A young man sat huddled underneath a table, breathing hard, clutching a shotgun so tight his hands were turning white. Three men in suits looked around for him.
"He is in here somewhere spread out and find him." The one in the middle said.
"He will not escape." Another one said.
The young man was on the verge of panic, when one of the men walked slowly past his table then stopped. He took a deep breath and held it, the man kept walking. The young man let out the breath. He looked at the door at the end of the hallway; he knew he could probably make it if he ran fast. He moved to a crouch, and then took off at a full sprint.
The three men saw him and pulled Desert Eagles out of their coats, the young man noticing this as he went for the door. The guns letting explosives blasts as he ran, ducking his head as bullets whipped past his him. The young man made it out the door into the bright outside light. The brightness made him cover his eyes for a brief second. That brief second was all it took a bullet ripped through his stomach. He cried out in pain and stumbled. Another shot ripped through his shoulder and he fell into the grass. Everything seemed to slow down. The pain in his stomach and shoulder was intense but he couldn't seem to focus on that, all he could focus on was the grass. The grass blowing in the wind, it seemed so real, not a computer program at all. He looked up as the three men walked to him, pointing their guns at his head. He looked up at them and smiled they seemed so real not programs but real people. One last explosive bang from a gun and in slow motion he saw the bullet rush at his head and it ripped through. The young man's head snapped back in a splash of blood and brain matter.
The three men walked away.
"This won't be the last one."
"We will get them all."