Thin, line-like beams of light converge.
White—
The world is becoming clearer.
(Where am I...?)
The wind is blowing through.
A very slight awareness emerged, and something akin to self-awareness was grasped.
The boundaries of the world—just as their outlines began to become visible, that voice suddenly came from the edge.
"Hello, we've been waiting for you."
I lifted my head.
A businessman-like man was standing in front of me.
It has no face.
It's hidden by a messy brushstroke, as if it had been colored in with crayons.
The blacked-out areas, acting as a mosaic, changed shape every second, like flipping through a flipbook. Yet, the man's face remained invisible. This strange state of affairs sparked a doubt in my mind.
"Are you a demon?"
"that's right"
"What kind of demon is it?"
"My name is the interview devil."
"I see."
"Please have a seat."
I noticed that folding chairs had been set up.
But I will not sit down. I will approach the devil.
One step, two steps.
I'm just five steps away from my destination.
The humanoid demon is staring at me. It's just observing.
I was taught that a smile is the best thing to do in situations like this.
But that wasn't enough. I vaguely remembered—that one more step was needed to show friendship. And who taught me that...? Um, who was it...?
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Devil."
He extends his right hand in a handshake position.
"Oh, thank you very much."
I didn't grasp the devil's hand, which was responding to nature. I slipped through it and extended it straight to my mosaic-like face. A swift slash through the jaw, shaking my brain.
"--ah"
Before I could hear the surprised voice, I reached out my left hand. I grabbed his head. I twisted it.
crunch.
I'm feeling positive about it.
The humanoid demons appear to have the same skeletal structure as humans.
But a devil is a devil.
I don't think I'll die the same way as other people.
Rotate your head clockwise.
Should, should, should.
The face turns 180 degrees backward.
Now all functions above the neck are dead.
But it's not enough.
The torso. Destroy this part too.
"Hyu"
She gripped the ground with her toes, transferring kinetic energy from her ankles to her knees, and then from her waist to her upper body, before pressing her palms against the businessman-like man's chest.
Thump.
It propagates the shock internally.
His fingers were stiff and his whole body was convulsing.
His internal organs and blood vessels ruptured.
Now it doesn't matter what kind of physical structure this demon has. At the very least, its functions are dead.
--or so it should be,
"—I'm surprised. I didn't expect to be attacked right when we met."
He spoke.
Normally. With his neck still twisted.
strange.
At the very least, the airway and lungs must have been crushed. Physically, there's no way they could speak.
So, this thing doesn't have the structure of a human?
or--
I looked around.
There are no walls, and no ceiling. A pristine white floor stretches to the horizon.
The sky was a simple, uniform blue, as if it had been painted over.
...Could such a space actually exist?
"This isn't the real world, is it?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Is your body not real either? Is it useless no matter how much I destroy it?"
"Yes. This is a dream. Your dream. I've simply stepped into it."
"...I see."
He let his arms hang limply and gazed at the demon in front of him.
The neck, which had been twisted and distorted, slowly and silently returned to its original position.
"..."
I know that demons like this exist.
Demons that construct and operate within dream or fictional worlds. The techniques I've cultivated—physical means of attack—are ineffective against them.
It's virtually impossible to kill someone completely within that space.
There's nothing I can do.
"...Ah, I remember now."
It comes clearly to mind, even in a vague state of consciousness.
I remember the faces and names of the comrades who taught me how to deceive others.
Polina.
Veronica.
And then there's Reze.
There were four of us .
The memories of teaching each other our special skills in order to become true warriors come flooding back to me.
What I taught them was the art of killing.
Polina taught him how to act.
Veronica demonstrated her medical techniques and interrogation methods,
Reze analyzed their essence and conveyed it in a way that others could easily understand.
"That's right. And that's how you were completed as a human weapon, Anastasia."
The mosaic-covered face starts talking.
"Who are you?"
"I introduced myself earlier, didn't I? I'm the interview demon. ...This is inside your dream. This is an imaginary interview venue."
"I see."
"I see... that's all? Isn't that a bit much? I've interviewed all sorts of people before, but this is the first time someone has suddenly tried to kill me."
"ah"
"No, uh, that's not it... Ah, never mind."
The devil produced a piece of paper out of nowhere.
I glanced at it.
