Isara opened her eyes. All around her was darkness, yet she could see herself as perfectly as if she was outside on a sunny day. Yet the light extended to a radius of eight feet. She looked around her.
Nothing. Just pitch black. If she was dead, this certainly wasn't Heaven. If it was Hell, then that certainly wasn't fair.
She tried to remember what had exactly happened. Not much, except she figured someone must have shot her. An Imperial Sniper was very likely.
Where was she anyway? This wasn't Heaven nor hell, and it certainly wasn't The Fields of Asphodel. if this was what the rest of eternity would be for her, it was going to be very boring.
Something sturred in the darkness. A cloaked figure was approaching. She had heard rumors of this phantom, but she had hoped it was a fairy tale.
It was the Grim Reaper of her nightmares, right down to the scythe.
It appears you are the oddity in the latest additions.
Isara frowned. "Do you hate Darcsens as well?"
...No. What I meant was, you're not exactly dead yet.
"What do you mean?" Isara asked. "I'm in Hell...wait, this is Hell, right?"
...Not exactly. This is the place souls go when they die. Here, it is judged as to whether they go to Heaven or Hell.
"And, which will I be sorted into?"
Neither. Your soul is here, but your mortal body is still alive, albeit barely.
"But I was shot!"
It was a non-fatal shot. Well, It did puncture your right lung. Bottom line is, you're not dead yet. We both don't know why you're here. You may be in a coma.
"..."
The Grim Reaper sighed.
Look. You should be happy you're not dead.
"You shouldn't." Isara replied.
I don't know what they say about me in your world, but I gain no pleasure in harvesting souls. I have morals. You're too young to die.
"Don't people say you're never too young to die?" Isara asked.
Yes. But that line is usually said in cliché action films and books involving that Teenage Atlantic Federation spy named Alex.
"You read those books?" Isara's jaw nearly dropped. The epitome of death didn't look like the kind to read.
A soul had one of the books on him.
"Well, that explains everything." Isara sighed. "But, do you even know how long i'm going to be here?"
Depends on how long you're going to be operated on.
"How do you know that?"
Well, if your friends care about you, and i'm sure they do, they'll have brought you to some sort of hospital, and there'll be a doctor or two trying to get that bullet out. Believe me. If that spy called Alex managed to survive that, so can you.
"He's two years older than me." Isara deadpanned. The Reaper shrugged.
Close enough.
"I'd say there's a difference between a teenage spy, who went through a tough training section, survived encounters even a Romance writer would find cheesy compared to a teenage mechanic."
Well, you both got sniped.
"...ok, we have that one similarity." Isara admitted, shrugging.
It might be best for you to see what is happening in your world.
Isara looked down and saw that the circle of light underneath her had become a window into Marberry Shore.
Naturally, everyone had freaked when Isara was shot. Marina had sniped the sniper, Alicia and the Medic had lifted Isara onto a gurney nearby, annd brought her to a field hospital near the beach as fast as they could.
Once they were there, they explained their situation to a guard, who called over two medics.
The two Army medics brought the unconscious Isara to a doctor in a building nearby. He looked at the still form with a critical eye, before looking up at Welkin. "I don't think I can operate on this. The bullet has punctured one of her lungs and fractured several rib bones. I'm amazed she's not dead yet."
"You have to do something! She's my sister!" Welkin begged.
The doctor took off his spectacles and sighed. "Ok. I'll try whatever I can. I wouldn't hope for a good recovery, though. These wounds aren't exactly treatable.
As they waited outside, No one noticed the Doctor whispering to someone in the shadows. The doctor had lied. The wound was perfectly treatable.
"Alright. Now what do I do?" he asked.
"As soon as you have her healed, bring her to my truck outside. Lt. Gunther has been a thorn in our side for far too long. After you have had her loaded onto our truck. Go outside and tell her friends she's dead. Hopefully, this will affect their performance. Nothing must stop our invasion of Gallia." The shadow said as the figure stepped into a lighted area. Colonel Moss of the Atlantic Federation grinned maliciously. "Even if Lt. Gunther does win the conflict, we can wait. He'll have to die eventually."
"You'll die before him." The doctor pointed out.
"So? I'll have descendants who can take care of that difficulty."
"Riiiiight." The Doctor looked at the uncounscious Darcsen on the gurney. "What exactly are you going to be doing with her, anyway?"
Moss smiled. "Squad 13. With a crowd like that, she'll be dead in weeks."
The doctor shrugged. Whatever was going to happen to Isara was none of his business. He didn't concern himself with such matters. An hour later, Isara's lung had been reinflated, and the bullet had been removed. She was in stable condition. As two Federation soldiers stepped forward to wheel the gurney off to the waiting truck, the Doctor turned and walked out the door to give Squad 7 the 'bad news.'
"She's dead?" Welkin stared at the doctor in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, lieutenant. Blood entered her lungs and she drowned in her own fluid. It wasn't a pleasant sight to see." The Doctor said.
"I...I understand. You did what you could." Welkin turned and walked out the door. Alicia and the rest of Squad 7 followed him. Some of them were crying.
"Tsch. Emotional little fools." The doctor thought.
It wouldn't be until years later that Welkin realised that there was no blood on the doctor's uniform.
Meanwhile his sister, healing, though still unconscious, was on a truck headed for a Federation port. It was time for her to join the ranks of
Squad 13
"So, A doctor tricked my squadmates into thinking i'm dead, and now i'm on the way to some group who are most likely going to kill me within a few weeks." Isara asked. "I returned from death, and i'll be going right back again."
You'll have to grin it and bear it. It's time to return to the land of the living.
Isara didn't argue as the darkness around her closed in. She found the place too creepy anyway. For the next few hours, Isara, having returned from the brink of death, would be dreaming. At least until she found herself being put on a Federation Ship. Only then she would wish she had a wrench to bonk someone on the head with.