All Guilt for the Wicked

Quentin growls as he furiously stomps over, pointing an accusatory finger at the face of his father, "Why am I doing this!? Why are you doing this! You killed my friends! For no fucking reason other than the 'family pride'!"

"I-is that what they are telling you!?" Cleveland asks, eyes jumping between Six, Max, and Ori. "They're lies! I would never do that! I may have threatened you, but to go through with it? On innocent people no less!?"

"Fucking LIAR!" Quentin shouts, "I KNOW YOU PUT A HIT ON THEM!" he throws a wild hand at Ori's direction, "Bring the bag!"

Ori shrugs, grabbing the bag from the trunk and tossing it at the duo's feet. Quentin, as if he'd already forgotten his initial disgust and distaste for it, rips the bag away and picks up the severed head of Speks by the hair, holding it up for Cleveland to see.

"THIS IS THE GUY YOU SPOKE TO, ISN'T IT!?" he angrily shouts, thrusting the dangling head closer, "ISN'T IT!" he presses, uncaring of the coagulated blood dripping on both of their suits.

If Cleveland wasn't shitting himself before, he was now. His son, the dear boy he'd brought up alone was ruthlessly holding the severed head of his enemy, his father's 'associate'... He takes a deep breath and gulps down his saliva, firming his face... "I... I did."

...

Quentin stares at him, not expecting the man to just admit it... "Y-you admit it...?" he asks, baffled for a moment before shaking his head and unleashing a brutal right hook to the man's face, sending him to the floor with a grunt.

"Hhagh... I-, did. A-and I'd do it again..." Cleveland spits out before quietly chuckling, "They were weak, unmotivated wretches sucking you into a world of drugs, prostitutes, and braindances. But..." he looks up and grins at his son from his knees, "You've proven me wrong... You have become as ruthless as I always wanted. Determined. This, here? Now? Will serve you for the rest of your life. A memory of what happens when you lose your way."

Quentin stares at the man, his entire body shaking in range, his hands trembling with the urge to hit him again, and again.

"This is fucked..." Ori remarks to Max who was just watching the whole thing with folded arms.

"It is, but makes sense. If you ain't willing to stab your own dad in the back with a rusty fork, you won't last a week in high-up Corpo life... Might be strange to hear, but there are just as many bodies wearin' suits at the bottom of the canal as regular folk..."

Puts into comparison Ori's own family... They might've been poor, but at least they loved and cared about each other... He couldn't imagine having this kind of relationship with his father...

"So... What now, son? Will you kill me? Let me go? It's up to you now..." Cleveland asks, getting to his feet and brushing off his suit, acting as if he was now in control of the situation.

...

"You went through all this trouble, dragging me here and killing my chauffeur... His name was Jerald by the way, I'm sure his wife and child would appreciate your condolences." Cleveland states dismissively. "On the bright side, you've just made room for me to upgrade my security without affording him severance."

"J-just shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Quentin shouts and begins to pace, his finely tailored shoes tapping rhythmically on the concrete floor.

Cleveland ignores his command, stepping towards his son, "Make a decision. Or will you be at my beck and call all your life? Maybe I should find the rest of your friends? The ones who managed to hideaway before I caught them-"

*Thud!*

Quentin's fist slams into his father's head for the second time, but he didn't stop there, stepping on top of his body and continually smashing his fist into the man's face. His knuckles quickly became bloody, but the damage he was doing to his father's face was worse, his orbital bone had likely fractured judging by the snap that'd echoed around the lot, not to mention his mangled broken nose.

Cleveland looks up at his son, breathing heavily and occasionally having to swallow the blood pooling from his mouth and nose. "Make. Your. Decision..." he rasps out.

"W-why... Why do you always do this!? Even now!? YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS! MY GIRLFRIEND!... You want me to make a decision!? FINE!" Quentin shouts, his eyes aglow with mania and malice. He looks to Six and holds out his hand imploringly, "I need one of those." he states, gesturing to one of his revolvers.

Six shrugs, tossing it to the young adult who scrambles to properly hold it.

"So-" Cleveland starts but isn't able to get much else out as he unloads all six bullets into his face, splattering the ground around him with an egregious amount of blood.

Quentin looks down at his father's corpse, breathing heavily as he looks at his hands. He drops the gun but Six snatches it out of the air, unwilling to let any harm come to it. The young Corpo then drops to his knees and lets out a wail, crying into his sleeves as snot and tears pool out.

Ori steps forward to go and comfort him, only to be stopped by Max who drops a hand on his shoulder, "Don't... Getting attached like this ain't good for mercs, besides, you don't wanna be anywhere near this if he ever finds out..." he states meaningfully.

Ori shakes his head, "I know what this feels like, it don't mean anything but... No one should have to kill their family."

"That suit wasn't his family. The folks you're born with? Related by blood? Only get a headstart on it. Nah, it's the family you choose that really matters." he focuses on the crying young man, "Like his friends were to him... You and I ain't got the right to speak on that." Max says, releasing his grip.

Ori lets out a solemn sigh and nods, his heart aching with twinges of guilt. He knew the merc shit wouldn't be moral, or good, but he'd never anticipated coming face to face with his own actions. The consequences.

Killing was easy, but facing the people left alive that had to deal with it? He felt like he was no better than the Scavs that killed his father...

...

He rubs his face and steps over, sitting on his heels next to Quentin despite Max's advice and his own rationale. "You know, he said something about hunting down the rest of your friends... That means there's some left alive, right?"

...