Work Text:
You’re frozen in place as the red eye looks at you, crimson light bathing you, the signal of certain death.
Your swords have been tossed away, robotic arm still attached to them, the armour that is your plastron is scratched and dented, ‘more than is healthy’ is the sad attempt at a joke that your mind supplies.
This is the end.
Is all you can think when the robot raises its hand.
At least death will be quick.
Except it isn’t, death isn’t quick because death isn’t what comes.
Purple. A quick flash of purple is all you see before the monster’s eye switches off, the light destroyed along with the glass protecting it.
Your brother says something to you, you wish you knew what it was, wish you heard what were his last words instead of a deafening silence as another bot grabs him. Wish you didn’t just stand there as your brother got ripped apart, limb from limb. Wish that the long coat he often wore hadn’t been ripped aswell. That he wasn’t so damn sentimental. That you’d never have to see what was in those stupidly large pockets of his.
Like confetti, hundreds of photographs adorn the air.
Like confetti, they are colourful, and bright, and eye catching.
Like confetti, they signify victory.
You move out of instinct, no not move, you run out of instinct, you run away out of instinct. And suddenly you are no longer a 38 year old war general, you are no longer a master and talented combattant, you are a scared kid running away from his problems, a scared kid trying to find safety and comfort despite that fact that that both of those are dead .
Days later, you will finally acknowledge the battle and leave it’s report still incomplete.
Days later, you will go to the torn up battleground and find the confetti burning.
Days later, you will pick up an old picture of your family among the rubble, completely unharmed despite the decades.
And years later, you will draw a picture of the key and hand it to your son.
And years later, that piece of confetti will be a celebration to you as you push him through the portal.
And years later, you will freeze again in front of the red eye that is the signal of certain death.
And death is what comes.
And purple, a calming purple will engulf you and welcome you home, and that little kid will have finally found that safety and comfort it searched for so frantically.