"Well, Anastasia, huh? ...Hmm, it seems you're not very good at communicating. This is a problem..."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, excuse me. I'm currently reading your life history... Hmm, I see. I understand most of it. ...Anastasia, it seems you spent most of your life in a Soviet human weapons training facility—a secret room, perhaps?"
"So what?"
"I am the interview demon. My purpose is to make people reflect on their lives and confront their true selves."
"...Please explain it in a way that's easier to understand."
"In other words, I'm going to ask you questions about your life. All you have to do is answer them."
"I don't mind, but... when you talk about life, well, that's a problem. I'm already dead."
"Yes, yes, that's exactly right. You are already dead. But it seems you have been fortunate enough to be resurrected as a demon. And that's where I come in."
"A demon, huh?"
I see.
In the secret room, various human experiments were being conducted in order to repurpose demonic powers for military use.
This includes the Demon Transformation Project.
"Am I going to become a demon?"
"Yes. So, your life is about to begin anew. In other words, you're setting sail from a calm past life into a turbulent future life. And today is that momentous day of departure."
"So, what is it? What question do you want to ask me?"
"You're rather hasty, aren't you...? Well, never mind. Let's leave the preamble there. Shall we begin the interview? Yes, there's no need to be particularly apprehensive. I'm just a devil who engages in conversation. I won't harm you. When the dream ends, it will all vanish like a bubble."
He's a talkative guy.
It's a hassle, but if there's no point in getting involved, then I have no choice.
"Now then, let me hear the voice of your soul. Let me ask you again—what is your name?"
"Anastasia. That's what she was called."
"Please introduce yourself."
"You just said it yourself a moment ago. That's right."
"So, I was basically a guinea pig for the Soviet Union, right?"
"No, he's a warrior."
"A warrior, huh? Now, please introduce yourself."
"Self-PR...? What's that? What should I say?"
"Special skills. Strengths. Things I worked hard on in a past life...that kind of thing."
"Isn't it written there?"
I turn my chin towards the piece of paper the devil is holding—my life's resume, so to speak.
"It's written there, but it's important to put it into words yourself."
"...Ugh, this is troublesome, so annoying. I really can't handle that kind of thing."
"Yes, I understand. It says so here too."
My specialty is murder.
Everything else is something I'm not good at.
"...I've never seen a resume like this before. What kind of life have you lived?"
"I already said that. I grew up in a secret room."
"That's no excuse. I know other people who came from the secret room, but none of them were as emotionless as you. Even those with heinous murder histories had their emotions intact."
"There's nothing we can do about it."
I tapped my temple with my index finger.
"I 'm the one who's crazy."child(・)child(・)
"What do you mean by 'here'?"
"It's the brain. A lack of empathy. A complete absence of guilt."
"Is that... schizotypal personality disorder? Or is it schizoid personality disorder?"
"I don't know the exact definition. Isn't it written there?"
Unfortunately,
Well, I don't really care how I'm categorized.
It doesn't benefit me in any way.
Whoever I may be, I already know the path I must take.
"Oh, what kind of thing?"
"This is the warrior's path."
A warrior should fight.
All you have to do is kill the enemy.
You don't need to do anything else.
This job is practically made for me.
"I was better than anyone else. I survived every battlefield. I killed everyone. Soldiers, civilians, demons, demon users."
"It seems you don't feel any guilt about that at all."
"Oh, really."
"It's strange. As I mentioned earlier, I've interviewed other warriors as well. But even they had a feeling of unease, even unconsciously."
"I see."
The devil snaps his fingers.
A folding chair appeared out of nowhere, and the man sat down.
"You too, please."
I sat down as I was offered.
The man kept saying "It's strange, it's odd" and looked at me suspiciously, but if you ask me, everyone else is even more mysterious than me.
"...I'm not good at explaining things. You figure it out on your own."
"I've got it"
For example—
The feeling of "intent to kill" does not exist.
Humans, at least, do not have the organs to sense it.
Humans are equipped with only five senses.
Sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell.
That's all.
Use your vision to observe whether the target has noticed you.
They use their hearing and smell to detect any malicious enemies outside their field of vision.
The more sensitive these senses become, the more information they can distinguish.
For example, the sound of footsteps.
