The idea comes to him fast, and he acts on it just as suddenly. There’s a knife sticking out of the chest of his mentor and best friend. The knife has to come out at some point. Perhaps it’s best, perhaps it’s right, that he remove the knife himself, that he wield that knife against the perpetrators of this horrible crime. So he steels himself. He breathes deep and exhales through his closed lips. He puts his hand on the hilt. He shifts his gaze from the knife to the face of his slain friend and back again. All the while he grips and pulls, pulls, pulls. The camera cuts away as if to spare us the intimate sight of Dalton pulling the penetrator out of the body of Wade Garrett, the most famous bouncer in all of Christendom, the man who made him the man he is today. All we see is the thin trickle of blood that flows over Wade Garrett’s rose tattoo. In interviews it is canon-established that Rose was the name of the woman who gave him his favorite scar, on his hip, inches from his pubis. A permanent tribute to the glory of sex, stained in this final hour by the plain fact of violence. This is the end of the road for Wade Garrett, but the knife that pierced him will plunge into another body before the day is done. To Dalton, that much is clear.