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Summary
It left his words quick and easy. He meant it. He wanted to kill his father. He wanted to be the one to rip apart the white and red suit as he tore his father apart limb from limb. Mark has never had these thoughts before, but yesterday had changed him.
“Will I be trained?”
“Yes.”
Cecil saw no point in lying anymore.
“Will you train me?”
“Yes, and many others.”
The ten year old stood up, looking at Cecil with dark, grieving eyes.
“Then train me.”
If his father wanted a Viltrumite soldier, then he will become a soldier.