Prologue...
It is six months after Stan's proposal. Naturally, Jasmine accepted. They are set to wed tomorrow night. The wedding was going to be held sooner, but a sudden change in plans caused them to delay it:  Stan's parents were both killed. Ever since, Stan has not been himself. Something is bothering him greatly, and Jasmine does not know what.

...By the way, this story will be from Stan's perspective the whole time.

....

Stan sat on the couch, glaring at the gun before him on the table. He had learned to use a gun when he was seven years old, a small .22 that had really hurt to fire. As he had grown older, his parents made him work out more. He had to be physically strong in order to handle the kickback, they said. So Stan worked out, a lot. It got him nothing more than a few extra glances of interest from the girls at school, in terms of the muscle itself. But as for the gun, he was never the same. Once Stan's muscles had grown enough, there wasn't a gun that was too big. Not even the one that lay before him.

Stan reached down and picked up the .53, examining it closely. It was a high-powered sniper rifle, the kind one would see in a movie. Of course, firing it was a lot different than in the movies. The kickback on a .53 was enough to dislocate a shoulder or even push the bone out altogether from the arm that held it. The shooter suffered almost as much as the victim. Almost. A bullet from a .53 was more powerful than the average person thought. With a gun this big, Stan could shoot a man in his arm and the man would bleed to death. And that's what Stan wanted. He wanted a slow, painful, humiliating end for every one of them. "Every," he muttered, picking up a bullet, "fucking," he loaded it, "one." He snapped the barrel shut, cocking the gun and turning the safety off.

Stan stood up and raised the gun in both hands, pulled the trigger and listened, mentally counting. "One...T-" BOOM! The sound of the bullet flying through the glass window of the house next to his comforted him. One second. That was all it took. He picked up two magazines for the rifle and nodded to himself, walking out the door.

.....

Stan met with Jasmine for their date. He was carrying the sniper rifle in a bag on his shoulder. She looked at it eagerly, no doubt assuming it was some new toy for them to play with. "Oh, Master, what did you bring me?" she asked joyously. "Nothing," Stan replied flatly, sitting down next to her. "Oh...May I touch you, Master?" Stan nodded.

Jasmine smiled and leaned against his back, rubbing his shoulders and resting her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him with her cheek. Stan sighed and smiled. She knew just how to make him feel better. She was perfect.

"Slave, about the wedding tomorrow?" "Yes Master?" "Well...I did it."

Jasmine looked up, confused. "Did what?"

Stan smiled, a little sheepishly, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of folded notebook paper from his pocket. "I wrote my own vows for you."

Jasmine gasped and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Master! Thank you so much! I can't wait to hear them!" Stan nodded. "Anything for y-" "Hey, kid!"

Stan heard the voice and recognized it at once, pushing Jasmine back roughly and standing up. He turned slowly and looked at Sloth, standing a few feet away from the table, pointing a .33 at him. The .33 was standard issue for police officers, but Sloth's boss had a few cops in his pocket, so Stan wasn't that surprised. "What is it, Sloth?" Stan asked coldly.

Sloth raised the pistol higher, aimed directly at Stan's forehead. "Where's your sister, huh? She's supposed to be here, not you!"

Jasmine's eyes widened, glancing up at her Master. Stan knew what she was thinking. "Did he know about this gangster and still arrange to meet me here, so that he could do something crazy?"

Stan couldn't bring himself to meet Jasmine's eyes, so he kept them fixed on Sloth's. "I gave her the night off. I told her to go away. Far away. Where you and your Boss won't be able to hurt her."

"Heh. Is that so, punk? Well, I guess I'll just need you to come with me. I'm sure that your sister will trade the rest of the money she owes us for your freedom, eh?"

"My sister does NOT owe you any money!"

"Your parents may have died, kid, but that don't change business in the mob! Ever hear of the term 'final expenses'? Well, final expenses are passed from the deceased onto the next of kin, and that includes debts!"

