milliways_bar | (no subject)

"No," Yamato says firmly. "Fighting feels good, going up against a worthy opponent and winning feels good. The part where they die at the end feels like shit."

"Right."

He doesn't quite believe that.

"You're a time bomb waiting to go off."

"Am I really," Yamato says, in a flat tone that's only slightly betrayed by the snarl creeping into his voice.

Maybe it does bother him somewhat. He's seen the kind of damage he can do when he goes off the rails for even just a few hours, after all.

"Not everyone's a supervillain waiting to happen."

"If it was really so bad, you wouldn't do it at all."

A slightly smug smile rests on his face.

"That you're in a job or whatever where you have to kill people don't make you any better than me."

"I'm not the one renting out my skills to whoever bids the highest," Yamato replies. "And all my enemies are able to fight back. Or surrender, if they prefer."

"Shame for you. Pays really well."

He stretches out his arms and sits back in his chair.

"My enemies can fight for themselves."

"I can make money in other ways, thanks."

He shakes his head, scraping a hand across the back of his neck.

"Except most of your targets don't have powers, right? Or training, or the will to fight, or anything like that. So they can't fight for themselves, they can just choose how they'd prefer to die."

"Targets ain't my enemies. They're just targets."

There's a large difference in his mind.

"Don't choose how they die, either. Buyer or I do."

"That's another difference between us, then," Yamato says. "I only kill my enemies. I don't hurt people who aren't threats."

Yamato gets a look.

"You think the people I kill are innocent?"

"Law of averages, they can't all be bad people," Yamato replies. "And even if they were, being a bad person doesn't mean you should die."

"None of 'em are angels." That's not how this works. "Might mean someone wants you dead."

"Nobody's an angel. Nobody's good all the time. And just because someone wants you dead, doesn't mean they have a good reason for it, and it definitely doesn't mean that you should die."

"Good reason, should. This is about money, kid. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Right. I nearly forgot," Yamato says dryly. "It's all about getting paid."

"That's right," he nods. "Gotta have a job. Pay the bills."

"And you know what they say, if you're doing what you love, you'll never work a day in your life."

Still Sahara levels of dry.

He laughs, a sharp bark.

"Now you're getting it."

Yamato shakes his head. "I don't get how you can enjoy it. But good for you, I guess."

It's not like he's going to suddenly stop and get a new job, after all.

There is little else he's interested in doing.

"Better than the army."

"Too many rules and regulations for you?"

He shakes his head.

"Army was great, until the whole firing squad happened. Got picked for special ops. That was better until it wasn't."

"What were you put in front of a firing squad for, anyway? It can't be cowardice or treason, because they wouldn't then shove you into special ops, so what, desertion, mutiny, or murder?"

Yamato has a strong suspicion it was that last one.

"Killed my CO. Found a girl I liked and he didn't think that was a good idea."

Yamato might be able to read between those lines.

"Got into special ops cause I ain't easy to kill and don't mind doing it myself."

It takes Yamato a moment. For all that he's been waist-deep in killing and violence since he was a kid, he's still markedly innocent in a lot of ways.

When realisation dawns, his expression hardens significantly.

"Maybe they should've tried harder before they decided to give you a new job," he says. "But I guess you're lucky they didn't."