Doom CONTROL[er]

And for my fourth ULTIMATUM one-shot, we have yet another instance of some difficult and convoluted choices. Strictly done for leisure, R and R, so on and so forth. Yes, I know that the word 'controller' has two l's. Ignore it…besides, you can't get the meaning already. Control or Controller. It's decent.

But let it be known that I own this idea, even if I haven't had this idea registered in my name; done on a site that only has a shadow of my true identity. If you take it and say that it's yours without giving me credit, then that would make you a complete a**hole. C'mon, people, consider other people.

Claimer: I own the ideas portrayed in this fic.

1-shot.

It's all our fault.

There were none to blame, except for ourselves.

It's in our nature. We work, we play, we eat, we sleep, we reproduce children, and die at some point in time, whether it's too soon or too late is portrayed by the voice of opinion.

The last of that…it's because of death. It's because of that why the planet on a whole was in this mess.

Or it could be because we complain.

Day in, day out, we nit-picked and found fault, whining about who lives and who dies. Like 'why did s/he die? She was an innocent. The damn drunk driver should have been the one to die. It was his screw-up.' Or 'the Dictator of that regime just made it to be a hundred years old, while my baby girl died of cancer at the age of three. Cancer! At such a young age! Why's the old bastard still living?!'

It was understandable, most certainly so. You would be incredibly hard-pressed to find someone who didn't agree with such opinions. And such voices grew and grew, until a supposed Deity who went by the name 'Omnipotence' became…well, it or he or she could have been angered at our grumblings; it could have been to teach us a lesson. Perhaps Omnipotence decided that the job was too demanding or simply couldn't be bothered. We were never given a reason. Ten years ago, in 20-, everyone heard Omnipotence's voice in their heads. I remember it well, although I was only six at the time. The speech was to the point, and alarmingly brief:

"Greetings. My name is Omnipotence. Let it be known that the human race now has its keys to death. A randomly chosen person each week will be mentally given the knowledge of every living person on earth and suffice to say, death has a precise quota which varies by chance. You must remain professional and impartial and fulfill the requirements, or you will perish. The individual with the control of Doom will bear the mark in their foreheads to publicize that they are the Controller for that specific week. The Controller must Will the Doom to take place."

As I grew older, I found out that everyone had the experience practically burnt into their memories. I as well, and it only served me to try to find out all the details surrounding it. Apparently, persons who were seen with said tattoo mark on their foreheads, they claimed that they suddenly knew everyone's profile. Entire set of memories, backgrounds, inclinations, choices made, mindsets AND their future. Right up until when they were supposed to die. That didn't matter when they weren't, or killed before hand by the Controller, but it was assumed that that part was made known to help decide their choices.

Complete Impartiality.

That innocent baby could turn out to be a devastative suicide-bombing terrorist, or that despicable, insufferable brat turned out to be a benevolent philanthropist before passing on from a heart attack in the middle of a charity dinner.

And that mark? It was hard to remake, sure, but I found out that people who tried to impersonate it on their own persons died in twenty-four hours from heart attacks. Spooky.

A person is randomly chosen each week to kill quota. Out of the crest of seven billion on earth, only one person a week. A measly fifty-two people a year.

My name is Daniel. I woke up this morning on Sunday in the heat of August, with the knowledge that I have a quota for the death of two thousand, nine hundred and eight people before Sunday begins again at the end of this week at midnight.

Ultimatum

My father was away on a business trip for all of last week, and he was coming back on Monday, tomorrow. He's the only one I could possibly talk to for advice. The only parent I had, in actuality, as father had died when I was born. He had left me for his trips fairly often, as his work sometimes required him to go back and forth between branch locations of the country's leading bank.

We were…very well off.

He used to pay neighbors to take care of me when I was younger, but now as a sixteen year old, I could manage being in our rather large home alone.

Around said home, I was nearly wearing down a rut in as I paced in deep thought, anger, sadness, confusion, and worry.

Currently, I had every right to be as I occasionally stopped to look at my reflection in a mirror, absently rub at the mark in my forehead that looked like ancient symbols done in over each other, and then continue pacing.

"So many…so much… And Jenna. Jenna…what about her? Do I tell her? Do I tell dad?"

The phone in my pocket went from a lightweight to a leaden weight the more and more I thought of her. Simply put, she was the girl of my dreams. To be corny, I was living the dream-…of being with her.

