[He watches Liechtenstein crumple to the floor, his eyes glazed with pain and barely registering what's going on anymore. All he knows is that he killed who shot him, and that's good. That's good.]

[America's yank isn't enough to keep the bullet from firing, but it's enough to pull the rifle from his hands afterwards. It clatters to the ground in an echo of the person whose life it just ended.]

Nobody wins....

[He turns back to look at America with a barely-there smile as he starts to slump over. His vision is blurring and his body seems to be shutting down on him, his coat and shirt soaked all the way through with his blood.]

So will you still try?