They were death and they were coming for him. Twins of the Apocalypse, weapons in hand, and bloody vengeance on their heels. He had murdered, and his fate was that of his victims. He knew this, deep in his soul, as surely as he knew that the sun would rise over his corpse. For the reward of sin was death. The door crashed behind him as he ran, and they were here. He fell, whimpering, to his knees as a boot crashed into his back, and two voices as one recited, "And Shepherds we shall be, for thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patri, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti." He didn't hear the gunshots.