"...What is there to talk about? You fake."
Looking down at his other self, Riley… or rather, the "Riley on the ledge," furrowed his brows.
The "Riley on the ground" looked up, his lips pursed. "...Owch, that kinda hurts. But who knows? You could be the fake, and I could be the real one!"
"...I don't talk like that. You're too casual to be me, you pathetic excuse."
"Yeesh, lay off the insults. I'll call myself Woods, to make this a bit easier on us, 'kay? You can be Riley, I'll be Woods."
Pointing at himself with his thumb, Woods flashed a strange smile. "Anyways, get down from there. Let's talk this out."
"You don't listen, do you?"
Clearly annoyed, Riley dug the nail of his thumb into his index finger. "What even is there to talk about? If you were actually me, you would know what I'm going through. If you were really me… you'd join me."
"Ah… there was a woman who said something like that."
Raising a brow, Riley scowled. "Seriously, what are you blabbering about!? Who are you really?!"
"I'm… well, huh. I'm you, but… but from the future."
"Future? Don't look much older than my current self."
"...Yeah, I know. But like, a few weeks. Have you seen crazy stuff?"
"I have. So what?"
"Yeah, well, it's honestly crazier. Agh, shit, I really don't know how to put this… Well, I suppose it's not something you need to know. But, well, Riley… mom and dad love you a lot, y'know? And, and I think that, well, help is available. There are other options—"
"What… did you just say?"
Stepping down from the ledge, Riley walked over to the bloody knife. Picking it up, he aggressively walked over, whilst Woods raised his hands.
"Woah, woahwoah we can—"
"SHUT UP!!"
Grabbing Woods by the collar, Riley pinned him against the ledge, holding the knife to his throat.
"You, you fucking fake! Liar, you're a pathetic excuse!! YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!? YOU THINK, YOU THINK THAT, YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW MOM AND DAD LOVE ME, YOU THINK—YOU… you…"
Gritting his teeth, his trembling hand held the blade against Woods' throat, making tiny incisions which broke the skin.
"I… I know that. I know they love me," he sobbed, his voice breaking as he shook Woods by the collar. "I know that… but this… this, this, this… this fucking… hopelessness. That's all I can describe it as… despair. This despair, at knowing… knowing I'll never be able to live a proper life, solely because of who I am… a-as a person, and from my appearance… t-that's… it's despair."
Closing his eyes for a second, having come so close to finally making that decision, he slammed them open, staring directly at his other self—the fake, who didn't understand what he was experiencing.
"...."
"So, then… you fake," Riley began, speaking through grit teeth, "what are the other options you say there are? Look. At. Me. Look at who I am, what are the options? I'm not interested in the future. The only things that might interest me are things I'm not fit for, or are simply too reliant on luck."
"Um…"
"And what about my personality, huh?! Look at the way I speak to you—you're supposed to be myself, and yet I'm holding a knife to your throat! I mean, kgh," he spat, laughing as his body surged with heat. "I…Haha… If you have options for me to live, then answer me. Then tell me what they are. Then, try to provide any sort of relief. But you can't. Of course not."
Letting go, Riley staggered away, laughing to himself. Wiping the tears streaming down his face, he held the knife tightly.
"Because, as far as I can tell, there's no way out. There is no escape. At the end of the day, haven't I been like this my whole life?! Is there any reason to believe that, that, that I'll actually be able to change? To stop being myself? To stop being… me?"
"...I… W-well, yeah… no. No, I don't really think we can, um, exactly change."
"See!? Then shut up, then quit fucking barking at me, reminding me of meaningless information I already know!!!"
Shoving Woods back, Riley held the blade of the knife, pressing it into the palm of his hand, forcing the blood out.
"I know mom and dad love me, I know Nina will be sad, I know Joey will be hurt, I know all of that! You think you can talk me out by saying that I'm loved? Or—or even worse, that it 'gets better?!' BULLSHIT! How the fuck do you know whether it gets better!? Some problems are rooted too deeply into the heart, too deeply into that person's personality, to fucking say, to discard and say will 'get better!'"
The curses that had built up in his heart for years, surged from his chest, spilling out through his lips and into the world.
"Other options? Like what!? If I keep living, then it'll just get worse! I know it will! This—this is my only chance to finally let go, to finally give up, to finally act on the feelings I've been too scared to follow through on for years! So, so don't just… so don't just tell me it gets better, so don't just say there are other options, so don't just tell me that I'm loved…"
Crouching down, digging his nails into his forehead and clawing at himself, he felt limp.
