All Roads Lead Home

‍

Chapter Fifteen:
The Mirage of a Moral World

“Heroes tend to think about their actions more than the consequences.”

The wind whistled past my ears as I flew back. I slammed my hooves into the floor grabbing the edge of a loose tile, stopping my flight. A stick rolled into view just under me.

“Come on, anák! You didn’t forget everything did you?” Mom bellowed.

I snickered before picking up the stick in my teeth and bolting at her. Zebras walking by watched as I slid on my side past nay, slamming the stick into the ground to twist my legs in for the sweep. She smirked and backflipped, dodging my attack, before landing and spinning on her forehooves to face me. I got up and readied myself as nay got back down. Once again, she smiled, before putting her whole body behind the swing of her stick. I ducked right into her rear hoof as it was coming around, sending me flying back again.

But this time, I wasn’t given any breathing room. Nay pushed the ground she gained, throwing punches mixed in with swipes from the stick, and kicks with her knees to cover her bigger spins. I did everything I could to stop most of it, throwing up hooves to deflect the blows, or just outright dodge them. That didn’t work so well.

When the traditional fighting style of Rockfall’s relentless flurry is mixed with Swiping Talon’s weapon art, the user is practically untouchable. No opening will show, no matter how much you wait. That’s why the first thing I was taught with both…

Her hindleg slammed against my side, making me recoil a tiny bit. Still, I wrapped my hooves tightly around it.

…Was to make my own openings. Realize that you will get hit, and all you can do is match, then suppress your opponent’s aggression.

I pulled the leg back before slamming my weight forward on it. Nay dropped her stick and crumpled like a trash bag. I went cheek to cheek with her face and leveled my stick at her neck.

“Good job, sweetie,” Nay turned and kissed me on the cheek. I couldn’t help but blush. “Next time I’ll go all out.”

She just pushed me off. As in, she just stood up like I was weightless.

I followed her back inside the house to wash my face in the upstairs bathroom. While my fur was still drying she shouted from somewhere: “You didn’t forget about Hoarfrost’s meeting today, right?”

“No! That was next thing on the list.”

“Good, good! I always did like that boy.”

I sighed. “You’ve told me repeatedly this morning…”

“Doesn’t make it any less true!” Nay giggled.

She stopped by the door and leaned on it. Mom did nothing at all but just stood there and smiled at me. Her eyes softened more and more every second that passed.

“Something on my face?” I cracked an anxious grin.

Nay shook her head. “Just making sure you don’t disappear.”

My heart melted.

“You wouldn’t, right?”

There was nowhere else to go. I don’t know how she couldn’t understand it. Nay was too smart for that… but I guess I have left for less before. Though this time I knew where I wanted to be.

I simply nodded.

She giggled. “Good because you know your tay isn’t a fan of single day visits unless it’s a patient.”

Nay let me pass as I grabbed my stuff from my room, stepping out when it was all on. I glanced down at my saddlebags, rifle, and journal, all lazily thrown on top of my bed. I didn’t plan on going anywhere, so I decided to leave them there. I turned to her before she escaped downstairs back into her workshop. “Blu– I mean… Misty is already there, right?”

“Yeah,” Nay continued down the steps. “Dusk took her this morning while you were still asleep, so I’d hope they’d be there by now.”

That was good to know.

I waved to nay then stepped out onto the street and headed towards the heart of Friendship Station. It didn’t take too long to reach. You could feel the pulse of the whole city from there; almost the whole metro, even. The shops were normal, but the mixture of street performers, cafes, libraries, and even a cinema was definitely not. This station was known for its art in surgical removal of the surface and transplantation down here. That’s why it was the most successful society after The Beginning; when the world was engulfed in balefire and tempers rose in the tunnels, Friendship Station just continued like it always had. At least, that's what we were taught.

A hoof wrapped around my back. “Why do you always seem so deep in thought? Doesn’t that get exhausting after a while?”

I turned to Hoarfrost’s beaming smile before hugging him.

“Hey. It’s my trauma, and I get to choose the coping mechanism.” I retorted smugly.

He pulled back from the embrace and rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“So where’s Dusk and Sea Mist?”