Now, I was in a nightmare. No amount of self-inflicted injury as I could risk had succeeded in waking me to a reality of which I wasn't the Controller of Doom. But I was. I had to simply 'will' the deaths in thought, like pressing an 'enter' button after choosing who to die, of close to three thousand people while being impartial. Failure of proper judgment, or the deadline arrives, I die instead.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!" My bellowing shouts reverberated around the empty house. None answered, I felt hopelessly alone to tackle the biggest pile of shit ever to land in my path. No way around, over or under it, but to go through. To go through the damn, steaming mess by causing thousands of deaths, or turn away from it and die myself.

Suddenly, all those years of complacency of not having many responsibilities, of not being sympathetic towards Doom Controllers when they had to endure such a hellish duty and task caught up to me.

If this was to teach humanity a lesson…I didn't want to learn it! I never complained! God-damnit!

I ran a hand through my hair as information about everyone on earth currently alive settled on my mind. Was there a good to this? If I didn't go through with it and I died, would the thousands that never died this week live? Would it 'roll over' to the next Doom Controller for next week? Would that be fair?

'Everyone dies at some point. Jenna once said that. Maybe I should call her over. I…I need someone to talk to.' With that thought, I had her contact on speed-dial already going through.

Ultimatum

"Dan!" She called my name as she knocked on the door. "Dan!"

"I'm coming!" I hailed. I bounded down the steps and went over to the door in a hurry to greet her inside. Upon opening the door, I only beheld a worried look on her face. 'Oh yeah. The way I spoke must've made her fret.'

"Dan? I came over as soon as possible. What's the emergency that you had to wake up? Kitchen fire?" She pushed up her glasses further up her nose. I admired that about her; it always made her look very intellectual in a cute way. Overall, with a cordial attitude, pleasant face, slight quirks, smart, dislike of coquettish natures and so intelligent she must've made me look dumb. Of course she'd never say that…she loved me too much. The knowledge told me so.

And it only served to make me love her more.

"Yeah. Thanks for coming, Jen. Come in, come in." I stepped to one side, and as I did, she tipped up a bit and kissed me on the cheek in her welcome.

"Aw, such a gentleman."

"Quit it, you're making me blush." One could easily tell that, and judging from the coy look she had on her face, I could tell that she had intended it. I was easily swayed by any forms of romanticism, and I bet that she knew. She caught on to the obvious and the unobvious very-

"Why are you wearing that kerchief around your forehead? Are you in a gang sporting gang colors or something? Hiding acne? A recent scar?" She rattled off in jest. "Or are you the Doom Controller and you're hiding the symbol?"

Quickly.

I didn't know how to tell her, so after I closed the door, I pulled the partial facial cover-up off of my head and bared the mark to her. Her ongoing mirth ceased as she stared at it.

"I don't know what's scarier," She spoke coolly. "The fact that I was joking about that and you showed me what you drew up, or that I figured out your prank by guessing it as a joke beforehand."

"It's not a joke!" I hissed. "It's real!"

"You woke me up on a Sunday morning just for this?" She ran a thumb over her tongue and without warning, braced herself on me and ran it over the mark to attempt to clean it off with the moist digit. "What the…? Permanent marker?" She wondered. "I thought you knew better than this, Dan. You'd better get that thing off before you die. Don't you know that your mockery will kill you-"

"It's real!" I bellowed in indignation. Seeing her stunned look, I caught up to what I just did. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling. I'm really stressed out. I've even been tearing my hair out, wondering what the hell I'm going to do."

"Wondering about getting it off?" She deadpanned. "And don't tear out your hair." She strolled off to the bathroom where she knew we had a medicine cabinet and soon returned with some folded tissue that reeked of rubbing alcohol. With a sigh, I let her try to clean it off again, but as I expected, it didn't work. All it really did was agitate the bruises I put there when I nearly scrubbed the skin off earlier with the abrasive side of the dishwashing-sponge. "I don't understand why this thing won't come off-"

"You're in denial." I said simply. I didn't know I had it in me to speak like that, but I did.

"Well…" Jenna trailed off while putting a finger to her own forehead in thought. "You're supposed to know everything of a person's past, right? Tell me something about-"

"You?" I offered.

"No. That'd be easy. Tell me something about my dad. I know his boss's name, but you don't."

