They found Lasseter in the control van. Mike didn't kill her. He sat down across from her, covered in glitter from a shattered disco ball, and said: "You're going to call off the cleanup. You're going to delete every file. And then you're going to forget my name."
A woman appeared on the cracked jumbotron. She was elegant, silver-haired, and had the eyes of a shark who’d learned compassion was a waste of energy. Director Victoria Lasseter. American Ultra
Then he stood up, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and walked toward the sound of the music. They found Lasseter in the control van
The Lavender Thistle Contingency
Nothing happened. For a solid three seconds, nothing happened. Then Mike’s pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates. The fluorescent lights screamed. The hum of the soda machine became a symphony of violence. His brain, for the first time in eight years, went quiet . You're going to delete every file
"When this is over," she said, "we're moving to Oregon. You're gonna grow tomatoes. I'm gonna draw my sloth comic. And you are never, ever going to karate-chop another human being. Deal?"
Mike blinked. "Uh. Dude. We don't sell pelicans. Or, like, bird seed. That's the other 7-Eleven."