<\/p>\n
Sim quietly closed the door to Amigo’s apartment behind him.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sim?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amigo turned from the kitchen, walking toward his adopted son. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you okay?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
He held out a hand, as if offering a hug.<\/p>\n
\n
Sim pushed the man’s hand away and plopped himself on the couch again.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I killed the Phoenix,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said blankly.<\/p>\n
Amigo’s eyes widened. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You what<\/em>?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Slit her throat,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim said.<\/p>\n \n Amigo shook a bit, his hands clenching into fists.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He asked. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why would you do that?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His angry questions held a forced softness in them. Truthfully, Amigo wanted to slap Sim and then some. The last thing he wanted was for his son to take part in the family business.<\/p>\n \n Sim seemed to be completely out of it, however. He wasn’t paying attention.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She came back to life,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim continued.<\/p>\n \n There was silence. Amigo tried to process what he had just been told.<\/p>\n \n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She turned to dust, then, just. Poof. There she was again. Out of fire. Naked.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim stated.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like a Phoenix?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amigo crossed his arms over his chest.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like a Phoenix,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim replied.<\/p>\n \n Amigo sat down next to Sim on the couch, taking a deep breath.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know this is hard to comprehend, Sim, but the important thing here is that you killed someone.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She’s still alive,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim answered, hands gripping his knees while he looked forward.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But you still killed her.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amigo got up and kneeled in front of his son so he could make eye contact. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153That’s a big step. That’s a huge change of mind, Sim. People don’t just kill. Are you okay?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n Sim frowned, pushing Amigo’s caring hands away from himself and looking away.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don’t be stupid, you do it all the time,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim stated, crossing his arms over his chest.<\/p>\n \n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But I don’t know the victims personally. It’s a job, Sim, not an act of hatred or some other emotion.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Amigo put his hands on Sim’s knees, trying to read what his son was thinking.<\/p>\n \n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This is gay. Just chill; I’m fine,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Sim spat, pushing Amigo away and walking to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and laid down on the bed.<\/p>\n \n Amigo rolled his right hand into a fist and hit his forehead with the top of it. Stupid<\/em>, he thought.<\/p>\n And Kingsley was already in bed. He probably wouldn’t have any smart words for this situation anyway.<\/p>\n \n Amigo didn’t want his son to turn into a murderer. This was Dexterity, he knew. People killed eachother for silly and stupid reasons every day. Every hour, even. But he didn’t want his son to turn into some sort of stereotypical Dexterian psychopath.<\/p>\n \n And it seemed that every day that went by, the control of Sim’s predestined path was slipping through his fingers. He knew what being a Doppelganger meant, and he didn’t want his son to be one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[12],"tags":[],"series":[30],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/287"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=287"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/287\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":562,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/287\/revisions\/562"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=287"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=287"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=287"},{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cc.khat.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fseries&post=287"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}