Death

"Bloody women" I growled trying to distract myself from the pain lancing through my shoulder.

Ignoring the bullet hole through which my life was draining in a disturbingly fast fashion I glanced around the room. The cocktail of endorphins and adrenaline that saturated my blood allowed me to perceive considerably more clearly than would otherwise be the case. There was no other exit. The gangers who had herded me this way were close behind me so I moved quickly inside looking desperately for a good defensive position. Finding none I tipped over a desk and tried to make myself as small as possible. There would be no teammates to bail me out of this one. They were probably off drinking in honor of my 'score'.

An explosion of splinters snaps me from the reverie.
"Focus yourself." I command, the effect being ruined by a slight quaver in my voice. Feeling the desperation rising again I force myself to find the way out, there is always away out.

The gunfire ceased and a clear feminine voice rang out across the room. The lilt in her voice that I had found so seductive only hours before, now carried a menacing undertone.
"It's a good thing for you we have such specific instructions boyo."

A slight pause and then she continues.
"Johnson says we can't kill you unless you attempt to kill us." again that pause
"Shame that we got issues."

Issues? How can I possibly have issues with a girl I've only just met? Maybe there is a way out after all. I draw breath to talk, my mind racing to cover all of the possibilities. The focus I have finally achieved however is shattered with the painful recognition of the next voice to speak.

"Papa?"

Pain lances through me as guilt at putting her in danger threatens to overwhelm the equilibrium that is now so important. That single simple word speaks volumes to me, the fear that she feels and the hope that I am truly here to save her.

Slowly and ever so carefully I stand up from behind the desk. "It's ok hon, I'm here." I say in a soft reassuring voice. Even now with all that is happening she believes me. The look of complete trust that I know what's best and can make everything OK again brings tears to my eyes.

The woman with the lilt, looking so powerful and in control looks at me over the top of that head I love so much. When she finally speaks her tone is casual, almost conversational.
"You know" pause "she looks more like her mother."

The cruel finality of it tore through me. My new eyes saw the fingernails split and tiny razors pop out. As they cut effortlessly through the soft, precious skin my guns raised almost of their own volition. Somewhere, someone is screaming my battle cry, and then the other side of the room lights up. I am propelled backwards, my shots going very wide of their targets.

The pain of my untimely death swells within me, but I can barely feel it. The world fades out and all I can see is the light fading from those eyes.