Re: Downtown Repose: Alex/Kratos &c
Alex's eyes widened a bit when he saw the knife, and he readied himself with whatever fragments of his will he could pull together in that moment. Yes, yes it was better this way. Better for him, and better for these two. He hoped they would forget. That was all his mind could fix on in those final moments: that whatever governed his lives and deaths still worked the same here in Repose.
He closed his eyes as he felt the first sharp pain from the tip of the knife, pushing easily through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. It was inconsequential, a dissonant note in the symphony of pain which had consumed his lower half. He was ready. He felt sorry for the boy, grateful for the man, and hoped he could repay them both someday, even if they never knew why he was doing so.
He could feel it, the momentary resistance that fragile flesh gave to something so edged and metal and sturdy as that knife. Then it was inside him, cold and unyielding, his body surrendering the last of its strength to that blessed relief. He started to smile, feeling everything fade, the pain and the fear and the worry, the guilt of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then he was away, into that darkness, the void, the place he rested until he was given back to his body.
For the hundredth time, Alex White died. For the first time, he died smiling.