It was a white-veiled scenery. Pure white. Starting from an unseen beginning and leading more towards the unknown end. Spreading on the vast area and fast. Down below, other than the white, there’s also red, crimson in color, and coming out from riddling holes made by flying golden discharged shells scattered about down in the man-made darken crevices of high-rise buildings.

It was a scene of carnage down there. Something out of a warzone. Funny to think that there’s no war, only a single man exacting his previous words to words of “Becoming the fallen angel of death.”

He delivered his words, too well perhaps.

——The man isn’t exactly had much to lose at this point. Only his worthless life, hundreds of bullet in magazines with personal revenge being written on each shell, an unquenched thirst for anything to put out the burning black flame within.

He only had but one thing by the end of this curtain calls. The bullet was spent and the blood of those who being feed to be his sacrificial lambs has eased the burn. Only his life left, a life that seems unworthy for anything more than becoming . . . this, becoming his exact word. My words of oath that has become a reality.

“I have become what I promised now, aren’t I?” And it was said without much articulation. Rugged. Ragged. Raspy. Almost as if running out on steams. Exactly that happened.

Like those people who were sent to be dying off on arrival down below, I have holes of my own. Bullet, shrapnel, scorching wounds, anything anyone will get when they are having to face to face with heat of iron muzzles distances away and shooting lead. I am about to die on the farewell, and that’d be my smartest guess so far.

“Well, Mr. Heat. You did it. Words to words. Impressive dedication to turn an empty threat into a twisted, warped reality that will now take me away to the next level above.”

Heat. That’s me. Between the ensuing raging blizzard and the roar of guns and explosives that I had to take to get to this point, I’ve been well-acquainted with my name, both figuratively and too literally, on this single night.

Heat made haze. Refractions of illusions. Things that are seen starting to change shape, turning themselves to be less than grounded and real. Too bad, this time it wasn’t illusionary. It’s the reflection of how this so-called wheel of fate set me up to be standing right here and right now. The haze was only an after-effect, a product of cause and causality. I am crystal clear on the head and by intentions.

The man in front of me, standing gallantly, with a clocked revolver on hand. That smirk painted on his face didn’t waver. A color of guts or the signs of bravado which will net his guts spilled on the rooftop concrete within the next few seconds.

On my hand, I got the packing heat that I was able to grab ahold of while on the way here. A pistol, dimly and dully gleaming in midst of the raining snow with white gust. Lights on the communication tower above us certainly help to make it looks dramatic. I’ll need it. This is the end of the line after all.

I was standing on the precipice and apex point of life.

“Dear, Mr. Heat, I’ve seems to be misjudged you. I thought that you are merely a broken man with a grandeur of delusions that showcasing how unsalvageable you are. Now, I retract that. I change the verdicts into a mad man without regards of anything on his path to exact his selfish indignation.” Revolver at ready all the time while he runs his mouth off. Slowly raised and trying to make its way weaving through the cold air to find its perfect angle position for a hip shoot.

“I wouldn’t bother to correct you,” I said, with whatever tone left of me. Speaking already a hurdle enough on its own. “In fact, I admit it.”

This is not a noble crusade. Not a tale of taking back what has been robbed. I’ve loses what cannot be recovered, returned, or unearthed again. She already down six-under feet and smiling peacefully the last time I saw her. I want to jump in and give her a kiss then we will live happily forever after. Who am I kidding when I knew that she lay lifeless and it’s too little too late for giving her last goodbye?

“——I see, I see now. You’ve gone and above without needing to undo your state of being living. It’s unfortunate for this to happen. A man like you must’ve some great insights on how someone must live their life, and I personally would love to hear it——” and the clocked gun finally strikeout to mete a bullet on its chamber. A shot has been made.

My feet aren’t on the ground. The concrete sensation was gone and came to me that now I am mid-air. It happens naturally as if I had wings on my back. A leap, high enough to make the Olympics athletes give a run for their money. Starting from standing and moving to the side. The booming sound and shattered concrete captured by my ear as my body shook on the ground, ringing and echoing inside my blank head. Gasping and grunting, I am back in action despite remain lying on the ground.

