All Apologies

What else should I be?

"You did this. This was your fault." It wasn't an accusation; it was merely a statement of fact. "You could have stopped this, at any point, you could have stopped this." A heavy sigh, full of resignation, fell from the young man's lips. "But you didn't, you were stupid and selfish and so very very arrogant. You didn't notice, not any of you." He was pacing restlessly, itching to take action, but forced himself to wait; patience was a virtue after all. "It's entirely your fault. You created this. You made me a monster."

All apologies

"I-I'm sorr-" A bark of laughter interrupted the stuttering apology, cracking and hollow, it snapped across the senses, almost painful in its harshness. "No you aren't. You don't even know what you're apologising for." He stalked around the terrified group, a predator before his prey. "None of you should apologise. That suggests I dislike what you made me. That would be a foolish and dangerous assumption." He paused; tongue flicking out to wet his lips some. "No, don't apologise to me. Apologise to all the people that are dead because of your inattentiveness."

What else should I say?

There was no movement, no one dared even breathe. "Are you all scared of me?" He enquired, looming over his captives. Nothing, no response from anyone. Even that insufferable American had clammed up, which was a relief. "So quiet..." He mused "Does no one have anything to say?" A pause, no answer, not even from the 'Gentleman'. "Tut, tut. How very rude of you all. I do so hate rude people, they are... Abhorrent."

Everyone is gay

He stopped in his path around the group, looking down, a slight frown upon his face. "Why don't you smile?" he enquired of the man he was stood before. "Are you not happy? For me? For what you've made of me, your petit lapin?" Silence, then with a weak glare, the trembling man on the floor hissed "You ar' not mai petit lapin." The man's accent was heavy, showing just how much his 'petit lapin' was scaring him. He sighed heavily, shaking his head some, a look of great disappointment on his face. "Oh, but Papa I am. Most certainly, I am. It's just you've never noticed what you'd done to me." A pause, as he drew breath. A wicked smile scrawled haphazardly on his face, twisting his expression into something demonic. "Aren't you proud of me, papa?"

What else should I write?

"Do you think the rest of the world will find out about this?" he queried of no one in particular. "Do you think they'll write about it, when it's over? About what happened, to me? About what I did, and why I did it? Or will they forget me again? Perhaps, if I'm generous, I'll let one of you live, to tell the tale." He stood at the window, staring out on a grey, washed out day in a grey washed out town. "I'd hate to fade into the background again, an indistinguishable person in an undistinguished crowd." His back was to the room, so they were unable to see the strange, melancholy look on his face.

I don't have the right

"Why?" He mused. "Why is it that I can take lives so easily? Surely, I'm not entitled to, and I refuse to fool myself to such an end." He looked over the group before him once more, eyes coming to rest upon one person in particular. Blue-eyed, blonde-haired vision of perfection, in the opinion of some. But opinions were dangerous, especially when on what made the 'perfect human'. It was an argument he deigned not to enter. "You" he purred to the man, crouching down to be on eye level with him. "You have stolen so many lives, why could you think you had that right? What made it easier than breathing?" The man on the floor just glared. "No answer, eh? I don't feel entirely surprised. It is a difficult question, to be sure. And if I am unable to find a satisfactory solution then it would be doubtful that you may provide one." He sighed and stood once more. "Yet, I suppose it is a different question, with a different answer for you. You've never killed in cold blood before, only ever on orders. And certainly you've never killed another nation."

What else should I be?

"Wh-who?" A voice rose from the huddle, timid and fearful, it was naught more than a whisper. He laughed, low and menacing, it echoed through the room. A gun was raised, steady and unwavering. He had no fear.
"You."

'BANG'

They were screaming, all of them, screaming so loudly, blood painted their terrified faces; they were trying to get away. He started laughing, low at first, but quickly descended into insane cackling. They were so scared, like little lambs before the slaughter. It was so funny!
"You... You monster!"

All apologies

"So sorry." He said, voice deceptively calm, inside he was screaming with joy. "But this is your fault."