The Coin and the Bullet.

Years, so many years he'd carried that coin. Is constant companion, waiting by his side for the day when he would use it to end the life of the one who gave it to him, who killed his mother and destroyed his childhood. Shaping him into a weapon, which would one day be turned on its creator.

Finally the coin was got, done its job, his creator dead, left to rot on a Cuban beach. Only the coin had been replaced, its placed filled. By one half crumpled bullet.