He inhales as they shove him to his feet, the others waved off as potential accessories.

They march him through the skeleton of a building, white plastic sheets twisting in the wind.

His executioner can't look him in the eye, still avoiding his gaze when he orders Mulder to the ground.

He cradles his injured fingers with his right hand as he places them behind his back.

The gun cocks. Bremer's jacket rustles as he raises his arm level with Mulder's head.

His heart races in his chest.

He should have-

Bang.

Thud.

Blood pools in the grass.

He exhales.