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And so I die
WTF?
samuelleofisher wrote in bullet_heaven

 

He had stopped fighting...

The bullet that had pierced right through his abdomen, the bullet that he had always managed to dodge had come in and out of his body, leaving a bloody mess behind the wall. He smiled through the horrible pain that now consumed him. Getting a bullet through the stomach wasn’t a pleasant death. He knew. He had seen it before, but never felt it.

What the hell... God knows he was old. Perhaps too old for this. It was better like this. In truth, he never thought he would die any other way, although he was allowed to have fantasies about it. While on the field, he had thought about how it would’ve been like to just die comfortably on his bed while sleeping. The thought seemed ridiculous to him. It was too peaceful for a man of violence, a man of action, a military man. Since he had entered the Army first in order to pay for his studies, he had prepared himself for the day that he would die on the field.

He could hear Grim at the other end, the panic on her voice increasing whenever he wouldn’t reply for a long time. She knew he was dying, and regretted the day that she asked him to come back to the NSA. He was nearly in sixties by now. She was nearly on her fifties, yet her voice hadn´t changed as much. He was sure going to miss that voice. He was going to miss her hands...

 It hurt him to hear her sobbing, asking him to stay alive. He knew he could try, but no matter much he could try, the escape artist could not escape this time. The only thing he could do, was to calm her down, sometimes with jokes that she didn´t appreciate.

But it was better this way. Better him than her.

“I´m sorry I didn´t tell you before... I-I...”

“Sam...”, she cut him off at the other end of the line. It was as if she knew he was going to say something she was going to regret. “ I-I know...”

He smiled a little, not quite happy with himself. “Steak... d-dinner? I-I´ll p...”

“Please...” He was already talking things that made no sense, and she was already crying.

The light at the end of the tunnel came to him after a long while of pain, and the pain itself left his body, being replaced by the cold of his hands. He figured how it must´ve looked through thermal: his body going blue. A song popped into his head as his sense of humor came back to him to calm his fears again, that nineties song about ´being blue´ that Sarah liked and he never understood.

“Sarah...”

His expression changed. The smile disappeared. Oh he was going to miss her above all things. But things were in order. No parents should have to bury their kids, much less having to do that twice.

But it was better this way. Better him than her. 

Whatever and whatnot, Sam knew he was going to see Grim and Sarah again... hopefully...

“God... forgive me...” After all, everyone ended up praying at that last moment, and doing that prevented him from panicking. It sure helped, and he found himself closing his eyes and letting go. 

--------------------------------

A breeze hit his face as he rested on his back. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright sun hitting his face, yet not burning him. It felt incredibly good, and for some reason, he felt much better. His hands tried to get a hold on something, but found nothing but sand, wet sand in fact. He touched his abdomen, and found to his surprise that he was wearing the short sleeved, knee-long, diver suit he liked to wear whenever he was on vacation and diving with his daughter. 

Sam sat up quickly, inspecting the injury again and looked around him somewhat paranoid, yet a sense of peace overwhelmed him and calmed him as he gazed at the forever crystalline sea in front of him. This seemed surreal. The sea itself was incredible. He could overlook some island, and the place met no end.

“The Bahamas... 1983...” One of few vacations. He recognized the place, but even like that, it looked better than it had ever looked. Way too good.

 


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"Oh, is that what this place is, then?" Said Ghost, looking very out of place in his outfit, and curious as to how he'd apparently ended up in someone else's heaven. All he'd done was go for a walk... Which meant that their spaces had finite borders. Malleable, but finite. There was a bit of snow from his own heaven on his shoulder for a minute, until it melted.

Not trying to kill him... That means he likes you, LOL.

Fisher spun as quickly as he could, searching for his Five-SeveN anywhere near him. He only found a diving mask by his side. However, he stepped closer. This man was armed, and he wasn´t taking any chances. Whatever had happened to him, maybe this man knew.

Using his memories, he found his diver knife on the back of his waist and took quick strides towards the man, attempting to separate the riffle from the man with his free hand while his right took the chance of quickly removing the knife from its sheath at the same time. Next he would try the hit of his knife against the man's chest, or chin... whichever. He didn´t him dead... yet.

I'm torn between awww and OAO haha

Holy hell this guy was quick! Ghost bet that this man was trained, and this was his heaven. If so, it made him feel slightly better about his embarrassing state. He tilted his head to look at his poor ACR sitting alone on the sand, feeling rather empty without it. He sighed and raised his hands into the air, looking Sam in the eyes. "Look, it was an accident. If you'd rather be alone on your island, I'll just walk back to my piece of heaven. No need to do anything crazy."

The hilt of the diving knife struck the man´s chest once pushing him back as Sam pressed on towards him, closing the distance. He grabbed the man´s right wrist into some awkward lock, one that placed his thumb over a certain nerve he knew could provoke pain to his target whenever he wanted to. The fine blade of the knife rested under the masked man´s throat easily, too easy.

