Death

"ALLAH AKBAR!" The man yelled from his position looming over the orphanage. In his hand, a trigger could be seen, probably connected to the giant vest he was wearing containing God knows what.

"You're not even Muslim," the cop handling the situation yelled. He was getting into a pointless argument. Not because lives were at stake and no one cared about his religion at the moment, but because he was arguing with someone who didn't have any common sense.

"Allah Akbar is just praising the greatness of God, it has nothing to do with a certain religion. Just because Muslims say it more than most people doesn't mean only they say it," the man yelled back at the cop.

"That doesn't change the fact that in this society today, the phrase is most commonly associated with Muslims. It's literally an Arabic phrase used in Islam to praise God. You are not from Islam, you don't speak Arabic, and you definitely are not Muslim! Not even to mention the fact you're even using the phrase while you have the giant bomb strapped to your chest!" the cop screamed back at the man's response.

"Whoa, what does that mean? Just because I have a bomb on my chest screaming Allah Akbar shouldn't mean anything. I just wanted to praise god and be a little bilingual before my death," the maybe suicidal man said. 

"You know what I meant," the cop said exasperated. "You, A suicide Bomber, Yelling Allah Akbar, On top of an orphanage. It doesn't take a genius to come to the conclusion, 'Terrorist.'"

While the conversation was still ongoing, the cops were beginning to spread their perimeter. Swat was just now pulling up and there were more than 8 cop cars on the scene with a couple of ambulances.

The man on the roof was looking at all this calmly, He frankly couldn't care less what the police were doing since it would all end the same way. 

He could see the officer in a conversation with him making hand signs and getting the other to spread out. He could see people concerned and yelling for the safety of the orphans, which he found a little ironic. He could see the swat team pulling up with riot shields trying to get the people away from the scene. He could most definitely see the snipers starting to go into adjacent buildings.

Three of the snipers were Winchesters, but he was happy when he spotted the fourth. A Barrett M-82, his whole reason for doing all this. It might seem a little crazy, but he always thought it would be great to get shot by one. 

A fifty-caliber bullet is what is widely used by the M-82. The Bullet is just so girthy and powerful. Known to be able to even pierce tanks on the lower end of the armor scale. Rips through bodies easily no matter what armor the person has. A great way to die, the man always thought.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. Terrorist? Where did that come from? I am just a regular civilian. Terrorism is someone who commits acts of terror to instill fear in people with a political agenda in mind. Do I look like I care about politics?" The man finally responded to the officer.

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?! Stop acting like a terrorist and I won't call you a terrorist," the Policeman shouted.

"That's Racist!" The man immediately responded.

"No, it's not! It's just an observation. You're the racist one. Acting like a Muslim while being strapped to a bomb. Aren't you basically making a statement saying that only Muslims commit suicide and take others with them, aka, terrorism!" The officer turned the situation against the other man.

"What? No! If anything, I am showing my admiration for the Muslims. This isn't a statement or Terrorist attack. I simply wanna…" he trailed off not completing his sentence. He knew that if he told the police he wanted suicide by cop, Mainly that fifty cal, he was unlikely to get it. 

"You wanna what? Actually, I don't care, just keep your finger on that trigger and don't blow us all up," the cop finally gave in. 

"On the trigger," the man was confused. "If I press the trigger then it explodes, why would you want me to press it"

"Wait," the office spoke softly, "you're telling me that that is a regular push-button trigger, not a dead-man switch."

"Well, yeah," the man in the orphanage was confused as to why that should even matter. He could activate the button immediately. It would only take a second or two to move his finger and hit the switch.

The man himself was unaware, but everyone else who heard him was dumbfounded. "Take the shot," was heard on all radios connected to the officer negotiating. He put his hand against his head and began to shake, "This absolute donkey."

The orphanage guy didn't even know what hit him when all of a sudden he was lying on his back. "This pain, this giant hole in me, my missing arm. It has to be!" he looked to his side where 2 bullet impacts could be seen.

One bullet shot him in his stomach, taking his kidney out of the fight. The second hit his upper body tearing his whole arm off. He knew which bullet did what. He was gleeful, content, and screaming at the top of his lungs. 

Everybody could hear the screaming and was rushing into the building. They were told by the sniper that the arm containing the trigger was out of commission, whatever that meant. 

When they got up there they saw what they would all swear was the brightest smile they'd ever seen. Bleeding out, the man kicked his legs and threw his arms, (arm and stump) around in pure joy. 

The medics also made it up there and wanted to help him, but they could not with him thrashing about. They did try to hold him down to sedate him, but it didn't matter. He died from takotsubo cardiomyopathy. 

In the end, it wasn't the gun, bleeding out, or the pain that killed him. He didn't feel any pain at all in fact. In the end, it was his own happiness that caused his heart to fail and for him to die.