[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=efb4a0][center]Bartholomew Rosecliff [/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr]
A car whizzed by Bart, swiping his side and throwing him for a complete loop as he stumbled around, trying to get his bearings. He shook his head as he heard an ear splitting crash, wincing at the noise. A look of relief started to spread across his face, before collapsing and melting away as he saw a fire hydrant ripping through the air, moving far to fast for him to possibly react, other than a brief, muffled scream as he only started to open his mouth before the hydrant collided with him, sending him flying back.

The initial damage of the force was mitigated by the fact that he was now speeding towards the wall behind him, and hadn't actually hit anything yet. He face was cut up and bruised as he hurtled to the wall, but nothing too bad. He had little over a second to think, think of anything that could let him escape, but it was to no avail. He just didn't have the reaction speed or time or strength or anything to get him out of slamming into what would surely be his final destination. His arms flailed wildly, struggling, as humans are to do, against the impossibility before him, trying for anything, but nothing would come, except for horrible, ungodly amounts of pain.

His skull splattered against the side of the wall, and for all he wanted to just black out, and let it all go away, he couldn't fucking do it. His body writhed and twitched, surprisingly not feeling much pain after the initial collision. His body was washed briefly in fiery pain, but as soon as his spine was crushed into a gritty paste, that all just melted away, replaced with a kind of complete numbness. Blood thickly poured out of every portion of his upper body, dripping onto the concrete as the last of his vision swung like a pendulum from what was left of his skull, as he saw Lucky looking at was was left at him.

Two thoughts ran through his head before the end, one of relief, and one of dread. On the upside, his cat made it out, and would live on without him. In a way, he would live on through him, some creature that was happier because of his existence. That was comforting, but overall, he felt like everything was wasted. He never made a difference, and as his mind succumbed to the warm darkness of death itself, he felt almost cheated. He was meant for more than this, meant to be more than paste splattered into a brick wall.