Battles are going on all around us, some as large scale as one nation vs. another, some as simple, and as fucking hurtful, as one man and his battle against cancer, AIDS, or whatever the fuck he has. Things you can’t stop, or prevent from happening.

But Mike, you CAN prevent AIDS. Maybe you can, but I can’t prevent it from happening to you. I can’t protect you from abuse, from slavery, from all of the problems that you have to face. God knows that I want to, but I can’t.

I know what I can do though. I can talk to you about those problems that you have, I can give you advice, I can hold you when you’re hurt, but I can’t stop them. Still as helpless as ever when it comes to protecting. You, stop there. Get your mother fucking hands off her, or I will fucking kick your piece of shit ass. You vulture get the fuck away!

A gunshot rings out.

The protector of all, the one man army, the last fucking hope...

Shot.

Dead.

Or is he? Did that shot just graze him, not fatal enough to kill him.

That martyr stands back up. Walking slowly over to the vile man. You think that you can kill hope that easy? With a single gunshot? It is not that easy.

Shot again.

Hope has been killed, not by depression, not by hunger, not by cancer, or AIDS, or the common cold.

By a gun.

Hope.
Death.
Peace.
Peace.
Peace.