‘ you actually think i’d ( WASTE ) these bullets on you? ’ damian shakes his head; a scoff forms on his lips & the younger of the two offers a look of i n c r e d u l i t y. ‘ jason, you know if i wanted to kill you, my own two hands are just as capable of it. i’d take more pleasure in it that way too. ’
STOIC is what he’s going for, despite the obvious tears falling down his cheeks (like the r a i n cascades on a gloomy day). far be it for damian to show a single person a sign of weakness; he’s above that.‘ YOU DON’T GET TO JUDGE ME. ’ his answer is EXPLOSIVE; it’s choked out with a sob! anger courses through the young assassin’s veins; it’s the F U R Y of a warrior who is ready for his second round…
…however, fury is oftentimes short-lived when one is still broken from the battle. showmanship &( ARROGANCE ) left him underestimating his enemies: a HAMARTIA he’s now paying the price for in full. with multiple broken bones, the teenager attempts to stand, hugging the wall. anguished cries fill the room as he tries.
A B A N D O N E D by his fellow league members in the h e a t of the moment; he’s probably thought to be dead: a PITIFUL end for somebody with such lofty expectations. he needed to get back &prove he hadn’t failed. his face riddled with tears, contorted into a look of pure pain, he manages a single word, finally giving in, ‘help…’
