Disclaimer: based on characters created by Edward Neumeier, Michael Miner, René Echevarria and Scott Peters.
The cop was lying down on the floor, while there was one man standing on his right arm, aiming his gun at him, saying: "See I got this problem. Cops don't like me. So I don't like cops."
He took aim with his gun, upon which he started mimicking the sound of a machine, while simultaneously tilting his gun up and down, deciding whether to shoot the cop in the head or in the belly. But once he aimed at his head, the gun panned to the gunman's left, firing a shot in the cop's right hand. His hand shattered and blood spurted about. The cop felt pain, but for a brief moment, as the very hand where he was supposed to feel pain had disappeared, so there was nothing to send a signal to his brain that he could interpret as pain anymore.
The gunman turned to his henchmen, all of whom were laughing at this.
"Well, give the man a hand." the gunman said, to which the henchmen roared in laughter, "He's all yours."
The cop tried to get up, hoping he could still get out of this alive. He took a few steps toward the exit, until: "All right, look out."
"Turn around, man." came another.
"Hey, brave boy! Hey, over here!"
What else could they possibly want, the cop wondered, so he turned around to look at them. A big mistake that turned out to be, as one of the henchmen fired another shot. This time, he shot his arm off. The cop had already begun to cry out loud when all the others joined in and fired as many shots as their guns would allow them. Their bullets must have been of an armor-piercing type, because his bullet-proof vest didn't help him any. While the men kept roaring in laughter, somehow finding a lot of fun in shooting him, the cop could think of only one thing. His family. His wife and son. The people he hoped to protect. The very people he'd be leaving behind thanks to these monsters. That man he met back at the station earlier that day (when he made his transfer to this precinct official) wasn't kidding when he welcomed him to hell. In hind-sight, the cop realized, maybe he should not have called that gunman "slime".
Completely unexpected, the firing stopped.
"I'm outta ammo." one of them said.
"Me too."
The cop didn't care, as all the pain he was feeling distracted him from any other thought.
"Hey Clarence. He's still alive!"
Clarence, the cop thought. Instinctively, he memorized that name, somehow thinking, hoping, in the back of his mind, that he will make it through this alive. But as soon as he heard someone talking, but he couldn't make out the words he was saying, he realized it was pointless. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. He opened his eyes, and saw the gunman, Clarence, pointing his nine-millimeter gun at him. He was ready to pull the trigger, but by then the cop had already started to see the light. The whole room started to turn a bright white, which the cop thought is the light people see when they die. But that was when something strange happened. Clarence lowered his gun and looked up. The cop couldn't hear his words, but his mouth definitely read: "What the fuck?"
Did Clarence see that light too? Is he dying of a heart attack and following the cop? If so, then so would the henchmen, as they too seemed to be seeing that light.