"At least I'm not a righteous zealot fucktard with nobody to love him," Marcelo mumbled. He gurgled a bit at the sword being shoved more through his body. He looked down at the bloody metal in front of him.

He'd failed. He's failed Stephanie. He'd failed Luiza. He probably failed his father. He swiped at his eyes as he tried to ignore the blood oozing out around the blade.

He numbly flicked a finger against the blade holding him in place. This is probably what he deserved for getting Luiza killed. The woman he had begged to come with him to America so he could have at least one friendly face as he set up operations. The woman who watched over him like a mother.

He swallowed and ignored the pain. It was easy to do since he hadn't felt much of it yet. He looked into the cabinet and at where the sword went through the cabinet. He wished he studied chemistry better. Just he knew these reactions better. But vengeance had always been more important. And more hollow.

He reached out with arms and hands that felt heavy and started moving beakers and bottles of chemicals up to the next shelf. He may not of been entirely chemistry savvy, but he understood what acids did. And he saw some hydrofluoric acid because someone was nice enough to write it out and put little skulls around the name.

He would work on moving the chemicals except the acid. Then he would dig around the cabinet for protective gear.

Marcelo would try the acid on the sword blade a bit away from his body. If that didn't work, he would us it on the back of the cabinet and the wall.

He had to try something. Even if he felt his worth diminishing the longer he lived and Luiza didn't.