“Oh, they’re not comin–”

“Chairpone Hoarfrost,” A voice cut in. We turned to a sharply dressed ginger mare, flanked by two guards. I swear she was the same one that had visited Silver Tongue back at Sunlight Station; it’s hard to forget a snake when they wear their Party pin so proudly. Her face twisted into a smile like an old theater mask. “I’m glad to see you made it! We heard about the threat on your life, and I’ll let you know that the Party is overwhelmed that you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Stella Rosé. I’d have it no other way.” He smiled back with own mask.

The way her eye twitched told me this clearly pissed Rosé off. “You’ll be grateful to know that we executed them swiftly, as soon as they were found.”

What a bitch. It’s hard to imagine what it’d take for a pony to send cowboys after you only to tell later that they covered it up, directly to your face. All without missing a beat too. I would call it impressive, but that would be a massive understatement. It was closer to the level of trying to kick a Demon in the balls. A fitting comparison too, considering who was being told.

“Well, again, extend my thanks to the rest of the Party,” Hoarfrost turned to me. “I guess see you late– you are going to the meeting right?”

“Of course. I’d hate to miss seeing you act on stage!” I chuckled.

He couldn’t help but let out a big smile. “I’ll see you there. Payment after, of course. That should be when everything is ready.”

I nodded and headed deeper into the heart of Friendship until Hoarfrost’s figure disappeared in the crowd. It felt like everyone was there for this event. Unless I missed something major, the Old Guard never called for meetings. That was always someone else.

Now, I want you to imagine a building so far removed from the hallowed streets of the concrete tombs in the city above. An afterimage of progress, closer to the vision that our founders, before the Infinite and Infernal melted together in an oven of balefire, saw. One that the Old Guard pulled one way from, and the Stripes the other. The Hekalu, as my family learned to call it, was the symbol of peace to the rats left from the Infinite in these darkened tunnels; the last vestiges of a time where we walked hoof in hoof. A time these water soaked wooden beams and ever-drying paint of the Hekalu’s walls, may one day see again.

Armed soldiers and even stalkers, regardless of creed, were positioned everywhere leading up to the door.

Observing.

Planning.

Every important leader from Oasis to the Community was inside, each with their own little box and flag. Folks I didn’t give a shit about. Folks who could care less about us. Well… except for one.

Chairpone Hoarfrost.

Walking into the peanut gallery, you could immediately tell who was different among the smug and slick pompous pricks facing us. He stood— no, towered— over all of them. Sure, his clothes cost just as many cartridges as the others, but they presented a different quality; a more real one. His suit coat had little loose threads sticking out of every seam. The sleeves underneath tucked away briefly crawling out as he moved, revealing stains. Not of ink, but of paint, and oil. Behind the weathered grin of that devil was truly a stallion who had seen more and done more for the people, helping them personally when the powers that be failed.

Hoarfrost smiled as he watched me sit down, before he was whisked away to his own seat behind a centered podium.

“If everyone could be seated, we’ll be continuing with the Old Guard’s Chairman, Hoarfrost’s, proposal.” Some random suit addressed us, and only when they felt like all sights were locked on them did they wave over to the stallion himself. The chairpone took the suit’s place on the podium.

“We live in a liminal space. As time marches forwards, we’re forever stuck between what has been, and what could be: the tomorrow of dreams… Not our dreams of course, we never got to choose. Instead, forced to just carry a hollow corpse of something no one knows...” He paused to take a long breath surveying the folks around. Then Hoarfrost picked up the script hidden just out of sight on the podium and tore it in two. You almost hear the pieces hit the ground.

“You probably have an idea of what a ‘bad guy’ is from… pfft, let’s be honest, it’s all we talk about: the evil laugh, drive for power. A devil in a suit and tie.” The crowd snickered as he gestured to himself. “Hell, maybe a few of you think I’m evil, but all this is just a costume I woke up and put on. I’m sorry to tell you this, but this persona… is shit I’ve just made up. That’s all most of us are doing: making shit up, and seeing what fools buy. This ‘higher understanding’ we claim to have about the dichotomy of good and evil is bullshit.”

He laughed at a few people’s gasps. “It’s all just one big stage play that everyone is trying to guess the ending of, based on a hoofful of doctored lines. God, I don’t envy the poor soul forced to launch the bombs because their leaders felt that ‘Sir Belinski was going to betray us in a big twist in act two!’ That’s so stupid and, frankly, terrible writing… But it’s the bad guys they wanted. The ones that make heroes.”

