Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Hogan's Heroes, copyright belongs to whoever's got it right now, etc. etc.
AN: This ones kinda more experimental than usual.
So.
That was that then.
A script punctuated by rocket trails, film cut just past the golden hour. Dust watered with iron and plasma and tissue.
He'd played his part, wax smile liquid under the spotlight, right up until "The End" scribbled over a filled page.
Smile for the camera wax man.
Tin soldiers melted to slag, fleshy hearts bursting in the fire, remains dripping into pine needles and salt-snow.
Blanks and squibs, a captain pulled from his sinking ship against his best efforts.
He had tried so very hard to close the door before him.
Well. It's over now regardless.
So here he is licking his wounds; blood off fingers with scraping teeth, syrup and latex. A half melted smile.
Outside, brass sunlight tears through windows and doorframes. He wonders if they'll pick the right music for the funeral.
He's gotten quite sick of drums and pipes, after all.