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I hear the panting of the soldiers. I hear the clicking of guns and the strapping of gas masks. As the medic and I descend the stairs, I see a never-ending line of SWAT men with guns and grenades. Everyone was here for me; I could've never cleaned them all. But I'm going to get out. I'm going to be free.
Surprisingly, the men start patting me on the back, telling me to take care and watch out, and telling their comrades to clear the way for me. They are my enemies, but at the same time, I sense an ambience of friendship around me. They give me relief and comfort.
The medic sets me against a nearby wall and tells me to take off my mask. My face stings from the bruises. "That's a deep one," says the man. "You stay right here. I'll go get someone," he tells me.
I sit here alone listening to the drips from the rusted water pipes. Thousands of things go through my head. I must go to Tony's and meet Mathilda. I watch the water droplets fall into a shallow puddle. Life is so precious. I can not further waste it.
Something compels me to stand up and go. I don't know what it is, but I get up anyway. I feel the pressure and pain in my bashed knee as I limp down the hallway. Everything is a blur. My eyes are watering. I see the exit and a blue police car; I will be free. Everything seems to move slowly as if time traveled in slow motion. Vertigo. I shut my eyes and open them again. Everything is clear now. For once, my mind is unburdened and calm. I do not have to worry about killing and getting out. The outside and life is just a few footsteps away. In here, I smell death and pain.
Suddenly everything flashes white. A numbing pain disperses throughout my body. I relax and fall to the ground. The wetness of the floor seeps through my clothing. The cold water chills my spine. It was Stansfield. I realize that my life is close to the end. It has to end someday. A hitman like me won't live for long. But I have tasted life and felt what it was like. Now this stupid game will be over, and I will fulfill Mathilda's request. The end is near. I can feel it. "Stansfield," I struggle to whisper. "At your service," said the killer. I concealed a grenade pin and wrapped it in his hand without him seeing it. "This is from Mathilda..."
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