Collection • TwoSetViolin

III. Stradivarius

Summary: Revenge is sweet. Eddy didn't realize how sweet it was though until he hunted down the very man who killed his best friend just a year ago. (3344 words, 20-25 minute read)

Warnings: Depictions of violence, death.

Notes: A continuation of Last Shot. Also an experimentation in terms of writing stuff, so please feel free to leave some criticism if it's a little odd or sloppy!

• • •

"Jordana, how's my audio?"

The static emitting from the earpiece was a good sign to Eddy. "You're good, Edwina. Can hear you loud and clear."

Eddy smiled grimly. "Yeah. Good."

"Ready for today?" Jordon chuckled. "This'll be it. You won't ever have to go back there again."

"Yeah," Eddy breathed. "Finally. I'm going to shut up now. I'm nearing the headquarters. Just tell me if anything."

"Understood. Earpiece covered?"

His hand touched the back of his ear, making sure his longer locks of hair was blocking it. He sighed, wanting to cut the edges that brushed the tips of his ears, but this was necessary. It was all necessary for the setup. "Yeah."

"Awesome. Good luck."

"Thanks."

He shoved a hand in his jacket pocket, trying to act casual. The pistol hidden under his shirt felt heavier as he took each step towards the company, the final frontier. He took a short breath, regaining his composure, and continued to walk. One more left, and he would be right in front of the building.

It was hard to miss the building even from a mile away. It was the only tall skyscraper-esque building in this area, and the only one with tall glass windows. Eddy closed his eyes one last time, feeling around his pocket for the pair of glasses and giving it a final squeeze before walking through the glass doors, violin case in hand.

• • •

Eddy remembered the funeral.

He remembered standing there in silence, wearing his black button-down. The lump in his throat refused to leave. He couldn't eat anything that was offered to him, even if it was offered by Brett's teary parents, nor could he say a single word without tears appearing in his own eyes. Eddy ended up standing in the corner, watching the funeral from afar, even turning down saying a eulogy for his dead friend.

He remembered looking at his hands, wondering why they couldn't have typed faster. He remembered cursing mentally himself in that corner, analyzing everything he could have done better, because that wasn't his first time doing intel. He had made so many rookie mistakes, too many to even count, that he ended up sobbing quietly in the corner of the room, his fingers pulling locks of his hair. Stupid. So stupid.

He remembered Brett's mother pulling over a chair, whispering for him to sit in hushed Mandarin. He could still feel her gentle hand touch his shoulder when he didn't respond.

"Eddy," she muttered.

Eddy glanced up for a second, meeting her red eyes. He blinked, before realizing that he had nearly forgotten his manners. His hands reached for his pocket, rustling through for a small white envelope.