When he first started it was hard to kill somebody. He thought about their mothers, their kids, their dogs… but now he doesn’t think at all. And… when he does think he thinks… if they end up with me they probably deserve everything they have coming… they probably screwed somebody so completely that death was the only suitable revenge… the only fair outcome. CEO’s, drug kingpins, dictators, pedophiles, rapists… he kills them all. He’s a leveler… a ghost… and right now he’s looking down the barrel of his gun at his foot… wedged neatly between the bottom of a $500 haircut and the top of a $3000 suit. As he pulls gently on the trigger he feels a slight twinge… time slows… his heart beats loudly… his mind floods… quickcut… he wipes the blood from his shoes and sighs… relief. He puts down his gun and picks up his coffee… he steps back and lights a cigarette admiring his work… he takes a drag and swears that this is the last one… he’s killing himself… he has to quit.