“That’s why we throw ourselves to the flame. The actual reason for the war doesn’t matter. It’s disappointing, but you don’t get to see that bullet bureaucrats kept screaming about. What you’re left with is the BANG… and then… nothing.” Hoarfrost turned to the other leaders. ”And we get to continue that! Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

“Stop filibustering! What’s your point?” His vice chairpone hollered.

Hoarfrost’s toothy retort warmed my soul. “Nice to know some of us still play our roles to perfection.”

“So, what’s my deal? What the hell am I talking about? I believe we come into this world with eyes closed, hoping for a golden script to tell us what to think, what to feel, what to do; that the stage left door is locked and there’s no point to try it. That we think we can’t handle making choices because of the slippery slopes of ‘what if,’” He removed the Party’s little balloon pin from his collar and sighed. “Choices… But what do I know about choices?”

A wave of confusion washed over me. He’s a politician. Like, the one of the major directors of this little circus of a literal, underground play. That devil is the only one with—

“I make them all the time for others,” The chairpone rammed through my train of thought. “But it’s weird to feel that I’ve never made a real decision. All I know about politics, I learned from the same school every other politician of the Old Guard went to. You know, the place with working drinking fountains, while the poor are outside the gate shriveling up like dry mangoes.”

Hoarfrost playfully waved away his own statement as more gasps raddled off from the crowd and politicians began to growl. “Sorry, sorry! How could I forget one of the most important lessons: Lie. The people can’t handle the truth! How selfish it is of me to burden them with extra anxieties. Instead, I should inform them how horrible my opponent is. You know: the one that went to the same school as me. No need to decipher that one. Just accept it, and know that most of these ‘fighters of the people’ could give less of a shit about you. You are a number. A vote in a system, built on glass superheated from a dead society that nuked themselves. Yeah… Let that one sink in. The playwrights were idiots without an editor. No one was a bad guy there. They just wanted to be seen as ‘heroes’. And maybe wanting something doesn’t make you evil, but you don’t get to create danger then protect others from that danger.”

My friend looked directly at me, his blurry pupils slowly growing into plates. “Though, standing by— no, no… not freezing up, that’s different— standing by, watching, while you have the tools to help, makes you… evil. I could’ve changed things, but I’m… not a good guy.”

“I…”

He tightened his brow and looked, just looked at the rest of the crowd. To the various different races, all darkened by soil and ash, stared back in the soft yellow glow of the station’s lights. My heart had been grabbed, slowly being twisted to tighten my veins. It was those looks from the other leaders towards Hoarfrost. It wasn’t the ones that pitied, it was one that scowled. No one could believe that The Devil of Sunlight Station was, for once, at a loss for words. Whispering and conversations slowly built into a roar that echoed off the walls into a cacophony of chaos.

“Guys…”

No one even noticed him trying to inject.

S L A M

The Hekalu was quiet again, all eyes locked with the Devil’s. “No one tells you that you need to sacrifice friends for power. Damn it! He was all I had, and I blew it. I could say the script told me to, but I’ve lied to you. This is an improv play. The choices are wholly your own. My own. That same friend I lost, oh, he came back. Came back and saw right through my costume, and you know what I had the fucking balls to say? ‘If I die, do you think they would care about me, as much as I want to care about them?’ I-I just can’t believe it took a single question to shatter my scene: ‘Are you really selfless if you ask a question like that?’ What an asshole…”

Hoarfrost failed to stop shaking, tears walloping at his eyelids. “God, I hate that he’s right. If I wanted to save the world, be that hero, I would’ve made the choice a long time ago. It’s scary to know that. I’m the bad guy. It was my choice… And that’s why I’m here. People like me have prolonged a conflict that should’ve died with the world above. Sadly, we’re bad at knocking old habits. Old Guard, Stripes, Community… Shouldn’t matter. We’re all we have. For once, we need to show that. And to those of you who sit with me that think, even for moment, that this is some play for moral high ground… just shut the fuck up and think about how you’re going rig your next election or something. I’m done with that life. This isn’t about some fictional line between good and evil created by actors on a stage. This is life. We let them choose… without war breathing down their necks.”

