Right at the last second—just before I tore her heart out—Liora said to me: "The gun, sir. You could try to kill Tony with the gun." I had completely forgotten about the damn revolver with the wooden bullets. I'd have to get way too close for it to work. Wooden bullets aren't effective at long range—or even medium range. Was it worth the risk? What if everything went wrong and Liora didn't die quickly and painlessly in my hands, but instead burned under the sunlight, screaming, suffering? Liora looked at me with a face that said: "Come on, sir. We have to try." Goddamn it. I cursed everything. Yeah, I could kill Tony. It was possible. Barely, but still. But then, what next? Then all the other vampires would come down on me, including the late Tony's brothers. In short: I'd die anyway. And so would Liora. I thought: "Fuck it. I have to kill her. I have to kill this girl." And of course, Tony was already very close. Then Liora said: "Don't kill me, sir. Let them do it. I'll face the sun. I'll die with you, sir. I'm scared, but I'll take it. Please, sir. Don't let it be you." Shit, that girl really caught me off guard. She was strong. She didn't seem like it—but she was. And hell, if she'd made her decision, I wasn't going to stop her. Yeah. I had to respect her choice to die burned alive in a kind of self-combustion, wrapped in a vampire holocaust. That's what people who love do: they respect the decisions of the one they love. That's one of the many ways love shows itself. And I loved that girl. So I thought: "If it's going to be like this, if Liora's going to die with me, then I'll try. I'll try to kill Tony with the revolver." I grabbed the gun. And to keep this story short—to avoid describing my pathetic attempt at killing my enemy—I'll just say this: I failed. Tony is still alive. And Liora and I, we're in his hands now.
I tell Tony:
"Come on, Tony. Let the girl go. This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with this mess."
"Oh, no, not a chance," Tony replies. "She has everything to do with it. You feel something for this little brat. And if she suffers, you suffer. That alone puts her deep in the mess. You brought her here, Zico. You condemned her. She checks every box to be right here in this tunnel, with you. To die at your side. Well, not exactly at your side. Because she'll die first."
I humiliate myself like a worm. Like some pitiful street vendor with no balls, groveling in front of a neighborhood thug who's squeezing him dry. Like a desperate man who starts offering blowjobs, who drops to his knees and opens his mouth for the first son of a bitch who raises a fist at him.
"Tony, man, don't do this. Do whatever you want to me. Tony, she's just a little girl. Tony, please, look into your heart. Tony, brother, I beg you. Don't do it."
Tony lets out a laugh that echoes through the tunnel like fireworks on Independence Day. And then he says:
"You are supremely pathetic, Zico. I swear on my maker, Count Von Falkenstein, I'm going to enjoy this like a drunk monkey with a machine gun. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer because your brat is suffering. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer because your brat just turned to ash after squealing like a slaughtered pig. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer as you remember every moment you shared with her. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer because just a second ago, she was still alive. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer because now it's your turn. I'm going to enjoy watching you burn, like the mangy mutt you are—and always were."
I think about my maker. About Agnes. I wish Agnes were here. I'd love to see her destroy this German son of a bitch. Yeah, I want my mommy to come save me. Yeah, I've completely lost my dignity. It wouldn't be like this if Liora weren't beside me. Goddammit, why did I bring this girl into my life? Why did I ever want to protect someone, when I can't even protect myself? I'm nothing but trash. I thought I wasn't anymore. But I am. I don't deserve my maker's blood. I'm not like Agnes. And I'm nothing like Du la Font. A spit from Du la Font is worth more than I am. In fact, I shouldn't even say his name anymore. I tarnish it every time I think of him. Ah, Du la Font, that monumental creature of the night I will never come close to. Forget it. My mind goes back to Agnes. And yeah, Agnes was a possessive lunatic straight out of hell, but she would've never let a vampire like Tony hurt me. Because Agnes could protect me. She was built for it. And I realize this is just like human life: You can't be a parent if you're not able to protect your offspring from the beasts of the world. You can't reproduce if you can't even defend yourself. You can't reproduce if you piss yourself just from hearing footsteps in the dark. You can't reproduce if, when someone breaks into your home intending to hurt your family, you're not ready to tear them to pieces.
I'm nothing. I can't protect Liora. I look at her. She looks back with a face that says: "Don't worry, sir. I'm ready to die." Holy hell, even little Liora—This tiny mouse of a girl—has more balls than I do. I feel annihilated. I sigh. I lower my head, crushed to the core. And in that exact moment, Tony grabs my hair, lifts my head, and spits in my face. And then something switches on. I realize I have to die with some dignity. Enough of this pathetic shit. I tell him:
"Do whatever you want. And fuck off, you filthy German scum."
Well, my end is just around the corner.
Liora and I. Tony. Tony's vampires. All of us are standing near the mouth of the tunnel. Dawn has broken. The radiant sunlight is right there. They grab Liora. They're about to push her into death. And then my little girl can't hold it in. She can't stay calm in the face of the end. She screams. I hear her voice:
"Sir! Sir! Sir!"
I suffer. But I can't do a thing. Tony's vampires have a tight grip on my head, forcing me to watch the show. They even stretch the skin around my eyes so I can't close them. Like a torture scene meticulously planned. And yes, for the comparison to be accurate: I'm like Alex in A Clockwork Orange, getting the Ludovico Treatment.
And suddenly, my breathing starts to pick up. It speeds up little by little, until it hits a brutal pace. No. I can't let this happen. No, goddammit. I won't let this happen. I'm not weak. I'm not. No one's going to kill me. No one tells me what to do. I tell everyone else what they're going to do. I listen. Yes, I know what's coming. I already know what's going to happen. I listen. The music starts. I feel Agnes's powerful blood rushing through my body. And inside my head, it begins to play—right from the start: Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine. And yeah, I definitely feel like Neo must've felt at the end of The Matrix, when he blew Agent Smith to pieces like a cheap plastic toy.
I start to sing.
A cappella, of course.
I freeze the vampires who are about to throw Liora into the sunlight.
I break free from the ones holding me.
I paralyze every single fucking vampire. Including Tony.
Tony stares at me, completely stunned.
And I sing. I sing a cappella, with rage and rhythm.
And then: BOOM.
Goodbye, Tony.
Tony explodes. His blood splashes all over his brothers.
And then: BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Goodbye, Tony's brothers.
I move like Zack de la Rocha on stage.
I sing. I don't stop singing.
I lift all the remaining vampires into the air. I make them float.
They tremble. They scream. It's all useless.
And then:
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
I sing. I sing. I sing. I blow them to fucking hell.
They all explode.
But before finishing off the last one, of course, I don't forget it:
"MOTHERFUCKER!"
Silence. It's all over. I look at Liora. She smiles. I smile back. She runs to me. We hug. She lets out a soft sigh—and with a tiny voice full of relief, a voice that sounds like someone who finally feels safe in the arms of the one who's chosen to protect her from the monsters, she says:
"Sir."