"His name's Finn McGraw." I replied straightaway. "I didn't know that from your father. I simply knew the boss's profile and that he had your father's name on his payroll."

"Well…you're right." She admitted. "But just to be sure, what's his favorite sport?"

"Cricket." I said immediately. "He's Irish and likes to stick to his European roots and tendencies."

"I'm convinced." She dropped the tissues into the room's wastebasket and plopped herself down in the sofa with an ample sigh. "How many people?"

"Two thousand, nine hundred and eight people." I answered as if I had rehearsed it. But my tone was undeniably grim.

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. "Nearly three thousand people? Oh my G-"

"I looked it up. That number's average for a week." I said tersely.

She looked as if she wanted to run away and never to return. In fact, I knew this from the knowledge. But she stayed, and it only made me respect her more. "Anybody we know?" She asked weakly.

"Yeah. Two people." I said in growing dread. This was getting decidedly heated and foreboding.

"Who?"

"The old grounds-man for the school. He dies in his sleep on Thursday. Natural causes."

She nodded slowly as if in unsure acceptance. "And…?"

"I…" I hesitated as the words that needed to be formed sat like a rock inside me.

"Dan…?" She asked in trepidation. "Who else?"

"Ahm." I half-stuck the back of my wrist in my open mouth. "I can't…"

"Daniel…"

She rarely spoke my full name; only the prefix. She was the only one who did so, for it was a sort of pet name. For her to say 'Daniel', made me suddenly regret calling her over so we could talk. Maybe it would have been easier to tell her over the phone.

Or never at all.

"It's…it's you, J-Jen." Tears stung my eyes before they began running freely down my cheeks, where they dripped off my lower jaw unto the carpet below, which eagerly accepted what I could not. "It's y-you." I repeated in a quivering voice.

On any other day, any other person would have yelled out in denial that their Doom was wrong. Instead, she calmly asked me 'how, where and when'.

"It's at Stan's p-pool party on W-Wednesday." I began. "You're climbing the ladder for the high-dive, but close to the top, your footing slipped because of the water on the rung from before and you fell and broke your neck."

She stared at me in disbelief. "To be honest…that sounds like a really cheap way to die."

"What?" I was shocked to hear this. "This is your death we're talking about!"

"I know. But all I have to do is not go to the party, right?"

"It's not that simple!" I exclaimed. "It's like you were destined to die this week. Even as we speak, dozens of people were to have died already all around the world." I said darkly. "But I have to will it to happen before the Sunday deadline. So it doesn't matter how you die. All that matters is that you do or you don't."

"You're talking like you're going to cause me to die," She observed. "You…you won't, right? Cause if it were someone else, I bet they would. You wouldn't-"

"Jen…I have to be impartial. Even if I cause the deaths, for everyone else but not you, it would make me unfair, and I'll still die."

"You'll die?" She was now seeing the massive gravity of the situation. "To be frank, you have to kill nearly three thousand people including me, or you'll die?"

"'Fraid so." I let myself drop down unto the couch next to her. "It's a curse…"

Without warning, I found myself being grasped firmly around the shoulders and her head on my shoulders. Recognizing the event as a hug, I reciprocated the action, and before I knew it, we were crying together, and the salty liquid staining the shoulders of our clothes.

Ultimatum

"Hey Daniel! I'm home!" I heard my father yell downstairs. "Where are you, huh? I brought back that gaming console you've been riding me about."

"Up here," I called weakly.

I heard things rustle downstairs, and it sounded as if he was removing his coat and placing his suitcases about here and there. "Are you sick?"

"Kinda." I whispered. He didn't hear me, but I was still hushed quiet. After five minutes, my father opened my bedroom door and scowled.

"What the hell? Did you two sleep together?! Daniel, I told you not no illicit sex under my roof! Jenna, you go home-!"

"We did sleep together," She interjected. "But it was that I slept over. We didn't sleep with each other."

He fumed almost angrier still. "In the same bed?! Do your parents-"

"Yes." I drawled. I cocked a head up to look at him, but my arm still rested over my forehead. "In the same bed and her parents know where she is."

My father sighed deeply. "I knew that leaving you alone was a bad idea. You're getting too grown, and with all those raging teenage hormones, you're just going to have sex whenever I have to leave-"

"When I grow older, would you rather we did it while you're here?" I answered dryly. I was faintly surprised to see him chuckle at this.

