“Suicide is painless.

  It brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it if I please.

  And you can do the same thing if you please.”

  Suicide Is Painless/Theme from M*A*S*H---By Johnny Mandel

  I was forced back to reality by my own mind.

  The two men look at me with abject horror.

  They’d never seen a man truly destroy his liver in one sitting.

  “Ok… cough it up.”

  “Yeah… Yeah, sure.”

  The bartender rummaged under the desk and pulled out the letter.

  “The drums of the end draw near.

  As this battle's end is nigh.

  The last location

  Is where the damned burn

  And angels weep.”

  I have a good relationship with the damned, being one myself. So it's damn easy for us to figure it out.

  Almost too easy.

  “Where this person must be talking about a church. The imagery of angels and the damned,” Akuma said.

  “So… we just have to find a church in this godless town. Shouldn’t be too hard. But I need, like, five to ten minutes to be able to move upright.”

  “The message says you have till the strike of dawn.” The bartender cue in.

  I check my pocket watch. It's five thirty, and the sunrise is at six o'clock.

  Where did all the time go?

  Akuma asked, “Where is the closest church?”

  “It's a twenty-minute walk,” the bartender replied.

  “Shit!”

  I pulled my corpse from the barstool, and we went to the door.

  The two of us ran through the streets once more.

  The dark sky was slowly bringing back color to this black and white world.

  Thirty minutes remained.

  Will we make it?

  Being piss-drunk makes everything harder, including running at full speed to get to a goddamn church.

  I felt like puking, and I couldn’t keep anything straight. The world was spinning, and it felt like I was running in place.

  The sound of my boots hitting the ground grew louder and louder.

  The ringing of the church felt like cannons in a bloody battle.

  The town streets were like damn wind tunnels, trying to freeze my ass off. The booze in my gut was the only thing that kept the fire going. But it sure as shit kept me sick too. I had to jump over the hobos and the piles of garbage.

  The church loomed ahead, a watchtower over the masses.

  Just like any religion, the church seemed to be placed on the hill to represent how great the saints are and how awful the sinners are.

  There was enough alcohol in my blood to kill an adult elephant.

  My blood was pumping, and I was ready.

  15 pounds of booze!

  I should be dead fifty times over; god forbid reality just kills me already.

  We stood in front of the church and stared at the door, unsure whether this was reality.

  And then the two of us busted open the doors.

  The church air was stale—dead silent.

  “We’re here, you rat bastard. Now come out!” I yelled.

  A light hit the front of the room, revealing a man dressed in all black with a top hat and a cane. I pull my gun and put my finger on the trigger.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you. You both almost won; why ruin it all now?”

  I decided to put my gun back. I may have been a damn fool for doing it, but I died once before. And too bloody drunk to get a good shot.

  “Very good, let us all witness the end.”

  Another light revealed a girl in her twenties.

  Once a corpse.

  Now alive.

  I went ice cold, and I realized I had one more shot.

  This time, I won’t let her slide through my fingers; I will save her.

  The girl looked at us; she seemed happy to see us.

  “Gentlemen!

  Gentlemen.

  You will face the greatest challenge of man, the heaviest thing any man can ever dare to carry.

  The truth.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  But the lights blind us from the truth, so we must dump you into darkness to display reality at its finest.”

  The church was plunged into darkness.

  “Mr. V, the last act of this play is all yours.”

  A door creaks open.

  “You will have to witness and live through the evil of all men at all times. To understand what I will tell you.”

  “If this will save the girl, then I don’t give a damn.”

  “Yes, but you will never be able to save yourself from damnation after this.”

  “It doesn’t matter; I’m already damned.

  So, let's finish this.”

  The door opened and I walked in…

  There was a chair sitting in the middle of the room.

  The chair was like any other, and so was the room, but this room would reveal the reality of man's most brutal nature.

  But does darkness truly display the truth and light blind us from it, or do both reveal only half of the story, and we can only combine them?

  I sat down, and a film started up.

  From the outside of the room, Akuma and the man in a top hat stood across from each other.

  “Mr. V may call himself the Devil, but you truly are.”

  “Who are you, and how the hell do you know who I am?”

  “Oh, me, I’m just a humble mad god, but I’ve never been a ruler.”

  “I may be a king, but I don’t know how that’s relevant.”

  “But you are no normal king.

  You are the king of Hell.

  The ruler of demons, the

  Sworn enemy of humanity, or at least this land.

  The only reason you are here is to prepare for an invasion. Those papers in your pocket say it all.”

  Akuma looked down at his notepad that was hanging out of his jacket.

  “I have to ask,

  I have to ask,

  I just have to ask…

  Why is the king of all demons helping a man find a girl that neither of them knows anything about?”

  “Simple. I never cared about the girl.

  I was always out to save my country.

  Have you ever felt what starving to death feels like?

  My people are dying en masse.

  Goddamn it!

  I don’t have anything to feed my people, while this country’s elite are drowning in it.

  No matter what, I’m fucked.

  At least this way, I go down fighting for my people.

  So ask why help the woman… I was learning more about this land.

  In short, I wanted to learn the TRUTH!”

  “If that's all you want, then it's all you get.

