He stares at the knifes blade, and twists it slowly in the air before him, then starts to whistle softly as he looks up at them. “There’s nothing more satisfying, than holding a heavy blade that’s covered in someone else’s blood.” He says with a broad grin upon his face.
He stares wearily into his mirrored reflection, staring past his own image and into the image behind him, between each repeated reflection that is thrown back at him, as the mirror before him reflects the mirror behind, and so on and on again, until finally she stares back at him.
The jar hits the ground with a volatile explosion, sending shards of glass and strawberry jam across the floor in all directions. He looks up at the others and smiles wryly and holds out his hand.“Pay up,” he says proudly.“Seriously?”“What, you think I was joking?” he sneers.
“There is no simplistic answer, there is only my answer,” he says with a wide-eyed smile.“Your answer does nothing for me, so why should it resolve all those before us?” he says as he gestures towards the others as they stand silently watching."For my fist shall heed so!”
He stares into her hate filled eyes and spits venomously towards her. “You shall not have what is not yours. You shall only have the leftovers, and nothing more!”The sneer that creeps across her lips cuts through the air more than her words ever could, separating flesh from bone.
“A defining moment, you called it. A twisted defining moment. Yet the moment wasn’t defining, was it?” he says as he looks across the room towards her. “But, I died. Wasn’t that defining enough?” “Death doesn’t define anything, it is but a stepping stone, a misguided glance, an endless nothing.”
He looks down at his hands as they fade away, and then looks over to Catherine. The smile that is on her lips holds a sadness in them that he cannot understand, tilting his head to the side he frowns and furrows his brow. “Sweet Catherine, why do you cry?”
“In the end we all have to make a choice, and sometimes a sacrifice. This is one of those moments, this is your moment.” he says as he gleefully wets his lips with his overripe tongue. “Tell me, what is it you choose to be, a martyr or a nobody?”
The blade glistens in the moonlight, the blood glowing a brilliant golden. He smiles at her with a half disguised glance and buts down on his bottom lip as he turns to face their mother. “Come on whelp, you don’t have the stones to take me down!” she cackles loudly.
“So, you don’t agree with my methods?” Caliban says with a grin upon his lips. “I thought they were tried and true, and I can assure you after a century or more than has been no complaints from the audience,” he adds, flicking his tongue across his red ripe lips.