What's your weight? What's your stride length? What direction are you facing? What's your rhythm? What's your center of gravity?
By analyzing the differences in this information, we can also understand the degree of risk.
The level of proficiency in walking techniques possessed by the person whose footsteps are being heard.
To what extent are they aware of this?
You'll understand it better if you keep it in your field of vision.
The angles of the joints, the way the muscles flex—how ready for battle are they? And how are they trying to hide it, or not?
Integrating all this detailed information, the resulting conclusion—whether the level of danger is high or low—is what we call "homicidal intent."
Therefore, humans cannot perceive murderous intent from a place where they cannot perceive anything through their five senses.
"...I think it's the same thing."
"What are you talking about?"
"My life, that is."
life.
Such a thing does not exist.
The heart is beating. The cells are not decaying. That's all we mean by "being alive."
Similarly, the argument that "life is precious" lacks any basis.
The strong sense of unease one feels when someone deeply integrated into their daily routine disappears—this is merely a plausible excuse for that physiological reaction.
Life isn't particularly important.
It's simply a way of expressing things in a simple, common-sense manner so that anyone can relate to it.
It's simply more useful for society to define things clearly in that way.
"—That's why I think I can't value life. I'd be at a loss if I were blamed for taking something that never existed in the first place."
"Hmm..."
"In the first place, there's a prevailing argument in the world that 'if you kill someone, someone else will be saved.' Americans probably kill those who are inconvenient to them using that argument. 'Love thy neighbor,' they say."
"Yes, that's right. It's a phrase used to justify the soldiers' actions. ...But humans are not always so simple that they can be explained away by logic."
"I can accept it."
"Oh? So you can kill even your former comrades in the same way?"
"Yes. If there was an order or necessity, I would have taken them down. Without hesitation. That seems to be my aptitude."
"Hmm... I see, I understand. But I don't know if it will be the same in the next life."
"Do you really think I would hesitate?"
"No. But you have a slight suspicion..."
Killing is easy.
I don't feel anything.
But you won't gain anything by killing someone.
At least that was the case in my previous life.
...Isn't there another way to do it?
"...Well, now that you mention it, there might be some truth to that. But ultimately, there's no such path. At least not unless I have the ability to receive some kind of influence from others."
"No. You're just not taking it seriously."
The devil crossed his legs while remaining seated.
"In your past life, you had too little doubt. You didn't feel any dissatisfaction with the environment of the secret room. On the contrary, you even felt fortunate to have been brought to a place where you could make the most of your natural talents."
"Yeah, that's right."
"I thought it would be good if a war broke out."
"Yes, that's right."
If only a war would break out...
If a world where killing each other was accepted had been created, I would have been needed more than anyone else. There would have been happiness, security, and a sense of fulfillment.
"That's the easy path for you, like living a life of leisure. You're not facing your own doubts."
"What are you trying to say?"
The demon took a deep breath.
"You will now awaken as a demon. You will then be ordered to kill a certain girl who was your comrade in life."
"I see."
"You think all I'm going to do is kill them, don't you?"
"Yes, that's right. All I know is killing. There's nothing else I can do."
"That won't resolve my doubts. Killing him would be easy, but I would recommend trying a different approach."
"..."
There's no reason to listen to the devil's advice.
But... I couldn't ignore it.
Do I really have any doubts?
Is there anything to be gained by stepping away from one's innate instinct to kill...?
"What's his name?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"He's the target of the assassination mission. He's someone I know, isn't he?"
"Yes. The girl's name is—"
Set Reze's heart ablaze
—The end of the moratorium—
"Friend or foe? The terrifying bomb-bombing demon!"
The one who blows up the demon that appears in town is
It's a Bomb Demon disguised as a Public Security Devil Hunter officer!
An excited reporter's voice is coming from the TV speakers.
A flashy title card spun and faded in, and the close-up shot revealed a single weaponized human.
A slender silhouette. A distinctive metal head.
The beautiful girl that Denji falls in love with.
"Reze is on TV!"
Denji's face broke into a smile.
He leans over the 50-inch monitor, beaming with joy like a kindergarten child who has found their favorite hero.
A provocative slogan was fixed in the upper left corner of the screen.
"A mysterious bomb-demon saves children!? Who is it really!?"
The program's location shifts to the city.
