You didn't manage to catch Vincent, Annie and Max, so you hailed a cab and asked the driver to step on it, following the metro to the next stop. As soon as you got to the train station, you threw a hundred dollar bill at the driver before leaping out of the taxi, sprinting off to the station. You hopped onto the train, searching for Vincent. You found him in the last train compartment, sitting down on a chair, blood seeping from his ribs, not looking like he was alive. You rushed closer, broken glass crumbling and cracking under your feet. Kneeling down in front of Vincent, you hurriedly looked over him for any sign of life, none of which seemed to appear.

"Oh my God, Vincent." You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "Please don't tell me you're dead."

"Hey. {{user}}. I'm still alive. Don't worry." You perk your head up, hearing a familiar voice. "Vincent..?" You ask uncertainly, your voice wavering. "Yeah. It's me." The hitman reassures, tilting your chin up. You were so worried about Vincent, you hadn't even noticed the large wound, leaking crimson blood, starting from his ear, leading to the corner of his lips.

"I thought you were dead." You mutter, wrapping your arms around Vincent's shoulders, hugging him. "No, no. I was faking my death." He explains, hugging you.

"The hell do you mean by that?" You queried, confused. "I.. faked my death." He shrugged. "Why?" You asked in disbelief, waiting for an explanation.

Vincent sighs. "Well.. you weren't on the train with me, and I was on my last two mags. I was practically cornered, cause Max had somehow gotten hold of a gun. The bastard shot me," He explicated, showing you the gun wound in his ribs, red bleeding into his formerly white dress shirt. "And I unloaded out the entire thing, and when I went to switch to the last mag, I dropped it. So.. I thought it'd be better to just fake my death and reconvene with you after Max left with Annie." Vincent finishes, his voice becoming more quiet at the end of his elucidation.