It didn’t matter that he could no longer feel his legs, it didn’t matter that he could barely see, it mattered only that mattered that Kropotkin was getting away. Through the haze of red that was descending over his eyes he watched his nemesis walk away with a nonchalance that said;
“I may have been your nemesis but you were never good enough to be mine!”
Before he boarded the waiting helicopter he turned back towards Hamilton who was making a poor attempt at crawling forward in the general direction of the helicopter. He pulled the pin from a grenade and with no small amount of satisfaction threw it ever so gently next to Hamilton’s head.
It was the last sign of disrespect from a man who had spent almost 20 years of running and had now dealt with his hunter permanently. Hamilton watched the grenade sail through the air and land gently beside him and knew that despite it’s proximity he didn’t possess the strength to move his arms let alone throw it to a safe distance. The many wounds all over his body ensured that Hamilton had finished his last operation and wouldn’t be returning back to the unit. The last thing that went through his mind, other than fragments from the grenade, was to wonder how on earth that bastard had been able to outsmart him.
Kropotkin allowed himself to smile as he watched the explosion through a pair of binoculars. The helicopter was already well on it’s way to the ship that was waiting for them but not so far away that he couldn’t see the broken body of the man who was once known as Hamilton lying in pieces on the long grass.
“That settles many accounts” he muttered to himself.
The sound of the spinning rotors meant that even if he had wanted to share his victory with any of the crewmen on board he wouldn’t have been able to. Instead he simply closed his eyes and waited for the helicopter to reach the ship or to crash on the way, for if the truth be told, were he to die right now he would die content, his enemy was gone and that was all that mattered.