But this is not art, this is not a painting and this is not a movie and I don’t have a fucking remote. My hands are empty and I am so tired, so tired of all of this, the scar on my head is itching again.

And then Shane shouts. She shouts and her voice is croaky and husky and a little higher than usual. It’s her voice and, at the same time, is not. She shouts that she’s going to end it all. She watches Jack Sanders straight in the eyes and yells that this is what he wanted right from the beginning. She yells that it’s over, that it’s all over.

Francois Turmont is a professional killer. I am not an expert. I am just a DJ, I don’t know shit about criminology or killings or tortures or SWAT teams or hitmen. I don’t know anything about all of this. I am familiar with my stuff and my life. I know all I have to know about my DJ booth and my records and my LPs and my mixings and I know how to cook Mexican food and I know about garden tools and peonies. But I’ve seen the look into Turmont’s blue eyes.

That look, it was cold and indifferent. It was just a look but it was shouting death, voicelessly. I guess he’s been paid for doing what she’s doing to us. I guess this is what he does for a living. Ruthlessly and remorselessly and pitilessly. And he must be good at it because, just like Dante, he keeps control and he never seems to lose his concentration.

”Here we are
In a world of corruption
Human nature is
Of violent Breed
Who cares if there’s no tomorrow
When I die for my future’s
Laid out for me
Can’t you see?
Rise above the lies
Morals on a backwards globe
A sin to you
For me it’s hope…”

But.

For a second.

When Shane does that thing. When Shane reaches for the gun, when she aims it to herself. When she shouts.

For a second, Francois Turmont seems insecure and hesitating. Just for a second, maybe two. Probably he’s wondering if Shane is going to shoot Sanders, his boss. He was about to shoot Dante and he was aiming to his head, but now, a second later, he is hesitating. I can see that slightly puzzled look into his eyes. I can see the way he frowns, a little, just a little. The hand holding the gun slightly shifts from Dante to Shane.