I am 12 years old. I am standing behind a Russian soldier, my SOCOM pistol pressed into his back. I whisper:
A minute or so later he is limping away, bleeding profusely from multiple gunshot wounds and trying in vain to call for help over his broken radio. If I were feeling kind, I’d shoot him in the head with a tranquilizer dart and stuff him in a locker somewhere.
I am not feeling kind.
I pummel and kick him until he loses consciousness. Then I wake him up, and do it all over again.