Death is Probably a Myth
Shoot, shoot,duck. Shoot, shoot, duck. For Michael, a standoff with the cops is a comfort zone. It put himself in check. His back on his car and away from the cops, he reloads his gun and turns back around to continue his massacre. He may be immortal, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking, wondering, and worrying. What if he “Dies” and doesn’t regenerate. What if he just doesn’t wake up?
A bullet tears through his shoulder, then his chest. He jumps over the car, fully exposed. Shoot, shoot, push ahead. Shoot, shoot, go forward. Shoot, shoot, fall.
And everything fades to black
At a bar a few blocks away, a boy ordained with gold sunglasses drinks the most expensive drink the place offers. The TV above him shows live footage of the massacre and its product. The news anchors soft mumble grows in his head as she says, “The oddest thing, though, was that the criminals last moments were spent smiling.”
The man gets up to leave, leaving a generous tab. “Leaving so soon?” the bartender seemed shocked, “You haven’t even finished your drink yet!”
“My friend is going to need a ride home and a change of clothing” he points to the television. And with that, he walks out of the bar.