433’s body felt heavy, the ground beneath him stiff and cold. His vision blurred, the edges darkening as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. He couldn’t move—everything was slipping away. He felt the warmth of his blood pooling beneath his head, the cool air biting into his exposed skin.
Through the haze, he saw Flint. He watched as Flint’s expression morphed into a mask of rage and desperation, his eyes locked onto the building where the sniper was hiding. Flint's hands clenched into fists, his face twisted in fury as he let out a guttural scream and charged forward. Dust and debris exploded from the ground as Flint hurled chunks of earth, tearing through the building’s wall like it was paper.
‘Is this how I die?’ The thought came to 433, almost distant. Detached. A bullet to the head, in a random square, on some mission… He watched as Flint’s rage boiled over, his actions swift and brutal as he tore the sniper from their hiding place. The figure screamed, but Flint didn’t stop. He pummeled the sniper with a savagery that blurred the lines between desperation and vengeance.
‘Truly pathetic…’ The thought felt almost resigned. His body wouldn’t respond, not even to the instinct to reach out and cling to life. ‘I couldn’t even make an impact on the world.’
Flint turned and sprinted back toward him, but 433’s vision continued to darken. The world was slipping away, sounds muting, colors fading. Flint’s voice was calling his name, but it felt so distant, like it was echoing through a tunnel.
His last sight was Flint’s anguished face, blurred and fading, reaching for him, desperately trying to hold onto something already lost.
And then there was nothing. Just an empty darkness that swallowed everything whole.
A low and chilling voice emerged from the darkness, like the whisper of the wind through the branches of a dead forest.
“Doo, yoooou… wish… to right your mistakes?” It stretched each word, distorting and vibrating as it resonated from a place between worlds.
‘What is this… am I reliving my best memories before death?’ 433’s thoughts were muddled, echoing in the same void.
The voice persisted, growing more distorted, “Dooo yoooou wiiiish… to riiight… your mistaaaaakes?”
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The sound reverberated strangely, as if spoken through a hollow, empty corridor, yet felt as if it was directly inside his mind—an intruder in his dying thoughts.
‘No point in ignoring it,’ he resolved, the surreal tension pressing against him. “Yes,” he answered, his voice trembling slightly.
“Thhhennn… sooooo… beeee… iiiit…” the voice intoned, drawn out like a fading breath, lingering long after the words stopped.
***
“Yo, 433, hurry up, would you?” Flint stood at the elevator door, his irritation barely hidden.
‘What…’
“433, get in!” Flint’s voice cut through 433’s haze.
‘What is happening? Why am I back here?’
Flint clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine, come down later then,” he muttered, letting the elevator doors close with a heavy *clang*.
433 stood frozen, confusion and disbelief flooding his senses. He raised a shaky hand to his forehead, fingertips trembling as they brushed against smooth skin—no bullet wound, no blood. Just skin. ‘I… I’m back to this morning?’
His pulse quickened, disbelief settling heavily in his chest. ‘Did that voice do this? Who was that—what was that?’ He felt a chill run through him, remembering the eerie words that seemed to cling to the edges of his consciousness.
The reality of his surroundings sank in—he was back, alive, in his room. But the voice lingered in his mind, a lingering, spectral reminder of a deal he hadn’t fully understood.
433 hurried to the elevator, his thoughts a turbulent mess. He pressed the button for the lobby, watching the numbers above the door tick down, each one feeling like a heartbeat counting down to something inevitable. When the doors finally slid open, he stepped out to see Levi talking to Vera and Flint, their expressions serious.
Without a word, 433 quickly joined the group, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Levi glanced at him but showed no reaction as if everything was perfectly ordinary. “There’s been activity spotted in the Bronx,” Levi was explaining, just like before.
433 felt a shiver go down his spine. He knew every word Levi was going to say before he said it. The others moved toward the car, and 433 followed, trying to suppress the unease growing inside him. They climbed into the vehicle, Levi behind the wheel, and as the doors closed, 433 couldn’t shake the feeling that the second chance he’d been given came with consequences he couldn’t yet comprehend.
***
433’s senses were on high alert as they scoured the area, inching closer to the ominous square surrounded by four buildings. It felt like déjà vu, but he was ready this time. The weight of his prior death bore down on him, sharpening his focus to a razor’s edge. As they reached the square, he stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning the vantage points in the buildings.
“Hey… ambushers are here,” he said, calling Vera and Flint over in a calm but firm tone. “A sniper is in the bottom left building, and close combatants are in each of the other buildings.”
Vera and Flint exchanged puzzled glances. The information came out of nowhere—no clear proof, no logical explanation for how he knew—but something in 433’s voice made them pause. They had seen enough inexplicable things to trust instinct over reason at times.
“I’ll collapse the left building then,” Flint responded, his tone tentative but compliant. Without wasting time, Flint focused on the ground beneath the bottom-left building. His control over the earth was precise, and with a sharp concentration, he triggered a localized quake.
The building trembled violently as if gripped by some unseen hand. A split second later, it started to crumble, walls giving way as the foundation shattered. A short, panicked scream echoed from within the collapsing structure, quickly drowned out by the deafening crash of bricks and concrete as the entire building came crashing down in a plume of dust and debris.