Hybrids: No Longer Human (The Story Thread)

"I fooled you."

Patrick looked at Norman, temporarily paralyzed thanks to that shot his son had given him only moments before. He could only glare at the son with hair matching of his. "Don't sound so pleased with yourself. This just proves you're just as horrible as that dreaded mother of yours," he spat at him.

Norman sent him a glare of his own. "Oh, mom's the awful one? That's rich coming from you, you b------, mom never abandoned her child to a lab that she knew was practically going to torture the two year old for years, just so she could make a couple bucks. Did she?" He countered.

The two had a small staring contest, blue eyes: cold like ice and twice as deadly, meeting dark green, before Patrick continued, voice laced with disgust as he began to talk about his ex wife.

"No, but she did torture other hybrids, she killed people, messed with people, played with their minds, she didn't even have to lay a precious little finger on someone to ruin them. I might not have been a good father, but she's a bad person," Patrick told him, voice sharp as it cut through the ice cold air without any sort of sympathy as he spoke of her.

Norman's glare hardened. "I'm not saying she was an angel. She's still far from one. But you...you subjected a child, your own child, to the labs just because they wanted one of mom's kids and you wanted money. How is that not horrible? You're a bad father and a bad person, at least mom got one thing right, and that's that she's a better parent than you," he told him, quickly beginning to feel emotional.

Patrick watched him wipe his black sleeve to his face, clearing it of any tears that had begun, then, he scoffed. "You're so weak. Crying just because of something that happened how many years ago? Thirteen. Get over it son. Or whatever you are, cause you're a pretty sorry excuse for a son, even a kid in general," he told him and Norman looked away.

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes again, trying his best to ignore Patrick as he laid there, insulting him as if he had any right. "You're pathetic." That was the last straw for Norman, as he swiftly turned back to face Patrick, eyes wet but an outright furious glare on his face as he lifted his gun up and pointed it at him.

"You left me! On purpose! Knowing what they were going to do, what they were going to turn me into! For my entire life, I was told I was abandoned, that my own family didn't want me. Because I was weak or small, or that something was wrong with me. They told me they took pity on me, that they could at least find a use for me. They told me my own brothers didn't want me, that I was nothing but a responsibly to be dropped on them and that if they could, they'd have abandoned me too!" He was getting emotional again, but he didn't care. "Do you know what that felt like? Do you know how every time they said that, the more I began to believe it was true? Do you know how hurt I was every time I was ignored even just a little, because of that? Do you know how completely and utterly scarred I am, because of that?" Norman shouted at him, gun shaking in his hand.

Patrick looked him over. "You ain't scarred kid. Not from the lab. They never laid a finger on you beyond turning you into a hybrid. We made a deal on that," he said and rolled his eyes. "Quit being such a baby."

"Physical wounds aren't the only ones that leave scars," Norman spat at him, kneeling down to be at eye level with the man, who was pressed up against the front of his desk for support. "It's not called being a baby, it's called being a traumatized person," he said, voice barely above a whisper by then. "And it's all because of what you did to me."

Patrick looked him over skeptically. "So what, you planning on killing me for what I did to you?" He asked and Norman gave a small, shaky nod of confirmation. He laughed. "Please kid, you don't have it in you. You're this family's 'help,' our precious little 'hero.' Frankly I just call it weakness. But face it Ezra, you'll never have it in you to kill someone, even me," Patrick told him, a look in his eyes suggesting he fully believed what he was saying.

Norman stood up and started to walk away, looking away from Patrick. At first it looked like he was just going to walk out, but then he stopped only a foot away from Patrick, and, he chuckled. "You know, Ezra might mean help. But Norman, well that means northman, which is another name for Viking. I don't recall the Vikings being known for their compassion or mercy," Norman paused to look back to Patrick, gun raised and finger beginning to press down on the trigger.

"Do you?"

Just as he said that, and Patrick realized what was happening, a bullet shot from the gun, flying across the room as it hit its target exactly. Patrick didn't even have time to scream before the bullet ran through his head, killing him almost instantly.

The body didn't move, already being paralyzed before. However there was definite silence that sunk into the air, hinting to even the most naive of people that someone had died. The only sound being Norman's breathing as he stared down at the floor of the office, heart pounding in his chest as the realization of what he had just done washed over him like tidal waves in a storm.

He had just shot his father. He had just killed someone.

He was a killer.