He did this...Your Lord, Your Christ.

Prologue: Cold Gray Sky

He was running faster than he had ever ran before. He ran until it felt like his legs were pumping battery acid, then he ran some more. He had less than an hour to get from his office in upper New York City, to anywhere south.As long as he was out of New York in a hour, he was fine. It dawns on him, as much as it does on those who see the bullet barreling towards them do, that New York City is not a nice place to die. New York City isn't a nice place to live anyway. Paul figured this out when he saw his business partner get riddled with bullets. He also figured that he could trust what those men said to be true, and his blood had run a feverish chill at the mention of that word. He had began to run, and he still was running. From what he had overheard, he had about an hour - he checked his watch - thirty minutes to get fourty five miles away from Two Hammarskjold Plaza. He still had three miles till he reached his cramped apartment. He knew the cops couldn't stop it, he knew the damn military wouldn't be able to stop it, he knew what he had overheard. His head was throbbing with blood flow and his face was turning an awful purple color.
Ya' got a heart condition Paulie.
He mind was always speaking in the voice of his mother, even though she kicked it over twenty years ago. He came to a crashing halt, a feeling of all the blood in his body still carrying some motion, giving him a sense of vertigo. His hand grasped his chest and pain began to shoot down his left arm.
"Aw...fuck!" he managed to whisper to the nonchalant crowd passing by. He stumbled forward two steps and one step back and fell to the ground, landing square on his back, his eyes to the gray cruel sky above. Ten seconds went by, Paul's hand grasping at the air, his other hand on his chest. A man with chestnut hair and vibrant blue eyes stood over him, mouthing words that Paul couldn't hear.
Now look at whatca' did now Paulie! Ya' gone and killed ya'self!
Paul knew that this was his only chance, his only chance to redeem himself. He used all the life left in him to say one last word, and warn the man with the blue eyes.
"Nuke..."

Chapter One: Black and White are all I see.

The man with the blue eyes, his name was Gordon. Gordon worked at a small gun shop, a place called Ruth's. Gordon saw the fat man fall to the ground and ran over to him. He had only lived in New York for two weeks, and his concern for the average man was still intact. He asked the man if he was okay, asked if he neeed help. He saw that he was clutching his chest, his other hand flailing in the air. The noise of the urban enviroment was a dull din, but Gordon heard was the fat man said, heard it loud and clear.
"Nuke..."
Gordon looked around, saw that nobody else was looking at this man, nobody else was even concerned. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed 911 and put the phone to his ear. The ringing began, and it went to the machine, what people call The Scourge of Emergencies. The Scourge told him that all avaible operators were currently busy, and that if he waited he would soon be connected. He waited for five minutes. During that time only two other people stopped to see if the man was okay, and when they saw Gordon, they walked away, thinking it was already taken care of. A little boy walked by, one of those hats with the rotors on his head, and asked his mother if the man was going to die.
"No, that man is just faking, you know like pretend?"
It was after that comment that Gordon gave up on 911, and decided it was time to get him to a hospital.

It took Gordon awhile to get the man off the ground, it seemed he weighed about as much as a small whale, but he was concerned for this man. His car was across the street, but he was still unsure on how to get to the hospital. He began to slowly drag the man to his car when he came to a form of soupy semi-conciencuses.

"But...Andrew...just...just." He managed to mutter.

"Thank God! Can you hear me? Wake up, wake up!" Gordon said, shaking the man's head.

"Wha...who? What?"

"What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"Pa...pa...Paul. My...Paul."

"Okay Paul, I think you've had a heartattack, and I'm taking you to a hospital. Okay?"