In the rotary in front of the station, with signs indicating ongoing restoration work in the background, the interviewer points a microphone at the citizens.
The first person was a male electronics store employee, standing there looking nervous.
"They stood up to the demon to protect us...!"
Even when completely worn out, he gets up again and again...!
She's a hero...!
The second person was a little girl holding her mother's hand.
"Hey, my devil sister protected me!"
It came flying in with a "Bo-bo-bo!"
Her cheerful smile is tinged with genuine gratitude.
The reporter nodded dramatically.
"There are testimonies that he protected the townspeople from gunfire, but there are also stories that he had previously been involved in a conflict with the typhoon demon—"
Denji also crosses his arms in a relaxed manner.
"It feels good to see someone you know on TV."
I plopped down onto the large sofa.
A pastel-colored low table sits at the floor, and a medium-sized wooden TV stand is placed against the wall behind it. A large plasma TV sits on top of it.
The lineup of items is far too luxurious for a high school student to own, but even so, they've made efforts to save money. The sofa was actually salvaged from bulky waste; the faux leather was originally badly torn, but they replaced the stuffing, sewed a new cover, and covered it with fabric to disguise it. The coffee table and TV stand were acquired at a second-hand shop through bulk purchase and price negotiation, for 20% of the new price. The only thing they had to buy new was the TV itself, but even that was purchased at a "salesperson's price" from the electronics store employee who was shown on TV earlier, along with words of gratitude.
Denji turned his head around to survey the living space, which was about eight tatami mats in size.
"It's like a dream to be able to live in such a nice house."
Looking back, I've moved around a lot in my life.
Initially, Makima took him in and he moved into the Hayakawa family's apartment.
Next, Nayuta and I crashed into a dilapidated apartment.
He was kicked out of that place after only a few months, and somehow managed to rent an apartment owned by the public security authorities.
Just when I thought I had found a safe spot, it was immediately blown up again, and I ended up with nowhere to go.
Just when they were in a bind, Kishibe appeared.
"There's a property available that can accommodate seven dogs."
To my surprise, it's a two-story building. Moreover, it's made of reinforced concrete and steel frame, making it resistant to earthquakes and fires, and it has plenty of rooms. Amazingly, there's a bathroom and toilet on both floors. Furthermore, the property is spacious, and apparently the parking lot can accommodate three or four large buses. And all this for the same rent as my previous dilapidated apartment—I can hardly believe my ears.
Nayuta immediately jumped in.
"There's definitely something fishy going on here."
For example, a ghostly demon appears every night.
Apparently, because of that, about 10 households of residents have committed suicide in a row.
...But Kishibe's answer was anticlimactic.
"It's not a haunted property. It's brand new."
"...why?"
"Originally, it was built to be a dormitory for the Public Security Special Section 6. So it's finished now. Basically, you guys can move in first."
I understand now.
The fact that it's so spacious and sturdy is apparently because they plan to house a large number of demons and evil beings in the future.
I understood it much better after actually seeing it.
The walls were unnecessarily high, and there was even barbed wire all around. It was far too intimidating to be called a dormitory. The design philosophy seemed more focused on preventing escape from the inside than on preventing intrusion from the outside. It would be more accurate to call it a prison.
"Hmm. Well, it's not bad."
Contrary to what she said, Nayuta seemed very happy.
That's understandable, considering they're being targeted by other countries; it's always better to have a sturdy home.
Denji wouldn't complain as long as there was a roof and walls.
However, there was one condition for moving in.
Rather, I was ordered by the Public Security Bureau to live here, so I had no right to refuse from the start—but they said I would have a roommate.
That was Reze.
"She's the dorm manager."
"I thought that would happen."
"This will become the dormitory for the Public Security Special Section 6. More and more demons and devils are expected to arrive. Get used to living with other people now."
"Well, it's fine, I guess."
"Hmm... You're surprisingly obedient."
"I'm not the kind of person who can just live by doing only what I like. Besides, I know what kind of person Reze is. It's fine."
"Oh, so you think you'll get along well?"
"Well, it depends on the opponent."
The move went smoothly.
I lost most of my furniture when my previous apartment was bombed. All I need to do is move with just myself and my dogs and cats.
Denji and Nayuta were each assigned rooms on the first floor.
