Michael sat with his head in his hands. He sat next to the pay phone, waiting for one of his friends to come and pick him up, hoping that Carla's people hadn't tracked them down in the relatively short time that had passed since he'd boarded the helicopter and left them behind. He blinked a couple of times, put his elbows on his knees, and let his hands hang slack between them. He slowly glanced around the street, at the restaurants and souvenir stores, wondering where and when his first new encounter would be; he knew he'd have to be even more alert than he had during his career, and that he'd have to expect a higher number of deadly encounters in the days ahead. He'd finally relinquished that one overbearing constriction, the one he'd taken too long to realize was nothing but a weight and a burden, and had done so in return for letting slip an untold number enemies upon himself. He sat next to the old blue payphone on the darkening Miami street, thinking about his life and what was to come and guessing on how soon his next brush with death would be, hoping that he'd at least reached his quota for the day.
An hour earlier, a little ways away, he'd dragged himself onto the beach, himself soaked and floundered in the remnants of his suit and the tourists surrounding him in skimpy and brightly glaring bathing suits, uniform in their revealing and tacky nature and obscured somewhat by the last light from the fading sun, staring at him from all directions.
He'd ignored him and had laid on his back the sand for a moment, tired, taking in the Miami sunset. He'd thought about Victor and Carla, and wondered what would happen to what was left of them and if any trace of them would even remain on the world for very long. He'd thought about what he'd done, and the inevitable consequences that would follow. The innumerable consequences. The inescapable consequences. He wondered what would happen to him when he ended up like Carla and Victor, and wondered how soon that day would be.
He'd smiled, then. He'd felt free. After a moment, he had started to laugh, had gotten up, and had purposefully fallen back on the sand.
Sitting next to the phone, on the slowly cooling Miami sidewalk, seeing and feeling the last of the sun set on the city, he felt it again. He'd hunted after his old life for so long, and while searching he'd found something new. He'd denied it and he'd tried to ignore it, but deep down he knew it; during his bizarre escapades happily tiptoeing the line between life and death with his two closest (and only) friends helping those who needed it in return for nothing but the chance to waste some time and right a wrong or two, he had, for the first time in years, felt fulfilled. He'd felt happy.
He ran a hand through his hair and realized that he'd lost his favorite pair of sunglasses and that he wasn't getting his suit back. Oh well. He could do without them.
A/N- I got the idea for this while listening to the song "Time Bomb" by Jesse Greene and reading the comments for a video of it posted to youtube. Good stuff. Hope you enjoyed the story, short as it may be, haha.