An assassin?  A murderer?
     These questions remained unanswered as I tossed a few coins onto the table and took my leave of that place.  If anything, I had even more questions than before!  For instance, why did it all bother me now?  Six years ago I could’ve slashed kitten’s throat form ear to ear and not thought twice about it, but now I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing… well… I’ve told you several times before what I see in my dreaming hours.
     In any case, I was so wrapped up in my quandary that the sharp cry of distress almost went right over my head.  Perturbed, I looked around for the source of the scream, finding it to be a woman being accosted by two threatening men.  While she was a pretty thing, the girl’s assailants didn’t look very interested in taking anything that only she exclusively could give; they were dressed in nice suits, allowing for the impression that they were businessmen, but carried metal clubs.  Loan sharks.  Oh joy.
     Now I remembered what my associates had told me about drawing attention to myself… but then again… I flexed the claws on my gauntlet and approached the gangsters.  The larger of the two had been in mid-sentence when I tapped him on the shoulder.  Puzzled, he turned around and practically ran right into my fist.  As the first staggered back, the second one took a swing at me.  I reached up and grabbed a hold of his club, twisting it out of his hand and clouting him upside the head with it.  I let him be for a moment to turn back to the first one, who’d got his wits about him.  I blocked his swing and put a chop to his throat before kicking his feet out from under him.  I heard a wet thud as his head hit the ground.  The sound was followed by a minute click and I found the smaller of the pair had leveled a gun at my head.  He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by grabbing hold of his pistol with my gauntlet, crushing it between my fingers.  Then I raked him across the face with my claws and sent him to the ground.
     I stepped on his chest, relishing the wet cough he gave as I ground my boot into his ribcage.  My naked hand took hold of my pistol… and then what?  Was I to kill these men?  I know they were loan sharks, but they were people too; just men who were probably sons and brothers and perhaps even fathers.  Is that all I ever amounted to?  Killing anyone that crossed me?
     I let go of my pistol and pressed harder on his chest.  “Shut up and listen, ‘cause I ain’t telling you twice.  You are a disgusting, cowardly vulture of a man.  The same goes for Bruno there.  Scum like you make my blood boil, and tonight you managed to catch me in a particularly foul mood… so I’m going to let you live.”
     The gangster’s eyes widened in surprise at this last statement.  Grudgingly, I took him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet.  But before I let him go, I offered the shark a warning.  “If I catch you or your partner again, I doubt I’ll be so lenient next time.  Now beat it.”  Then I hefted up the larger of the two, dumped him into the smaller one’s arms, and sent them on their way with a boot to their collective backside.  
     “Run, boys, run!” I yelled after the pair, they staggering away as quick as they could, “Tell on me if you like!  Tell your friends, tell your boss!  Tell them Tristan Daon’s waiting, claws ready and sword drawn!”  I watched them go, and a small noise reached my ears.  I turned back to find the woman rummaging through her purse.
“I don’t have much, milord,” she said graciously, pulling out a few coins, “But at least take-”
     “Don’t thank me,” I growled coldly, “Don’t you dare.  I’m square now.”
     I left before she could say anything else, but even though my demeanor was cold and rough, there was a lightness in my chest that hadn’t been there before.  You see, amongst my dark qualities, I had discovered a small bit of heroism.  And comprising that aspect were even more pleasant traits.  So in the end, I was made a bit of everything.  What did that ultimately make me?  Murderer?  Hero?  Nope.  I could only be one thing in the end: just human.