Arson wasn't the way he carried out tasks but would be a start to draw this man out from his filthy hole. He had the information, passed off from his kid. Enough to start following a trail and keeping a nose to numbers that splintered off into places were clues became valuable information. The key to retaliation was in the fine prints, records of finances, and ownership. Dummy accounts and legit businesses used as fronts for other means was easy to find out if determination was used correctly. The motivation was to permanently erase a threat. M. That blemish and nuisance for maybe a lot of people, had it coming. It was the first time Nathan ever was convinced to go the absolute distance on pure emotion and against his own better judgment. An asset worth protecting was the cause for thinking outside his norm, securing resources that were owed to him by doing favors in the years of service to not only his shady uncle but for those who conducted business on a level that rivaled any corporate suit. Mafiosos who carried themselves smarter than their predecessors and had to pop up to continue legacies that Nate cared little about. He was owed and would find that certain people paid well to be kept in his back pocket.
This was no different than months ago as he called out for help, hired by trade to take out the trash. Between pummeling an old enemy to near death and having them forever erased from existence, he, as himself did much to have blood on his hands. This wasn't what he needed his kid to know or anyone else as the lust for matter found its way to a man who was now currently dealing with escapable vision. One set back, a considered handicap wasn't enough to stop him. Half a sense he relied much on but in the dawn of Friday, he woke up with terror. A curse thrown on his body that began falling apart. If it wasn't a bummy knee, then it was his shoulder. If his lungs would cave in from all the toxins he inhaled daily, or his mind lessening with sharpness he was used to, it had been the sight he had some trouble with. Now gone completely. The caress of darkness was there, half way to give his left line of vision a clearer stance on the room full of thrown items.
Booted feet trekked through his quaint apartment as unsuspecting as it were, what hid behind the walls weren't anything of the sort. He stood there, early that morning, shaking from anger. Fatigue he thought was the cause of blurry sight the day prior to. Fear of being without sight was less of losing it to see but what his life would resort to after accepting that fate. He cursed at himself for consuming the liquor to forget. The pills inhaled like candy to make the pain more bearable, was his cue to force his head through the wall. Disappointments upon those that were waiting from others should have made his knees buckle from the pressure. As it planted firmly into his disorderly existence, he believed karma still had more work to do, only that bitch would have to wait their turn. He was going to get through this even if it took plans a little longer.
A sea of glass, wood and thrown objects in his unleashed fit were cleaned up. Balance was off and working with seeing the world half way only created more questions than quicker clean up of his living room. His home was trashed that the damaged caused sent his cat hiding under the place he only felt safe. Nathan wanted the guy to remain away while he sorted through the coffee table that had been thrown out of his way and into the wall. He felt there had to be sense of discovering how to make due with partial sense and in due time, much like how he learned how to walk again all those years ago, he would be able to use what he had. As it became survival and in a different way of controlling it, his agenda would never change nor would the points of interest he had to visit that brought him one step closer doing the honorable thing to keep his kid out of harms way.
Sobering was the first step. Going at it alone without relying on vices that curbed his source of misery was harder than thought of. A delay, the pause in his way of seeking out justice was less of obligation. He didn't need the redemption anymore nor sought it out because living in the truth of who he was, had the hints written in more places than in locked rooms or behind panels where newly crafted dry wall was placed. His out had to happen sooner than later after picking up was complete. He saw a way outside of limited vision and needed to believe there was beauty stuck between tragedy, only while thinking things through until there was no thinking left to do.