As Vidrik began to focus more on his nemesis, the music reached its crescendo. The electric guitar was buzzing with the intensity of a formula-one car, and the beat was unrelenting. Vidrik felt his inner warrior come alive and consume him like fire. Manowar always did that for him. Although Abel had interrupted Vidrik’s quality time with Ida, Vidrik knew the last laugh had been his. That little game of cat and mouse through the streets of Paris had been fun. It had also revealed Abel’s weakness; his pathetic, predictable, overflowing pride.
Vidrik could not have planned a better ending to their game. He was amazed to see Abel go down with a gunshot wound, relieved that it had only struck his leg. Abel, killed by police? How dreadful. No, Abel’s life belonged to him, and only him. Just like nobody would get in the way of him and Ida, nothing would stop him from claiming Abel’s life. And who knew? Maybe when he finally had his man, he would still decide to cut off his ugly head and hold it to the sky, just like a warrior should when he vanquishes his enemy.
