Damn… I knew the grenade wouldn’t do much, but he could have acted a bit hurt.

  I could see my breath and the inky abyss that now surrounded me; I must have fallen into the cloud.

  A mix of rain, ice, and wind was thrashing me.

  My surroundings were madness, but that’s nothing new.

  I bashed my earplugs into my ears.

  I didn’t need to hear that final splat.

  The sound of the thunder shook me like a crackhead jonesing.

  The cigarette was still lit, burning away as if it were sand falling in its glass, telling the time to my damnation.

  "Gory Gory What a Helluva Way to Die," I started to sing.

  You can’t do much while falling to your death, so singing Blood on the Risers felt appropriate.

  The free-falling had finally kicked me out of the clouds.

  Death was calling my name.

  Rain smashed against me.

  Lightning flashed like a lover's wedding dance.

  This display of nature reminded me that even after my meaningless end, time will continue to march.

  The sound of a bugle broke the heavens; a full retreat had been called.

  The beings below looked like ants.

  I think I saw the so-called heroes.

  Maybe.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Everything was so damn small and dark that it was impossible to see anything.

  “Planet Earth is blue.

  And there's nothing I can do.” David Bowie—Space Oddity

  As I reached closer to the ground, I swore I could see Amaterasu.

  The goddess who revived me.

  I felt I had to say something to her, to apologize for wasting my second chance.

  A darkness was creeping in.

  My left side had already been deep into an abyss.

  The roaring of the motorcycle engine broke through the battlefield.

  Man was on the return, and the demons were cheering for their victory.

  And then there was Miyamoto.

  He was driving that bike like a damn madman.

  What a clusterfuck.

  Hell was running loose.

  And death at my throat.

  Miyamoto drew his katana out, cutting down anything that was in his way.

  “V!” His yell felt like a 45-70 to the fucking chest.

  This is why I never wanted to get close to people.

  I’d hate it if people would grieve over this old piece of shit.

  Miyamoto’s blade was showered in a light.

  The drop slowed down as if hell itself had rejected me.

  Seems like Satan knew I would just put a .45 between his eyes if I ever got down there.

  The bike grew nearer, and I continued to slow.

  “V, I’m almost there.”

  “You know why I slowed down?”

  “Yeah, I did it. I used wind magic to slow you down.”

  Magic fucking a.

  Always forgetting about it somehow.

  Miyamoto reached his arm out, and I grabbed on.

  “How did you know that was me falling?”

  “Who else would be kicked out of the heavens to fall into the pits of hell?”

  “Ha.”

  I sat down on the back of the bike, and everything hit at once.

  I felt like a punching bag at the end of the day.

  I was covered in blood, sweat, and rain.

  The cigarettes were still lit.

  But something felt wrong.

  There was a sharp pain on the left side of my face, and my left eye was staring into the abyss.

  I touched my face; the left side was caked in blood.

  I closed my eyes, but darkness still stood strong on the left.

  I removed my sunglasses and stared into the reflection of the sunglasses’ lenses.

  fuck.

  “Miyamoto…

  My left eye...

  It's gone.

  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”

  What a big fucking joke… All just some fucking joke.

  They said an eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.

  Well, I don’t need the fucking world; I just needed one man’s head.