“What is a competition?”, he asks rhetorically, like a university teacher would do, “It’s the activity of doing something with the goal of outperforming others. Or winning something. Or both. A competition is an activity in which people try to do something better than others or win something”.

He turns on his feet and stares at Dante, who is watching him from his kneeled position, his chin almost touching his chest, but his green eyes looking up, straight at him, mercilessly.

“Lieutenant, a competition is nothing more than the struggle between organisms of the same or different species for limited resources, such as food… or, in this case, life. I think you’re the most suitable for this kind of fight. You’re the hardest. You’re a male. Un maschio”.

Dante winces, chuckling silently.

“Oh, please. You’re so full of shit and now you even talk like a sexist pig. And you’re boring, also. Let me tell you, Jack, you’re boring as hell. You could kill me with your constant blabbing. I am serious”.

Sanders tilts his head.

“You are serious”, he considers, “and so am I, believe me. I don’t care about your despicable, arrogant comments, but I’d be careful, if I were you”.

“You’re calling me arrogant? You? A man who has to kidnap people in order to have his little audience?”, Dante shakes his head in disbelief, “…Unbelievable”.

“I wonder how a poor, little man like you can have so many medals”, Sanders exclaims disgusted, looking at him horrified.

Dante becomes immediately serious. He gets up, slowly, and stands on his two feet. He towers over Sanders, his wrists handcuffed in his lap, his lips slightly parted in a thoughtful, pensive expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, now, and something into his eyes looks homicidal.

“Because I take care of people like you”, he spells attentively, calmly, staring at him, “Because my job is to fuck people like you, something that I really enjoy doing. My job is to make sure that people like you are locked in a drum or, even better, dead. And believe me, I’ll get you off my back very soon in any event”.

Sanders seems scared by his words for a second. Terrified by the potential implication of his answer. Maybe it’s something into his eyes. That “nothing left to lose” look. He closes his mouth and his chin trembles, slightly. Instinctively, he moves a step back.