The crowd erupted into applause, but Hoarfrost didn’t even wait for them to stop before talking over. “Regardless of whatever choice is made here today, I’ll be out there. In these tunnels, helping my people with my own hooves.” I swear he turned directly at me. “Maybe I’ve wasted time before, but I can still help now. Others may admire that—that ability to help— for the tools, skill, and maybe even money, but that’s nothing. You don’t need that. You just need nothing but desire in your own two hooves or I guess in my case, it’s my own two hooves. My own bruised fists.”

“That’s one thing I learned from my dad: how to take a beating. Something passed down from generation to generation. It was a weird pain we shared. We didn’t know how to stop getting hit, but, shit, were we good at getting up. As much as I hated him, I could at least understand him through that,” The politicians behind him began to rip out their hair, unsure if the crowd would prevent them from stopping him. I think it was way too late for that. “Does that make him a bad guy, or just sad? Maybe it was right of him to beat me. It gave me the chance to change from being just another crooked actor. I hope. Weird… Just thinking out loud here, by the way. Honestly, I expected someone to stop me by now but it seems no one has the balls to! So I guess I’ll keep talking.”

His vice chairpone calmly got up from the Old Guard box before storming off, little dark clouds thundering with each stomp.

“Wow. Years of assassinations attempts and a few words hurt her? Cute.” Hoarfrost was beaming. “I know, I know. That’s pretty dark, but like I said, ‘I don’t give a shit.’ They can’t stop me if I tell everybody. Isn’t that the beauty of connection: finding serenity with others’ pain? Pain so close to your own; it’s stuff stories are written and told about. Pain. Pain. Pain. Do you ever think those authors get tired of it? No– probably– they’re too focused on giving their character’s the endings they could never have themselves. Life doesn’t exactly go as planned… well, not for people like us. Always the wrong time, wrong place. Could we all be bad people? Evil, for fighting to live past our expiration date? Did we make life too long in a need to conquer nature? Each other? You know what these thoughts remind me of? Dirty Whinny. You know that one story about a lone gunman going out to fix the world? Hmm? Oh sorry, did I just give you the description of millions of different stories? My bad. No, really I genuinely forgot how many tales exist about a single person ‘fixing’ the world. ‘Civilizing the savage natives’… or, you know, just killing off the ones that resist. Gunning down the bandits, fuck their possible problems created by the system they live in, to save the town. Shit does Dirty Whinny have that in spades, but they’ll never make it about them. It’s always for something higher… Justice! Freedom! The Greater Good! Oh the good old days before everyone was trying to shove their beli– oh wait.” He let out a devilish smile.

“But I should probably just stick to my job… yeah. So, how do we tell who’s a bad guy when stories about the same tainted beliefs spread like malaria?” He simply shrugged. “We really worship the bleak. That’s it. No costumes, stage, or anything. Just our obsession with dysfunction. Dysfunction… we couldn’t have picked a slower way to destroy ourselves. 40,000 rats hoping that someone else will come along and help. All we have is each other, so it’s time to stop waiting for the cowboy to come save the day.”

Hoarfrost snickered to the other bureaucrats. “Or we can keep waiting. Whichever one you guys prefer.”

The crowd was hanging on an invisible precipice waiting for something else; something more that just wasn’t there. Carefully watching every step he took back to his seat. The last gift he gave them was a wider smile.

Damn Hoarfrost, you might actually get me to like politics.

As much as I and the others in the crowd were shocked with joy, some of the politicians weren’t quite as thrilled. They murmured and swore between themselves. Their expressions gave away their disdain for the current situation.

“What kind of ploy is this?!” One of the griffons spoke up. “You may be better than your priors but what would make you think we’d believe any of the bullshit you just slung?”

His shrug caused the Hekalu to explode into a cacophony of screams as leaders bursted out of their seats to condemn or state their support of Hoarfrost. Now it was clear he was no longer making deals for the Old Guard. I had a feeling everyone in that room knew they were dealing with him directly. Hoarfrost didn’t need the title of “Chairpone” to make folk listen anymore. He was the mover and shaker. The Devil of Stalliongrad making deals for a forgotten paradise he wanted back; one that never existed, but one folks liked to imagine had.