One-room apartment, approximately 8 tatami mats in size. Separate bathroom and toilet.
Although he is technically a public security officer, he is still a student, and moreover, a weaponized human and demon under surveillance, so his treatment is exceptionally generous.
But Leze's was even more amazing. It was a 2LDK, and about 60 square meters.
"Wow, it's so spacious!"
"That's unfair. That's unfair. That's unfair."
Kishibe's argument that the dorm should be spacious because he's the dorm head didn't work. At least not with Nayuta. The little devil began to complain about everything, and Kishibe stopped going to the dorm.
And so, after all that, the three of them finally got the home they had always wanted.
Reze received her first paycheck as a public safety officer, and once her room was furnished, it became the most comfortable space in the dormitory. Denji's feet naturally led him to Reze's room, and Reze accepted this as the natural thing to do. Nayuta would occasionally sic her dog on them.
One day, as such scenes were becoming commonplace, Denji was watching TV in Reze's living room as usual when a talk show was airing a special feature on Bomb Girls.
"A mysterious bomb-demon saves children!? Who is it really!?"
The recent battle with the Scissors Demon was shown.
The information sources are mostly local residents, and the report is compiled from their photographs, videos, and interviews.
They protected the residents and evacuated them.
He risked his own life to save the children.
A champion of the people, easily recognizable to everyone. A hero who protects the weak. At each break in the explanation, gasps of admiration from the audience echoed through the venue, and the arrogant commentator nodded with a smug expression, saying, "This is how a public servant should be."
"It feels good to be praised. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself."
"Really?"
Denji turned around to find Reze standing there, leaning against the back of the sofa.
"You came in without permission again."
Denji was grinning, pointing his finger at the talk show.
"So, how do you like it? Aren't you happy?"
"Hmm, I wonder."
"I was so happy back then! 'Chainsaw Man, Chainsaw Man!' I was super popular!"
"Well... I guess so."
Reze slowly rested her elbows on the back of the sofa and rested her chin on her clasped fingers.
With a somewhat distant look in her eyes, she watched her own image being presented on television.
"It's not bad, I guess."
"Right?"
"Yeah. I guess that means... I'm happy. It's a strange feeling. Being praised... being praised, huh..."
The girl moved her lips as if fussing.
She remained in that position for a while, then suddenly straightened her back with a burst of energy. With a serious expression, she muttered, as if trying to steel herself, "But it's not all good."
"picture?"
"Things might have actually gotten worse."
Thanks to the media coverage, the world now knows that there is a second weaponized human in Japan, following Chainsaw Man.
Makima's pawns have escaped her control and are still loyal to Japan. This fact is nothing but a threat to other countries.
They must be thinking this:
What if other weaponized humans joined Japan's military force at this rate...?
Now that Makima is gone, the fact that all of the pawns that great devil once controlled are being absorbed into a single country cannot be ignored.
After all, the gun-wielding demon sent by America was repelled the other day, and its body has now become the property of Japan.
The balance of power has collapsed.
While this is still only a harbinger of events, there are several concerns regarding the increasing military strength of Japan.
"Major powers will not overlook a situation like this. They will try to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."
"I see... I see?"
"The US and China will probably make a move. They want weaponized humans. And it seems like the existence of the Domination Demon is about to be exposed."
"Hmm... I don't really understand, but does that mean assassins will come from various countries?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"I see... Hmm, I don't really want to battle humans."
"Hey, do you realize that this is going to be a pretty big problem?"
Denji, who showed no signs of tension, was met with disapproving looks.
But Denji is completely unfazed.
"Something similar has happened before."
"In front of me... Ah, ahh...? Oh, I see, that's it."
"yeah?"
"Um, Santa Claus came all the way from Germany, right?"
"Yeah. A lot of puppet demons came, but I did a really great job and it was all good!"
"Oh, I see. Well, then I'll have to give it my all this time too."
"Well, you're not going to be targeted by assassins for the rest of your life."
Denji looks forward again.
"If we deal with everyone who comes, the enemy will wait and see. Then, then..."
"yeah?"
"Can we... go on a trip...?"
Words that slipped out unintentionally.
That was a conversation I had with Aki in the past.
"I didn't say we were canceling the trip. We're just postponing it."
That reminds me, Denji thought.
