Upon drinking my coffee while dressed in my dark blue robe, the protestors outside my lab erupted sound like a volcano that echoed to the top floor of my lab. Officers dressed in riot shields lined the people who yelled with their “String’I’m up” signs and eyed my window with a laser point stare.

The sky today makes me want to curl back up in bed, not to mention the protesters, but they won’t get in. It wasn’t my fault, I promise. How could I know that my weather machine would actually cause an earthquake? I tried to give Manhattan a snow fall on Christmas Day, but I demolished half the city in one swoop. The only reason I even have protection is the threat I made to the government. Gullible fools don’t understand that it’s not remote control. They could come in now and end my life and I’d never have a chance to use it again. I am now the equivalent of an angry god to these fools.

A rock just came through my window, but I’m fine. It’s to be expected. The officers have tackled the man who threw it to the ground. It looks like he’s being taken away in cuffs to a cop car.

I expected them, but now I see the army coming up to dismiss the crowd. Maybe I should give them the thunder of my newfound godhood? No, I’m not mad with them.

A sound is coming from the hall behind me. I told them not to enter the building. I run to my lab bed, grab the box with a revolver from under my bed, and use my bed for cover. The bed sits near the wall, and it puts me in a good location.

“You bleed just like the rest of us, come out, come out, where ever you are!” I hear sneakers scuffing the tile floor with screeches. I don’t see him. “You deserve to hang,” he says.

“Don’t make me destroy the other half of New York!”

“I have nothing to lose, you creep. You made sure of that. Is this what you used?”

I run out and see him over the key panel.

“Hello, my dear scientist. I bet you bleed red.”

He pulls a knife. I raise the revolver. “You brought a knife to gun fight,” I said.

I fire, but I miss and he tackles me to the ground. My gun slides to the side and he fumbles the knife. I kick him off and grab the knife, stand, and grab him. I start stabbing him without an aim. Up, down, up, down.

He drops to the floor and red pools at my feet. “Screw you.” He holds the wound at his stomach. “Why don’t you just die!?” He breathes for a few minutes more, then stops as his eyes go placid.

This must be my blood sacrifice, but I am not appeased. Security failed me.

I go to the key panel, buttons and switches that only I understand. The revolver landed near the seat for the panel. I pick the revolver, put it to my temple with one hand. With the other, I target the state of California.

It’s true, I am not a god. Let’s see who deserves to die. I down take the revolver, remove all but one bullet, spin the chamber, and put it back to my temple and pull the trigger.