Well, it's over, isn't it? I walked down the streets, knowing of my impending death sentence. While I knew my death would not be in vain, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness that I failed to defend my cause. I failed.... yet again.
It's 6PM. I walk up to a deserted alley, where a tall man in a suit emerged. This was the man I trusted to be my successor. The man who would carry my legacy. I handed him a small sheet of paper.
"That's all I could garner. I hope it's enough. You'll be able to make it."
"I wished you could have lived for longer, man."
"In an ideal world, probably. But stuff happens I guess. This is the best I could do under the circumstances. I'll watch your backs from the afterlife."
"..."
"It's probably not safe to be in these parts anymore. I'll embrace my death with open arms. Don't worry about me."
And with that, I turned away and left.
I was outdone again. This Civilian Central, a marvelous organisation, indeed. Very efficient at what it does, indeed. It shall stand mighty, but not for long....
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