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Summary
Gabriel hated the thing. the cold steel reflecting back his image, it bested him once before now leaving him to look upon his image as the father's light fades from him. The whirring of the chainsaw following him, ringing back and forth between his ears. He wanted to crush it, to splay its soulless corpse like a platter for all to admire. To use it as his canvas as the wretched blood it's taken pours out of it like a river