It had been an ill-timed jump, and Dirk was about to die.
He’d been told there was a bright white light. Then maybe he’d be taken to stand in front of Saint Peter, or watch as his heart was weighed against a feather.
But instead of his life flashing before him, two words appeared as his world went dark.
Continue Y/N?
And a countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight.
“Yes!” he said, as the numbers ticked lower. “Yes, yes!”
On the edge of hearing, he caught ‘not that interesting…’ ‘meh, old crap…’ ‘let’s play Street Fighter instead…’
Then silence.
Three. Two. One.
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