Stretched thin by the endlessness of the couldy sky above him, internally distorted by the pain coming from his shoulder, his legs. Gasping for air, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth, he knew that he might fall into oblivion soon. Struggeling for air, trying to scream for his brother again. The noise of the bullets flying around him made him think his family had died already when finally he saw Bobby's face. "Oh, come on - don't die on me, you little fairy." Desperation, obliteration, fear and anger filled Bobby's face. Sofi called the ambulance, Angel and Jerry sitting next to him in the cold snow. Jack knew his time had come. A last smile on his lips, he felt darkness creeping into his mind, like a slowly moving shade, the reaper came for him. And so he closed his eyes. "Jack, Jack, come one", Bobby cried. But within one second, the other side of emotions took over, so he took his gun and went to the van, facing the driver. "Who send you, Victor Sweet?", he demanded to know. "Yeah, yeah, it was sweet", the obviously shoked driver said. And then, the second Bobby lowered his gun, he made a big mistake. "Thank god." "Thank *God*?", Bobby repeated, "You killed my mother and my little brother you mother fucker! Thank Victor Sweet!" The trigger was pulled before anyone could have intervened. And so the Mercer brothers sat on the little stairs on the front porch, unaware of the fact that Jack could still hear them….