A slow haunting melody is hummed by a single voice. The body of Damien Wolfe lies upon blood-soaked canvas. El Mariachi Muerte draws near and kneels beside the massacred body.
He places a rose upon Damien’s chest as he hums his tune. No guitar accompanies his song, no music played behind his voice.
‘Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be.
The pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can seeThat suicide is painless,
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please’
“When the fog of war cleared, mi amigo, The true nature of the red light revealed itself. A revelation that shattered the fragile existence of Felix Foley just as easily as it claimed the life of Conservator Wolfe.”
Muerte closes the eyes of Wolfe, preparing him for his final destination.
“Here lies a single body, but two souls were claimed that day. One murdered, the other a victim of its own suicide. For you killed not only your victim, but your own soul that day, Señor Tijera. One can sever guitar strings but just as music silenced still lives on inside our mind, so too can your blades never sever the memory of who you used to be, Felix Foley.”
‘The sword of time will pierce our skins.
It doesn’t hurt when it begins.
But as it works its way on in,
the pain grows stronger, watch it grin.’
“The sword of time always reveals itself in the end. It saw me lose everything I once held dear. Friendship, my Championship, even music itself. But to you, Scissors, ‘tis your own blade which pierces your skin. It reaps so much more than what I have lost.”
Muerte inspects the blood on his hands from his task.
“You have lost that which makes you whole, your identity. Inevitably, your very existence is the suicide of Felix Foley. You already changed that song for good. That which is cut cannot be uncut. Arteries severed cannot be glued back together.”
“Suicide is permanent.”
Muerte stands, sorrow filled eyes now brimming with anger.
“Those we consider friends reveal their true nature in time. Like Dr. Death, you look no further than within yourself, amigo. Your bloodlust has taken hold of you, just as the Doctor’s greed showed its true nature.”
“But death chooses no favorites. We each face muerte eventually and you wrote your own endsong with the blinking of a red light, Scissors. You chose your fate and committed the suicide of Felix Foley. The dead sing a mournful ballad, Scissors, and Felix Foley sings on.”
‘Suicide is painless,
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please’
“Foley’s song belongs to death now, played out for eternity in his mother’s memory. Yours is a song that is ultimately empty. Devoid, the suicide of music. You severed your song with the swish of your blades. An eternity of silence of your own making that I will play out upon you.”
“Let the music play.”