Att couldn't hear anymore, and everything just buzzed like when a TV's antennae aren't aligned. It all seemed so far away, so distant. His vision went next, blurring slightly, mixing colors and shapes together at the edges of his peripheral vision tugging the sides into an enfolding blackness that threatened to envelop his entire view. The tingling that crept into his fingers and toes signaled that his body was shutting down the outer extremities that weren't necessary. He slide his hand up his leather jacket and found the tiny mouth that was trickling redness down past his belt to drip to the floor. He brought his fingers away and held them up to his glazed eyes and saw they were covered in blood; his blood, blood that should be inside of his body keeping him moving, not just standing there. His knees, with their insufficient amount of blood, gave out and he slumped to the floor. He looked up to where he knew that He would be, but all he could see was a blurry version of what once was because he could already feel his brain shutting down and he could almost hear the rhythmical beeping of his heart monitor slow and eventually stop and just drone on a long tone. The last thing he saw was the muzzle of His gun aiming at his forehead but Att didn't even hear the shot sound out, nor feel the pain as the .45 hollow point slug ripped into his head through his forehead tearing muscle, bone, and brain until exiting out the back of his head into the wall dislodging a chunk of flesh and bones and cranial matter the size of a fist leaving a small hole that light shone through from the front of his head to the red splattered wall behind him. He walked out and left Att lying slumped against the wall, dead, and walked out through the door and stepped up to the wall and raised His fingers and touched the wall and then pushed a little harder. It looked like His fingers were about to break but then a tiny crack appeared where His fingers were pushing and the more He pushed in the farther the crack opened until he stepped through and the crack sealed itself behind him as if nothing had happened but that section of wall was slightly discolored for the rest of the building's life and no one really knew why.

Att opened his eyes and looked around, but then he closed his eyes. "I should be dead," Att thought to himself, but the nagging suspicion that he wasn't dead after all got to him and tugged his eyes open again for the second time. For the first few moments all he saw was bright neon green that skewed everything in...well, where ever he was. But then it all came into focus and the green seemed to suck back and imprint upon everything in "this" place and Att could see what, nevertheless who, was all around him. He stood in awe; he was surrounded by hundreds of people who all just stood lifelessly frozen in time or place. He didn't recognize any of them right off but there was a man who was bald but had a small goatee at the point of his chin and looked like a giant over-priced weasel, a girl with black skin in a black halter-top but with night vision goggles on. He kept scanning the room, if it was a room and not a island, and his eyes fell upon a group of men that all were the same height, wore the same suit, had the same ear- piece and sunglasses, and all had that same look of trust and lethality on their faces. He felt afraid of them but did not know who they were and did not know why he should be afraid of them. He sensed death radiating off of them and the longer he looked at them the more they started to glow green. He looked away and the color faded.

A pure white finger struck the 'End' key on the keyboard only once and Att's world went dark and he ceased to think, feel, or exist anymore and he just stood their lifeless and frozen among all of the others.