“It’s just you and me, now.” I leveled my pistol at him, the center dot of the sight wavering crazily across his face as my hands trembled. He leaned against the wall, a thin shaft of light cutting across his body, illuminating one eye, a bloodied corner of a mouth, a sliver of grey shirt with a dark spot quickly spreading downward from his abdomen. His own pistol hung by his side, half-shrouded in the gloom, its silver frame glinting every so often as his hand swung in and out of the light, trying vaguely to raise the weapon but failing to find the energy to do so. I could see his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his face knotted with pain. “It’s over.”

“It’s never over,” he said, and pulled the trigger, the round ricocheting wildly off of the concrete, missing one of his feet by inches. He tried to pull the gun up again, but quickly grimaced in pain, his arm slapping back against his side, as his fingers released the pistol from their slackening grip. The weapon clattered to the ground with an oddly hollow metallic clanking, and as the gun slid into the sliver of light, I could see that its slide was locked back on an empty chamber.

I stood there, my body shaking from exertion and ebbing adrenaline, as what color was left seemed to drain out of his face. He slowly slid lower, clutching at the wall with the last of his strength, seeming to shrink away, to melt into the shadows. Finally, he fell forward, the shaft of light making one last, quick trace across his body, and all that was left of him was a horrible thump, and darkness. I stared, for a moment, at the immutable shaft of light, and then holstered my weapon and walked away, my footsteps echoing off of the hard walls, their sound slowly fading behind me as I stepped towards sunlight.