Prologue: The End

Okay... how do I start... I could start from the beginning... but, an intro like that sounds too cliché... sadly that was how my death was: pitifall, anti-climatic... and albeit hilarious. Well not so much for me, more like confused and a bit pissed off. *Sigh* Seems like I have no choice but to start from beginning, otherwise you be too confused as to what is happening.

/Flashback/

On the dark, nearly vacant streets in the suburbs of Miami, Florida, a lone police cruiser could be seen driving by, inside are two officers. The one at the wheel is a Caucasian male in his early thirties, with short straight black hair, and sky blue eyes, and sporting a scar over and around his right eyebrow; down to his right cheek. And for the sake of simplicity, he has been appropriately nicknamed "Scar". And over in the passenger seat is our said protagonist, a Hispanic male in his early 20s, with curly black hair, caramel skin, dark brown eyes and glasses. And he shall nicknamed rookie for this segment.

Currently the group is on patrol, both parties fully focused and aware for anything out of the ordinary, as such, a near deafening silence overtook the vehicle, accompanied with only the sounds of radio transmissions from other patrolling officers. This offered as a helpful little distraction in easing the tension for the young and inexperienced officer.

A few minutes have slowly passed, until the older officer broke the silence.

"Alright rookie, since this is your first time out in the field, I've been assigned as your supervisor and instructor to make sure you don't screw up in the future and get others and/or yourself killed, understood."

"Y-yes sir!" he announced nervously.

The rookie was by all means average. He was an okay shot, or so he was told on the exam. But he surprisingly excelled in hand to hand combat. Sadly there was one thing he lacked, and that... was height. Being below 6 feet imposed a severe disadvantage compared to the other colossal recruits that trained at the Academy. And out on the streets was no different, in fact, the sole equalizer between him and the next guy, was the one thing he trusted with his life... his Colt M1911. Of course, it was not as advanced nor flexible as the Glocks or the other pistol models. But there was sort of attraction between him and anything old. Moving on, he was quite confident he could handle whatever life threw at him. Sadly this night will prove otherwise.

"As you surely know, an officer has to be ready for anything. At anypl-"

The senior officer was abruptly interrupted by a transmission being received from the station.

/To any available officer in the area, we received a call of a noise complaint and screaming, please advise./

"Well speak of the devil, today's your lucky day rookie. Hope you're ready." He smirked.

"Always ready, sir." he proclaimed proudly. Though it was nothing more than a false front to calm his increasing nervousness.

"Oh really, well actions do speak louder than words, so prove it to me on the field."

After replying to the transmission, they quickly made their way to the coordinates of the noise complaint. On the way, as confident as the recruit was in his own ability.a bad feeling could not help but linger in his gut.

XXXXXX

"Ok rookie, this is the cause of the noise complaint."

In front of them stood a blood red house, with a dark grey roof, surrounded by metal wire fence. But the condition of the house was... lacking at best. Several white patches of degrading paint were randomly strewn on the front and sides of the house, as if the paint was cut and ripped off. Mold could be easily seen growing between the floorboards on the front porch. With the grass having grown wildly on the premise, and risen up to his knees. Overall, the place looks like crap, anyone would think at first glance it may be abandoned, if not for the sign of lights on inside and shadow of the inhabitant moving behind the closed shutters of the window.

"Um... sir?"

"I know rookie, but this is the right place."

"Well if this is the right place, might as well get it over with. But... shouldn't we call for backup, just in case."

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it rookie. I've done this countless times over the years, and never had a single problem. Just follow my lead and nothing will go wrong. And I'll get you back to the misses in time for dinner."

"But I not married?"

*Sigh* "It's called a joke rookie, seriously, if you can't catch that, how are you gonna survive this line of work."

Soon afterwards, the senior officer nonchalantly walked up to the house, and the rookie warily a step behind him. They both make it the front door and knock. Scar spoke first.

*Knock, knock, knock* " Hello, this is the police, we recieved a call of a noise complaint."

Inside they were met with only silence. They tried their efforts a few more times until they received a response.

"Oh what da hell, will you shtop wit da damn bangin! Can't a guy get drunk in peace!"

"Sir, please open this door. We received a call of a noise complaint from this house." the rookie said respectfully.

"Hhm... nope, why should I give a crap what everyone else says! My dick of a boss fired me from my job, my wife left me with da kids, I'm losing my house; and now some annoying, asswipe cops are now buggin me! So do me a favor... FUCK. OFF!

Scar, is at times, an irrational man with a hair-trigger temper. He easily became a "bit" agitated from the man's attitude, to which he "professionally" replied back.

"Hey asshole, if you don't open this door right damn now! I'll do it for ya!"

"Ish dat a thweat!" replied the drunken man.

"S-sir... w-what are you doing!"

"I'm gonna teach this prick a lesson about manners! Stand back and learn a thing or two, rookie!" he says as he readies to kick down the door.

But before so, Scar gives one last warning.

"Hey, this is your last chance! On the count of three, I'm kicking down this door!"

"1"

"Do dat and you'll regwet it!"

"2"

"I'm warning you!"

"1"

Giving the man an extra second to change his mind, but was met with only silence. Scar proceeded to keep his end of the bargain.

"Wait sir, please do-"

Before the Rookie could finish his sentence, he was suddenly interrupted by a hailstorm of bullets that erupted from the doorway. Catching him and his superior completely off guard, they both dropped hard to the ground.

XXXXXX

Unable to move from the neck down due to the massive amount of pain that blanketed his body. He managed to gather enough sense about him to see if his superior was better off, he could only hope. He calls out to his superior in a pained, low voice.

*Coughs up blood* "Sir... sir."

"..."

"Are you *Coughs* alright."

"..."

"Shit... he's dead."

Now alone, accompanied with only grim silence, and the star filled night sky, bathed in the beauty of a full moon. Even though he is experiencing a pitiable, and painful death. The beautiful scenery helped ease his pain, even if only a bit. Now speaking his mind out loud.

"Well, even if I hadn't *Cough* lived my life to fullest, *Cough* I'm still quite happy."

"...but"

"I do wish, *Cough* I was born *Cough* in a more colorful... world."

He was scared of course. He was dying and couldn't do anything about it. And realizing this, he thought it would be better to just... let go.

As he slowly closed his eyes, ready to embrace death. There was something, nagging him in the deepest recesses of his mind. Something absolutely important, it was almost a primal urge... no... a necessity, a task he must accomplish no matter what. And his last moments, his eyes snapped opened upon a dreaded realization.

"Shit! I forget... to erase... my browser... history."

With the drawing of his last breath, the world he knew slipped into darkness.