But as those four, those impossibly lucky four, made their way to escape through the last working elevator, he knew he could stop them. His entire life since becoming one of them was based on this. It was not a primal instinct that caused him such aggression to the uninfected, it was an impossible envy. Now, however, there would be none to envy. He would soon stop them. He smelled the blood, the blood so clean, yet contaminated in some way. He smelled them as they slowly crept for the ledge, unaware as he stood only mere feet away, creeping from the room, to the window, and off the ledge, plunging a horrific height with them in his grasp.
This was it. He was there. They were there. It was set up so perfectly. He ran back to the doorway that led out into the burning hall, and collected all of his energy, anger, and stamina. A hand with a large, white sleeve tightly gripping an axe came into view, and finally, the last inch of fabric on a jumpsuit tied around a waist had come into the window. He charged. He charged with his life, as he knew it would end here, all for the better. They did not have enough time to turn and see his menacing figure as it came crashing down upon them at speeds simply not possible for a creature of that size. Their fate, their doom, their end, came for them.
And then, he saw it; Right before the window. A small, red, paper cup, completely devoid of any contents. It was straight in front of him. In his mind, he screamed with the force of a million souls as he saw not their doom, but his. His foot slammed into the cup and he went crashing to the ground. He looked up to see a man in a white suit, the barrel of a pistol inches from his eyes. That was the end, and as he faded from existence, he saw blue writing appear in the bottom left corner of his vision, reading only the following:
xXx1337z0m813ki114rxXx: lol wut a fukin n00b ass charger lololol