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Detective Darmac wished he had ducked. The loud bang in the background should have triggered a reaction in him, but it didn't. The experience was quick, not really painful, the brain has no nerve endings, just the few moments of life before his death were full of confusion, a lose of all control and a dull pain. The ground felt cold to his face as he stared forward. Blood dribbled from his agape mouth. Soft moans crawled their way up his throat and fell upon his deafening ears. Feeling was leaving his body in bits and pieces and his left eye began to spasm. It quickly then after went black, darkness. He knew he was going to die. Detective Darmac really wished he had ducked.

What happened afterwards is hard to explain correctly. Death has never been easy to explain. The darkness was warming though. He figured his ability to feel was back. His eyelids felt heavy as he tried to open them. The weightlessness was disorienting and confusing to him. He could not tell what was up or what was down. His foot touched something. Then it planted itself upon this surface firmly. His eyes finally opened. He opened them widely and saw a desk before him. He was not in a room and the floor seemed non-existent. He seemed to just be in a space that existed unto itself. Blackness surrounding except for the desk that rested before him. A woman sat behind it and seemed to be busy working on a project. He tried to make his way to the desk but found it to be quite the chore. It felt like he was wading through waist high water. As he finally made his way up to the desk he found himself extremely weak feeling.