As the spent bullet casing fell to the floor, so too did my crumpled, wasted body. My vision was tinted red, my mouth choked with sweet blood. My lungs, hemorrhaging violently as my heart continued to pump at an alarming rate, disgorging liquid ruby all over the expensive office carpeting. My breath came in spurts; I was losing consciousness. I was dying...

The countdown to my death began three days ago, when I'd 'accidentally' let my grandmother escape after I was supposed to kill her. She'd died in a tragic road accident yesterday though; a train had slammed into her car and crushed her. Her mangled body was horrible to look at - just the way my father liked it. I just didn't think grandma'd be that careless to escape from the clutches of death at my hands, only to end up being run over by a two thousand-ton train.

If dad was willing to kill his own mother for failing to dispose of me, he must be getting desperate to end this once and for all.

Now I find myself in the capital city. Dad's office is located in the Old City Quarter, a proud, modern spire of steel and glass dwarfing centuries-old colonial-style architecture around it. Being in close proximity to the Senate Guildhall certainly has its boons. I recognized the coat-of-arms of a prominent Senator ubiquitously displayed on buff armored guards strutting around my father's office.

My original plan was to sneak into a side entrance, knock out one of the janitors, don his outfit, hide my weapons in his cleaner cart, get past the guards to the top floor where dad was, then go in and put a bullet through his skull before he even knew I was there.

"In an hour's time, the President and his puppet Cabinet will be dead, and I will show this country the values that once made it great."

Seeing all those guards made me change my mind. With that many around dad, I honestly thought I didn't stand a chance of making it out alive. Thus, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just blast my way through. If I was going to die, might as well do it with company.

I pulled up outside the building and grabbed my all-time favorite terrorist weapon: the rocket-propelled grenade. I remembered hearing the guards yelling something at me, but the explosion that blew out the lobby kinda canceled out whatever it was they were saying.

That done, I chucked the empty launcher aside as people ran helter-skelter and panicked. Coolly stepping over the smoking bodies of several brutes, I cocked a couple of Uzis and stepped into the ruined reception area. There was more than one motionless body lying around, which pleased me.

I decided to take the stairs up. The lifts were too dangerous anyway. As I made my way up more than a few guards took their chances with me, and I made them pay dearly by feeding them my bullets or throwing them down several floors. Occasionally, even the fire extinguishers came in handy for cracking skulls open.

It took me awhile before I finally reached the highest floor, bloody and adrenaline-fueled. Ms Sanders, my dad's busty blond bombshell babe-secretary was missing. Instead, seated at her desk was a man dressed in an immaculate business suit, wielding a twelve-gauge shotgun like a kid with a new toy.

"Senator McCannon," I said through gritted teeth, my voice respectful yet full of spite for this monstrosity of a man who'd corrupted my father.

"Do you know," he spoke softly as he weighed the weapon in his hands, "how much it costs me to train one of my personal guards?"

"Do I look like I give a fuck, Senator?"

"Six hundred thousand per man, son," he smirked. "I thought I told your father to teach you to show respect for your elders."

"Quit fucking around with me. Where's dad?"

..I watched the Senator's exact twin step out of the room, and staggered to my feet..

"Preparing for the New World Order, sonny!" He pointed the shotgun nonchalantly at my face, continuing, "In an hour's time, the President and his puppet Cabinet will be dead, and I will show this country the values that once made it great."

"Like throwing out the trash into your 'rehabilitation camps' out in the countryside?"

"So Patrick was right," he sneered viciously. "You do take after your mother too much."

I drew my revolver and shoved it into his face. He barely even blinked, cocking the shotgun almost simultaneously in response. "Do you really think you can kill me? Once you pull that trigger, you'll die too. And even if you have the misfortune of surviving - which I seriously doubt - my comrades will have you locked up and tortured till a ripe old age."

"Fuck you," I spat at him, pulling the trigger and knocking his shotgun aside at the same time. The buckshot from his weapon tore the window behind me and my chest open, but my bullet lodged itself in his brain and threw him backwards. He slumped lifelessly to the floor while I collapsed, choking from the pain of the blast.

As I coughed I heard the office door open. I watched the Senator's exact twin step out of the room, and staggered to my feet. The second McCannon glanced at the other's corpse, smiling sadly and turning back to me.

It was I who spoke first: "Hello, Father."