Zaeed wasn’t happy. After ages of hunting down the bastard that betrayed him, marred his face with the scars he’d have to wear for the rest of his life -- after ages, he finally found him. Finally hunted him down.

Only for that bleeding heart goody-two-shoes to let him go. He was angry. He knew it was right, morally, but he didn’t give a shit about morals right now. Every night he saw that man. Every time he heard a gunshot he felt nails digging into his skin, pulling like they were on a chalkboard. Vido had not only tried to kill him, he succeeded. The notorious, feared mercenary was all but dead. He was weak. Scared like a child, hurt by his own foolish trust.

And he got away with it. Vido was still alive, after Zaeed had come so close. Before he could even think to stop himself -- though in all likelihood, he wouldn’t have -- he threw the glass across the room. It smashed into the wall and shattered, decorating the floor in an auburn liquid littered with stars. Pain in his side still lingered from the metal beam that fell on him. Damn it all. He was weak.