They say right before you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. No one has ever confirmed this theory, or even really knows who "they" are. Well, good people of Earth, one thing is positive about this enigmatic "they"…"they" are a bunch of filthy liars.

Not that it really matters, if you think about it. You're dead anyway, what difference does it make whether you daydream or not?

Now first it seemed that "they" were telling the truth. The first memory to play out was the most recent, so perhaps the life simply flashes backwards. He wasn't about to complain. Her soft lips, the salty, coppery taste of her blood-soaked tears…most people would find such a memory repulsive. And maybe it was. But It wasn't the taste that made the dying mercenary content. No…the mignonette had finally allowed him a kiss…she'd even kissed him back, her small frame shaking in his hands. It was, of course, quite unfortunate that she should be in so much agony, that it was these cruel circumstances that brought them together. But if he could save the woman he loved, what power did a small detail like dying have to make Pip unhappy?

How had they gotten to this point, anyway? The mercenary tried valiantly to remember, to understand how fate had brought him to die like a hero when he had lived, more or less, like a dog. But it was no use. Nothing of any real substance came to mind. It was all about her. Her laugh, her smile, the way all the blood would rush to her nose when she was embarrassed…and the consequent pout when things didn't turn out quite as she'd hoped. She was stubborn and immature, naïve, more than a little stupid. But she was real. All the other girls…they were easy to win, easy to fuck, easy to discard and forget. But he'd be damned if one night of fun with any of them could even come close to being as rewarding as that kiss.

There it was again. Chronological order of any kind be damned, "they" were full of it. It wasn't even an entire lifetime that Pip was remembering. Just all his favorite memories. The blue moonlight highlighting her straw-colored hair…The sheepish smile she was so fond of. And the Nazi's scythe, guns, and shrapnel could never compare to the way she killed him in that miniskirt. And she'd never even known. What a pity, Pip reflected, what a pity that she would be so oblivious. But she was a good girl. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. It wasn't fair…but that's just the way life was. And so, Pip was learning, was death. But then again, it could be argued that someone as lewd and unscrupulous as him didn't deserve someone as pure and good as her either. Apparently fair and good are not one and the same.

He smiled weakly. His life was draining away with his blood, and here he was, waxing philosophical and mooning over a girl. He supposed he should tell her…it's not like he'd be getting another chance any time soon.

But she was crying…she was in pain, and probably dying, if at a much slower pace than the mercenary. Perhaps he wasn't quite done saving her.

"Feed on me…and let's beat zem….Together…"

It wasn't what he had planned to say, but the message was there just the same.

And, yes, "they" had lied, but it didn't really bother Pip.

He knew the truth anyway.

Your whole life does not flash before your eyes when you die, just the parts that matter.