Chapter 4: A Mountain of Corpse, End
The gun was heavier now. Every squeeze of the trigger felt like lifting a coffin lid, every recoil rattled through my bones. My left arm barely worked; it dangled like dead weight, a bullet having chewed through the muscle hours—or was it minutes?—ago. My right eye was swelling shut, vision narrowing into a tunnel of smoke and fire.
And still I shot.
Bang.
A face disappeared in the muzzle flash.
Bang.
Another one clutched his throat and fell backward into the heap.
Bang.
The hammer clicked on an empty chamber.
"Fuck," I wheezed. My lips were sticky with blood, the taste of iron so thick it drowned out the gunpowder in the air. I shoved trembling fingers into my jacket, fishing for speedloaders that weren't there anymore. Pockets empty. Belt pouches empty. All gone.
I was down to the revolver in my hand and the knife strapped to my boot.
The alley went quiet. The gun smoke hung like a curtain, and for the first time tonight, nobody rushed forward.
"Look at him," one of them muttered from the shadows. His voice shook, like he didn't want me to hear. "He's still alive. Jesus Christ, he's still alive."
A different voice barked back, harsher: "Shut up and finish it!"
I grinned, teeth red. "Come on then. You want the devil? Come get him."
No one moved.
So I did it for them.
I stepped off the pile, boots squelching in the blood, and slid the knife free. My knees buckled for a moment, but I forced them straight. My whole body was screaming, but I still walked forward.
The mobsters flinched, guns raised, but not one of them fired. I could see it in their eyes—the fear. The disbelief. That a man could be cut up this bad, shot this many times, and still come for them.
I didn't feel like a man anymore. Just a shadow crawling forward on stubborn rage.
A barrel flashed.
The shot hit me square in the ribs. The impact knocked me sideways, air bursting out of my chest. I staggered, dropped to one knee.
The world tilted.
The mountain of corpses loomed behind me, a grotesque throne I'd built from their bodies.
My knife clattered to the pavement.
The shooter lowered his gun, breathing hard. "He's done."
But I wasn't.
I pushed back to my feet, groaning. My lungs were filling with liquid fire, but I forced them to drag in one more breath.
One more.
I grabbed the nearest body, yanked the pistol from his dead hand, and fired blind into the shadows. The spray of bullets rattled off walls, glass shattered, a scream tore out from the dark.
Not done. Not yet.
By the time the slide locked back, my arms were dead weight. The pistol slipped from my fingers, clattered uselessly to the asphalt.
And this time, I didn't pick it up.
My legs gave out, dumping me to my knees.
The mobsters slowly stepped out from the smoke. Dozens of them, guns leveled. None wanted to be first, but they didn't have to be. I was already finished.
Blood poured from me in rivers. My suit was nothing but tatters and holes. My skin burned where it wasn't numb. My breath came out in rattles, each one harder than the last.
But my head stayed high.
They weren't going to see me bow.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the absurd thought crept in again: the roses.
Eternal Roses: The Bonds of Ten Hearts.
A title screen shimmered in my head, soft piano notes mocking me as the real world drowned in screams and gunfire. Ten princes, ten lovers, ten perfect bastards with perfect hair—all reaching out to a heroine with smiles like sunshine.
And me? A butcher, crawling to his grave in a gutter.
I laughed. The sound came out wet, choked, but I laughed anyway.
"Figures," I whispered. "My last thought in this shithole world… some flowery-ass otome game."
A boot crunched on glass nearby. Guns cocked in the dark. The fear was gone now. They knew I couldn't stand again.
And I knew it too.
This was the end.
I let my body slump back, collapsing into the bed of corpses I'd built. They caught me like old friends, stiff and warm, the stink of death wrapping around me like a blanket.
For a moment, the night was still. The smoke hung. The blood steamed.
And I thought about all of it.
The streets where I'd grown up, alone.The brothers I'd found in the Ataliere family, most of them long dead now.The faces of the men I'd killed. The weight of every trigger I'd pulled.The silence that always followed.
And then, against all reason, I thought about Eternal Roses again. About how stupidly happy it had made me, how ridiculous it was that a man like me had ever cared about something so sweet, so innocent.
Maybe I wanted to believe in that world. Maybe I wanted to think there was some place where love actually lasted, where people didn't die screaming, where the sun rose without bringing new blood with it.
My lips moved before I even knew the words.
"If there's a next life…"
Blood bubbled at the corners of my mouth.
"…please…"
The world dimmed, color draining from the edges.
"…let it be peaceful…"
The shadows closed in.
"…full of love…"
My chest seized. I forced the last of the air out.
"…and just sunshine… and rainbows."
The night swallowed the words.
The mountain shifted under me one last time.
And then Jimmy Bellic was gone.