Standing there as I pulled my sword from his body, I stared. I looked on as the light left his eyes, as he stared at the gaping wound in his chest.
As he fell to the ground, I realized that this was what death looked like. No, no, this was not right. He couldn't be dead. I had played this mafia game
for a while now. I had fought in many fights; I had bled in all of them. I had done things I never would have deemed possible before. But nobody had
died. It was just a game. A high tech game, with real weapons and real wounds and time travel, but a game nonetheless. I stared at the blood
leaking from the fallen man's wounds. And it was then that it dawned on me. Denial only really works when you don't realize you're doing it. Looking
at the corpse of the man, I could no longer avoid the truth of what I had found.
This was not a game.