Fisher didn´t look away from his face, and although the man was masked, his eyes gave the impression of him being able to look through.

Then ´it´ spoke, for targets had no value to Fisher´s eyes. It never did. If he allowed himself to put value on each person he´d killed... It allowed him to keep himself sane for the awful moments.

"Heaven?" More likely... "Piece of heaven?" He squinted his eyes. "LSD? What did your people do to me? Are you another prisoner?" Those questions were the obvious ones to ask for a man that though he had been taken prisoner by the terrorists he was hunting down. Had he actually survived?

"I'm not talking about drugs, I'm talking about where we are. We've literally died and gone to heaven." Ghost narrowed his eyes at this man, not that he could see that. Jeez, was this guy ever out of it. "I'm not a prisoner, and I doubt Task Force 141 has any reason to do anything to you, good sir." The biting tone in his voice made it explicitly clear that he was growing tired of this.

For a moment, Sam denied to believe any of it, but as if someone or something had read his thoughts, something else happened. He was back at Russia, mission at hand, bleeding his guts out on the cold floor and in some terrible pain. His eyes darted from here to there for a second there and he was staring at the masked man once more.

Fisher slowly retrieved the knife, his eyes still depicting confusion as he rubbed the spot on his belly where the mortal wound had been once. He knew it wasn't there, but his finger continued to check for it. He looked down at the sand, at the sea. There was something missing. He walked towards the water and stared long and hard at the islands, and the boat that seemed to be his...

"She has to be here..."

Then he jumped towards the water and started swimming towards it kicking with all his strength.

I really need some more icons. >_< Currently searching for an unmasked PB for him...

"Where are you going?" Ghost called after him, perplexed. Then he realized- "Why do I care? Man just held me at knife-point." He shrugged and picked up his ACR, putting it back over his shoulder. He then sat down in the sand, making himself comfortable by pulling off his balaclava as he watched the strange man swim for... whatever it was he was swimming for. "Now all I need is a pint and I'll be good for a few hours."

Not a minutes passed before the man had reached the boat. At a distance, he would seem to be pacing, as if he had lost something and was trying to desperately looking for it. Then came the calls that were never replied. "Regan!", he would call out to the sea even, but when it came clear that she was nowhere to be found for now, he stood by the boat, staring at the water, shook his head, looked back to Ghost with a threatening glare and kicked off to swim back to the other man.

He was back to the beach in a blink of an eye, and the glare was still there. He took a few threatening steps towards Ghost, ignoring that the man was armed. "Where is she? What is this?!"

The other man didn't seemed to mind the gun at all. Not that it was any good anyway- he'd tried shooting it in various places, but no matter if it was his heaven or others', it didn't seem to work. Maybe it was just jammed or... something. "Where is who?" Ghost said. "And this place is exactly what I said it was. Heaven. I have no reason to lie to you, and I honestly don't know any more than anyone else here."

Sam just stopped, a horrible thought coming to his mind. "She can't be in Hell..." The thought was dismissed as quickly as it had gotten to him, but the apparent pain it had caused was still visible. He looked at nothing, at the endless beach to his side and let a desperate sigh. “Have you ever read the Divine Comedy? Why was it called a comedy? This isn’t funny...” The meaning behind those words was clear enough for anyone who knew Dante, and the desperation could be heard as the man stammered with the words to say and fought to recover his composure.

Given the nature of the place, though, he'll never find the real Regan :(

"Can't find someone you love, huh? Wife? Girlfriend?" Ghost nodded solemnly, unsure if he should comfort the other man, or how to even go about doing so. "If she's dead, you should find her eventually... may take a while though. It's a big place."

Uh-Huh, but maybe something that makes him happy enough lol

Fisher's pained expression turned into one of outrage. He glared at Ghost, this side of him being the one that tried pushing people away. "I don't need your pity, or your compassion." He looked away, suddenly dropping something that apprently had made his left arm seem heavier: a gym bag. "These are all I need."

If Ghost had a good eye, he would've noticed the barrel of a riffle carefuly sneaking out of the opening.

With a frown, Sam knelt close to the bag and took the image of the suit that had betrayed him back when he was alive. His finger dug in deep through the bullet wound it held, probably caused by the memory itself that he still had and by his attachement with this suit that he wasn't even sure if it worked. He quickly pulled it on himself, way too quick. Then he looked at Ghost as he took a tactical vest and readied himself with the rest of his weapons.

His face had changed...

"Blue eyes the color of deep water, brown hair... perfect smile... You can't miss her. Her name is Regan." He wasn't asking for Ghost to let him know if he ever saw her, but there was a nearly begging tone to his words complemented by the sudden look on his face. He looked away. "Who wants to live forever like this?" and with those words he started walking, his steps heavy but determined in the search for his 'Beatrice'.

Ghost just watched him, arms folded, wondering how much of the man's mental capabilities he'd retained into the afterlife... or if he really was that stricken with grief and longing. Either way, he was one to look out for; skilled and unpredictable, but not in his right mind.

