““Slim shards of glinting metal protruded from his scorched face and eyes. His hair was on fire. The gun clicked empty, and for a moment the man’s groans subsided and his breaths came quick and sharp. He blindly looked around the room, weapon still raised in some last pitiful defence. The air smelled like roasted pork. Victor stood up straight, pointed the Beretta at the centre of the gunman’s chest, and put two right through his heart.””
