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Gatsby Fan Fiction Wilson 's heart pounded in his chest as he stood hidden in the ashy shadows outside Gatsby's gold mansion. Feud by vengeance, his obsession was leading him to this desperate act. The stars shimmered in the night sky over West Egg. With trembling hands, Wilson clutched a revolver, the cold steel a chilling reminder of his intent. The extravagant party inside Gatsby's mansion raged on, the music and laughter echoing through the night. Gatsby, the host of these grand spectacles, stood at the center, and it was his presence that Wilson sought to confront. Wilson was in shambles, he didn’t know what he should do, his mind was conflicted. Pushing through the crowd, the music's crescendo urging Wilson to do it. Gatsby's eyes met his, and an unexpected look of surprise flickered across his face. The moment had come. The gun was drawn from Wilson's pocket, and he aimed it at Gatsby. Wilson shouted, “it’s over, I have become death destroyed of wo