I have a psychotic ranting cybernetically-enhanced super-soldier on top of me, and I’m entertaining the thought of attempting to reason with him? No way, no how. This guy has caused me so much grief ever since I took this case. I’ve got to take him out now, while he’s distracted, or he’ll kill me before I have a chance to say “wait.” I push through the starry checkerboard that still obscures much of my vision and manage to focus on the pavement in front of me. It’s black and cracked. Good, I can still see. Now to deal with Drake.

Moaning, I roll over underneath him, feigning that I’m still incapacitated. To my advantage, he’s still self-absorbed in his endless rant about God-knows-what. Quite frankly, I couldn’t care less what the hell he has to say at this point. He’s a psychopath and has to be taken down. He straddles me, his feet on either side of my legs. A perfect target.

Snapping out of my feint, I seize my chance and thrust my foot upward, hard, straight into Drake’s crotch. Let’s see if they built him with a cybernetic cup.

Apparently they did not, because when my foot smashes into his genitals, he doubles over, his face registering pain for the first time. I jump into action, pulling myself to my feet, prompting the return of the stars, but I do my best to fight through them and then I start running at as full a sprint as I can possibly muster considering my probably concussion and near blindness. I have to get out before he can recover, before he can catch me.

But then his fingers are around my neck, throwing me to the ground, my face cracking open and bleeding all over the pavement. And he’s yelling at me, something about having to tell me about his sister about CyberCorp about TRUscape and it all melds together into one nightmarish hallucination as I lie there, bleeding to death in the middle of the street.

The moon is big and bright tonight, or maybe that’s just the light that keeps flashing in my head. Flashing, flashing, flashing, until it all goes dark.

End.