This is a fan fic about a character. Not just any character. A character that has lived with me with several years. I cherish him, and hope you enjoy his saga.

(1856, in a hospital, New York)

Indrick paced the outside of the room. 'What do doctor's know?' He thought, clenching his teeth. 'She's going to be fine.' His mother was having an operation. The doctors had told them that she had a tumor and they had to take it out. 'But she's as healthy as a horse.' He kept his opions mostly to himself. His mother was a benign woman and followed the doctors advice. He went along with it, but still wasn't happy. 'Nothing will go wrong.' He implored himself. Just then, one of the doctors came out, with his head hung low. He wasn't looking at him. Indrick ignored that, however. "Is she going to be okay?" He said. The doctor remained silent, keeping his eyes away from him. "Come on, just tell me she's okay. It isn't that hard."

The doctor finally moved to look at him. "I'm sorry." He said. "We just couldn't do it."

"Do what?" Indrick said. "You couldn't do what?"

"We couldn't save her." The doctor answered. Indrick just stared at him. "We dug and dug and found nothing. She was completely healthy after all."

"Then, what happened." Indrick barked at him. "What is all this about not saving her?"

The doctor was shaking his head. "She lost too much blood." He said. "Her body couldn't handle it. She's gone." The doctor reached out to comfort him, but he stepped back. He looked at the doctor with horror filled eyes. 'I told you.' He screamed in his mind. 'I told you these Yankee doctors can't be trusted. But you had to let her go. Now, she's dead because of them.' He couldn't believe. He ran right out of the buidling, tears streaming down his cheeks. It took him several minutes, but he finally made it to his house. He was tired, out of breath, but he din't care. He just walked past everything, giving nothing a second chance. He knew where he was headed. He went into the living room and looked upon the vase that sat on the mantle piece. He just stared at it for a moment, with a glazed eye. There, right there, was the simbol of so many memories.

(Years ago)

A little boy was running around the house, laughing. He was trying to escape his mother. When he went into the living room, he spied the vase. His mother never let him touch it. He looked around. 'Oh, she won't mind once.' He thought. He then went over and tried to reach up to it. All of a sudden, he felt a hand grab him and pull him away. "Young man." His mother scolded. "What did I tell you about trying to mess around with that vase?"

"Not too." Indrick said, looking to the ground. He then looked up at her. "Why can't I?"

His mother sighed. "It's a family heirloom." She said. "It's been in the family for generations." She patted him on the head. "And when you have a family, you can pass it down too." She then pushed him. "Now, it's time for your bath." Indrick groaned.

(Present day)

'Ahh, memories, sweet memories.' Indrick thought, picking it up. 'How much I hate them.' He threw the vase to the wall, shattering it to pieces. 'It's nothing but empty space. Just empty, useless space.' He fell to his knees, soaking the floor with his tears. When he looked up, he spied something. In the middle of the shattered pieces of the vase, was a goldend locket. He went over to it and picked it up. He looked it over. 'Nothing unusual about it.' He thought. Just then, he felt a surge run up his arm and into him. Not a big one, but enough that he could notice. He ignored it. He placed the locket around his neck. He held it in his hand. 'You know, my mother always told me to be a good boy.'

He walked over to the closet.

'To never harm a soul.'

He picked up a rifle.

'That all life is sacred.

He loaded the gun.

'And that each person has a destiny determined by their actions.'

He looked through the scope to make sure it were fine.

'Cause we are all human.'

He looked down at the doctor. The same doctor who had given him the news. The same one that had taken his mother's life.

'Isn't that a fact.'

He laid himself on the ground and looked down the scope.

'And I always listened to my mother.'

He lined up his sight with the doctor.

'But she's dead now, so it's my rules.'

He put his finger on the trigger.

'And I want vengeance.'

He smiled, a wicked smile and pulled the trigger.

'And how it felt good.'

The doctor fell to the ground, as the bullet pierced his skull.

'Oh, well, too bad for him. Now, what about the others.'

He stood up and walked away.