In the end, the trip was canceled. Instead, we went to Aki's hometown... but next time, I'd like to go on a proper trip for fun.
(But what exactly constitutes a proper trip?)
The place name that comes to Denji's mind is, of course, Enoshima.
I don't know much about it, but it must be an island. And if it's an island, it must be floating in the sea. The sea. And when you think of the sea, you think of swimming. Surfing? Watermelon smashing? I rack my brain, trying to conjure up images of the trip.
I imagine you can hear the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
A refreshing breeze must be blowing.
Along the coast. Beautiful scenery. Driving on the sandy beach.
The sun shines brightly. Girls play at the water's edge, splashing water at each other.
At that moment, Nayuta would surely have an innocent smile befitting her age, and Reze would slide down the straps of her sexy swimsuit and expose her alluring back, saying, "Put on some sunscreen."
—In that instant, an electric current ran through Denji.
"Swimsuit...?"
My brain trembled.
My current life is the best. I can take a bath every day, and I can eat good food. I live with cute and beautiful women...it's a perfect life...but I felt like something was missing.
The contract with Pochita --
"Show me Denji's dream."
dream.
My dream...!?
Aside from my dream of becoming the president of a devil hunter company, if I had a truly serious goal, I thought it would be sex.
Sex is every man's dream!
But sex can, at worst, be achieved by paying for it. I recently learned that there are places like that.
The hurdle is low.
My heart was still racing, but something felt different.
Sex isn't really that big of a deal, is it? It's not like it's something to be proud of as a lifelong dream.
But what about swimsuits...?
Playing around in swimsuits with the girls you like—that feels like something you can only do if your hearts are connected... A fleeting memory of youth that money can never buy.
"Hey, Reze. Once we've defeated this enemy, how about we go to Enoshima?"
"fart"
"Enoshima...the sea, the pool, no, the sea...I want to go, I really want to go!"
"What...? Why Enoshima...?"
"Water... water, ga"
"water?"
"That's right, I like water. Um, I want to swim...?"
"Hmm, hmm...? You want to go for a swim?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"Hmm. Well, let's go when it's safe."
"Yay!!"
Denji jumps up like a baby, radiating joy from his entire body.
As for Reze, the first thing that came to mind when she heard the word "swimming" was the winter swimming training from the Soviet era, so she had absolutely no idea where Denji's ridiculous behavior was coming from.
However.
The girl had never even imagined traveling for leisure.
The feeling of bewilderment—"Is it really okay to do something like that?"—is stronger than the feeling of excitement.
(Going to the beach for fun...even though it's not for work. Is it really okay for me to do something like that, like a civilian?)
I am a weaponized human being who kills people.
I have stained my hands with blood, claiming it was for my country.
A deep darkness clings to the heart of the former warrior like mold.
But—Reze shook her head.
It's easy to belittle yourself and give up on "ordinary happiness" in that way.
If you maintain the status quo while pretending to lament, "I'm not qualified," your guilt will likely lessen.
but.
My former guinea pig companions didn't even have the option to choose that path.
(Veronica...)
I was probably the only one among the inhabitants of that secret room who had found a way to "live a normal life."
I certainly don't think I'm qualified to go down that path.
Rights are out of the question, and those I've killed, along with their families, are surely cursing me, wondering, "How dare he show his face?"
But even so...
For the sake of my friends who once couldn't even choose this path, I must live with my head held high and move forward positively.
—That's what Reze had come to think.
Turn on your heel.
To live an honest life, we must defeat our enemies.
I decided to consult with Kishibe to prepare for any potential future situations, and stepped out into the hallway. I reached for the phone and dialed a number.
"Oh, hello, Kishibe-san? Did you watch TV? Yes, yes, and then—"
The door slowly closes.
Behind that.
The voice of a news anchor was coming from the living room television.
"Look! Moscow is on fire! Martial emergency has been declared, and we journalists cannot move freely. Heavily armed soldiers are rushing about...it's a chaotic situation...and, well, we've received information from a certain source that the Soviet head of state and many other high-ranking officials have been killed. The Soviet government has announced that it was not an accident or incident, but merely a series of unfortunate events, but there are far too many unnatural points to this..."
96 hours remaining
Осталось 96 часа.
Warrior of Mass Murder(Terminator)It's coming.