"No." He admitted. "Just…use a condom or something." He slapped his forehead with the butt of his palm and heaved a sigh. "Damn, I must be losing my mind." He stroked the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "Jenna, why were you even sleeping over in the first place? And Daniel, didn't I say that I don't allow any of those kinds of things when I'm not here?"

"He's…having a rough patch." My girlfriend volunteered. "I was…comforting…him?" She trailed off. Seeing my father's less than desired reaction, she hurriedly continued. "In a platonic way of course."

That particular gaff deserved a pat on the back.

"But anyway, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Illicit sex, huh? Do you know anyone named…Mary Veal?"

He flinched but soon regained his firm stance. "No."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"You see," I went on. "Yesterday, I found out that I knew everything of and about everyone's history." I said pointedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were young too." I whispered. "But not that young. My mother was all alone in her second trimester with me, and you paid this person named 'Mary' three visits while you were on your business trip."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He yelled furiously.

"Mr. Thomas," Jenna spoke to get my irate father's attention. "He's the Doom Controller for this week."

"…" He started laughing. "You're joking."

I leaned up and removed my arm, my forehead and more importantly, my symbol became exposed so he could see it. "When you were six, you stole a hundred dollars from your father and he flogged you with a piece of a car-tire. It's the reason why you're so careful around money, and why you're in the important position you're in now. The reason why you insist on no 'illicit sex' is because you regret sleeping with Mary, and you despised any sort of sexual affairs ever since Mom died in childbirth with me. You regretted it so much that you resolved never to remarry...-"

"Alright, alright." He held up both hands to stop me. "No more. Please!" He begged.

…

…

…

"Doom Controller, huh?" He asked. "This is a gigantic load of shit."

"I'm in full agreement." I replied.

He had been caught up to speed with all the information Jenna and I knew, and he was as concerned as he was confused. "So how and when do I die, huh? Do you know that?"

"If I told you, you'd only live in fear or something of the sort. You'd rather not know."

"It's that horrible?"

"No. But if you must know, it was extremely sudden and quick and painless. Distant future." I'd rather not tell him that he got caught in the crossfire of a gunfight between the police and bank robbers. He himself wasn't shot at, but the pellets of a firing shotgun were unpredictable. He got shot in the head, became brain dead in a few hours and his life support unplugged after a week. But that was the distant future, anyway.

"Fine. I suppose that's better than getting captured by terrorists and being tortured."

"Stop trying to get me to fill gaps and correct your errors with details." I chastised. I soon heaved a sigh, and he stared at me and Jenna.

"So one of you is going to going to the morgue this week?"

"Not entirely like that." I voiced. "A loved one has to go, that much is true. Jen here," I grabbed her by around the waist. "Was like the suggested person."

"This is still mind-boggling." She complained. "But I'll let it go. The main issue is, he has to cause nearly three thousand deaths or he'll die."

"What. The. F**k." He deadpanned.

I slapped palmed him behind the neck since he was so close. "Language! There's a lady here!"

Jenna chuckled at this. "See? You are a gentleman." She said sheepishly.

"Son…"

"Yeah Dad?" He had never called me son so much as my first name.

"Kill the bad people first."

"Eh?!" (x2)

"Think about it. All the people who turn out to be bastards, cause their deaths first." He said sagely. "And then you'll be desensitized enough to-"

"Kill Jen?" I finished testily.

"Hmm…you're right." He answered. "It is a terrible idea."

"Yeah. I can't even begin to imagine what Dan's going through." Jenna verbalized. "I remember when this Omnipotence person or deity or whoever-"

"I prefer none of those titles, for I am more than that." A new voice spoke. "I daresay that 'All-powerful' would indicate as to such, that I am above designation."

"WHO SAID THAT?!" I shouted in alarm. On both sides, Jenna and my father stared at me as if I was losing my mind. Perhaps I was. Hearing that surreal voice in my head was nothing but-

"Omnipotence."

"Holy shit." I whispered in awe.

Jenna grabbed my wrists in concern. "What is it?"

"You're not hearing that voice?" I asked bewildered.

"What voice?" My father asked. "You're acting up. You must've cracked."

"Perhaps I should...amend that." The voice spoke again. "Now you're all hearing me."

The three of us froze. "Um…" Jenna mumbled. "That was weird. Did I-"

"Yes you did. You all did. I am Omnipotence, the one responsible for giving the control of Doom to your race."

