The mistakes you can't fix 8

Seeing the kid lunging toward him, the man was to simply knock him out or immobilize him, but he was suddenly distracted when, at the periphery of his field of vision, he perceived a small object flying towards him at high speed. A bullet maybe?

No... it was a blinding grenade!

Everything after that happened too fast. A brutal festival of light came out of nowhere, blinding all of them. The man lost control of his movement. A bullet came flying toward his head, and once again a wall of ice came in its way. But this one hadn't been finished, and it could only deflect the deadly projectile away from his head, and the latter finished its course right in his arm.

The man gasped from the pain, as another imposant person holding a rifle arrived in the half-frozen garden. John's face lightened up: finally, Clark was here... they could work together to escape and, finally, they'd be able to start a new happy life...

However, John's smile instantly disappeared as another event entered his sight. Because of the sudden complication, the man seemed tohave lost the control of his strange power... and a long shard of ice had perced the kid's body. The latter was now laying in a bed of blue tulips and orange poppies, that were gradually soaked in the dark red colour of blood.

"NO!" John exclaimed as, forgetting the situation he was in, he ran toward the kid.

Meanwhile, seeing how the situation had developped, the man had decided to retreat. He took a picture of John with his digital watch before he started walking away toward a nearby floating ship that was still intact, groaning due to the pain in his arm. However, Clark didn't seem too excited about the idea to let him go, as he ran after him with his rifle to engage in a fight.

John wanted to tell him to stop and to just run away together, but he was like paralysed, he was unable to form complete sentences or to look away:

"Kid... why you..." he started. "Hold on a bit more, we'll get you some medical Fefnir tech and youll be back in great shape again. Just hold on a little..."

But the kid already couldn't hear him anymore. Trembling, he weakly extended his hand toward John, as if he could be saved if he managed to reach him:

"Sir... I thought... the hero never died..."

The light in his eyes diminished and, finally, he pronounced his last sentence:

"Does that mean we're not heroes?"

He closed his eyes, and his heart stopped beating. shaking, John touched his forehead. It was cold.

"No... No... Not that..." John said, before snapping back to reality and turning around. "CLARK! DON'T GO-"

He froze on stop. He fell on his knees. He looked again. He got up and ran to a newly formed cone of ice. His entire body shaking, he put his hand on the ice, but couldn't reach what was inside, or rather who. Clark, entrapped in the ice.

"No..."

He screamed:

"Clark! CLARK! CLaAAAAAaAAaaaaAAAAaAAaaaRK!"

The ice shattered, and Clark did the same, disappearing into brillant shards. John fell back on his knees. He didn't even think about chasing the mysterious man to take revenge. He just stood there crying.

.

.

.

Days after, as the battle had ended and the planet had been relocalized in a safer zone. John was taking care of Clark's funerals. But his mind wasn't at it, he was just acting in automatic, like a robot.

It was his fault if Clark had died. Overcame by his trauma, he had failed to warn Clark not to chase the man. He had just stood there like an idiot, because the death of a kid he didn't even know had brought back his old trauma to the surface. Cold... cold... the cold of death... This cold had even taken Clark... why...

"Why..."

The answer was simple, because of him. He was the one who had sent a distress signal to Clark. He was the one who didn't do anything when the love of his life had tried to stop the man from escaping, even though he knew how perfectionnist and determined Clark was, and that he would've never given up the chase on his own. He couldn't even save a kid....

Clark said he wasn't a hero, and he was right in the sense that he wasn't an apostle of justice. But he was someone who had always been ready to fight for what he believed and in this sens was a hero of his own ideology. The kid had not hesitated to try and get justice for his parents even when it obviously meant death. He was a hero.

The two of them got to die as hero, while John would have to live as the failure he was. Everything was his fault. Everything.

