· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ A child. Of all people, a damn farmer's kid pursued him.

Kat... dropped by a single, small bullet. Straight to the abdomen. Black blood, black fate... Only to be figured out by the medic, his liver was poisoned. Rotting. A replaying image for Paul, already ruined by the fate the others fell into. Trying to push the thought away, it pushed back. Harder, he pushed for it to keep flooding. If only he had gotten here faster, would Kat still have been breathing...? Damn it all.

No one left. Not a single man he called brother stood beside him in the end. That's how fate works: maybe we do die alone. The light goes out, and it isn't the faces we love that we see last... It's the darkness we see.

”They rest in peace now," one man would state. Now that is Kat, the Kat he knew... Who eternally rests.

Paul would stand with no peace in his eyes. Nothing to wait for. He still has breath and bullets with a body that moves forward. He had to keep fighting until the 11th hour, of that 11th day, to the 11th month…

Maybe he would finally join the others, the ones he came to trust, the ones he would have wanted to rest beside. If it wasn't of honor, then it was of acceptance.