this is a great story i had ever read with twist end

The man rushed along the bustling New York road, dodging around and weaving between walkers. Attaché hitting against his leg on each progression. Since, despite the fact that he was composed and slick, similar to he is each morning, he actually kept awake for the duration of the late evening completing his report for the Monday early daytime meeting. Obviously, it was today, of the apparent multitude of days of the week - even of the month! - that the transport was stuck in the standard early morning worker traffic. He burst through the approaching steel entryways of the 'Bank of America' fabricating, and rushed through security and into the primary hall, not seeing any of the little subtleties around him, similar to an adolescent sauntering in a strange manner. As the man moved nearer to the lift, he grinned at the natural Bank of America logo, scratched into the dull steel entryways. He punched at the catch and was distracted with the attempt to seal the deal he had prepared that he didn't see the rich logo, part in two as the matte dark steel entryways headed out in different directions, something that, on a typical day, he would pay special mind to. As the man entered the little, square lift the 'new vehicle pine purifier' smell encompassed him in an influx of his future aspirations, such as purchasing another vehicle for his family to drive in… well, when there was no traffic obviously.
A glint of the overhead lights didn't upset him a tiny smidgen. Be that as it may, when the lights cut and the steady murmuring of the lift halted, every one of his musings died down In the peaceful, he saw there was hollering, and perhaps breaking glass, originating from what he thought was the anteroom. He attempted to persuade himself that it happened constantly, right, and that somebody may have recently dropped something, or that one of the front windows broke, however within, he knew, and this would one say one was of these occasions he lamented actually tolerating the activity years back to join, what right? "THE BEST BANK OF AMERICA"? no doubt, that was presumably it, or some horrible motto like it in any event. Outside the lift, the commotion died down and a frightful quietness rung in his ears. "There we go" he thought "they have tackled the issue". At one his considerations were unexpectedly ended when a solitary slug came tearing through the steel lift entryways and broke his lower jaw, and sending its ruined stays traveling to the opposite side of the lift, splattering against the divider and trickling to the ground in bumps and shards. Gunfire shook in the campaign and alarms cried outside the structure.
It was a second until the agony hit, well, enough an ideal opportunity for him to see all the blood on the divider, his blood. He crumbled to the floor, pulverizing what survived from his jaw under him, he started to get dazed and queasy. The blood pooled around his neck and his hair got splashed with the pool of blood that was conforming to him. He possibly saw how close the alarms were the point at which he heard yelling outside the lift, and he was possibly mostly occupied from the agony when there was shouting in the hall, however this time he could tell it was less forceful, and apparently all the more consoling to his withering soul. The lights glinted back on and the unexpected bringing down of the lift constrained parts of his jaw into his lower back, drawing pools of blood drop down his throbbing back. The clamor outside had halted once more, well, aside from the alarms, which, matched with his memory of sound of the solitary gunfire, rung in his ears for what felt like an unending length of time.
What little vision he had left at his mature age, had blurred to a thick dark, just returning for quite a long time once in a while. The ringing gradually blurred from his ears, "practically quiet now" he thought. The shriek of the lift stopping indeed resounded in his ears, yet blurred rapidly, nearly as fast as it took for the steel ways to open by and by, aside from this time he wasn't distracted with the gathering, really, he hadn't pondered it since, well, the occurrence. The outline of an individual clung his view to the hall, the blurs in his vision presently in time with his pulse, excessively quick for somebody as unsuitable as him. His eyes started to coat over and the outline moved in shut, the man attempted to wince, however couldn't, he had lost control of his appendages and he began to feel his middle, well, really, he was beginning to not have the option to feel his middle. "There's one here" the words rung in his ears like a lot of tolls, much the same as the ones his children got for Christmas. He guaranteed himself that he would invest more energy with them, than at work, in the event that he escaped this idiotic wreck. The outline stooped down and put its fingers on his wrist, the man couldn't feel, it, however without a doubt they could spare him… isn't that so? "Bodybag here, we have another setback". The man attempted to accumulate the entirety of his outstanding energy to state "I'm alive" yet it was excessively calm, and it was past the point of no return, the outline began to move once more into the anteroom. "No" he wailed to himself, yet his eyes spacey, the draining halted and his brain went clear. He took his final gasp, only seconds before another outline looked into the lift to check whether he was truly dead. He was