The Bartender: Sh! Did you hear that...? My bed is calling me.
The Drifter: I'm the product of a fucked up generation.
Nicola: All this fighting. It's not who's right. It's who's left.
The Narrator: Life, every man holds dear. But the dear man holds honor far more precious than dear life. Especially if that man happens to be Japanese.
Yoshi: Who are you?
The Drifter: Either a friend or a foe. Depends on who is looking.
Yoshi: I'm looking.
The Drifter: Maybe you should look somewhere else.
The Narrator: Long before the dawn of man, strife was already a major component of life. Wherever a creature shared a piece of land with another, it was just a matter of time until a struggle for resources would ensue. Man was no different, showcasing a perverse fascination with violence. Man and civilization brought forth more innovative ways of taking human life than any other function needed for survival. There are more ways of killing a man than there are ways of making bread or making love. While the latter two are quite limited in scale, man has gone beyond imagination with his capacity to destroy life with one push of a button. Between uncontrolled crime in the streets and escalating war on the borders, it was all just a matter of time. From the ashes, a new world was born. The surviving nations finally realized that man's unstoppable appetite for destruction must be contained. A ban on all firearms was strictly enforced. And just as the sword gave way to the gun, the gun gave way to the sword; leaving the authorities to carry the hope of their nations on the tip of a spear. Little did they know that the self-destructive nature of man could never be stopped. There's not enough love in this world, not enough money to prevent this ancient circle from coming around again. When the time is ripe, evil will rise; personified in our case with a wood cutter. Nikola is his name, and this is his town, his land. The God forsaken place where our tale begins. And as many ways as there are of killing a man, there are equally as many ways of telling this old tale of strife.
The Narrator: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, will forever make better grammatical balance than turning the other cheek.
The Drifter: Unlike you, I've never stabbed anyone in the back.
Nicola: You wanna kill a man like me, son? You better stab me in the back. That's the catch. Honorable men, well, they die hard, but they still die. It's men like me who survive and conquer. Men like me understand that the fight is not about who's right, but about who's left.