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The Assassin is still sealed into his cylinder.


Step closer to the doors, they'll slide open.

Assassin steps closer but the doors remain sealed. Powers looks perplexed.



(checking his watch)

Would you look at the time. If this isn't the most rotten luck. Guess what? Today, it's been six months.

Assassin tries to force open the locked door.


Basically, in a containment such as this one, nuclear waste opens up radiation sores so fast that you actually melt.

Assassin pounds at the doors of the airlock. Yellow lights flash. A SIREN SOUNDS.


I wish you'd calm down. I'm not through talking.

Assassin stares, pleading at Powers, through the glass.


Although it appears to be horrifically painful, it only lasts about twenty seconds.

Tears of panic well up in the Assassin's eyes. He is begging from behind the window though no sound escapes.


This is the reward for failure. Goodnight, Mr…isn't that funny? I can't seem to remember your name.

The Assassin screams in panic, but no sound escapes.

From above, nuclear waste is dumped into the cylinder, pressing him against plexi-glass.

As the Assassin screams in unheard agony, Powers presses his face against the plexi-glass, SCREAMING at the tortured man, mocking his death, while his body is absorbed into the waste.