FAREWELL
Hans paced up and down in the vast, unfamiliar, his heart pounding in his chest. He was sure it was the right place, he had made sure to track down Simon's location to the exact address, and yet he wasn't sure whether he wanted to do this. He didn't even know what he planned to do once he rang the doorbell, or what to say.
Biting his lip, something he hadn't done since he was a child, he ceased his pacing and looked up at the imposing mansion before him. Ever since arriving in New York City, he couldn't shake the weird gut feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. Hans wasn't sure whether that was some form of premonition, or simply his nerves over seeing his brother again for the first time in years. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and finally summoned the courage to ring the doorbell.
No answer. Hans tried again. Still nothing.
"Simon?" Hans called out, risking a peep in the window.
Just his luck. He had come all this way, only to find that his brother wasn't home.
Deciding that he would try again later, maybe later in the afternoon when his brother was bound to be home, Hans decided that maybe a short walk would be in order. He turned around and began to head the other way.
He had turned down what appeared to be an abandoned alleyway. Of course, such places were notorious for being dodgy, but he had maintained strong connections with the criminal underworld. Besides, he himself had frequented abandoned alleyways many times in the past.
However, no sooner had he walked a couple of steps, did he find himself pinned against the wall, a hand grabbing him by the throat. Gasping for breath, Hans attempted to prise the fingers away from his neck, to no avail. The attacker spun him around, pulling Hans face within an inch of his own. Hans gasped out loud. No, it can't be!
He was face-to-face with an irate John McClane.
Three days later…
Friedrich Alexander Gruber could barely concentrate on what the priest was saying as he looked around him. He had never attended a funeral before. Next to him was his mother, who looked like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry or punch the casket. None of Hans' fellow terrorists were there, presumably because they were wanted men and dead people weren't supposed to attend funerals, now matter how private they were. However, several anonymous bunches of flowers had made their way to where the funeral was being held. A few people who Monica pointed out as former workmates of his were there, with unreadable expressions on their faces.
However, the most surprising guest at the funeral was a blond, muscled man whose bone structure and mannerisms greatly resembled Hans'. He was clad in black, and wore dark sunglasses despite the cloudy weather, so it was impossible to see his facial expression. Simon Gruber had never forgotten his brother Hans, and despite his anger and jealousy toward him, he felt his loss more acutely than anyone else at that funeral home. It would take him several months to get over the grief he felt over Hans Gruber's murder.
The police never found out who killed him, and more people were relieved that he was no longer around to terrorise Europe and America. Some people made wild guesses and conspiracy theories about what might have happened, but those were quickly shut down or proved impossible. Hans' death was a complete mystery.