“Strip all this away, strip it all away and what are you? What are you really?”
“I’m a killer, Michael. This is my job, and this is what we’re going to get done.” He held the gun firmly forwards as the city at night rolled by outside. “You just keep driving and we’ll both come out of this alive.”
“So, you’re a killer. You’re some big man, taking on the world. Judge jury and executioner all rolled into one? What makes you so special, what gives you that right?”
He could hear the fear in his voice, the quiver of a mortal man facing with increasing certainty the realisation of his imminent death, but maybe he could pull him up. Rip him out of himself, give him a flicker of greatness.
“I know who I am, Michael. I’ve spent my entire life stood staring at my reflection in the mirror to know and understand just who the fuck I am.” He paused as they came to a red light. The neon sheen of a thousand downtown windows flickered and in a moment of stillness a stag appeared in the middle of the road. Turning his antlers slowly to face them, his fierce eyes reflected the car’s headlights.
“You’re born here into this system, Michael. You’ve moved forward with it slowly and gradually your entire life. Being told what to do, being told who to like, being told everything. Fed and fed and fed from a million different sources and you’ve taken it and swallowed it without question and never—
“I’ve got my plan! I’ve got my own ideas, I’ve been—
He bolted forward and held the gun against Michael’s temple. “You’ve sat! Michael, you’ve sat your entire life and been swallowed by this city, and now you’re meeting a man who has stood up, taken his own direction, lead his own path and you’re fucking telling me you’ve got your own ideas?” He paused and held the gun to the driver’s head as they looked at the stag, still in the night air, holding itself firm against the headlights of the humming car.
“You’re hollow, Michael, and it’s time to rise up. We get out of this alive and you’re coming with me, and I’m going to show you who you really are.”
He slammed backwards into the seat as Michael hammered the accelerator, burning tire smoke leaping around the car as the stag bolted and they screamed forwards.
“I’ll show you just who the fuck I am!” Michael roared as the car careened around a corner, hit the curb and flipped.
Rolling. Glass and smoke and buckling metal meeting the tarmac. The sparks slowly dying as they came to rest. Bloodied and broken. “I’ll show you who I am.”