"To be blunt…" Jenna spoke. "That had to be the worst idea ever. Since you're supposed to be a god and to be impartial, couldn't you have been the Controller like you used to, or supposed to-?"

"You seem to forget that you were to have died in a 'cheap way' this week. Does knowing alleviate you of that fate? Does having Daniel as the one you're alternately destined to marry change that fate?"

"I'm confused." I muttered. "I didn't foresee that. We get married?"

"What you 'see'," Omnipotence began. "Is what was originally meant to happen. If you were given all knowledge, several things would occur, namely that of becoming comatose, suffer insanity, dying or if you're fortunate enough…wishing to commit suicide to rid yourself of the knowledge. There are many branches of decisions, but the original cause and effect is the main, and easy to follow. Her marriage to you would have been so would only come about if-"

"Yes? Yes?!" I yelled the question.

"You know already. Kill a loved one to keep your impartiality in check, while 'willing' all intended others their fates this week, or any of numerous others while still retaining un-bias." Omnipotence said matter-of-factly.

"Might I suggest your grandmother Elena on your mother's side of the family." My father said dryly. "She's always nagging me or guilt-tripping me for cash to support her gambling, and she never wins."

"A loved one. I don't wish to sound callous, but that does not mean just a standard run-of-the-mill relative. He loves Jenna Murray, his current 'girlfriend' more than he loves Vincent Thomas, his own father. Blood means little."

"Um…" Jenna blushed while before attempting to hide it with her both of her palms against her face. "I don't know if I should be happy, or if you should be pissed, Mr. Thomas."

"Me?" My father replied. "I don't know what to feel. Pissed that he loves you more than me, shitty because my son's the goddamn Doom Controller, or think I'm insane because I'm hearing a supposed deity's voice in my head."

"'Supposed'?"

"No offense."

"Needless to say, he has four options. Kill all and Jenna, kill all and his father, kill all with partiality and die, or fail in quota and die."

"This is horribly morbid." Jenna observed.

"That's what you think? I'm scared that he'll either allow himself to die, or kill me." My father quipped.

"Daniel Thomas. You've been in thinking about this, surely. You have a deadline. I have no aspiration to sound unsympathetic, but others have had been Doom Controllers, and will continue to be so for another nine decades. You are merely a single individual of that array."

"A full century of Doom Controllers because it includes the last ten years?"

"Yes."

"I see. Hmm…I have an idea…"

Ultimatum

I finished typing my testimony and uploaded it, with only my initials as a signature. This had been a bothersome week, hiding out in my house, locked in the confines of both it and my mind. Thankfully, Jenna had been here for me the whole time. I…perhaps I was grateful to be the Doom Controller. I would never have been able to prevent her 'untimely' death, and I appreciate her more because of it. I suppose that she does too. To take her for granted…never.

I glanced at the clock at the bottom corner of the screen. It was eleven forty-five p.m.

On Saturday.

The world, was in a sense, baffled. No deaths had occurred since the start of the week. It was eerie, but they had seen such a phenomenon before because of the hesitancy of Doom Controllers. I too have done so, and I'm glad I did. I turned off the laptop and placed it on the desk.

The task done, I made my way downstairs to see both Jenna and my father seated as if they were waiting on me. Once they heard the sound of my footsteps, both rushed to greet me.

One did so with a fatherly hug, but Jenna…wow, what a kisser.

It started out as chaste, and before long, we seemed to have forgotten the presence of my father as the kiss deepened into something far more daedal and labyrinthian as we seemingly fought and welcomed one another's tongues in our mouths. We putatively melded together like a runny water-color painting in the rain and blurred together to become one.

"Egh hem." My father cleared his throat in exaggeration. "I hate to interrupt teen love, but you've been at it for more than two minutes."

We barely acknowledged him, but we reluctantly parted after another half-minute. There was a thin trail line of saliva between us, but she quickly parted that with an index. "Wow. End of the world kind of deal huh?"

"Yep." That was all I could say. "Omnipotence?"

"Yes?"

"I have a small request."

"Is this necessary? The deadline is almost upon you."

"I know." I retorted. "In the past, have bastardized Doom Controllers killed people to their liking, not just the intended ones?"

"Yes they have."

"I want to know the future up to ninety years from now."

"Denied. The strain would be too much of a strain on your mind."

"I'm going to die anyway, because I refuse to kill Jenna."