I leaned back and enjoyed the show, tapping my hooves under my seat playfully until something slimy squashed against my underhoof. It was like a crusty piece of old blackened gum somepony, mostly a foal who was dragged here, probably slapped under the seat in pure boredom. I tried my best to scrape it off but some was sticking to my fur.

“Ewww.”

That hoof would need to be cleaned off. I sighed and took a glance over to Hoarfrost— who was having the time of his life up there laughing his ass off— before getting up and squeezing through the audience to leave.

Outside there was a nearby water pump. The station was built around some of Stalliongrad’s most essential utilities: water being the big one. I pumped out the stream and started scrubbing. After I thought I got it all off, I shook off the hoof to dry only to spot a little food stand roll up. The zebra was probably getting ready for the wave of hungry souls after the meeting. Maybe leaving the building was a blessing in disguise.

“What can I do ya for?” The fisherzeeb asked.

I pulled out a magazine from my vest ready to pop out some bullets. “Do you have walleye?”

She smiled. “Of course that’s—“

Before her sentence finished, we were slammed across the station floor. Her stand smashed as it rolled into one of the old rail pits along with other debris. I rushed over to the mare, who seemed to be fine but shaken. Then I looked over to see what happened.

…The Hekalu was…

Gone.

Only bits and pieces of its foundation remained like a shot can. Those parts’, now lit ablaze, embers jumped around freely in the air till they were close enough to singe the tips of my coat. I stared down at my hoof, the one I just washed, and licked it. It tasted salty. Just like Black L—

‍
‍
‍

“Hoarfrost.”

‍
‍
‍

The thought escaped my lips like a knife freshly punched into my chest; propelled me into a full gallop toward the growing inferno. I pushed every step till I was falling over my hooves, a choice that forced me to slide through what remained of the doorway of the building, bouncing off it into the room.

There were bodies, parts, and then… there were shadows. Folks were scorched into the floor, and among those ghosts… was Hoarfrost. I could tell. From the length of images, I could tell the biggest blast came from the stage. More specifically, from his chair. Any last chance of hope died with that smile on Hoarfrost’s shadow.

My heart froze with my breath. Not even the growing flames around me could stop it. Ash kissed my cheeks as the whole world faded. The sound of folks running away and crackling embers were replaced with growls. Claws scratching metal mixed in with muffled gunfire and screaming. The shadows twisted into that hermetic door again. It did it to laugh at me. To prove I didn’t deserve love, just the aftertaste of bitter soot. To prove…

…I didn’t deserve to say goodbye.

The shadows forced me to my knees, ripping off the mask I had been building. This wasn’t theater, so who was I tricking but myself? If I had changed, then why is he gone, and not me? What fucking hero I promised be.

I’m sorry, Hoarfrost. I’m sorry.

The sound of metal rattled the air; an echo that brought me back to hell, but still, all that remained was self-loathing. I was so fucking selfish.

He was gone, and all I could think about was me. I couldn’t… I touched my face— smearing it a sickly black— there wasn’t even a tear. What the fuck was wrong with me?

The sound of spurs is all that would answer; they peeled my eyes away just in time to lock with his, though I didn't see them behind the dead amber of his visor. His armor glistened against the flames, hazily reflecting the devastation, the casualties unrecognizable; just another part of a wasted land.

He ran through what remained of a service door behind the corpse of what used to be a wall, and I gave chase. The debris cut through my hooves as they stamped down hard, the flames licked me as I raced through. The service door flew off of its hinges as I threw the weight of my body into tearing it wide open. Everything hurt; I didn't care. I just couldn’t understand– I needed answers, and Gage better have had them.

It was a claustrophobic area with a single wet catwalk and a little metal ladder descending into the rushing waves below. Runoff of some kind created a waterfall; one that rattled the grates as it went underneath. At the end of the room, Gage was approaching the only other door.

I tried to speak, but nothing more wispy gasps left my lips. He stole Hoarfrost: my voice. Thoughts turned to whimpers. Whimpers that built up inside my chest, burrowing in each muscle as they fell into the pit of my throat. A primal scream escaped as I charged at Gage. He whipped around and readied his talons, but quickly his muscles relaxed. I couldn’t read his eyes behind that visor. All that I could see was me.

