He traded in secrets with life and death the currency. The people whose lives he affected were nothing more than pawns, game pieces to be moved then removed at his whim. His wife and son were sacrificed in order to ensure his survival; their lives held no more significance than that of a stranger. The entire planet was to be annihilated in order to satisfy his lust for power. I couldn't let that happen.
I don't pretend to be altruistic nor do I aspire to martyrdom. I just want to survive and I have no qualms about killing someone to do so. However, contrary to popular belief I don't enjoy killing, I merely do what I have to, although I planned to enjoy this execution.
I don't know which I found to be more pathetic, his decrepit physical state, or the fact that he had to smoke his cigarettes through a hole in his throat. It didn't matter. I wouldn't have let something as insignificant as his infirmity keep me from doing what needed to be done.
I didn't even give him a second look after I pushed him down the stairs. He was dead and that's all that mattered.