Taking off his flight suit and hanging it on the wall, he collapsed on his bed, as the only thing in
his mind was the explosion of the Chimaera and the screams of the pilot right before the ship
faded from scanners.
Why was he doing this anyways? It was a question even he himself didn't have an answer for.
All he knew was he did it because he had nothing else to do, but after you lose your reason,
keep doing the same thing won't make sense anymore. After you realize the goal you had for
anything you did is no more ' Was no more from the very beginning ' you won't have a reason
to keep doing the same things anymore.
He was staring at the ceiling, wide awake, and wished he could fall sleep and never wake up again.
Hoping a new day would never begin, hoping the world would end right away so he doesn't have to
do it himself'¦ Because he knew he didn't have the courage to end his world himself.
Closing his eyes, he tried to fall sleep, but failed as always. Reaching down and grabbing the bottle
of sleeping pills from the floor next to his bed, he took two pills and rolled to his side and closed his
eyes, remembering how many people had he killed.
Space was supposed to be a dangerous place, but not a cruel one, he thought to himself, chuckling
darkly to the thought.
Leaning toward the wall, he threw another glance at the computer on the other end of the room.
The computer which once was his only ray of hope, his only opening to the future. Whether when
he sat behind it all day, hoping to receive a message ' Any message ' from her, or every time he
submitted guncams of his victims' ships exploding, not because of the money, but only to be noticed
by her. Unaware of the sad fact that she ' it, didn't even have access to the channel he submitted
the guncams on, or even if had, didn't care.
He stared at the turned off screen, wondering how many unread messages, if any, he had. The truth
was, he didn't care anymore, as he was not afraid of being ignored again. Even though he tried to
pretend he was not afraid of it, but he was, totally unwantedly, but now through the last moments
of his incompetent life, he had no reason to care anymore. Even if they took his Katana away,
because even if he wanted he could not use it anymore.
Even though the last moments of his life, regret was the one thing he felt as clear as ever, paired with
bitter taste of loneliness ' The other thing he was not afraid of anymore, which despite pretending to
not care about it at all, he actually was afraid of it his whole life. Although anything he did and felt was
right, in the end turned out to be yet another reason for his loneliness, another cause for his regret.
It was never any easier for him… Easier to think about the end. Easier to think about it, to see
it in front of him, laying on his desk. With blaze of life running on its sharp edge, attracting him
closer and closer to it, to the end, with passing of every second of every minute.
It was never any easier for him to forget the past, to leave it behind and don’t care about it anymore.
Not to let anything bother him anymore at all. To totally forget the meaning of care, to totally leave
his past behind for the first time ever.
It was his first time ever he could actually think about nothing, as it was the first time in his life that
he was actually planning something. Planning the very last step of his life, but he knew he still had
a few steps, a few days left of his incompetent life.
And just like always, when he wanted the time to pass quicker, he was condemned to witness the
passing of every second of every minute, condemned to suffer from existing, especially now that
he had the very end in front of him. Now that he could see the blaze of his death in front of him,
staring right back.
It was never any easier for him… Easier to think about the end. Easier to think about it, to see it
in front of him, laying on his desk. With blaze of life running on its sharp edge, attracting him
closer and closer to it, to the end, with passing of every second of every minute.
Reclining on his chair numbly, with a bottle of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, his
mind was elsewhere if not nowhere. thoughts unfocused, his body numb, his fingertips sore and
his throat dry. His body calm, gently moving the bottle to his lips and drinking slowly, but his
mind'¦ Much like an ocean in storm, rushing through years of memories.
His mind was cycling through all his memories, to unwantedly pause on the very few memories
he had of her. To make him remember his each and every step which brought him where he
was. It was the first time in his whole life that he was starting to doubt, that maybe, only
maybe she wasn't the one for him. Maybe, there was someone else
out there who was really his.
