EJ sat in the back of the FBI transport van with three agents, all armed with machine guns, but he was smiling from ear to ear.
"What's got you so happy?" one of them asked.
"The fact that all of you have counted me out so easily." he said matter-of-factly.
The agent laughed. "We've got you on so many charges, you'll be a great-grandfather before you see the outside world again "
The van lurched to the side and tipped over as it was hit from the side by a van the exact same size and color going almost full speed.
Five men, dressed in all black, including ski masks, hopped out of the other van with machine guns and approached the FBI van, heading straight for the back. One of them opened the back door and didn't know what to think about what he saw. Bodies piled and strewn over the small space. He immediately pulled EJ out.
"Try to wake him up," said one of the others.
The masked assailant who'd pulled DiMera out of the van slapped EJ's face a few times before he began to start coughing.
"EJ, can you stand?"
EJ then tried to stand up. He struggled at first, but the was up. Wobbly, but up. He smirked. "What took you gentlemen so long? Now, get these damn handcuffs off of me so we can get out of here.
Sonny Corinthos entered the Brownstone hoping against hope that he could get through to Morgan. He wanted to let his son know that they could find Ava and bring the baby back home. He just couldn't give up.
His phone went off a he climbed the steps. MEDIA MOGUL AND ALLEGED GANGSTER JULIAN JEROME DEAD AT 55 reads the report from his news app. He smiled silently to himself as he put his phone away.
When he got to Morgan's floor, he saw that the door was open and drew his gun. "Morgan!" he called out, inching toward the room. No answer.
When he got to the door, he timed himself before lunging into the doorway, gun raised and ready to fire. What he saw made him drop his weapon.
Morgan lay on the floor, blood seeping out of a hole in his chest. "Morgan?" was all he could get out before collapsing next to his son. "Morgan!"
Then the twenty-one year old started to groan. "D-D-D-"
"It's okay, Morgan," Sonny said, taking his son in his arms. "Don't try to speak." He took out his phone and started to dial 9-1-1.
Morgan took a gulp of air and then slowly let his eyelids drop as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Sonny dropped the phone. "MORGAN!"
He checked the pulse. It was faint, fading. He remembered EJ DiMera's words, "One day, you'll feel my pain." He then felt his son's pulse stop completely. His chest stopped heaving and was still.
Morgan Corinthos was no more.