The elevator doors opened.
He paused for a second before walking out. He looked at the three dead bodies that laid around him on the elevator floor. His mind’s eye traced back his trip from the basement up to the terrace. He had already executed two crime lords, a psycho who believed he was an archangel or something and more than a few thugs and lowlifes.
They had pushed him way too far. They should have known better. His eyes were still drowned in hate and lust for revenge. He could still hear his wife cry for help. He could still see the drops of blood coming from his newborn’s bed. They had both died in front of his very eyes. A couple of years ago.
He examined his weapons. He cycled through them, all to make sure they were ready for what was coming up next. Two Berettas, a Desert Eagle, a Tommy Gun, a Sniper Rifle, a Grenade launcher, a Flame Thrower, some Smoke grenades, some Pepper grenades and a Baseball Bat; just in case he’d run out of ammo.
He walked out of the elevator. All the commotion and the gunfire from the lower levels had already alerted the people he was visiting. Two gunshots were heard. The bullets flew past him, one drilling a hole into the wall and the other hitting the fire extinguisher that was hanging next to him. The punctured extinguisher gave out a thick white smoke which highly hindered vision; his and theirs alike. He ducked and hid behind a couch. Took in a large gasp of air and shouted: “you want pain?”
He sprang from under the couch and stood up tall, still, immovable, certain. It was as if time froze for a moment. He heard the sound of his own gunshots, as if they were coming from the bottom of a deep well. He could swear he was able to see the bullets flying in the air, spinning around an axis that ended deep in the sculls of the people who shot and were still shooting at him.
With the corner of his eye, he caught some movement on his left. There were people coming. People with big M16s. He dived to his front, twisted his body to face his new targets and let his Eagle do the talking. Sparks came out of its barrel; bullets flew in and sliced the air. The men with the M16s had no time to aim or duck. Headshots! One, two, three of them hit the ground while he was still airborne.
A strange noise disturbed his ears. This was no gunshot. This was a flapping of some kind. A helicopter? Could it really be that the person he was after was just about to evade him?
He ran out of the little office and stepped into the terrace. Two henchmen took aim but received lead instead. He was not going to waste any more time. He ran to the metal door that prevented him from walking around the office and reaching the other side of the terrace.
“Fuck!!!” he uttered, but it was as if his alter ego was talking; he never opened his mouth. This, he thought to himself, was unfair. He reached this point with so many weapons and ammunition and that bitch he was after, she was escaping. He looked around. In the middle of the office’s roof there was a long, thick antenna of some kind. Heavy with satellite dishes and all kinds of technology invested in making sure no piece of information evades it. He could see metal chords holding it in place. One of them ended on his own side of the terrace.
He walked over to the end of the chord and shot it with his eagle. The metallic chord sliced through the air, freely. A mild grin carved upon his lips. He cycled through his weapons again and took hold of his Sniper Rifle. He aimed steadily and shot. On the other side of the terrace, he shot at and broke one more chord. He quickly turned to his left. Aimed. Shot. One more chord happily flying around free.
But the antenna was not moving. It never budged an inch. Even worse, he could hear the flapping of the helicopter on the other side getting faster and louder. They would take off shortly, no doubt about that.
There was no time to think. No time to waste. No more promises to be broken. No more guilt to evade. No more favours to bestow. He examined his weapons again and took the Grenade launcher in his hands. He aimed at the root of the antenna and pulled the trigger. Once, twice. The grenades flew and reached the bottom of the antenna where they exploded. A metallic sound came to his ears as the foundation bent and started falling. Too slowly.
Behind the sinking antenna he noticed a helicopter airborne. They were escaping. They were painfully escaping Nemesis. Just not yet. He chose his Tommy Gun and unleashed its full hate. The shells fell to the ground like the drops of a furious waterfall. The bullets carved their way towards the chopper but they mostly crashed to the metals of the falling antenna.
He started fearing they would escape, safe in the chopper.
They started believing they would survive, safe in the chopper.
When the metallic establishment crashed into the tail of the helicopter, sparks flew but the chopper did not. It only sank down the 36 levels from the building’s terrace to the ground.
He witnessed the drop with a smirk of satisfaction. In the distance he could hear the sirens. They were coming for him. Snow was coming down. He hadn’t noticed earlier. Just now he started feeling as part of the environment. He could hear cars pulling next to the building, sirens getting louder and a certain voice screaming in the distance behind him.
He couldn’t exactly make out what it was that the voice was saying. Until the door behind him opened. It was his mother.
But what was his mother doing on top of the skyscraper, over the dead bodies?
“Did you finish your homework, mister?”
Crap. His parents had come back early. Well, at least he had managed to finish his favourite PC game. He was a hell of a Max Payne!
“Not yet mom. I’ll do my maths now and go to bed.”