oh no, he didn’t like what he saw! it filled him with every frustrated emotion he was capable of containing within his human head: anger, especially, of the intrusion; but mainly (and more importantly), of course, he felt fear. that fear, that is the essence of so much of our behaviour. and so, it was through this fear that he spilled out all the confused, anxious hatred for these feelings from which he was suffering, and swept up into his bare hands, a weapon. he chose swiftly but wisely: he couldn’t pick any sort of tool that would simply erase the life force; he had to capture some sort of pain and desperation; else, what’s the point? so with a brutish lunge he crippled his antagoniser. he wasn’t satisfied (why should he be?), with his questionable result, though, and lunged and lunged again, crushing and grinding, until he was perfectly absolute that no more pain and hurt could possibly be inflicted. a twisted smile of satisfaction crept across his sneering mouth, and he let out a cry of achievement: a war cry for this great and empowering accomplishment, his silent slaughter. it made him feel good to be capable of such an act, and he made no excuse to himself for this.
