Virus

Once upon a time in a town called Mysore there lived a DJ. He played rock music in a small pub to drunk audience. He arrived at work at 4 o'clock in the evening and stayed back playing popular crowd pleasing rock numbers until the pub closed.
One late evening a group of people requested him to play 'In The End.' He had already played it once for the night. He had played it every night since the day he took this job.
DJ Pangre, emotionless and blank, drew his Uzi submachine gun and sprayed 45 rounds of bullets until everyone except Shetty was dead.
Shetty terrified by this horrible act of violence trembled with fear on the floor. He finally stood up, eyes pearly, and raised his hands over his head.
He muttered, 'Why?'
Pangre emptied the cartridge and refilled it with villainous proclivity.
He said, 'I was tired. I had to do it. They deserved it. They all deserved it.'
He pulled the trigger again.
Until he stopped breathing. Until his head was blown to pieces and the blood and small chunks of his skull and bits of his dead brain were all splattered on the wall.
Shetty sank to the ground.
And stayed there motionless.
Nothing mattered.