Heyall' welcome to my story, hope you'd enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I dont own it man. I'm just killing Cage off.
Warning: Suicidal/ Suicide
He can't die. He wants to. But he can't. No matter how he tries. He begged so many deities to give him the luxury of being free, but science just wouldn't let him go.
He sits on the roof, the rain beating down on him with a weight as strong as a mimic's force. His legs dangled off the edge, his haphazardly thrown on shoe was about to drop. The black gun was light in his hands and warm to the touch.
Stolen moments like this; dreary, wet and cold, he wished that he could just somehow stop time and savor it forever. He could already go back in time, why not take this further and stop it all completely?
His sniffled in the cold. His hands were shaking but it wasn't from the fright. There was no fright in this. He had already been through death one too many times.
If God asked him why he committed so many times, he'd say that it wasn't even called living at all, it was a curse. A curse that he couldn't escape.
He wants to die. But he couldn't. He settled for the moments in between instead.
He closes his eyes, and put the gun barrel on the side of his head.
The shot rang out. He woke up again.
"Coward."
He had this conversation with the men in the bar so many times that even he can lose count. Sometimes he explains himself, sometimes he just let their conversation flow and he doesn't put himself into the situation he was in now.
"Coward."
Maybe he was one. Maybe that was why he was in this dingy bar waiting to die again. Maybe his feet brought him back here a hundred times because his brain made up its mind about him being a coward. He was scared stiff of the war on the beach. Sometimes he just freezes up and reality crashes down on him, and life goes on. He dies, he restarts.
"Coward."
He purses his lips, keeps his bulk in. He takes a sip of his beer.
And he walks right out of the establishment, right into the way of the Army truck. Life goes on. He dies. He restarts.
"What? Is there something on my face?"
He knew so much about her in the span of just two days and a quadrillion amount of looping, that he could possibly even call himself her soul mate.
Her name was Rita Rose Vrataski. She loved training to kill mimics, it takes things off her mind. But she loved coffee with three sugars far more. She had a lover and best friend named Henryk Vilyatosvki, they made it through training together and he became her lieutenant but in the end she had to watch him die three hundred continuous times, all of which she was rendered helpless unable to save him. Her title, Angel of Verdun, was a tribute to what Henryk always called her within camp. Angel. The rest of her family of three were currently living in a trailer in Laos, her youngest brother of sixteen, Alex, stayed in England so he would be able to take care of their family dog of twelve years, Alana. She used to love eating a piece of bread and some peanut butter before starting the day but during the fight in Verdun, one of her mates that loved it too had died. And she had been watching his death loop too.
He wanted to continue listing the facts about her in his head, but he couldn't because he couldn't bring himself to.
He watched her die so many countless times too. And every time after she does die, he kills himself. He never had never tried to carry on the mission. He didn't bother. Every single damn time she gets killed, it kills him too. He was never free from the horror, from the pain. It was just, she's there or she's not.
He looks at her. He already memorized her face. He knew every blemish on her skin like it was his own.
"Cage?"
He looked down at the gun that came with the Armor suit. He looked back up at Rita. A weight pressed down on his chest. It prevented him from speaking. He couldn't breathe properly.
The gun within his hand was ready to shoot.
He looked away from her, and raised the gun barrel towards himself.
"Cage?!"
He pressed the red button. Sunlight hits his eyes.
"Cage! You're not hooked in!"
It wasn't that he isn't hooked in. He is and he will always be. It's just that, he wanted to live this day once more before finally doing a job right.
He breathed. In and out. Trying to keep it at bay.
His heart clenched, and he pressed the release for her. She dropped a few dozen feet below with a furious shriek and he watched her as she lands on a knee. The dropship spun out of the view.
He loses his balance again, and he falls to the back of the aircraft. Again.
He had lived through this day for fifteen times now. This was the first time he decided to take a break. It was a short break, but it is one nonetheless.
The dropship lands in the water and he lurches forward into the unknown, the light on his shoulder wasn't helping.
He was calm. He just let it flow. He was falling deep into the water. The armor suit weighing him down. But he had been through into this water, four times now. The first three times were for how he got out.
The suit was weighing him down. And he was perfectly fine with that. As he dies, it gives him time to think. To plan his next restart. To see what he can do.
He felt the panic of drowning again, but he made no move to wade for the surface. He blacks out. And then he feels the boot kicking the bags under him.
"On your feet, Maggot."
If he could get a penny for every single time he hears that, as long as he remembers how many times, he would be the richest man in the entire galaxy.
He got on his feet fairly quickly. He took his things when they were handed to him, said his thanks, and he dropped his things onto the floor. He walked out into the road before them. The sergeant calls him back. But he preferred to be hit and rolled under by Sergeant Farrell's oncoming vehicle. He had already ruined this day by hesitating. No harm trying to loop it over again.
He feels his head being crushed, and he wakes up to the sound of camp again.
He just wanted to kill them all. But sometimes he felt like getting them all done quickly. Just shoot and move on. Shoot and move on. Just shoot and he moves on.
Sometimes he would be able to hold it on until the entirety of his squad was dead. And other times, after he killed the Mimic that came out from underneath, someone would step on his head.
Often he'd just abandon ship and he would take off instantly for Rita. Telling her what she should know, but urging her to move on instead of trying to kill him to reset the day.
Sometimes he would just go to the abandoned carnival on his own and he'd just sit there by the Ferris wheel and wait it out until mimics get to him. Other times, he would get to the car and he would attempt to drive back to the mainland, where the greens were. Or he'd just go to the farm, and he would camp out in the cellar before the boredom got the better of him and he shoots himself after a few bottles.
Today, today he was sitting by the Ferris wheel again. His suit was off and somewhere, he managed to acquire a bag of chips as he waited it out. The salt and tanginess of the sour cream flavored chips was heaven in his mouth.
He could hear the battle somewhere off. His fingers drag across the inside of the aluminum bag, he feels it empty. He lays the bag against the stone of the Ferris wheel. He sighs, and he takes the gun that had sat beside him for an hour.
He feels the tremors beneath the ground as mimics get closer and closer to this carnival. He puts the barrel by the side of his head. And he nonchalantly pulls the trigger. He savored the darkness before he opens his eyes to the light.
Hi Hi. Hope you enjoyed it. The story generally goes along the line somewhere there until "Cage decides" they officially destroy the Mimics, so he's just playing God or something like that; rewinding time with his death and deciding what happens and all. I thought I'd just leave the story here unless otherwise, so you guys can think through it if you want. Leave a review or a favorite or smth, I'm not really particular about that. Thanks for reading. Duly appreciate it ;D