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"Are you proud of me yet, mother?"

Emerald eyes focused on the weather-worn headstone. The name on it had long since worn away. The humans that took care of the cemetery rarely cleaned the graves of the mutants that had lost their lives in the process of the war. But they were even less careful with the mothers and fathers that brought these mutants into the world. His mother had no name now, he thought. He had never known her name and he had never cared to learn it even now as an adult. He spoke no more words, instead he only stared quietly at the grave. His hands were in his pockets. The Egyptian man took another long drag of his cigarette, quiet. Was she mad at him? Or was she happy that he, like she had, was suffering too? Was she looking at his father now? Fearful for their child's future? Or perhaps, they resented him more and more for being the cause of their deaths. He didn't know. He didn't particularly want to know either.

He wasn't particularly sad that the woman had died. And even less sad because he had killed her. He had killed her. The edges of his lips curved upward in a small smile as he took another drag. He had killed her. He hadn't regretted a second of it. Not even now. He was the lowest of the low because of it, he knew. He was dirt. A cheap lay. A soldier. A spy. He was so many things and more, though the man reminded himself. He was nothing special. "Are you finally proud of me?" He said again, kicking up the dried leaves that gathered on the smooth stone. "Probably, huh?" He replied, a slight grin playing on his lips. "I became just like you." He took the cigarette out of his mouth, tapping the edge of it. Ashes fell off and onto the stone tablet. He dropped it on the tablet, crushing the cigarette beneath his foot.

"They say I look just like you." Anubis crossed his arms over his chest. He bent down on one knee, pulling out a hand and brushing his thumb over the etched letters. His lips moved to form the letters, but no names came. He could not recognize his last name either. He did not know this woman. She was as good as a stranger. "Was that why you hated me?" He received no answers. Storm clouds gathered overhead in the sky as the man clenched his fists. "Tell me." His next words were as soft as the rain. The rain fell at a gentle pitter patter. His bangs clung to his face. He only stood there, unmoving. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying.

The leaves rustled softly and the man turned around for a moment. Tears brimmed at the edges of his emerald eyes as he stared at the other. He was thankful it had begun to rain. He wished it would storm, but. For that to happen, he surely would have collapsed beneath his weight. "What?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper now. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying over her. He wouldn't.