"Never Say Die"
Four times that John McClane didn't give up, and one time that he did.
A/N This has been rattling around in my head for a while, and I finally made the time to write it. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Die Hard and the characters therein belong to 20th century fox and a lot of people I am not. This story is purely for entertainment, and I am making no profit. Please don't sue me.
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The car shook violently when bullets riddled the body, made a coughing noise, and then the hood flew off as the engine burst into flames.
McClane tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he calmly observed, "Ok. Car's on fire. That can't be good."
Travelling forward now from sheer momentum, the FBI squad car careened through the tunnel toward the daylight at the end, where the helicopter awaited. McClane opened the door, leaned over and swallowed down fear as the ground flew past under him.
He glanced forward again, considered his options, and grimly said to himself, "Oh, this is a bad fuckin' idea." Then he hurled himself from the vehicle, landing painfully hard and rolling, rolling until his back slammed into another car (luckily this one had already stopped) and he came to bone-jarring halt.
His flaming car continued on, hit a tollbooth gator and then leaped eagerly into the air to collide with the helicopter. A violent explosion ensued, spraying scraps of metal, shards of glass, and bits of terrorist out in every direction.
McClane laughed at the destruction he'd caused.