"...I just want to die. That's all I want. I'm serious. It's all I want. It's all I want."
At this point, when everything had piled up so abysmally, there was no other choice. That had to be right.
Towering over him, Woods looked down. Letting out an uncomfortable sigh, he clicked his tongue and crouched down, facing Riley and pulling out a beer.
"Hey, I snatched this on the way here. Want a drink?"
Glancing over, Riley was unamused. "Sure, whatever…"
Taking the bottle, with his shaking hands he popped the cap open and took his first sip. It tasted terrible, and he wanted to spit it out.
"...Y'know, aren't you supposed to be all like, 'hey, I'm a minor, I can't drink?'" Woods asked, and Riley groaned.
"Just shut up, goofy."
Chortling, Woods nodded his head and sat down on the concrete ground. He looked up at the sky, finding nothing but darkness. That is, with the exception of the full-moon, which was briefly covered by black clouds.
"...Yeah. Honestly, I get it."
"No you don't."
"Yes, I do. And, honestly, man? I don't have any words for you. I said everything I thought would help—boy, did that go terribly."
"..."
"Even now, I really only talked you out of it because I was briefly concerned. But I get it. Honestly, a part of me wants to join you."
"...Okay. Cool."
Taking another sip, Riley was once more disgusted.
"And to be real—I don't even know how much I've changed. Even knowing what I know, from when I was chosen, to now… I don't even think I've changed all that much. Other than my sudden-boost of extroversion now that I've pretty much given up on life, and am dealing with someone I'm comfortable around… yeah, I'm pretty much the same."
Having nothing to say in response, Riley simply listened.
"But… I heard that all lives matter. Or, that even just one life lost is, well, a bad thing. It's obvious, but in a world where thousands dying is more of a statistic than a personal tragedy… I want to make it personal."
"..Whatever, I don't really care."
"Ah, that's right."
By this point, Riley had given up on helping others. Not having the opportunity, as a servant, to fulfill his fantasies of being a superhero, Riley had plainly lost hope in that standard with which he measured the value of his own life.
"I guess we really are different, then? Circumstances are different, so it's natural beliefs are. Plus, I'm way older, and wayyy more mature—"
"I'll smash this bottle over your head if you don't shut your trap."
"Yeesh, aggro much? Go-lly."
Reaching his hand out, Woods was given the beer bottle. The two shared the same lips, pretty much, so Woods wasn't too worried about germs. Taking a sip for himself, he showed off his maturity by not making that much of a face when he tasted the terrible drink.
"...Sorry. I just don't have anything to tell you. If you want to jump… I can't stop you. I understand. I was also… well, I just can't envision a future for myself either."
Biting his cheek, Woods watched Riley rise to his feet.
"But, even if I can't stop you, even if I understand, even if I don't have anything to tell you… please."
Woods got up as well, making eye contact with Riley as his vision became blurry with tears.
"I… I don't want you to die. If you really can't see a future, if you really can't see your life being valuable to others, if you really can't see any reason to live—no, screw that. I don't think you need a reason to live. I don't think anyone does. We shouldn't need 'reasons' to carry on. But, if you… if you can find even one way that your life benefits others, even if it's small…"
Wiping his eyes, Woods then extended his hand.
"If you can find anything in this world that makes it worth enduring, if you can imagine any way your life benefits others—even if it's just the comfort of knowing that their son, or their older brother, or their friend… knowing that they're healthy and still with you, then please. Please, don't go."
His hand outstretched, Woods earnestly pleaded with Riley. Not because he particularly believed it himself. He himself still wanted to commit suicide, and he still resolved himself to it.
However, it was much, much easier to say those words to another person, rather than to himself.
His hand. Undeniably, it was welcoming.
Yet, Riley turned away regardless. Dropping the knife to the ground, hearing its metal song, he went to the ledge. Climbing up on it, standing up on it, and looking down at the silent world below him.
Turning back and looking at Woods with a sad expression, Riley had nothing to say.
There were no words to speak. Nothing to comfort him, nor anything to pass on.
A sad smile, and a step forward.
…
Woods—Riley Woods, simply looked down. The sadness in his counterpart's eyes having burned itself into his memory, he swallowed the saliva building in the back of his throat, as he sat down on the floor.
I wanted to save him. Even if I knew everything about him, even if I knew it would hurt to save him, I still tried. That's… that's just pointless, isn't it?