"Aw. Such a gentleman." She lightly pinched my cheek. "But I don't want you to die!" She exclaimed worriedly. She looked as if she was about to fall apart into pieces.

"I take it that you said that you're going to die means that you're not killing me…right?" My father asked in apprehension. "Not that I want you to die…"

"Both of you will live. But since I don't want to die of knowing so far in the future in general, I wish to know who are the last-born ascendants of all the future Controllers currently alive, along with all the members of current generation of Doom Controllers."

"My name is Omnipotence. I can do all, I know all, see all and am everywhere all at once. And allow me to tell you this, Daniel. You're not 'dumb', as I doubt Jenna would think of what you wish to attempt."

Ultimatum

My name is D.T., and I apologize to all those with who perished on the seventh night of August, 20-. I have suffered with the responsibility for a measly week, while knowing that you may carry your grief for the rest of your lives.

This I know. Not because of the Knowledge, but because it is common knowledge.

I know not what lies behind of the curtains of death, but if there is such a place where Omnipotence resides, it may be one of a paradise, or a nightmare.

My choice? All of those who are dead or will die will have one thing in common.

They are the ascendants of all the Doom Controllers for the future.

I know that I should not have, but I decided that the curse of Doom Controllers is too much to bear. If I can't will the death of the Controllers themselves whose future histories will extend by another ninety years, I will kill their roots.

In short, I have killed more than four thousand people, when I was meant to kill a little less than three thousand.

Perhaps I would have caused the original count, had it not been for the hinge that a loved one of mine was meant to die. My sweet Jenna, or my father, as I should be ashamed to admit it, I love half as much.

People will die tonight, but when this terrible night is over, all Doom Controllers will cease to exist, and their parents of their future, as they will never be born.

I am deeply sorry for your loss.

"Jen?" I asked after I read it. "Do you think I should take down the testimony?"

"It's only been an hour Dan. Let it stay up." She kissed me full on the lips again, and I relaxed into it for its entirety.

"I wonder how come I'm still alive. It's now one a.m. on Sunday. Not that I'm not grateful."

"There's been a technicality."

"What kind of technicality, Omnipotence?"

"Do you love yourself?"

"I suppose so," I answered, now confused.

"Listen very carefully. You just willed the deaths ascendants for the controllers by means of heart attacks. You yourself were supposed to have been one if you did your job, and killed your father and lived to be with Jenna, of course. But it's mainly from you who the descendant will emerge because if you ended up with another girl by causing the death of Jenna, your gene lineage would recompile somewhere along the timeline. Doom Controllers can't will themselves to die, but the attempt counted nonetheless. According to your girlfriend, that's what you'd call a 'cheap way' of killing yourself. I disallowed it, but you could have tried to end your life prematurely by other means on you own, per say, hanging, jumping off a bridge, so on and so forth."

"What's your point?"

"You killed yourself, in a sense, and you were impartial by killing you, who you love. Not in a narcissistic fashion, but in the terms that you love being you. When you willed all those people to die, albeit the fact that it stemmed from the good intention of not allowing destined Controllers to be born. For the one Doom Controller who's of your bloodline and slipped through the cracks, I'll remove the Control from her, because frankly, it would be unethical. As for your testimony, I suggest you remove your initials and your girlfriend's name before its mass-read. People will soon connect the dots, and I'm sure you don't want to be lynched before you marry. Also, edit it to tell the world that there will be no more Doom Controllers, and I'd better not hear much more complaining about who lives and dies, or the human race will have to play God to itself."

"So you're saying-"

"Yes, Daniel." The voice sounded as if Omnipotence was smiling. "Live your life."

Draw the goddamn line right there.

How's that for a plot twist? I thought it up halfway through typing this thing. And don't over-think the ramifications, like if so and so is never born than someone else will be chosen, or that Daniel should go to a psychiatrist because he's probably crazy and crap like that for killing so many people. Just take the damn happy ending.

It's my first time doing a first person P.O.V., but let me know what you thought. Also, it might be interesting to know that this is the only Ultimatum not to end on a 'decision' cliffhanger, although it was tempting. Overall, the romance could have been better, the drama needed more work, but I suppose that a third person P.O.V. would be more suitable for that. Either that complication, or I need more experience with the first person perspective. Meh, whatever. Hope you enjoyed the fic anyway.

Valete omnes,

MRAY 4TW.