A man, struggling to get to his feet, coughs up blood. His body is riddled in cuts and bruises. He raises his hand as a blade sharp enough to easily slice throufh ten inches of titanium steel plating comes to a complete stop against the man's hand, leaving only a shallow gash. As drops of blood drips ftom the man's hand, he raises his head. Long messy mud and blood matted hair messily hangs over his face not enough to hide it, but enough to make him appear wild... feral... his eyes are bloodshot from constantly fighting to the death one person after another, sometimes multiple people at once.
"Why won't they leave me alone?" The man asks himself in his head.
The swordsman who just attempted to cut him down, and failed, stares wide eyed in bewilderment. The battered man wraps his fingers around the blade of the sword and tightens his grip. In a show of strength, he rips it out of the swordsman's hand breaking his opponents arm. As the swordsman crumples in pain and exhaustion, the stranger turns around and walks away.
The screen fades to black then cuts to the credits.
"That... that was a really sad movie." My mom comments as she wipes a tear from her eye.
"Sad? How the hell was that movie sad, mom? Tell me." My sister replies to my mom in irritation.
Chuckling at my sister's naïveté, I answer for my mom. "It's sad because the main character just wanted to live a peaceful and quiet life, but fate had forced him into violence."
"Exactly, Laura. See? Your brother understands." My mom follows up my statement with a sense a tone that tells us that she actually means 'because I said so, that's how'. "Sweetheart, the movie is over I'm sure Jack won't make you stay like that. Besides, some of us want to worship your brother's cock, too."