We play God. We are wild animals. The only thing that matters is to make it through the day. This is my story. Full of days when I had to show my claws. And just as many indifferent ones, that would be a waste of paper.

An aging hitman. Violent death doesn't scare him, but physical decay is a different story. More terrifying. Around him, a dark game of chess is being played. The chessboard is large and he doesn't understand moves and tactics. He only moves forward, one square at a time, as far as he can go. He doesn't care who wins, what matters is for him to do his job correctly. To accomplish his goals.

An existential noir, a dark inner monologue, a journey in the dead hours of the night.