Made it to where

I made it, only to be confronted with a random stab in the dark. Blood squirts from the cavity made fresh from a blade made of chicken bones and half eaten kit kats. What is this he adds, does the end bring about a new beginning, born into a status of unheard of resources and new connections, more powerful connections.....no matter the top of the trash can is as easily torn apart by brute force as is the faces of my victims lying facedown in a big ass pile of bat guano that's been accumulating for 75 years and never seems to get old but stay, juicy. He's catapulted to newer heights from the depths of sweaty gym socks and and inferno of people and their hot breath to a land of even playing fields, or so the illusion seems. It's hot and as the character sifts through his trusty utility belt to find even more shit that doesn't make sense, he realizes that in order for things to fall back into his own sense of logic, he has to make one to begin with.