Gunn lay on his back, looking up at the harsh lights of Los Angeles that shined all around him. The rain had washed most of the blood from the sucking chest wound that caused him to gasp like a fish out of water when he tried to breath. He could hear the din of the battle moving away from him. And why not? He was no threat, at least now. Maybe not ever.
Of all his companions, Charles Gunn was, well the most normal. He didn't have super strength, speed and senses like the vamps or godlike abilities like Illyria. Heck, even Wesley could throw it down with the best of them and then back it up with some serious magic mojo. But Gunn, what could he do? At best, the only ability he had outside of being incredibly smooth and handsome was that which Wolfram & Hart had put in his head. So when it came down to hammer time that allowed him to do what? Sequester his foes in a jury or possibly freeze their unsecured assets?
With Wolfram & Hart gone, maybe it was best this way. Maybe he didn't have much to offer anymore. Unless Angel had planned on opening a small law office on the side of Angel Investigations, well then he would have reason to stay, but other than that he was...
Well, back to just being the muscle. And seemingly, human muscle just wasn't enough now days.
Other than the inability to breath, Gunn knew he was dying. Hell, maybe he was already dead. Maybe that was why things were suddenly so dark.
Yet, from the darkness and through the roar of the falling rain, he could hear footsteps.
"Hey, are you still there?" A familiar voice said, as it tapped him on the forehead.
He tried to answer, but for some reason his mouth wouldn't move.
"I guess, not you stupid bastard!" Was the person's reply, which was followed by what Gunn assumed was a solid kick. Not that it hurt or anything, but Gunn heard the impact and felt the slight sensation of falling, like one would in a dream.
The voice didn't speak for a moment? A minute? An hour? Gunn wasn't sure, but when it did speak again, then was a touch of...grudging respect?
"Well, at least you did some damage. Taking out that Demonocrat Senator and her supporters, then coming back here and participating in the Royal Rumble, but other than that, you're still a bastard."
"At least you didn't embarrass us."
Gunn was dying, but this guy, whoever he was, made him want to get up and kick one more ass.
Gunn fought to open his eyes and at least see who was talking to him...he knew that voice.
With the last ounce of strength he possessed, Gunn opened his eyes only to see...himself.
Standing over him was him. Another Charles Gunn.
The other Gunn was looking around and then bent down to pick something up.
Looking back at him, the other Gunn said, "Well, I guess you won't be needing this anymore."
With the double half-moon battleaxe that he had just picked up hefted over his shoulder, the other Gunn started to walk away from the Gunn on the ground.
Had he still been alive he would have heard the other Gunn's final words as he disappeared into the cold wet night.
"Friggen' panther!"