But he knew one thing, that even if there was one out there for him, he couldn't love her how
she deserved ' After all he had done. Because he knew, if there actually was someone out
there for him, she deserved to be a choice, not a mere replacement.
For the first time ever, he was starting to think maybe she was never as good as he had thought
her to be, that maybe all he thought her to be were nothing but his imaginations. Maybe he didn't
know her at all, and maybe if he had known her more, known the real her more, he would've even
disliked her. Maybe he would've realized she's not the one for him, only if he had enough time to
get to know the real her.
But one thing he knew with no doubt, was his time had run out.
Sitting on the floor, with his back toward the wall and a bottle of wine on the floor between his legs,
he was holding the cigarette with his teeth and looking up at his desk filled with the huge pile of ash
left from his smokes during past months.
He knew he wasn't lazy, his room was just like that because he didn't care about it enough to keep it
clean anymore, especially during the past few months. As he didn't use the room for anything other
than smoking, drinking and sleeping, and no one but him entered it.
His surrounding was always a reflecting of his inside, even though many didn't notice it. It was just
that he felt more comfortable if what he saw around him was alike how he felt inside, and he never
tried to change his surrounding to change his mood. It was just how he was.
That was why he always had arguments with his mother about his room when he still had a place to
call home back in Gallia. His room, back in the day, was much like the room he was sitting in, because
no one but himself entered it. Because even back then, his privacy was limited to one room.
Drinking the last drops of wine from the bottle, he put it on the floor and rolled it to a corner, then
pushed himself off the floor and walked to the chair on the other end of the room and as he leaned
back, he threw another glass at the clock before closing his eyes and trying to fall sleep ' 5:13 AM.
The time didn't matter for him anyways,because he was not going on an early hunt tomorrow'¦ Actually,
he was not going on a hunt at all.
That was the only way he could sleep – Leaning back on his chair. That was the only way he could
sleep for a few hours straight without waking up in middle of a nightmare, because that way, he did
not dream at all.
His bed, his once-safe-haven, was now his haunting ground. Was the one place in his ‘privacy’ he
was trying to escape from, one of the many realities he was afraid to face, and even on his chair,
he could not escape comfortably. It just gave his body the rest his mind needed much more.
Opening his eyes and looking at the clock again, he pushed himself off the chair and layed on the
floor even though the hard floor was hurting his shoulder. Yet, he could not sleep even though it
was more than thirty hours since he had last slept.
He was too tired to even keep his eyes open, but still forced himself up and moved to his corner
again, picking up a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes on the way. Soon as he collapsed on
the floor, he opened the bottle and lit up a cigarette. Even though his throat was burning, he
kept on smoking and drinking.
“Another sleepless night… Last one.” – He whispered to himself.
Leaning towards the wall, he threw another glance across the room, to the bed which once was his
safe haven, but now... Nothing but the deathbed of his sufferings. He pulled out his knife, dazzled by
its sharp glow, as it was one of the most beautiful things he had even seen in his whole life. Pulling
it on his wrist, all he could feel was pain, but even with that, he enjoyed it from depths of his existence.
"I gave up..." He started writing on the wall in his own blood. "Not because
I failed... Just because I never finished anything I ever started." And with a pause, staring at the words that burned through his brain, he wrote the
last line, "And this is me... in the last seconds of my incompetent life... being
honest with myself for the first time..."
'What a touching suicide note...' He thought to himself as his vision started getting blurry and his mind
drifted off to the memories he had... The memories once forgotten, but now, the only reason to make
him regret what he had just done.
And this... was his last mistake, last surrender...
Looking at the monitor and thinking what to write, he started going through the guncams he had taken
from the Zoner ships and depots exploding and the couple of antimatter hitting the Freeport.
He already knew he wanted to send out a video transmission, but he wanted it to be something special,
something offensive enough, which was shy he had decided to prepare a text beforehand and rehearse
it a few times before recording the actual transmission.
