FADE IN:

                          DON
               I'm gonna die, I'm gonna fucking
               die, I'm gonna fucking die...


     INT. HALLWAY - DAY

     A security guard holds his leg as his blood pools around him.
     In the other, he holds a Beretta and trains it in the
     direction people run from.

     He slumps over and drops his gun.

     Don makes his way over to him and looks at his belt. A
     tourniquet sits on it. He takes it out and cuts off the
     bleeding gunshot wound.

                          DON
               This guy's gonna make it. I'm not.
               Just shoot me, dude.

     Don takes the gun and chamber checks it.


     INT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

     Sweat runs down Don's brow.

                          DON
               Oh, I'm so fucking dead.

     Gunshots ring out behind him. People flee behind him.

                          DON (CONT’D)
               Oh fucking christ.

     Don takes a deep breath and charges in.

     Everyone in the room is gone. Two men stand in the room.

     CRAIG, (mid-40s) holds a gun to the other one's chest.

     BILL, (mid-30s) has his hands up. Blood stains his shirt. His
     nose bleeds.

                          CRAIG
               You were banging my wife you son of
               a bitch.

                          BILL
               Craig, it wasn't like that, she was
               throwing herself on-

                          CRAIG
               DON'T tell me that, I know you
               slimey son of a bitch, I know how
               you-

     Don walks closer, his hands up.

                          DON
               Hey!

     Craig turns the gun on Don.

                          DON (CONT’D)
                    (muttering)
               Well, fuck.

                          CRAIG
               You got no part in this, get the
               fuck out of here!

     Don takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

                          DON
               Normally, I'd let you do that, but
               in this case, you're carrying a
               loaded handgun. I get it you're
               mad. But it can wai-

                          CRAIG
               NO. IT. CAN'T.

     Don walks forward.

                          DON
               What's your name bud?

                          CRAIG
               Craig. What's it to you? Security's
               going to be on me in five minutes,
               if the dead guy outside is any
               indication. Might as well cap him
               now.

                          DON
               You ever take a life, buddy?

     Don walks forward, his hands still up.

     Craig's face turns to that of anger. He turns the gun on Don.

                          CRAIG
               What do you know about taking a
               life, fuck face? I could shoot you
               right now!

     Don shoots a glance at Bill. Bill looks at Don wide eyed.

                          DON
                    (mouthing)
               Help.

     Bill runs off and knocks over a phone.

     Craig catches this and turns around.

     Don tackles him as Craig rolls over and tries to put the gun
     in Don's face.

     Craig puts the gun in Don's face, his finger on the trigger.

                          DON (CONT’D)
               BITCH!

     Don pushes the gun out of his face. It goes off next to his
     ear as blood rushes out of it.

     A sharp ring enters Don's ear as four more shots go off next
     to him.

     The world around him goes silent.

     Don reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife with one
     hand. With the other he holds the gun away from him.

     Don thrusts the knife into Craig's chest. Blood exits and
     splashes against Don's shirt.

     The hand that holds the gun in Craig's hand goes limp.

     Don stabs into the man's chest one last time. The knife
     sticks in his chest as he's pulled back.

     Conrad stands there and mouths something.

                          DON (CONT’D)
                    (silent)
               WHAT?!

     He's pulled back.

     CONRAD MILLER, (28) shouts something at him and points to
     him. Miller laughs about what he did as Don can only point
     and shout once more.

                          DON (CONT’D)
                    (silent)
               WHAT?!

     Conrad's eyes widen. He beckons for someone to come over.

     He says something, then facepalms. Miller points at a
     stretcher as two men in tan slacks and white shirts come in.

     Don walks over to it and lays down. Don takes one last look
     at the body with the knife in its chest. He rolls to the side
     and pukes at the sight of it.

     He blacks out.