On a String

Chapter 18

'Til I'm burning on the inside.
If I go I can only hope,
That I make it to the other side.
If you want to get out alive,
oh, run for your life.
If you want to get out alive,
oh, run for..."
'Get Out Alive'by Three Day's Grace

Like a drowning person letting go of their last breath, Cole's ability to process conscious thought disappeared from the moment his fingers tightened around the triggers.

Some tiny voice from a distant corner of his mind shouted that it was important to keep focused and start planning. But defeated by repression, adrenaline and an un-acknowledgeable feeling of apprehension, he didn't have the strength to listen to it.

The outcome of this fight probably didn't depend on his ability to think, anyway. It was just too one-sided. Thinking would.... slow him down?

An unusual idea- certainly not one he was accustomed to.

But after all, a drowning man's last breath only prolongs the inevitable.

For the first time that night, as his bullets danced from the guns' barrels, he believed he felt nothing. No fear, no sorrow- not even the cold. The pale moon and cruel lighting-once so dark and dramatic- were unimportant now. This was not the backyard of a dead person. There were no ghosts here. This was a fight; this was what he'd been trained for.

It was also a fight he was losing.

The sound of bullets cutting through the air filled the small clearing; heavy and cruel- ringing of death. Death's bells. But the sound was only coming from his weapons. He realised then, with shock, that The Puppeteers were not returning fire. They had simply darted between the shadows and behind the trees- out of his line of fire. Watching, waiting.

Playing with him. Holding all the cards.

Closing in... getting ready to take him out...

Some sort of wild desperation took over and his bullets once more blurred between (and into) the trees. Only this time, he knew it was hopeless. He'd taken on more than he could manage here. The only thing left to do was keep firing and pray.

But no words would come to his mind. So he just watched the silver shards spray through the moonlight.

They glinted, as if in farewell.

Silver rain.

(Please wash it all away)

...Silver tears.

Dimly, he wondered if Kai had ever felt like this. This desperation- this raw desire to survive (live again) taking over every thought process. Controlling him. Making him pull the triggers even though his fingers already ached.

Was this the feeling of a man about to die?

How much longer did he actually have?

(I'm ready to let go...)

He'd told himself he was prepared for this.

("LIAR!")

Told himself it was the right thing to do.

("Liar! You're a liar!")

Told himself that ninja never quit-

("You sound nothing like yourself!")

Told himself to stand his ground.

("Liar!")

But he'd been so wrong. Perhaps Kai should've been yelling at him instead of the ghost. The red ninja could've used the exact same words and tone, and he would've been just as right.