Even if the laws of this place worked against violence, that was still a dangerous combination.

"I'm beginning to wonder, myself," Ghost quietly replied. He would keep an eye out for this Regan, but part of him hoped he'd never see the strange man again.

*spazz and arm flailing with joy!!*

Snake trudges through the sand and mutters from the lack of cold. "Hrrn...I prefer the snow.." Then Snake looks up at a unfamiliar person,He decides to go up to Sam to give him the usual welcome. "Hey....Are you a newcomer?"

Once up on his feet, Sam looked away from the sea and towards the man asking him the question. He raised an eyebrow. This guy looked like some kind of messed up image of MacGyver, mullet and all. Of course, to his eyes, MacGyver was the mullet, no-one else could. He shook his head and frowned again, keeping his thoughts to himself. He noticed the man´s clear English and noted that he was American. He kind of felt better about that. No need to strain to his Russian or one of his Chinese dialects.

“I´ve been here before... or not...”, but he couldn´t hide his confusion. “Are you a prisoner too?”

He shake his head in response. "Let's just say it's not a bad prison. You're in a place called Heaven." Snake fiddles around with a lighter from a bad habit. He's not going to stop smoking even in death.

Fisher just gave him a long incredulous stare. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "So you are MacGyver?" He asked a bit of a smirk on his face. "What I mean is... This is Heaven... Heaven...?"

He looked back at the sea and shook his head. He loved the sea, that was true, but he decided to test this place. If this was his Heaven, he guessed it would adapt to make Heaven however he liked. "So where's the home theater with surround sound and LCD television set? Where's the...?"

He stopped talking all the sudden as he spun around. A cabin, much like his farm house in Germantown stood there. "That... That wasn't there before..."

A sudden sharp pain on his abdomen reminded him. He let out a sigh and looked around in confusion, as if expecting something or someone to walk through the door. "The Bahamas... 1983." He gave Snake an accusing glare. "Tell me, Mr. Archangel, if this is Heaven, where is she?"

He looks around at the changed view."Hrrn..not a bad place." When Sam mention about his daughter,well he has no clue. "Who are you talking about?"

"Dark brown hair, stunning blue eyes, fair skin and a smile that would knock any man out." He smiled a little. "I mean, if this is heaven, isn't she supposed to be around?"

It was now that he caught Snake's confused stare. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I... Nevermind." He turned to look at the man completely and offered him a hand. "Sam Fisher. Apparently killed in the line of duty after so many years of being able to avoid death. Pathetic..."

So I was watching the second movie today, and was like "must play!" XD

"Guess I'm taking that vacation after all," Callahan said, surveying the tropical area around him, looking as confused as he allowed leak past his stony exterior. He'd just been in a gunfight with those punks at the restaurant, and then found himself here... strange. He didn't yet know he was dead and in Heaven, and also had no idea that in the worlds most of the people here were from, he was a popular movie character. He'd find these things out soon enough.

Hahah lol Awesome movies

From his spot on the sand, Fisher gave the man one glace, then another, his eyes growing wide before he smiled and looked away shaking his head. "Yeah... I'm hallucinating... Why couldn't it be Mary Steenburgen, or Angelina Jolie?" He asked himself, before he gave the walking Hollywood character another incredulous look

"You're hallucinating? I was in a damn coffee shop, and now I'm on the beach, with you lookin' at me like I got three heads," he said, looking down at his black coffee before taking a sip. It's way overloaded with sugar, and the overwhelming sweetness causes him to involuntarily make a face.

And that's when he remembered what happened. The sugar was the waitress's cry for help; he always took it straight and she knew that. He had come back to help her, and then one of those punks... He looks down, studying his painfully 70's dress, and finds two bullet holes right over his heart in his tweed blazer. "Huh. Guess he shot first."

Fisher slowly stood up the smirk widening into a grin at not being able to believe his eyes. He placed his hands on his waist and shook his head. “Too sweet?” Of course he knew the character. He just didn’t know how to react to this. “Doesn’t matter what your boss says. You’re on the right route... uh... were...” He looked at the bullet holes in confusion before his eyes searched for something else.

He smiled a little, as much as Sam Fisher could, as he settled his eyes on something. “Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum revolver. Ain’t it beautiful?”

"Gee, thanks," Callahan says dryly, but he does mean it. It's rare to find people that think his way... at least during his time. "Look where it got me."

He sighed, and patted the gun lovingly. "That it is. It's served me well."

Sam shrugged. "Better to die doing something than waiting for death to happen." Then he looked at the gun again and smiled a little, remembering his own toys.

He offered the man a hand, not giving him any explanations of how he was a famous Hollywood character in his world, or how did he knew about that man's 'ways'. He was already confused enough. "Sam Fisher", he introduced himself already waiting for the predictable name that he simply wanted to hear from the man himself.

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