Rain poured down from the sky, drenching the people below me in the city streets. But it didn't have to fall far to drown me in its cold drops, running in rivulets down my cheeks and arms, forming puddles on the concrete roof below me.

My body was bruised, broken, bleeding, bullets pierced through me and lay there, poisoning me with their lead every minute they remained. I coughed, covering my mouth with my hand out of habit, and blood soaked my hand as well.

Blood and rain. And my enemies sad faces as they watched me bleed out on the roof, guns pointed at the ground and safety engaged. They regretted seeing my passing, they would miss the fun times of hunting me down again and again.

I would miss them, too. Never again would I punch that big man in the kisser, watch his teeth fly out, wonder how the next time I fought him he had any left. I knew his boss payed for implants, but I always thought of him like a shark, always regrowing teeth.

Rain carried my blood away from me as soon as it left my body, it entered my gaping wounds and sucked the heat out of me and with it, any remaining strength. My vision dimmed for a second, I refused to acknowledge the fact that this was it, this was the end. There were no friendlies coming to back me up, no allies to save me.

I was the last. An exile among my own, when my own didn't exist any longer. How long had they been trying to exterminate me, how long had they been waiting for this moment?

"Don't look at me," I said, my voice shaking with rage, "Don't look at me with such sad faces!" I screamed angry at them, at the world. This was my end. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it?! You wanted me to die, so you used your guns and your knives and your bombs! You carved a path of blood in the earth that will only grow redder without me here! You. . ." The last word I spoke with less strength, my voice dying and tenacity worn out.

"You. . ." I looked at them with sad eyes of my own. "You're all still children."

And with that, peace died.