Spittle flew from Jango’s lips as he shouted at the man in a woman’s voice that sounded like it was made of cyanide and sugar that had been laced with the patter of blood dripping on an abattoir floor, “This is the truth about The Killer, ain’t it baby? You’re just a big ol’ bag of screams under all that big, bad muscle, ain’t you?
Cedric Nye, Jango's Anthem
abuse, apocalypse, arizona, horror, jango-s-anthem, torture, zombie-fighter-jango, zombies