090: death

Deep breath after deep breath, but still no avail. Holding the small firearm in one hand, the other busy clutching his gushing abdominal wound, the fugitive peered around the corner at the distant shadows. Closer still, with each breath, as much to them as he was to darkness...

With each beat of his heart, the menacing shadows grew larger in the dim alley light. There were no more clips, and the fugitive knew that time was in just as short of supply.

In the edge of sight, a broken piece of metal glinted, taking-on a crescent shape.

"Time's up."