I see myself on a boat with Charles, somewhere far in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight. As the gentle waves move us about, Charles lets out a sigh of relief. "This, this is nice."

He smiles and looks up at me, adding. "This is the perfect way to end it. Away from the cruelty."

He smiles even wider now and asks me. "What'd you think, Logan?"

I take a moment and let it sink in. This is the first time I've felt something. Something, good. I smile back and answer. "All of it was worth it."

Then I'm awoken by a gunshot in the air, jumping back to life. It takes a moment to come to, and when I have my senses back, I see I'm on the side of the road, asleep at the wheel, with the car on drive. But running into a light post stopped the limo. How long was I asleep?

I smell gunpowder, and lots of it. A few minutes after I'm awake again, it still takes me a while to regain focus.

Shit.

I have a raging headache. The airbags must've set off when I hit the light post, but before I probably hit my head on the wheel. Another terrible cough comes out and it's like they just keep getting worse.

My limo may be a rental, but it's in bad shape already. Guess that's what happens when I'm in control of it. I put the car in reverse, but first looking around for anything coming, and then back up. I get a text and I reach in my jacket pocket for my glasses. I text back that I'm on my way, and when the car is finally off the curb, I make way to the club, getting out of the lightpost that fell on top of the car.

The man is on the phone in the back of the car, talking about the good time he had, how drunk he got; at which point I raise my glass of wine to him through the mirror of the limo, and he smiles back. I take a small drink of my wine and put it back in the cupholder, coughing afterwards.

My next customers are people standing in the limo with the sunroof open, shouting "USA! USA!" getting wine all over the carpet and the seats. I tell them to knock it off but they can't hear me.

"Pricks." I mumble to myself.

All night, for hours, I hear all about the good nights people had, while I'm not sure where I'm going with mine, thinking about all I've missed. All that I could've done. Finally, the night's over and I head to my home to change out of my clothes and into something less formal. I go to the bathroom and stand over the sink, flexing my muscles to pop out whatever bullets I've accumulated throughout the day, which is a lot. Whenever a bullet pops out, blood falls too. My healing isn't as strong as it used to be. What used to take seconds now takes much longer. Once the bullets are popped out of my body, there's the matter of the shotgun shell in my chest. It's fucking hard to pop out, and after a while, I decide "fuck it" and use a claw to dig into my chest and get it out. I accidentally push it farther in at times, or I'm moving it around in my chest. I can't coordinate and my muscles are tired, from head to toe, from the day and from the ample use I've had to do. Exerting myself at my old age.

Coughing doesn't help my case either, considering it compresses my chest.

C'mon, dammit!

When I'm close to getting it out, the cough slides it back in. I get angrier and angrier the more I have to try to get the damn thing out. Sometimes my chest heals back up and closes the wound, sticking the shotgun shell inside, and I have to cut open my chest again and get it out. Occasionally, the claw I'm using hits against my skeleton, and I put my claw back in in fear I cut myself in half.

It'd be worth it.

But I won't. Finally I say fuck it and use all three claws to dig into my chest, making a line to reach inside my chest and take out the bullet myself. But I have to make to make it big enough.

Ah, fuck!

As I see myself in the old, rusty mirror, I see my arm reaching inside my chest, trying to remove the shell. It takes four tries to get it out finally, and drop it in the sink.

You piece of shit..

Now that that's taken care of, I wash my hands to get the blood off and put on a button-up shirt. When that's done, I wash my face and head out to my other car to make way to the outpost.