The problem: the safest place left was Antartica.
Yeah, I'm screwed. He said to nobody but himself, cursing.
After all, to whom could he say?
He opened the gates of the airplane, and slided into the cockpit. It was an empty plane, and silnce sent his spine a chill. He felt inhuman. He didn't know why.
Why am I even alive? Thought he.
From the sling of his belt he put out an AK-47. Taking his (maybe) last breath, he pulled the trigger, as a bullet shot out of the metallic gun. And for him, time slowed. Time slowed, and I'm telling you.
Suddenly something greatly unusual happened. A detailed analysis of the bullet was displayed as it moved close to his body. This was what he saw:
---23 m/s---
---Soft Iron---
---In Progress---
---Shot Once---
The bullet was now slow than ever. It was just an inch away from his body.
He smiled, knowing he had to die. He had wanted to commit the suicide himself. And he felt happy, for once. That he was going to meet his wife, as well as son. They would welcome him on the gates of heaven. Then it touched his body.
Whatever happened, he had to meet its fate.
YOU ARE READING
MAX
Science FictionMAX. The name. The name that made all fear. It wasn't long before Max Perevel was a military agent for the Chinese dictator. He was on a secret mission as a spy in America. And things were going pretty good. The Goddamn thing: The Earth got destroy...
