I awaken with a gasp. The air feels somewhat heavier this time.
The 5th time.
There’s nothing. Nothing but my own rushing thoughts.
With my eyes I see bleak darkness, but in my mind I see my memories come flooding. I have relived my life so many times over now, each time I take my last breath. They say it’s a comfort, to remind you of all the good things as the life drains from you. All I see are the deaths, both those people inflict upon me and those I’ve inflicted upon others. It makes these fleeting moments of life a trainwreck of anxiety.
But even I am not as anxious as Dr Death must be, his beloved Nurse Frightengale revealed to be another of the Mariachi clan. His very sense of being must be under threat. I wonder if he sees his life flash before his eyes too, trying to spot each moment he could have missed that might have alerted him to her imminent betrayal?
With my hands I feel cold, hard, wood, but in my mind I feel terrible emotions. I feel sadness for the things I was unable to achieve, I feel happiness for the things I did. I can’t help but have these feelings, even though I know I’ll be back again soon – they are a natural human instinct.
But even I must not feel as sad as Jackson Cade, who has been unable to achieve anything he has aimed for since Zeus opened up Olympus. Unable to keep his job, unable to save his police partner, unable to find his brother, and now unable to stop whatever it is that happened to his robotic friend TEC. Like me he reaches out and feels nothing but wood. Whereas for me it’s this infernal coffin, for Cade it’s the door slamming in his face at every turn.
With my ears I hear my own heart beating, slowing, but in my mind I hear the voices of those who made me who I am. I hear O’Toole’s last mocking moments before I blew his brains out. I hear Tombstone and Igor as they incinerate me. I hear each and every person I’ve beaten in that OSW ring.
But even I must hear more than Colt Ramsey, the reporter who lives in a place brimming with scoops but seems unable to break the right headlines. He too, despite spending so much time with TEC recently, did not see the explosion in the Red Light District coming If he can’t keep up to date with that, then why is he even here?
All of this runs through my head as the spots start to appear. The problem with immortality whilst you’re buried alive is that the first time’s the hardest. It’s a long hard slog until you draw in that last breath. The 5th time, though? I barely get a minute before my brain runs out of oxygen.
I am dying to live. I’m living to die.
But those three are more dead inside than I’ll ever be.