Christian knew where at least the main safe houses of Lucious were. He'd ridden past at least two to find random occupants in each, but when he got to the third he couldn't help but notice some moving boxes labelled with car makes.
"Third time lucky," he said to himself.
He pulled the bike up across the street, took off his leather jacket and slung it over the seat, then moved his sunglasses onto his head.
He eyed the sides of the house and the contents of the garage, ascertaining that no one else was there as he walked up the driveway and to the front door. Not bothering to wait he knocked loudly.
He could sense the uncertainty and the pause before the door was opened.
"Chris?!" Lucious was shocked, "I thought- you were there when-"
"You thought I was dead?" Christian suggested.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, forcibly kicking it shut behind him.
"Yes, yes I did," Lucious nodded, moving his own sunglasses to his head as a sign of mutuality, "what happened to you?"
"Why, were you worried?" Christian scorned, looking around.
He knew there was someone else just through a nearby doorway, he could see their shadow. Probably his faithful bodyguard.
"I was, I admit," Lucious sighed, "I hope you don't think it was a ploy to have you killed along with those that were-"
"I set the bomb," Christian turned to him, studying his face.
"You... what?"
"I did it," Christian admitted flat out, "and I was hoping you would have been in that room too. Why weren't you?"
Lucious stood gobsmacked for a moment, before his brow crinkled and eyes flashed.
"You little prick! Do you have any idea how many years' worth of research you've undone?! They were my friends in there! I was helping you!"
Christian smirked, eyeing the shadow in his peripheral vision.
"You weren't 'helping' me. You were feigning help to get me on your side. Because you felt you needed me. You wanted me for yourself. Or have things really changed since the boat?"
Lucious fumed.
"Of course they've changed. Do you think I would willingly try to corrupt you, fresh out of rehab, knowing that any second I could be found out and you'd flip? Kind of like what you're doing now?"
"I think that's exactly what happened," Christian pretended to think about it, before he saw the shadow move.
He drew a dagger from his belt and caught the gut of the man behind him without having to turn. His hands had barely made it around Christian's neck before he fell backwards - the dagger still embedded.
"You were never cured. You still have the killer in you," Lucious sneered, "this only proves it. You need to be with people who understand that part of you. Who want to nurture it and grow with it. Not toying around with your little musician friends and surveillance monkeys."
"How about taking into consideration what I want?!" Christian shook his head, exasperated.
He stepped over the man on the floor - who did turn out to be Lucious' bodyguard - and wrenched the dagger sideways as he pulled it out. He wiped the blood on the guy's shirt and stood straight again.
"Wants are futile when you're someone like... like..."
"Like me?" Christian held the dagger vertically and stepped closer.
"I'd like to hear your definition."
Lucious eyed the dagger unnervingly.
"Like someone who was made for this life," his eyes met Christian's, "you were born for this. You were raised to kill. No amount of mothering from Tanya Brown or counselling sessions in the rehabilitation centre is going to do you any good. It's been twenty years, easily. It's time you admitted it to yourself - you're never going to be one of them. You're never going to be 'normal'."
"What if normal is what I want?" Christian didn't move.
"Then unfortunately, it's what you cannot have," Lucious shook his head, "what else do you want, Christian?"
Christian hesitated, then smiled as he lowered the dagger.
"Vengeance."
With that final word, Christian drove the dagger upward beneath Lucious' rib cage, and straight into his heart.
"This is for Dad."
Lucious' eyes glazed over, and he stumbled backward before falling into a sitting position on the sofa. He was long gone.
Christian slowly withdrew the dagger, cleaned it off, and left the safehouse.