We're all just kids playing a part. That's what it boils down to.
I'm the kid who gets to play hitman today. The other kids, they're playing guard. Hands in their pockets, feeling up their guns. Makes them feel big. Calms them down. A security blanket in a holster.
That's what it boils down to. Dressing for the part, having the right props. If you're running around in your street clothes, you're a thug, a hood, a gangster. You put on a ninety-dollar suit you picked up at Ross, and all the sudden you're a mobster, a wiseguy, paisano.
You're still just playing Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, Thugs and Mafiosi.
Rule of three. Say it enough times, and you'll convince yourself of it.
Look at yourself in the mirror, jacket and tie and shoulder holster. Tell yourself, "I'm a badass." Wash, rinse, repeat until it sticks. Get into character and stand around, chest puffed out, one hand on your gun, one on your cock.
Repeat the lines you learned watching other people pretend to be thugs. "Whachu lookin' at? Whadda I look like, annasshole? Gedouttahere."
But when it comes down to it, you have no fucking idea what you're doing. And to be fair, I don't either. The only thing that I have apart is that I recognize that. So pat me down, frisk me, run your hands all over me. I don't carry a gun because I don't need one. Because I wouldn't know what to do with it if I had one.
What it all boils down to is when you box yourself into that role you imagine, you stick yourself with its limitations. You confine yourself to your gun and your suit. You confine yourself to that role, that archetype, that little script you wrote in your head based on what you imagine thug life to be like.
You don't think twice when we make small talk about the coffee mug on your desk. I used to work at a coffee bar, you know. Don't mind if I take a swig of that?
You might be a little perturbed about the way I hold it, sure. Who holds a mug with one finger over the handle, and one under? Lets me feel the warmth better, I say, and you forget about it. Sure, the thought crosses your mind, but you have a gun. A guy comes at you with a coffee mug? What do you look like, an asshole?
Thing is, despite all the insane shit the human body is capable of, it's still got its weak points. If you're caught off guard, I don't care if you're a veteran, if you've climbed Everest, run marathons. None of that shit matters. An unexpected coffee mug to the temple is still going to give you a concussion. A fist to your two front teeth is still going to send them down your throat. And a paperweight, a stapler, a desk clock all have the same impact when they're coming at your face at eight meters per second.
We're all just kids playing dress up, but this is what I do for a living. And I can pretend to murder you a lot more efficiently than you can pretend to be a badass. And that's what it all boils down to.