[ WP ] `` Kid , its not the villains who have an agenda you should be worried about , but the ones simply having fun . ''

When it comes right down to it, I knew better. Spend enough time around our type of people and you learn to tell the pragmatists from the psychopaths. Its just, sometimes you just do n't see the depth of their capabilities. How thoroughly and conpletely that door's been torn off its hinges, how purely and utterly inhumane and unflinching their resolve is. I do n't know, maybe I'm still just a kid in over his head. 
 
 As he looks back at me and laughs, a chill runs down my spine. The poor son of a bitch at his feet clawing at his throat, the liquid nitrogen already solidifying his esophagus, the fear in his eyes showing through the pain. The poor bastard rolls over and coughs, a hard sound, like a hammer on cement. He falls. He does n't move. 
 
 `` Haha! Did you see that shit? Watch this-'' 
 
 I do n't let my surprise show as Henry stomps, hard, on the man's throat, shattering the now frozen solid flesh. 
 
 He reaches down and grabs a large shard, smelling it, hunched over like an ape. I look away before he does it- 
 
 `` Tastes like chicken!'' 
 
 Why ca n't I could n't have gone into welding? The world needs welders. Welders have good lives. Welders would n't look over their shoulder. 
 
 As we make our way towards the vault he looks at me and cocks his head at an angle, looking innocent as he takes a large, crunchy bite out of his frozen treat. 
 
 `` Did you want some?'' 
 
 `` No, thanks.'' 
 
 `` Please. I insist.'' He offers the security guard to me. 
 
 `` Maybe later. Job to do.'' 
 
 `` You're a real fucking snore, you know that Dale? I bet you sound boring in your sleep.'' 
 
 One more job, I tell myself. One more job. 
 
 An alarm rings out as we approach the vault, Henry jumps and turns around to me. 
 
 `` What the fuck is that?'' He looks genuinely hurt. 
 
 The terror that runs through my body is all encompassing and thick enough to pour over pancakes. My face runs cold. 
 
 `` The, uh, the bank must have secondary alarms, specifically for the vault hallway, other, other than the one, I uh, the one I dectivated.'' 
 
 Silence. I feel my.38 at my side. He so much as looks at that butcher cleaver he calls a pocket knife and I'll put two in his chest, here and now. Sweat beats down into my eye, obscuring my vision. The hot salt burns into my skin- 
 
 `` What? Sorry, I lost interest. We better move fast, do n't wan na be here when our honorable men in blue come to serve us with a smile.'' 
 
 He moves over to the vault and ices it with that stupid pink backpack of his, spraying the liquid nitrogen all over. He looks at me expectedly, and hold out his hand. 
 
 My shaking hands barely cooperate and my brain fires a million miles per second, I realize he needs the charges. Fuck, I HAVE to keep this shit together. No one else is gon na do it for me, I hand him the charge from my black duffel. 
 
 `` Grassy-ass, senior,'' he thanks me in awful Spanish. Some days it's hard to tell if he's trying to be funny or thinks this is how normal people act. It's moments like this, where he just genuinely seems happier than most people will ever be that I wonder if maybe I'm living things wrong. As he activates the charges, giggling to himself about boarding the boom boom train, the pure glee across his face, I can tell that here, in this moment of unprecedented greed and deceit, this monster in front of me is more purely happy and content than I will ever be. And that is the truly terrifying part. He is n't here to make money. He does n't do things for gain. He wants to be happy, and freezing people and shattering banks is what fulfills him. 
 
 I will never underestimate that look again. I'll never forget the joy in his heart. The terror it strikes in my own is potent.
