God damn. I start dragging myself across the ground but I barely make it ten feet when the coughing takes me again. Feels like a colony of fireants eating out my throat from the inside. There's blood on my lips and my throat's swolen as hell and it hurts so bad I can barely think and I topple over onto my back, barely breathing. That last fit broke a rib; I can feel it jutting against my flesh.

I stare up at the cigarette-cloud sky, take a long, grating breath. Funny thing, life. One second you're an old fart and you still take down a killer cyborg-assassin single-handedly, the next you lie dying 'cus the only thing that could have saved you was the thing you needed to destroy. Funny as hell.

When the final fit takes me, I don't cough myself to death. I laugh.