And yet, even if it was pointless.
It still hurts… so badly.
No one who commits suicide dies happily.
It hurt to watch, it hurt to experience, and it hurt to realize.
Climbing to his feet, he picked up the knife, looking up at the dark sky. With the moonlight looking down on him, he begged for an answer.
"What's the point in continuing to live? Please, answer me. What could I have told myself to stop it from happening?"
But, there was no answer. Neither the moon, nor the stars—not all of creation—could give him his answer.
His teeth grit fervently, he balled up his fists.
It hurts. Even if it was myself. It hurts to see someone hurting to the point that they wish to end their own life.
That was simply the reality, was it not? "Despair" was the leading cause of suicide.
Not quite. Rather, it was "despair" and "hopelessness," that was the leading cause. The pain of the wound, and the certainty it would not heal.
Despair and hopelessness, lovers entwined.
Then, isn't that something I can do?
Unlike others, Riley Woods wielded unique, special abilities. Chosen as a servant of the Forgotten King, he was able to save lives, even if compelled to take them.
But that's bullshit, isn't it?
His eyes narrowed, Riley looked up at the moon. Seeing it, watching as it remained unmoving, surrounded by pitch-black space, the stars obscured by the pollution of light, he felt a deep, painful resolve stirring in his chest.
I'll prove him wrong.
At the core of his despair, Riley was pained that he was a terrible person. And at the core of his hopelessness, he was certain he would never be able to change how horrible he was, overwhelmed by his weakness.
Needing powers to help others… that's wrong. Why should I need fantastical powers just to help others? People don't need superpowers to do the right thing.
My war isn't against the servants of Ghira, or even Ghira himself.
—My war is against the hopelessness so present in the world, my war is against despair itself, which leads to pain so overwhelming that people seek death as an escape.
That's my fight. And perhaps I'm being foolish, ignorant of my future despair, unaware of my future pain. But, just for this moment, even just for this moment… I won't stop fighting. I'll kick and scream and bite and yell and punch and elbow and stab—I won't stop fighting against my despair.
Not just that. I won't stop fighting against the despair of the world.
Approaching the ledge, leaning over and looking down at the world below.
My fight is against the world. Not the people in it.
It was his declaration of war. Putting the resolve he felt into words, he had determined himself to continue the fight.
And yet,
"Ah—"
—Upon his declaration, the world went black.
…
Opening his eyes, Riley found himself encased in warmth. Warm guts, they had acted as a blanket surrounding his body. As if shedding his skin, he looked up into the air, and then to the side, finding a grizzly older man pointing a gun at his head.
"Oh dear."
[Hanging] summoned into the world and instantly wrapping around his arm, the gun was pointed away, with Riley raising his boot and kicking him away.
His shaggy black hair falling down to his face, he looked at the man with half-lidded eyes, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Hey. What was that for?" He asked, and the man calmly summoned a G95A1, turning on full-auto.
"Riley. I've had enough of that weak monster, who did nothing but run away and hide next to children. At this point, I'm so thoroughly annoyed that I don't care how easily I kill you—this is my final hunt, I'll do whatever I want."
Hurt. Looking down at the monster's body, which he had seemingly burst from, Riley felt hurt at the news. From what he'd just heard, this "monster" had run away, and hid next to children. That did not seem like someone who had the strength or aggression to fight back.
A deep sympathy in his heart, he crouched down and gently petted the "monster's" head, comforting the corpse.
"I hope it was an easy death. I see… it was my fault, then. For hunting you inside your own forest, it was genuinely a mistake. I'm sorry."
Standing back up and looking around, he found himself in a Halloween event at an amusement park. Dozens of children in their funny little costumes gathered, watching the scene and crying, as expected.
That's no good. Then, to fight against the fear and despair so present in this world, and to struggle bitterly against my own hopelessness, I have to change and become a stronger person.
Plus, it'd be good to provide some solid entertainment, right? The parents did pay money to be here, after all. Gotta give 'em a good show.
Stretching his arms and legs, Riley did cossack squats. Actively avoiding the use of firearms, as they were loud and could easily startle children, he opted to go into the fight unarmed.
"Let's make this worth the parent's money. It's your final hunt, isn't it?"
Taking a deep inhale, and letting out a hearty exhale, Riley smirked.
"—'Enemy of the World,' Riley Woods."
"—The 'Right Hand of War,' Frank Russo."
Declaring their titles, the two set their battle in stone.