He woke up in what felt like a puddle of his own blood. His eyes rolled open, but they weren't immediately functioning. The government had really dropped the ball on this one: by the time Shinbatsu got there, Riega had already lit the fuse. He did not even get a chance to investigate. As things blurred into focus, Shinbatsu tried lifting his head, but it came with a cracking sound somewhere in his skull and the horrible sensation of blood spilling out of his nostrils. His eyes rolled backward again, and his head dropped back into the pool of blood. If he had the mind to think, he would stop to wonder whether it was even his.
Down, down, down, and away! What the coukadoodle-do. Cut off that foot, there's no saving it! Chop, chop, chop, ouch, you're hurting me! Maybe if you bought me dinner first I'd be okay with you having your head down there. Wuw, what just happened?
He woke up. Somebody had resuscitated him. His eyes opened, and he could see a little this time. He sat up. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He was dead. Everything was so surreal, ethereal. He looked down at his hands and saw that they weren't there. No part of his body was there. He looked behind him. He'd left it behind. Was there pain? No, there wasn't. Everything seemed so fake, but he knew this was reality. Nothing he saw around him was fake. This was the truth.
Riega had blown himself up. Shinbatsu caught glimpses of this in the stretched black and white reality he was experiencing. ANBU and Mednin were going around trying to save people, to bring them back. He was one of the many they'd given up on. He hadn't been resuscitated. He did not have a body. He had nothing. He did not even understand how he was moving through space and time. Actually, was he? Maybe he wasn't. Sometimes time seemed to stop, or go backward. He got to see everything over and over again, and he got to see it from different angles, but it seemed like it was all superfluous, natural, the way things were. Shinbatsu blinked, but then he realized that it was a conscious maneuver that did not correlate to a bodily one. He didn't have eyes, or eyelids, and could not blink. He had nothing. He was nothing. Static in, static out, static in. He was even fluttering into and out of existence.
Well, his mission had been completed successfully, he figured. That was good at least. Who cared if he was dead? So was Riega. Wait, so was Riega! Shinbatsu looked around. If he was dead and floating around, were others? Then it occurred to him that he couldn't see himself, so he wouldn't be able to see them, either. Actually, he couldn't see anything. Hear anything? He tried speaking. His consciousness spoke, but there was no voice, and yet somehow, he knew. Yes, something was in the environment. Riega was communicating with him. He was scared. He was lost. He didn't understand! He wanted to die. Why was he not dead. If Shinbatsu had a body, he would have closed his eyes. The suicide bomber did not even understand that he had passed away as he intended to. He decided it was time for him to go somewhere else: soon, others would figure out how to communicate with their killer, and he did not want to be there when it happened. Riega would be in enough misery without him.
MFT
Down, down, down, and away! What the coukadoodle-do. Cut off that foot, there's no saving it! Chop, chop, chop, ouch, you're hurting me! Maybe if you bought me dinner first I'd be okay with you having your head down there. Wuw, what just happened?
He woke up. Somebody had resuscitated him. His eyes opened, and he could see a little this time. He sat up. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He was dead. Everything was so surreal, ethereal. He looked down at his hands and saw that they weren't there. No part of his body was there. He looked behind him. He'd left it behind. Was there pain? No, there wasn't. Everything seemed so fake, but he knew this was reality. Nothing he saw around him was fake. This was the truth.
Riega had blown himself up. Shinbatsu caught glimpses of this in the stretched black and white reality he was experiencing. ANBU and Mednin were going around trying to save people, to bring them back. He was one of the many they'd given up on. He hadn't been resuscitated. He did not have a body. He had nothing. He did not even understand how he was moving through space and time. Actually, was he? Maybe he wasn't. Sometimes time seemed to stop, or go backward. He got to see everything over and over again, and he got to see it from different angles, but it seemed like it was all superfluous, natural, the way things were. Shinbatsu blinked, but then he realized that it was a conscious maneuver that did not correlate to a bodily one. He didn't have eyes, or eyelids, and could not blink. He had nothing. He was nothing. Static in, static out, static in. He was even fluttering into and out of existence.
Well, his mission had been completed successfully, he figured. That was good at least. Who cared if he was dead? So was Riega. Wait, so was Riega! Shinbatsu looked around. If he was dead and floating around, were others? Then it occurred to him that he couldn't see himself, so he wouldn't be able to see them, either. Actually, he couldn't see anything. Hear anything? He tried speaking. His consciousness spoke, but there was no voice, and yet somehow, he knew. Yes, something was in the environment. Riega was communicating with him. He was scared. He was lost. He didn't understand! He wanted to die. Why was he not dead. If Shinbatsu had a body, he would have closed his eyes. The suicide bomber did not even understand that he had passed away as he intended to. He decided it was time for him to go somewhere else: soon, others would figure out how to communicate with their killer, and he did not want to be there when it happened. Riega would be in enough misery without him.
MFT