Sitting there for half an hour, looking at the guncams, while reviewing different types of greetings in his
mind, trying to find the most suitable one, he finally got up, ‘Nah, I need more wine first.’ Thinking to
himself as he walked to the box on the other end of the room and took out two bottles of wine, walking
back to the desk.
“So…” He told himself as he reclined, opening a bottle of wine and starting to drink, “So…” he repeated
himself as he finally reached out for the keyboard and started to type. He always had latest update of
the voice input softwares installed on his computer but whenever he wanted to write something
important, he preferred to type it down.
After he was done with the text, he read through it and after editing it a couple of times, he got up with
a smirk and walked to the box to get another bottle of wine. Then reclining on the chair again, he
opened his mailbox with a chuckle and tapped on the record button.
Getting up after sending the message, he put on his flight suit again, leaving his room and taking
the elevator to the hangars to get on his Roc and have another spin before going to bed.
After undocking, he took the route to Baffin to see the Zoners reaction, but as he jumped and flew
out of the cloud, just to turn down the engines and wait there to see if anyone noticed him, no one
paid him the slightest of attention because to them, he was just another Freelancer in the high
security yet open for traffic system of Baffin.
'News are too slow to go around, gah'¦'
He muttered to himself as he kicked the engines back to life, 'IMG day it is then..!' thinking to himself
as he set the autopilot to Tau-29 jumphole.
Once in Tau-23, he flew straight to the mining sites to find an unarmored CD Mafic and a Hegemon
mining there. Ignoring the Mafic who obviously was just a rookie, he stopped right in front of the
Hegemon, saying
'You know, I don't like it when Hegemons don't run when -I- pop on the scanners.'
And then continued with a smirk, 'But I'll give you one chance'¦ Give me one good
reason why didn't you run or this Mafic dies!'
And as soon as he was finished, the Mafic started cruise engines without a word but predictably
enough, got disrupted by the Freelancer.
'Try that one more time and it'll be an antimatter you'll get up your ass instead of
a CD, capiche?' Said the freelancer, then turned to the Hegemon and continued,
'I'm waiting'¦ Don't keep me waiting though, cause I'm not known for my patience.'
The Hegemon captain, obviously caught off guard, swallowed loudly and said in a shaking voice,
'Err'¦ My good sir, please! I didn't notice you coming'¦ I mean, I did, but I thought
you're friendly'¦ Otherwise I would've ran'¦'
The freelancer, reclining with a smirk, chuckled and said in a cold voice,
'Oh I -am- friendly'¦ Which is exactly why I'm gonna point out, 'good sir',
that nasty things might happen if you try to assume I'm not!'
And before neither the Hegemon captain nor the Mafic pilot could react, a load of antimatter
had hit the Mafic hull and the pod was floating in space.
Flying through the outskirt of Tohoku system, he stared at the empty nothingness in front of him. He
felt lonelier than ever, a loneliness he felt that made him feel emptier than ever. He had felt lonely for
a long time even before that, but till then the loneliness always came with a feeling of hope to push him
forward, but this time was the point which he had lost all his hope.
There was nothing that mattered to him anymore, nothing that pushed him forward, nothing that gave
him even the slightest of hope. Not even the ship he flew, or the contracts he had to fulfill. The contract
which was probably one of the most important tasks, if not -the- most important one the chrysanthemums
have given him, but if he actually killed the leader of Kiretsu, what would it make him look like but a tool
for the chrysanthemums? Doing something even them themselves didn’t have the courage to… How would
it make him look like anything but a slave to the hands of the Golden C.?
Reaching his usual spot, far off the patrol routes in the system, he turned the Katana around, killing the
engines as he tried to resist the crushing weight of months of memories rushing into his brain every time
he went there. One thing he couldn’t remember was why he even went there in the first place. But in the
last three days, it was where he had spent most of his time, where he had even slept in the cockpit of his
Katana… With his usual nightmares.
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