A burst of crimson erupted from his back, forming a grotesque fountain that splashed against the yellowing grass and stained them a macabre color of dark red.
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Julian was standing some distance away from him, his face melting in elation. Behind him, though, stood another person with a gun in his hand. The man was of Asian descent, his features obscured by dark sunglasses. His attire, a sharp black suit and tie, seemed more suited for a somber occasion than a summer day in Central Park.
At first, the stranger was pointing the gun at the back of Julian's head, but when Maximillian directed his gaze at him, the armed man shifted the gun in the federal agent's direction instead.
At the moment, Maximillian was busy pinning the mass shooter to the ground. Both of his hands were occupied. Paralyzed by terror, all he could do was watch the unfolding scene, unable to do anything to dodge the shot.