When men were being pushed too far, they’ll retaliate, more extreme than the aggressor.

Put the index finger inside the trigger guard, slowly put it in place, and never pull it, instead slowly give it a squeeze, just a poke to the cheek of the woman you love. Playfully and lovingly, gently. Paint that sensation and etched it inside the mind. It’ll become second nature.

Now will be the prime case of how it’ll go.

Booming sound sunder the air. Snow, wind, or anything might be as good as gone when the bullet made its way through once out of the barrel. The dim muzzle became bright and shiny in a flash. My eyes couldn’t see anything, and it makes no difference whether I am going blind or it’s because of blood dripping down from right above my brows.

Let the bullet travel. It’ll do its job. The course and directions will be true if it’s as willed. In case it wasn’t, I’ll pump another squeeze to make sure the job was done.

Immediately, it was clear that I need that second try.

“——Such Corazon, Heat! You really are tenacious. Such resilience and reactions. You are the boogeyman for my men and every criminal around!”

He stood at his place while gleefully laughing. It comes to be expected when the situation clearly dictates that The Fallen Angel of Death might need to have an appointment with the primordial element of elimination. Things aren’t too good for me, then again it never was since hundreds of bullets back spewed and pelted the bodies of anyone who wants to enacts the dead to rights to me. I missed my shot and it wasn’t the end of the world.

It might be the end of me.

Putting feet back to the ground. Fast. Like a horse. Galloping and walloping. Get those muscles on the work. Pain is much sweeter than being dead.

I scrambled to stand up. I did. Not so much when I heard approaching footsteps.

Whack! A sharp pain to the jaw. Sweet as how a father would show his tough love. Being whipped with a gun hurts more than on the receiving end of knuckle sandwiches.

Wobbly, my legs turned into jelly. Mustered strength as good as pulp by now. Ringing on the ears was disorienting. Easy to say, hard to take. He played, and I will make him pay.

“Bastard!”

Raised my right hands, he followed suit. He’s on the get-go ready to take the hit, boxing stances. When the impact hits his leg, his grimacing face sure could put a smile on my face, that’s if I can remember how.

Pow! Right on the shin. Too bad my palm couldn’t be strong enough to make it turned into a Crack! sounds.

He’s shook. Both of us now. We’re on equal ground.

Offense is the best defense. I took my chances. Putting my right hands forwards, I was helping him to have a taste of something more brutal than a whip with a gun. A beatdown with the back of pistol grip open pathways for extra bleeding on both nose hole.

His grunts aren’t so loud that I would call it painful. I didn’t wait. He clearly didn’t take kindly to our gift exchanges earlier. The revolver clocked and thrust forward. A shot at first, and it turned twice without much pause. In a second, he already had two shots out and they were out to get me.

Nothing new.

Get down. That’s what I need. My stomach met with the concrete ground again. Cold, with piling snows, adds being freeze over there.

Trailing bullets pass through. Hitting anything that was clearly not me.

Another shot. This time it was mine. I squeeze my fingers into the trigger while lying around. It wasn’t the most elegant or proper way to do a shooting.

“——Gah! You’re killing me, Mr. Heat! Hahahaha!”

There he was, still laughing and in merry. What in the world happened didn’t quite capture, or processed my mind at that time. I saw a hole that was left in the place where the bullet should pierce through like a drill on mining stations, there was no blood or wound. He pulls his mantle open before I could make any elaborate guess, and there it was dropped on the ground, a metal case with liquids spilling like water dropping on a waterfall. Red, but not bleed. Those liquids are the keyway to a one-way meeting with the Devil himself. I saw what it did. It wasn’t pretty, and now I saw it thrown out, but the results this time are the same. It wasn’t pretty.

