“Why must we be the ones to stay dead, aren’t you already dead as well?” Victoria hisses from behind him as she leaps upon his back and wraps her arms and legs around him. “What if we’re all, already dead lover. What would be your battle cry then?”

“Don’t twist my words, we can’t all be perfect like your rotting maggot riddled corpse. We all know the difference. We all know the way this works. It twists the line between was and is, but this shit, this perpetual retardation needs to stop before we all end up rotting carcasses in the end of whatever we are.”

“Oh pretty boy, you make me almost cry,” Sam says with a wicked smile as she slashes a clawed like hand across his face, tearing strips of red across his face. He bellows with anger and pain, then spits a wad of saliva mixed with blood and phlegm into her face.

“FUCK YOU!” He roars as he tries to desperately to free himself of the burden that Victoria has brought upon his back, but she tightly digs her boney fingers into his flesh causing him to scream out once more in pain, opening himself up for Sam to rake his face once more with her knife like fingernails.

“It’s not going to end the way you think it is,” Victoria hisses in his ear as she bites down on in.

He screams again, but this time in anger not pain. The barrel of the revolver is in her face before she realises, followed quickly by three explosions to the head. As her decapitated corpse falls to the ground he swiftly turns the revolver on Sam once more.

“Bang!” He says with a sarcastic smile before squeezing the trigger, but the smile slowly disappears as he squeezes the trigger again and again, with no result.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were shooting blanks,” Sam says she thrusts herself towards him once more. Jarvier feels her nails tear at his throat and then the coldness of everything quickly coming at him, followed soon after by her dead eyes staring at him once more while he takes a nervous drag on his cigarette.