Tired

He knew he was dying, knew that the 'ying' part of that word would soon be replaced by 'ead.' And while he'd been busy trying to deny this over the last few hours, he knew that he had to face the truth. The truth that a) demons apparently existed, b) a disgraced marine was all that stood in their way and c) even if said jarhead succeeded, he wouldn't be alive to celebrate.

Elliot Swann might have made a joke at this stage. Then again, the ever increasing effort it took to breathe would have made the effort too costly for his liking and even if he did summon the energy to speak, there was a strong chance that only more blood would come out of his mouth.

Swann had seen plenty of death over the last few hours-more than even the most hardened veterans of the numerous wars on Earth probably had. Still, every time he saw the remains of a UAC or USMC member, sometimes animated by whatever the portal in Delta had spewed out, he'd had least been able to take some solace that it wasn't him that was (un)dead, that if Mars City could be salvaged, he wouldn't be among the body bags sent back to Earth. Right now, lying alone in the dark, sterile environment, he knew that he didn't have that luxury anymore.

So tired...

Death had never touched him personally. As a company lawyer, this was pretty much a requirement for his job. Indeed, he had to admit, if he'd simply read about whatever this incident would be called rather than being part of it, he'd probably regard the death list as a group of data. The guilt was unwelcome to an extent, but on the other hand, the emotional pain more than made up for the physical pain coursing through him, drowning it out. Or maybe, just maybe, the physical pain was fading on its own accord. Death was a strange experience.

So tired...