——Clank! The hammer falls down in its place again. When it clicks, it’ll be another burning lead have another go on trying to add the chances for me to bleed it out to death. Currently, I am 75% sure I’ll be dead anyway.

“Die! Die! Die!”

One, two, and three. Three shots in a second this time around. All are out trying to get me. They’re welcome to, if they can.

No need to lift the body. Straighten the body. Grit through numb pains. Push it together using both the back and stomach. Let it roll, quick and messily.

The bullet only hitting piles of snow and concrete below.

I am rolling for my life and I get what I wanted. I am alive and kicking.

I’ll have to give the last part some honor now.

Pulling myself up was nothing easy. It’s worth the effort and now I am walking towards the bastard that was in a daze of what just happened.

I was shown a changing face, smile, and laugh gone and was changed into a frown each time the gun was doing its job, and now I see something new. Something different on his face.

“Are you scared now . . . you are, aren’t you?”

Imagine you met a guy bleeding to death trying to kill you and he still did despite how many bullets were shot at him. Imagine that. Once you did, you’ll be in no much brainstorming with the current rundown of this stage.

He is a smart man, yet what about to come next wasn’t his brightest moment.

“Just die already! Nobody loves you or wants you to be around. Your love is dead, your family abandons you, and everyone turned their back on you. How could you still walk on the face of this Earth is something that I wouldn’t want to know, and with a smile now! A smile! You’re a miserable sod that smiling now. Do me and yourself a great favor to just go die!”

He clocked. He shot. Nothing comes out.

I laughed at that. I can’t help it.

“Not much of a gunman, eh? That’s a six-shooter. Count your shot. Do the math, and decide you want to pull it again or not——”

“Wha——?!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“——Arghhhhh!”

Now he’s finally down. Clutching on his hands. Shattered and malformed hand with flesh, tissue, and bones sticking out. There’s another hole on his shoulder, it hits him in those places. The other shot missed its marks, but it’s fine. This is fine.

Rumbles down below told me that I didn’t have much time left. The side of justice going to apprehend me in any second. I need to be fast. It’ll be either hauled in or giving in to my gallery of wounds. And I have not much choice or preferences.

I’m making my way. Through the piling snow. Letting the white drops on my face. I take in my breathing and let it out. It was warm. The warmth that makes me could say . . .

“I’ll have to rearrange my schedules before meeting with the end.”

 The red on the ground, it didn’t make much difference anymore. I have already played the idea of ironic death on my mind for some time now, and I’ve made my answer and solution.

I lost everything because of that reds.

Now, I’ll make someone lost everything with my own reds.

I am inching closer to him, closer until my feet stand right beside him. He was falling over after getting his arms practically destroyed. Screaming, wailing, and I didn’t give him any chances to stumbling.

——Boom!

No need to end it with a closing talk. I give my answer and solution of my own just with that.

No need to have a discourse on morals, situations, and the whatnots. Those were unnecessary in the face of an absolute end, that’s me.

“In your next life, better have more bullets on your guns.”

Stiff corpses wouldn’t talk to me, I do get an answer with the state of his dead body currently.

I am not one to say it myself.

Pushing it down and having my arm pulling the bottom of the gun magazine, I saw that there’s only a bullet left.

“Not convincing.”

That was a good one, and yet I didn’t laugh.

I lost them both while I can pull them off at the heat of the moment.

I might want to take my chances . . . just a shot and another red will shut the curtains down tonight.

The sun then came out. It was the dawn of a new day. The star raises itself up to the sky slowly but easily. Never weighs down by anything.

There’s the another red, and it wasn’t mine.

The sun that shone of twilight.

——The heat of twilight . . . chilling but welcoming.

A bit closer to redemption over transgressions. Not with punishment stems from crime.

Sera . . . she would kill me if she knew what I am doing here. Although . . . she can’t.

Today won’t be the day. I’m sorry, dear.

The rumbling down below come closer, and the door was smacked open.

“Freeze! New York Police Department!”

And it was my end calls.