Death Of An Assassin

The man listened to Morphine as she gave a long speech to Cyanide. He made no words. No commentary. Just simple listening as each of them said their piece. It wasn't until the very end that Nnoitra really began to listen. Her words were not taken lightly either. He stayed silent, if only for a moment, as he listened to her heart rendering words. She believed he looked upon his dead son with disdain? No. He may have annoyed the hell out of him when he was younger and he may not have been blood, but Nnoitra did not criticize Kaien for his mistakes. He accepted that they all made mistakes, but regardless he wouldn't be hateful towards the boy. Not like she was explaining it.

"I realize he tried Morphine. Hell, you both tried and I saw that. I thank you for doing what you could, but I cannot say that you both helped. Granted you're right. You weren't given the best of circumstances to work with, but perhaps I shouldn't have made the mistake of passing Tortuga to someone else for their own selfish desires. I blame myself for his death, and I apologize for you having to watch it."

It would be the only heartfelt piece he would have to offer. Words were directly for Morphine and he ignored what anyone else had to say. The other bastards supervising the scene would judge him. The Tortugan King was known to be cold and emotionless for the most part, but he figured Morphine at least deserved that last sentiment. That last piece of his mind. She had, after all, tried her best with what was given. It just wasn't what Tortuga needed. Kaien wasn't it either. He hardly was much better, but things were improving. He just wished all of this hadn't of happened. He'd lost quite a few loyal members after the eruption It disappointed him.

The bird began to speak his piece as well as Cyanide. Needless to say he wasn't expecting the damned creature to excrete anything, but he knew exactly what it was as something wet and slimy oozed onto his head. Eyes closed and the male shook his head controlling his breathing. He was eight years old. Too old to be dealing with a damned bird. Taking a deep breath he calmed his boiling blood and wiped his face upon the ground making a mental note to scour his face later.

Cyanide got to her feet and with a fiery passion challenged Morphine to a death match. Eyes shifted between the two and he stepped out of their way. There was nothing he would say or do to stop them. He knew that he wold lose one of them. Perhaps it would make Morphine feel better. At least if Cyanide died it would be a more just way for her to die than die in a swamp, and if Morphine died, well it certainly was a way to go. He would stay out of their way as would anyone else. He'd make sure of it.

"Talk"