You look pretty, Olson. You sure you're tall enough for this ride? What do you lost, kid? Or maybe you're looking for a reason? Yeah. If you want to learn your ABCs, I'm the perfect girl for the job. Come on. You don't happen to know the Red Hindenburg, do you? Huh? The Red Hindenburg, I'm looking for her. She's nearby or so I've heard. Huh? Why are you looking for her? Seriously, you must be just pretty kinky stuff there, kid. Fine, they're in the back. Made my fix. I'm coming down too hard. Will I find a Red Hindenburg at the top of the stairs? It's open. Oh, good. You came. Make yourself at home. I guess that face yours. You've such a beautiful face. I saw you on TV, kid. The evening news, right next to shoe vault, smooth one, aren't you? So now you're calling yourself the Red Hindenburg, after calling yourself Margot Langer all that time? And before Langer, the name was Blue Sophie. Call me whatever as long as I get paid. Names don't mean crap, right, Johan Liebert? If you simply must know, it's a pet name for my latest boyfriend. He's waiting back there behind door number one. Ain't Johnny! Don't go getting any funny ideas, sweetie. He's holding a big gun in his hand, and he's just itching to give it a go. You should see the one he's got in his pants. I'm impressed. Warm in your way and old shoe vaults, confidence like that. You're running one hell of a scheme. I'm not just saying it to be polite. I remember you bringing that foreign boy saying he was shoe vault son. Who could have ever guessed the real deal would come forward? Those are some pretty long odds, right? Guess you knew better. Poor little Edmund foreign, what a fool. You practically tied the news for him as soon as he'd served his purpose. Hell kid took me two years. That's how long ago the real Margot Langer died, and let me tell you the timing couldn't have been better for me. After she died her name allowed me to cash in on shoe vaults guilt. No point letting that money go to waste. Whatever, it's not like the girl was my closest friend or anything. She wasn't even turnin' tricks anymore. She said she went completely clean. We just had a couple of drinks, nothing more. She probably didn't have anyone else to talk to. I'd get her jerrogged shit a few crockered and suddenly her life was an open book. I heard all about her fling with shoe vault, and about sending his bastard to an orphanage. And then the poor thing when God herself killed, I used the name Margot Langer to get shoe vaults money, and I lived happily ever after end of story. When Margot was killed the police concluded she was the victim of a random attack case closed. Little did they know this dead former hooker was just one measly piece in a big gory puzzle. Like Richard Brown. The former police detective, I can't help but feel sorry for the guy. If he hadn't gotten so nosy maybe he wouldn't have felt like jumping that fateful night. Goodness me, what's the body count again? Enough reminiscing, let's get down to why I asked you to come here tonight, business my dear, and don't even think about squirming your way out of this one. Ain't that right, honey? So name a number. I'm listening. What are you, deaf? Tell me what do you think is the ultimate fear. I really thought I'd already reached the darkest of the dark. What the hell are you mumbling about now? But then, ahead of me, I beheld the darkness even greater still. Huh? Wait a minute! You think you can just walk away? I'm leaving this town. You see, Shoo Vault no longer amuses me. Don't try to blow me off, kid. It's no use. How do you shoot a person who doesn't even exist? I'm through messing around! Honey! Honey, get out here already! Honey, what are you doing? Roberto, please! Hello again. May I please have a balloon? Here, take it and go get your fix.