My name's Daniel DuBois, but you can call me whatever. I call myself The Executioner. That's what this world needs more of.
Not shitbag juries and shitbag courts, as my hero would say, but executioners. People carrying out natural justice.
Justice as it was made and meant to be.
"Get out of the car."
"Hey, man, I only got ten dolla-
"Shut up. Get out of the car and put your hands over your head."
He does as I say. He's smarter than he looks.
"Look, wha-what's this about, man?"
"Time."
"Time? You want the time?"
But not by much.
"No, Turk, your time. Your time is up."
"Is this about the guns? Look, man, it's like I said to Castle, I-"
Castle let this piece of shit live? He must not have known about his other jobs.
"Actually it's about human trafficking. I heard from a few little birdies that you used to help the Russian mob with that."
"I don't do that no more! I swear!"
"You think that matters to them? Those women were raped, Turk, and they'll have to live with that for the rest of the lives. All so you could make a buck."
He's trying to think of something to say. Buy himself just enough time for some cop or that horn-headed douche to arrive.
"There's nobody coming to save you. Even if there were, they'd be too late. Like I said, time's up."
"Listen, just, just leave my face alone. For my mama, man. Not my face. Please."
Face, it is.
*BANG*
"In time all things shall pass away..."
"In time, you may come back some day."
Someone else? A friend of his?
"Sorry about that. I uh, couldn't help myself."
No, he doesn't seem to be.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"