What Happens Afterward

i got a feeling there's too much at stake

i got a feeling there's too much at stake

I woke up with Shaw once again clinging to me. "...mmph, so warm..." she murmured in her sleep.

Not wanting to startle her awake, I laid where I was. "shim, you shouldnt have... all these snags? they're all for me?" She continued, clutching me tighter in her dreams, "its been great seeing you all again... what do you mean...? where did..."

She stirred awake slightly, suddenly leaning in. "Ｙｏｕ ｄｉｄｎ'ｔ ｈｅａｒ ａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｍｅ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｋｎｏｗ ｗｈａｔ'ｓ ｇｏｏｄ ｆｏｒ ｙａ," she snarled.

"Understood."

I got out of her grasp on my own, and she sat up, turning the volume on her headphones as far up as she could get them. "Shaw, do you have that set of binoculars?" Constantine asked.

He took them with much haste and stared out into the desert. "That seems to be the Press," he murmured, "if it's on the horizon then that means we don't have much more than a mile or two to go."

"Is that where--" I began.

"Linus is in there," Constantine announced firmly, answering my suspicions.

He handed them to me, and I peered out into the horizon. "I didn't actually need those, I have a pretty solid 60x optical zoom," he announced, "but you wouldn't believe me unless you could also see out there."

"Alright then," I said nonchalantly.

A large stone structure with metal braces all across it stood out in the distance, and large metal pipes shot out of its windows and roof, tracing a pattern in the sky, a part of now-nonexistent framework. Several Scriptwalkers and other, larger beasts roamed the outside. "There's so many," I whispered.

"Each one used to be someone who lived here," Constantine said, "every beast we've fought... was just some after, some human, some Lizi or robot just trying to survive..."

I felt even worse about this. I handed the binoculars back to Shaw and we ventured forth, a

Well, if it isn't some old friends! I thought you all looked familiar! How are you holding up? Are you suffering enough? Starving? Ready to resort to cannibalism already?

"ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ," Constantine whispered, "ᴵ'ᵐ ʰᵒᵖᶦⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵒⁿᵗ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ."

Is that Constantine? Oh, you were this close to being the second best character in afterward! All you had to do was malfunction and slit the girl's throat, and the story would have had a happy ending!

"Why is he so violent?" I whispered.

"ᴺᵒ ᶦᵈᵉᵃ. ᴾʳᵒᵇᵃᵇˡʸ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉⁿᵗ⁻ᵘᵖ ʳᵃᵍᵉ, ᶦᶠ ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵗ. "

Tell you what, you're a failed author--all other authors are, after all, they can't wield a tenth of the power I hold over this one story in their entire lives—so I'll take pity on you. Just let your batteries run out and one of your dear friends from over here will come bring you home. You'll fit right in once again!

"I'd rather just die the old-fashioned way, if that's any trouble," Constantine declared out loud.

Hmm, no, that won't do. That's not really... interesting, if you understand. People want carnage, that's why they go to the movies, that's why they played those computer games, that's why books just can't sell too well. All people do in books is talk about their feelings, and--