In The Blood

The blood of murderers flows through my veins. Even now, I can hear it singing, thirsting for the death of others.
Some say that one can't run away from their destiny. That the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But I'm going to prove them wrong. Just because my ancestors were killers didn't mean I had to be. I could be better than them. Prove that my family tree could produce good guys. Not people who could tell at a glance how best to kill a man. How best to cause them the most pain before they died. Who in their right mind would want to know that?
Apparently my family wasn't in their right minds because they did know that. Studied it. Did it. To the point where the need to kill literally is part of us.
Exhaling, I slowly lowered the knife, carefully using its sharp edge to slice through rope and not through the fingers nearby. "Here now," I whispered soothingly. Another family talent unfortunately, but if it could calm down the hostage, all the better I suppose. "You're free now. You'll be able to go home." The police would ensure that at least. Me, I would remain a nameless nobody. A shadow that occasionally broke out of the darkness to lend a helping hand. Because even if I was setting out to prove that my murderous blood wouldn't define me, that didn't mean others would feel the same. The apple never falls far from the tree in these parts. So if my family heritage ever came to light, no good deed I did would ever be seen as purely good. No, they would scrutinize and pick it apart searching for a hidden motive.
Therefore, they couldn't ever find out who I was. Let my good deeds remain just that. Good. Nothing more and nothing less.

-Inspiration from watching Detective Conan Movie 6: The Phantom of Baker Street