Scars of A Broken Man

As Liberty Bell landed, the Ghost stood weakly before making his way over to everyone. 

Get away from him.

The crowd steps away from Rat. The Ghost looks at his former partner. 

You were my penance. I never stopped paying for my mistakes.

Y-you.

No. Let me say this, then I'm ending this my own way. 

O-okay.

I wanted to be free my whole god damn life. I stood by your side and we had it all, but I realized I screwed up on my own god damn birthday. I watched you vanish and so did my fire. Rather than rebuild such a fire, to became the thing standing in front of you, look at me R, I haven't stopped making sure the scars are bleeding. I added new ones, I kept destroying myself.... So the memories of you couldn't. I don't care if I ever speak to you again after this. He threated those I care about... So he'll by the death of my penance. I am no longer shackled by the chains I put upon myself. 

The Ghost turns around and marches over to a dying Tyranny. 

Understand this, and understand it well. With your death, I shall be freed of my penance, apologetic for nothing, so go to hell, and die quickly.

The Ghost cocks back his fist are fires a series of heavy blows into Tyranny chest. 

-Sir if he keeps this up.... He'll never be able to use that hand again.-

-If Uncle Sam had handled our little demon here with better care, we wouldn't have to be so careful.-

The Ghost slammed his fist into Tyranny's chest, crushing his heart, ending the battle once and for all. 

However, as many things go, this wasn't a happy ending.

Everything went black, the sky, the world vanished, the people around the Ghost were all gone, everything was black. 

As the headset was removed, the Ghost was on a table, his right hand trembling, his body covered in scars and lacerations. 

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!

HOLD ON! Just calm down! 

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE?!

CALM DOWN! 

The Ghost took a deep breath and relaxed. 

Good. I am Doctor Moore. I apologize for pull you out like that. However, sir, you've severely crippled that right hand of yours! We can't run the simulation again. The trials are over.

Trials? Simulation... YOU'RE THE NEW WORLD ORDER!

NO! We're with ONI-CORP. You were selected to participate in test. Out of over one million candidates, you are the only one to defeat everyone we threw at you. The Order, the US Government, your mom, everyone we threw at you was defeated or killed by you. 

The Ghost looked around the dark lab, yet he saw nobody else.

Where... Where are they?

Sir.... None of them were ever here. This isn't another simulation. This is ONI-Corp's Simulation Lab. You live in the city, you are twenty-three years old. All of that, your past.... 

The Ghost looked down at his right hand. It was black and blue.

My... old army injuries?

Yes. We did what we could to fix things but, sir, your body can't handle anyone. Hell we don't have anymore tests anyways. We'll get your coveralls and mask, but those injuries need to be...

I'm fine. 

Sir, we can't...

I said I'm fine. 

The Ghost put on his Pepsi cola cut off and then his coveralls. He stuffed the mask in a pocket and began to walk towards the exit.

Never fucking call me back for another test. 

The sliding doors shut behind him as he entered the neon lit city streets as rain began to fall. He cradled his hand as he walked. The city was of a cyber-aesthetic, and the raindrops were like little liquid windows into the city. 

The Ghost staggered over to a wall. The pain in his head and his hand were making it impossible to think. *That was all.... A simulation? All my friends.... Everyone.... Where... What happened to me?*

The Ghost checked his pockets to find his wallet. Upon finding it, he pulled out his holo-ID. He found an address and began his walk again. The woolen coveralls were beginning to soak up the rain. As he walked, people were down trotted and looked like tomorrow was forever away. Drugged out or so wrapped up in their own mini-simulation they didn't even notice him. He brushed them off and walked up to the skyline tram station. As he boarded the tram, he looked out the window and stared at the moon. 

*So that's what I went through... I am the Ghost of Ottawa, but at what cost?* He thought as the tram stopped at his stop. As he departed, he stood before a rundown apartment building. As he made his way inside, this homemade door sign was still hanging on the door. As he opened the door, there was a note on his table.

"Dear Ghost, when you signed our agreement, we agreed to pay you and your bills. Your apartment should be in order, and the credits will be deposited into your account come the morning. Thank you for your participation. ~Doctor Moore"

The Ghost put the note down and opened his fridge. Grabbing a bottle of flavored vodka, he sat in front of his space heater and took a swig. 

*What a fucking nightmare.* He thought as he took another swallow of the vodka. Looking out of the window, he saw the city in full. The neon lights, the holo-boards all over. He was interrupted by pain in his hand. He stood up, put on his compression gloves, injected a stim into his wrist and sat back down. 

Taking another swig, he sighed as he covered himself in a blanket. *Let's agree never to do that again....*

The Ghost sealed the bottle then laid down. Finally able to sleep.

*Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day....*