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Adam's world was now one filled with darkness...

He felt no pain in this new place - oddly enough, on the contrary, he felt basically nothing.

He'd been shot... He knew that, though it had taken several minutes before the pain had set in. All he'd felt initially was a strange numbness, almost as though a separation from his body.

And the blood... There'd been so much bleeding. Paul Levesque had shot him in the stomach region, and the blood that had soaked through his shirt had seemed profuse.

At the moment, he felt oddly detached from his body...

Adam tried desperately to open his eyes, to awaken, but it proved an impossible task. Despite his attempt, he couldn't even manage fluttering his eyelides, let alone actually opening his eyes.

He was desperately trying to push himself to rouse, to awaken, and all of a sudden, the blond man felt as though he were floating. It was a strange sensation, one he'd never experienced before...

If he'd found the ability to take control over his voice, he would have screamed...

He was suddenly looking down at himself lying on an operating table - a bloody mess. It did not look good...

*

"We're losing him!" the surgeon exclaimed, his eyes darting to the electrocardiograph machine, which was monitoring Adam Copeland's heart. Currently, there was nothing but a flat line - the accompanying beep of the machine signaling the heart was no longer beating along with it.

"Damn it...Come on!" another physician said irritably. The patient was young, strong, and had his whole life ahead of him. It wouldn't be fair if he didn't make it.

"Give me three-hundred CCs!" the surgeon ordered the nurse standing across from him.

The woman quickly retrieved the defibrilating paddles, obliging the doctor's request. After the defib gel was applied, she placed the paddles on Adam's chest. The didn't do the trick - the flat line remained.

"Again!"

Another jolt was applied, but with the same results.

"Shit!" the surgeon cried. "Come on - again!"

The defibrilating paddles were juiced up once again, and Adam's body jerked upward a third time.

The doctors' and nurse's hopes were swiftly dashed as the exact response - none - occurred.

The surgeon sadly shook his head as he removed his latex gloves.

"Time of death, eleven forty-three PM..."