“Wildcard?—“

I put my hoof through his beak, the hot tissue underneath my sole screaming but I didn’t care. His head flicked back as he caught my follow up punch.

“Wildcard! What the fuck! It’s me!” Gage shoved me then took off his helmet, confirming my greatest current fear.

I finally found a new voice through all the shaking. “I-I know…”

Gage gazed at me like a broken toy. He was confused with a hint of fear behind his eyes. “You didn’t get hurt, did ya? I made sure you left before anything happened.” He replied in a low, husked tone.

My breathing grew shallow. I grabbed my chest as the walls began pressing in all around.

“Wildcard!” I could barely hear Gage call as I stumbled back onto the catwalk. He looked longingly at the door behind him before turning back to me. Gage carefully walked over to me, extending out a claw. He said something but couldn’t hear it past the heartbeat in my ears. He reached his wing in some vain fucking attempt consul me.

“You gotta talk to me. Come on, we know each other.”

As his first feather tip touched me, I sprung up at him to shove him away. “No!”

I grabbed my vest, pulling it forward in an attempt for more air. It was choking me. I couldn’t breathe. The straps slowly pressed into my side, forcing the air out of my lungs. Every breath was fought for in vain.

“Wildcard!” He grabbed me this time. My body reacted. I threw my hooves into him, grabbing for whatever I could. There was a hoofhold under his suit’s collar. It was impossible for me to lift him but I didn’t care. I tried to. I tried to, even though all I was doing was causing him to stumble backwards.

“He was mine… you took him away.”

“Wildcard, I’m—“

“That’s not my name!” I interrupted him with a strong push. He screamed as we were both suddenly in the air, water kicked out from under us.

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

…

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

I didn’t mean to…

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍

‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
‍
The back of Gage’s neck completely wrapped around the railing before whiplashing back. Just one deafeningly wet crunch before slamming into the floor of the catwalk. Together we just laid there, both motionless. I was left staring at the rushing water below. All I could see was me.

“...Gage?”

There was no response. I didn’t want to move. My soul begged to disappear right there but my reflection in the water refused it. His eyes were the color of an old television tuned to a dead channel. A color that chained one to reality. A noise that froze time. One where I was bleeding. Crimson slowly trickled down from my hairline like longer sickly talons till it wrapped around both my eyes. The endless leak that I hurried to stop… but I wasn’t bleeding. No part of me was caked in blood. If that wasn’t me, then maybe–

“Gage…?”

I finally looked up and shuddered at reality. Gage wasn’t there anymore. What was left of him stared at the endless concrete sky to watch his spirit slip away. I crawled over to his body slowly as if not to wake him.

I didn’t say anything but instead just looked at my friend. Getting to watch his feathers begin to soak with my tears… this was a trick. Gage, taken out by a fall? Are you fucking joking? I’ve watched him snap necks and be stabbed countless times. He’s immortal. The cowboy everyone fears when they hear the rattle of his spurs…

“G-Gage, get the fuck up,” My voice punched out as I struggled to get on my hooves. When he didn’t respond, I grabbed his armor collar and shook as I attempted to lift him: his face rolling to the side. “It’s not funny. Get the fuck up.”

Again, the dead refuse to speak. That was the moment where I didn't know if what was building inside was anger or sorrow. I couldn’t tell which one was winning the war inside, but if the reflection in the water was true… then the only loser was me…

“GET THE FUCK UP!”

*creeeeaaak*

The door that Gage was gonna go through was pushed open and Honey walked out. I looked over to her… I could only imagine, in her eyes, I looked like a caged animal. Her face twitched at the sight twisting into hate then in blur, she drew her revolver.

The first round hit my shoulder.

The second ripped through my side.

The third, fourth, and fifth broke something inside as they slammed into my chest.

The last kicked me over the catwalk’s rail and into the rushing waves below to unify with my bloody reflection. I begged to be choked by air as darkness at the edges ate away at my vision. It was hard to tell but I think Honey was holding Gage close trying to breathe life back into him.

My body convulsed and bubbles of air escaped my lungs. Life was always stealing from me. Gage… Hoarfrost… Amani… A thought crossed my mind as the world disappeared. The only thing that could help me understand what happened:

Maybe I’m in Hell.