June 21st, 2043

11:13 PM

“If you find me alive the bullets are on the night stand. I want to be brought down fast and clean, not rot in a hospital the way my father died.
“You should hate me for turning you, Daniel. I only did it hoping it would torment you and burden you with the decision I made years ago, to kill myself before I grow too fucked up and jaded to feel anymore. I know that I’m not strong enough to carry on forever, like my sister.
“I’m not doing this to be with Tristan. I still don’t believe in an afterlife. Even if there were one I don’t think I would find Tristan in Hell. He deserves better than me.
“If I do lie in front of you, barely alive, and you’re still hesitating despite how much you know I hated you, and I’m sure you want revenge for all the cruelness I’ve given you, then I tell you I wanted this. Death is a right. I’m not afraid of having my rights, Daniel. My life has been shit. Knowing everything I’ve done, are you so immoral that you think I actually deserve to live, even in a vegetative state? If you do believe in Hell you must know that Lucifer’s been looking for me. Hand me over, bastard! Shoot me, you little fuck! Shoot me!

“Am I dead? Good. Now quit fucking sobbing and listen up, I’ve got something important to say.

“I want my body cremated as soon as possible. Just throw it out in the sun. If you botch up this job I’ll come back and stab you in the heart. What you do with the ashes is up to Katana.

“….
“Please tell her I loved her. I respected her and loved her more than I’m able to describe with words. That’s why I had to die in America. Even though I couldn’t burden her with your task I wish that… I wish that she could have been here with me, in my final moments. I miss her very much right now. I’m sorry that it has to be this way.

“….
“I want you to split what’s left of my money between you and her, fifty-fifty, and I give her all of my possessions, except for my favorite cane-sword, which goes to Marcus. Truthfully they never mattered much to me but I think they will for her.

“I wasn’t sad. Not to say that I was giddy about the idea to put a bullet through my brain—and this part is still for her, you fucking sleaze bag! I’m not going to be fucking sentimental to you. Stop bawling for a second and turn off the damn tape, I only want her to hear this.

“I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t happy either, but the important thing is I wasn’t in pain when it happened. It’s better that way. I’m not strong enough to go on for another hundred years and it wouldn’t have been long before I started to waste away again. Your last memory of me shouldn’t be bitter. I don’t want to be remembered as a hateful, apathetic person and I never forgave myself for the times I was cruel to you and sometimes I can’t believe the torment you went through for a jackass like me. You’re a kinder, more intelligent and better person than I could ever be and I’m sorry; this is the only time I’m ever going to say it, fucking hell, I’m sorry.

“I wanted you to know that, but the thing I want most to be remembered for is not-saying I’m sorry, and I don’t mean about the things I did that hurt you. I’m not sorry about what happened to Jane, not anymore and I’m not sorry that I’m a killer. I regret that there was a time I didn’t know how to control it, but I’m not sorry and I’m not apologizing for who I am and what I’ve been made. I didn’t pull punches, I never lied about things that matter, I’ve been honest and honesty is harsh and that’s what I care about. Remember me as unafraid to take risks, I was never afraid of how hard or impossible anything seemed, I was never afraid….” Fragments of sound scattered over the empty tape.

Binx turned off the recorder after listening to his final words again, going over the dictated suicide note, searching for mistakes. Hearing his crackled voice coming out of a mindless box stirred within him a sense of something surreal, which he tried to stifle, and the noise of his emotions made him self conscious. He had not observed the tape in the meticulous, cold hearted manner he’d hoped he would.

He started to rewind the tape to edit out unwanted material. “Even though I couldn’t burden her with your task I wish that—“ Click. Binx ground words against his brain and found none suitable to replace what was already there, and fast-forwarded.

“This is the only time I’m ever going to say it, fucking hell, I’m sorry—“ Click. He massaged the gun in his other hand—a high caliber weapon that would probably blow the top off his skull, so he hoped. He thought for a long time and listened again.

“A hateful, apathetic—“ Fast-forward. “—jackass like me. You’re a kinder, more intelligent—“

“Fuck.” Binx hissed between his teeth and squeezed the steel monster in his hand. He checked the time and set the tape to start playing in twenty minutes when Daniel should arrive. He changed nothing.

Everything had been planned. They were outside Boston visiting a bunch of old comrades Daniel had dug up, as if the old memories would re-ignite the fire dormant in Binx’s heart. His friends had kept him alive after his birthday six months ago and he seemed to be in the clear. That was the only reason he managed to chastise Daniel into allowing him to have some ‘free-time’. The hospitality service would have rung Daniel’s room minutes ago to wish Binx a happy birthday. He knew Daniel would understand. He told him he’d be at Ben Frank’s, a Victorian themed bar that also served as a hotel with rooms on the upper levels were Binx could commit his act. He equipped the gun with a silencer and walked onto the floor.

He gripped the end of the silencer in his teeth and closed his eyes, tasting the barrel with his tongue. In all those passing years he really hadn’t changed. Same hair, same blind eyes, same wardrobe, yet he felt slower than he had years ago. His body couldn’t collect fat like a human, but in his dying years he felt as though he’d achieved a beer gut of maximum size. Even though it only existed in his mind he imagined he could feel the weight offending him even now and he worried his death would look too sappy and over-played when Daniel found him sucking on the cock of his gun.

He spat it out, raking his tongue between his teeth, and turned the hallow mouth of the silencer to his ear as if to whisper a death wish. His finger leaned willingly against the trigger. Nerves streamed electric hums from his shoulder down to his elbow and the tip of his finger, talking cool gun, cool room, cool breath. When he thought pull the trigger would pull and the room blossom with red. It was a calm, powerful sensation; peaceful in the feeling of control. He felt Katana would know, through their innate connection, the moment the bullet left the chamber. Eventually she would come to terms with it, she’d always known her brother’s fate lay only in his hands, and had probably suspected from the beginning that this trip would end in blood.
Daniel would suck it up.

Binx filled his lungs with the warm, bitter smells of the pub that had soaked into the wood floors, exhaling slowly until the sacks were empty. His pulse barely skipped a beat. Pull.