Hate

Ryan glanced at the mysterious black van before embarking on what he hoped would be his final journey. The weather was still overcast, and he wondered if the sun would ever shine again. Once again he performed his signature maneuver to access the freeway, and he was off. He did his best to enjoy his hour long drive, knowing that it could be his last. He only hoped that he would be able to kill every last one of them before he died.
He stopped his car at the cold gray building for the second time and unloaded his rocket-propelled grenade launcher. He fired several rounds at the building and was disappointed with the results when the building remained completely intact and unharmed. At least a guard opened the door to check out what was going on. Ryan lunged towards the guard and silently slit his throat with the curved blade of his knife. The sharp blade cut cleanly through his flesh and sent the contents of his arteries splattering across the cold gray exterior of the building. He then ran inside and pulled out his hand gun. At once gun fire came flying at him from all directions, and he dove under a desk near the front door as a bullet clipped his right ear. This was the lobby of the building, with a desk at the front and two spiral staircases leading up to a door which led to the rest of the building, where they were. Ryan heard the footsteps of what sounded like five people coming at him all at once. He leaped up and threw the desk in the general direction of the noise and immediately aimed 5 deft and silent shots at each of them. Three were killed and two were wounded. Coincidentally, Ryan had two hands, which he used to simultaneously throw two throwing stars by a snap of the wrist at their throats, landing perfect blows in both and stopping them dead in their tracks. Suddenly it was deafeningly silent, until Ryan heard the door creak open...