![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Wow! My comic got loads and loads and loads of reviews! I'll have to reply to them all. ^_^ Wee... Not crack though this time. I've spent about a year on hiatus from my John claim at ff100 (and I haven't done any of my Alec one... heh ^_^;;) Although I have done a few things, it's just getting them typed up is - difficult.
Title: Nothing Left
Author: Mariana O'Connor
Rating: PG
Character: John Winchester
Timeline: pre-series (early in John's hunting career)
Spoilers: Heart not really specifics, just lore.
Summary: John kills the supernatural, he doesn't have time for shades of grey.
AN: Back to my ff100: John winchester. This time for prompt 045: Moon.
Steady hand, steady mind. The thing before him was just another evil son of a bitch that deserved to be sent to hell. It was a simple job to pull the trigger: once, twice, three times. Three in the chest, it went down.
“What… what are you doing?” merely a trick, a ruse to make him hesitate. “Where am I? Who are you?”
One more shot in the head. It stopped talking.
Perhaps it had once been a man, perhaps it had had a wife, children. He felt for him, whoever he had been, but not for what he had become. There was no room for doubt in his life.
No remorse, no regrets.
One less werewolf.
-
Title: Nothing Left
Author: Mariana O'Connor
Rating: PG
Character: John Winchester
Timeline: pre-series (early in John's hunting career)
Spoilers: Heart not really specifics, just lore.
Summary: John kills the supernatural, he doesn't have time for shades of grey.
AN: Back to my ff100: John winchester. This time for prompt 045: Moon.
Steady hand, steady mind. The thing before him was just another evil son of a bitch that deserved to be sent to hell. It was a simple job to pull the trigger: once, twice, three times. Three in the chest, it went down.
“What… what are you doing?” merely a trick, a ruse to make him hesitate. “Where am I? Who are you?”
One more shot in the head. It stopped talking.
Perhaps it had once been a man, perhaps it had had a wife, children. He felt for him, whoever he had been, but not for what he had become. There was no room for doubt in his life.
No remorse, no regrets.
One less werewolf.
-