The slope I'm climbing is slippery as aniceberg. And I guess I see just as little of it , too. I mean, is there an end? When I was a rookie cop, I thought I was doing good when I put a scrae in kids who bought drugs. Concentrate on them and society will straighten itself out, right? Yeah, right. As long as dealers are around, there'll always be stupid-ass kids who want to put that shit in their bodies. So I wised up and started nabbing dealers. But dealers are a dime a dozen. So I bust ass to make detective to make a real difference. I start catching guys in suits who don't carry guns, but who have East German rejects who do.

After years on that beat, a divorce, a kid who self-destructed and an addiction of my own, I'm back on my feet and about to lock up one of the worst: a guy named Pendergrass. He drove that kid over the edge, drove me over as a result, and probably fucked me a hundred other ways, too. So I'm standing there at his front door, a battalion of cops behind me, showing the warrant to the butler. That's when the bottom suddenly falls out of the ocean and I get to see the whole freaking iceberg. I guess the Messengers thought it would be a cute time to show me the whole truth.

Pendergrass comes down the stairs - and he's already dead!