My Ending For Moon.
Dempsey lay against a wall, mortally wounded. He'd been swarmed, shortly after Richtofen had revealed exactly how crazy he really was. Switching bodies with Samantha Maxis? That's crazy, even for Treyarch.
As he watched Nikolai run through a door with a swarm of zombies following him, Dempsey realised that he was going to die if he didn't get a Syrette soon. He looked around, hoping that perhaps the crazy drunk Russian had dropped one as he ran past.
Nothing.
Wait.
There was a body lying on the other end of the room that Dempsey was in, a body that was human. But, if the body was human, then that means...
Takeo. Dempsey felt a pang of grief somewhere, before he steeled himself for the task at hand. He crawled towards the body, using the last dregs of his energy. He reached inside the dead Japanese warrior's pockets, and nearly wept with relief when his fingers brushed a Syrette. He pulled himself up against a wall and tried to administer the dose of whatever-the-hell was in those to himself. But, just as he got the lid off, a wave of exhaustion overcame him and he slumped to the floor as the Syrette rolled away. Too tired to move, he watched as it bounced away and hit something. A boot. Dempsey forced his eyes upwards and saw the face of the psychopathic Nazi that started all this. Except, it was his face, but the person wearing it was not the person who was born to it. It was instead Samantha Maxis, the daughter of Ludwig Maxis, the creator of Group 935. He (She?) knelt down and picked up the Syrette and looked at it.
"This is what you use to heal each other, ja?"
He/She said.
Dempsey nodded weakly. Samantha looked at the Syrette with a curious gaze, before dropping it on the floor and treading on it.
Horrified, his eyes asked the question he was unable to: Why?
He/she grinned, a horrible thing.
"Because you helped him."
And then the curtains closed on Tank Dempsey.