  This rhapsody will only end in ruin due to one man's tune.

  The dead will pile up.

  The people will fall.

  And you will be damned before the curtains are drawn.

  That is the truth.”

  “Why did you give me the truth so easily but make V do a challenge?”

  “He's after your title. He's trying to become the Devil—The King of Hell. He needs to get ready. For the greatest final act of any tale.”

  “Well, he can have it.

  I never wanted this damned life.”

  “Well, we can’t always get what we want.”

  “How long is he going to be in there?”

  “It only takes a few minutes for us, but it would feel like a millennium for him. He is watching all the evil of mankind.”

  “I’m leaving before V gets out.”

  The man who calls himself the mad god creates a glass of beer in his left hand.

  “Well, here’s to Demon Lord; give me a good show.”

  Akuma left the church.

  He looked back, wondering what life would have been if he were just a man.

  “Could we have been comrades?”

  He left V… left me… whatever behind and walked towards the war.

  Why help a sworn enemy?

  Why help save a girl who could be killed during this war?

  Will the truth ever be told again?

  We return to our “hero,” the man named V.

  Good old me.

  Watching the horrors of men unfold and always playing the supporting and leading roles.

  The first assault,

  The first rape,

  The first murder,

  Every first, second, third, and so many more of man's crimes.

  The cheers for mass death.

  The rings of gunfire

  Men are being hanged with raving applause in the background.

  Teenage girls were being drowned in lakes, accused of witchcraft.

  The blood-curdling scream of the damned

  And there was me, executing people without remorse.

  The film stood on every wrong action I have taken in the long thirty-two years I’ve been alive.

  Every trauma,

  Every mistake,

  Everything.

  The melody of hell.

  Every time I was on the brink of madness, I stabbed myself in the right leg, making sure not to hit anything important. The room smelled of blood, death, and puke. My eyes wouldn’t shut, and my legs wouldn’t move.

  I start to eye my gun, wondering whether or not I should end it quickly.

  Are ways this my boulder, my cross… My god, there is no god.

  I cocked my pistol and aimed it at my temple.

  Maybe I could end my book right here.

  What good has come from it all—the death and suffering I had to go through and cause?

  This seemed like the only step forward.

  “A brave man once requested me.

  To answer questions that are key,

  "Is it to be or not to be?"

  And I replied, "Oh, why ask me?" --Suicide Is Painless

  I pulled the trigger; the gun only whimpered.

  Of fucking course.

  I could never end my own story; there was always something more.

  I remember Miyamoto, Celeste, and the Kid may still be out there, and I want to see them at least one more time.

  The bullet had misfired, and the film ended.

  Three hundred thousand years of mankind's blood-soaked history ended not with a bang but with a whimper.

  I was free… free from what?

  The door opened, and the darkness blinded my eyes.

  The man in black stood in the doorway.

  “How was hell, Mr. V.?”

  “It was a bit repressive, and the characters never learned any lessons.”

  “Always the jokester, even in the face of Armageddon.”

  “So, has the girl let go? I mean, let go.”

  “That was the deal. Now, do you feel fixed or just more broken?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel because in the end my life is meaningless, but others are able to feel the simpler joys of life.”

  “You’re bleeding quite profusely.”

  I realized that there was a river of blood going down my leg.

  “Well, I’m guessing I’ll be dead pretty soon.”

  I walked to the door.

  I pulled a cig out and took a long drag.

  “Before you leave, I must tell you the truth.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “In the town of Ikigai, a storm draws near.

  Comrades and foes will meet.

  The river will run red.”

  “That’s not the truth; that’s more like telling the future.”

  “What is the truth, my friend, but just revealing the future?”

  “I’m not your friend.”

  “Oh, come on, I fixed your leg; can’t we at least be acquaintances?”

  I looked down and saw that he was right—no more blood.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are an interesting fellow, and I want to see your journey.”

  “I owe you for the leg, but if you ever do this shit again, I will shoot you in the face.”

  “Sure thing, I will be leaving now.

  C'est la vie.”

  He left with a skip, and I wish for death.

  I stood there smoking, trying to grasp something that was missing.

  Because I was feeling everything, but I could find nothing.

  I was numb to life and death.

  I wish I had put a different round in that damn chamber or kept my gun better maintained.

  I wanted to cry so many times, but I never could.

  Even though I was no longer bleeding, my leg was still screaming in pain.

  I pulled my blade out, rolled back my coat and jacket sleeve, and cut my arm.

  The pain in my leg went down, but I knew something was forever broken.

  I guess cutting brought back memories.

  Akuma had left, making leaving easier.

  It was good while it lasted, but everything ends.

  As long as I live, the internal scream of man will ring throughout my soul… As long as I live—oh wait, I already said that.

  Like everything interesting, hope may be a pussy, but you can never lose.

  The Germans say, “Die Hoffnung stirbt zuletzt,” or “Hope dies last.”

  I open the door.

  After the long night dripping with darkness.

  The morning light hit my face.

  The land was covered in white.

  Another day started anew.

  It's time to meet some old comrades. But will they even recognize what was left?

  Well, all I need is some damn sleep.