WNP: He stood and threw the bottle into the ocean. “All done,” he said.
(continuation from The Silent Room prompt per Lyn's suggestion)
Far away, on the Eastern Shoreline, another man stood with a green bottle in his hand. It was sunset, the sun having sunk down so low into horizon, that its light shimmered out from it like a great long highway paved across the choppy waters in gold and mauve and tangerine. The bottle held the last of the containment formula that was still free from the specialist forces that had been sent to track it down. He had fought, thought Grenfelder, for as much of his life as he was able, to keep it free and safe. That time was over. He could only hope that someone else would pick it up and fight in his place.
With a flick of his wrist and the full force of his back and shoulder behind it, he tossed the bottle as far out to sea as his will was strong enough to send it. It settled into the highway of light and bobbed there for moment as if waving goodbye. Then the sun slid a little lower, pulling its highway in behind it, and the bottle disappeared from sight. When they came him for him minutes or was it hours later, the specialist force that had been tracking him for five long years, they found him merely sitting in the sand, staring at the darkening sky with its first glimmering stars, as if he had been waiting for them all along, and they had simply been too slow to catch up.