"In a world where sciences can explain even the gods, death is the only variable that can't be included in the equation no matter how much we learn about it. In this world, death, ours or another's, can never be anticipated, and thus, instead of feeling guilt, we should make sure to preserve our will to overcome the sadness" John uttered, repeating the exact same words his mother had told him. "But how am I supposed to accept a death that comes from something outside of science? If even the logic of the world can't be trusted, then what can?"

As he approached Clark's coffin, he said a few sentences, that he couldn't remember afterward. Or maybe his brain just didn't want to remember such pathetic words.

Only one thing left to do, now. And that was reading Clark's testament. With tired, lightless eyes, he started reading:

'Dear John, my love, if you are currently reading this, it probably means that I'm not there anymore. In which case, if you still are, then I'm really happy, sincerely, and I'm also sorry that I left so soon, before we could even enjoy our life together. I'm currently writing this from our spatial ship, I somehow found time to do so after I finished filling the report for the higher-ups. I swear, even if I manage to escape the Council, I bet these bastards will still manage to make me die by overworking me.

More seriously, as I'm writing this, we still expect the enemy to catch us anytime soon. We just failed the mission to recover the Nova beast's corpse, quite terribly to be honest. I have no idea if I'll even manage to get this to you honestly. On the other side, it'll be quite ironic if I manage to survive all this but still die.

Heh, knowing my luck, I bet that's exactly what will happen... or what happened, considering you're reading this right now, haha. Hah... sorry, I know that might be the last thing you get from me but I still waste it writing stupid stuff... Stress must've really put a toll on me, aren't I right?

But honestly, even when I'm not a walking corpse from exhaustion, finding something to write in that situation is really, really hard. With my job, I know I'll most likely not die from illness or old age, if you follow my reasonning. Honestly, I'm scared, there has never been a full week passing by without me thinking at least once about my death. I never talk about it to anyone... even from you, honestly... but I'm really scared. Haha, it's something I would have never said alive, what an idiot really. But it's something that already ran in my mind for a bit.

I'd just like to run away with you, to escape all this bullshit so we can finally live our little peaceful life together. You know me of course, I might never ever suggest it because of my dumb pride... but you can be sure if you ever suggest it to me, I'll accept in the second... uh, maybe a minute, so I can put up a front, haha.

Well, all that to say, my point is that, if you read it after I die, I beg you, don't feel guilty for whatever happened to me. Because I'm sure that whateve happened, it's once again because of my pride: running after an enemy more skilled than me, walking into a trap, taking a bullet for someone, it'd definitely be my way to go. Please, I beg you, just don't feel guilt, and move on. If I died, it's that I was unlucky but, if you read it, it means you are. Just take this chance, and move on in life John, you might not think you're a hero, but I can at least assure you you're better than most, including me.

Find a new home, new friends, stop confining yourself, and find a new lover. Actually... wait a few years for the last part please, haha. But either way, just move on, that's all I ask from you. I love you John. People can mock me for being a pawn to the masterminds, hate me for being part of Cifer, despise me from loving a man but they can all go fuck themselves. The same goes for everyone that'll try to drag you down, just get them out the way for me, because I know you did nothing wrong.

And, I'll say it one last time, I love you.'

John finished reading this message that had been showing on his digital watch. He stood there for a few seconds before a chucklecame and broke the silence.

It continued and became louder and louder, turning into an actual fit of laughter:

"Not my fault? Not my fault? Haha, haha, hahaha, of course it's not my fault!" John laughed. "Haha, and of course it's not Clark's fault either, haha!"

In a fit of rage, John threw his digital watch to the ground, where it shattered like glass.

Yes, all these tragedies were nobody's fault. Nobody but the mysterious man with supernatural powers, this piece of shit that didn't even hesitate to kill a child, and even less to kill the one person that John loved. And this person was siding with the Council.

Yes, it was nobody's but the the Paradise Council's fault. They had to pay. He had to make them pay. He had to. HE HAD TO.

"These bastards... I'll kill all of them... I'll kill you all!"