Stan narrowed his eyes. "My parents were into some dirty stuff. And yes, they owed you a lot of money. But still, I've seen you guys around her office. She works nine hours a day so she can pay you and still barely scrounge enough money to support me! And the school I go to doesn't allow its students to have part time jobs! But still, even when she pays you everything you ask for, you still hang around her workplace, threatening her, telling her to work faster, telling her that she's never going to see me again if she doesn't do better! She knows you're serious, so she's working herself to death! And why? Because of people like YOU!" He moved forward, in a flash of light, and knocked Sloth to the ground, kicking the pistol out of his hands. Sloth shoved him off and reached into his belt, pulling out a long, sharp sword.

Jasmine stood in horror, watching her fiance fight for his life. She was rooted to the spot, unable to move from where she sat.

Sloth started to move forward so he could shank Stan, but they both stopped in their tracks when a bullet passed between them and hit the wall with a loud crack. Both Stan and Sloth spun to look. There, under the light pole, stood Sloth's Boss. The guy who ran the whole operation. Stan clenched his fist as Boss moved closer. "Heh. Quite a feisty one, aren't you? That's probably your no-good parents' doing, isn't it?"

Stan narrowed his eyes. "I didn't love my parents. They treated me like shit. But I will say this for my dad:  he taught me how to make trouble for people."

Boss sneered. "I see. Then you shall meet the same fate as he did!" he raised the gun and fired. Stan instinctively dropped to his stomach and rolled to the right, then leaped to his feet and tackled Boss, getting him into a hammerlock. He had Boss completely caught, and started to try and strangle him while keeping the lock, when he felt a tip touch his back.

"Didn't forget about me, didja, punk?" Sloth whispered, grinning. "Let my Boss go, or I'll cut your fucking head off."

Stan froze, instinct taking over. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew it was what had to be done. Stan took one last look, over to his beautiful fiance. When he saw her looking back at him, he mouthed the words, "I love you."

"Two seconds, punk!" Sloth warned, jabbing him in the back again sharply.

Stan laughed coldly, and whispered into the Boss's ear, "Too long has the shadow of my parents' actions haunted my family. Not even their deaths kept their past away from me and my sister. But right now, I'm going to end it all."

Boss's eyes widened and he opened his mouth. "Sloth, get back!"

But it was too late. Stan pulled back hard and both he and the Boss were skewered on Sloth's sword. Sloth gasped, glaring down at the mortally wounded kid. "You...you...YOU BASTARD!"

Boss shook his head. "The girl. She's going to call the police, most likely. Get away, Sloth. Get away, now."

Sloth nodded, panicking. He rushed off.

Boss glanced back at Stan. "You...You might just have made your daddy proud, kid. But you haven't done your sister no favors."

Stan laughed cruelly. "We'll see old man." He pushed back again, and both he and the Boss cried out in new pain as the sword moved deeper into both of them. "Hrrrgh...Let's die together!" Stan whispered.

Jasmine finally found her footing, and stood up, rushing over and grabbing the blade. She pulled with all her might and it finally released its grip over her Master and the Boss. She raised the blade and brought it down with all her strength, cutting off the Boss's head. Then she knelt next to her Master, cradling his head in her hand. She looked down at the ground and saw that pulling the sword out had knocked something from his pocket. She opened it up and saw it was his vows.

"W-wait...Jasmine...no..." Stan whispered weakly. Jasmine looked up. "Master?"

He extended his hand. "L-let...me...read them to you...please..."

She handed it to him, closing his hand over the paper gently. He pulled it back and opened it up. "My...dear...Jasmine, I...will always love you...*cough*...and I know that...I'm a little rough around...the edges...But you saw past that...and for this...I can never..thank you...enough. Together...Forever...No matter...wh..." his eyes closed, and they stayed closed.

Jasmine's eyes were covered in tears, and she shook her head, crying out in pain. "No! How can you just say 'Together, Forever', and then go to the one place that I can't follow you!" She sniffed, then looked down at the sword. Forcing back tears, she nodded, telling herself that she had to be strong.

"I'm not doing this because of you, Master," she whispered, picking the blade up and pointing it towards her heart. "I'm doing it...for you." She stabbed herself, and the two lovers died together...circling one another, together forever.