Benjamin Coonan. Deceased.

The lights from the building behind him seemed eerie in the cold of the night. Somewhere overhead the remnants of a moon lingered to their spot in the sky and frantically dodged the cover of passing clouds. Scarce as they were, they liked to take what little Luna was left of the World. Silently I stood on the stairs with my back turned to the stable halogen, the light hurt my eyes. I always was more of a night being.

A slow creek and sigh of metal gave notice that he had exited. Voices. He hadn't left alone. It was always a shame to be forced to bear witnessess but there was truth in one thing that justified my actions. I am an assassin, not a murderer. The pair passed me in conversation and silently I joined them. As if another simply heading in the same direction. Easy it would have been to watch him fall into the damp embrace of wet grass and fade into the shadows as her cries echoed through the vacant quad. But I was more...friendly.

"Are you Ben Coonan?" I knew the answer. It was more of an attempt to give him time to come to terms with what was going to, or rather had, come to pass.

"Maybe...why?" Oblivious.

"Your dead," two simple words. That's all it takes to watch the look on their faces shatter as reality runs at a dead sprint and tackles them to the floor. Yet, he didn't simply allow truth to set in. He had to deny things. To grasp onto that faint glimmer that pulls one from the pits of despair into the relief of sanctuary.

Slowly, and almost as if on its own, my gun drew itself from my pocket. Hidden in the palm of my hand as if I was simply offering a friendly aquaintance my hand to shake. The trigger rested wearily against my finger. Begging to finally be squeezed so as the mechanism could release its pent up frustration and allow its purpose to be fulfilled. His eyes softened.

Benjamin Coonan. Executed.