…“You come here, and you expect me to just hand over my life’s work without a fight! What kind of IDIOT do you think I am!” Herbert cries as he thrusts a knife out towards Bronty.

“The idiot who brings a knife, to a gun fight!” Bronty snarls through a jaded smile, as she raises her pistol towards him.

Herbert lets the knife drop to the ground and throws his hands into the air as he takes a few anxious steps back. “You don’t want to do that,” he says nervously.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

“I’m not trying to telling you anything, I’m simply suggesting you shouldn’t venture down this road. In fact, if y…” But his words are stolen from his lips, as a bullet tears into his shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards, and to the floor in an awkward heap.

“And I said, you’re in no position to tell me what to do,” she spits as she digs the pistol’s barrel into the side of his skull and pulls him to his feet. “NOW, ARE WE DONE?”

“A-A-ARE W-W-WE DONE!” a clumsily spoken voice sings from the other side of the room. Quickly she spins to face the voices owner, tightly gripping Herbert as she uses him as a shield.

“W-W-What t-the FUCK!” she stammers as she stares into a slightly distorted version of herself.

“W-W-WHAT THE F-FUCK!” her doppelganger bellows as she holds a chainsaw into the air, and pulls the cord, bringing it to a roaring life….