Stained with Ivy's Blood

Hopkins sat on the wheel chair staring at Ivy's portrait on the wall. As per his odd custom, the room was dimly lit and an awful silence kept him company. It was such a perfect setting for meditation and thought. The door opened and Kilogram, wearing a stern face, walks in with a pistol in his hand.

Hopkins, expectant, inquired immediately, “Anything for me?”

Kilogram, for the first time, made himself at home on the couch behind Hopkins. “Here's the thing... I walked into the house. And, there was Ivy unconscious on the floor. Serge stood over her with a haggard face. I tossed him the sharp- long pin and like a mad man, he pierced her through the armpit. All the way… to the heart. I enjoyed the sport. I love that guy, you know,” He chuckled softly. “Back to my story, we patched her up. I staged her death in the tub, implicated the damn Priest and got you to kill him at fee. And now, you die. Perfect plan.”

“It was you two fools. Your hands are stained with my daughter's blood,” Hopkin