Winner Stays, Loser Pays [Open]

“YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, YOU ARE MY BITCH!”

Who, exactly, was Trent’s bitch? A wide-eyed, startled sixteen year old scenester. Before anyone thinks anything untoward of the Chosen of Isis, let’s lay things out. The scene is an honest-to-goodness arcade. Two teenagers, one older, with a scar transecting the left side of his face and curly-ish copper hair, the other thin as a whip with a dyed black mop, are squaring off at a Mortal Kombat machine. Old school shit.

The arcade was, of course, a dazzle of distracting lights and sounds. Machines stood in lines that would have been solemn if it weren’t for all the action going on. Skee-ball machines spat out tickets, Pac-men and women chased or fled from ghosts, moles were whacked by the dozen.

For his part, Trent was in a frenetic state of concentration, explitives aside. His tongue was poked out of his mouth just-so, and his emerald eyes were fixed on the glowing screen as he jostled his joystick emphatically and mashed buttons like it was going out of style (which technically, it already had.) Everyone’s favorite teen-mummy was sporting a pair of snug jeans and a dark gray hoodie, with the hood drawn down since his head had started getting warm.

“OH YEAH, FATALITY” he chimed, finally pulling his gaze from the game to grin at his vanquished opponent, who… didn’t quite know what to make of Trent.

“Uh, dude, it’s just a game,” the kid mumbled before blinking slowly and stalking off.

[You are… quite enthusiastic about these machines, Chosen.] His pocket priestess didn’t know what to make of him either just then, but he'd explained it was a personal ritual to ease tension, and she'd agreed to observe mostly-silently.

“More like –Noob- Saibot, amirite?” Trent gloated to himself, switching over to story-mode when no challenger presented himself. His character of choice was the iconic Sub-Zero, and frankly, he pwned copious face with the blue-clad ice ninja guy. It got him to thinking about costumes. Did he need one? If so, what should he pick? Bandages would be dumb, and… he just couldn’t bring himself to want to festoon himself with ankhs or scarabs or other Egyptological stuff.

He tabled the mental discussion and focused his attention on whupping the AI Sonya Blade’s pixelated ass.

Raiden slipped his blade out of the second mans heart and threw him against the wall. Three men just attempted to mug him and Raiden showed them all not to mess with a Cyborg Ninja. He cleaned his blade off and thought silently to himself of what was going on in his life at the moment. He missed Sarah more than anything and without her, life felt.. empty. He finished his thought and cleaned off his blade. He reached for his body length black trench coat and wrapped it around himself while putting up his hood to make sure no one could see his appearance. He walked back down the street thinking to himself as he went about his life. He stopped and looked over into an Arcade and his, very few, childhood memories of always going to the arcade shot through him. He walked inside and inserted a few quarters to get some tokens. He walked over to the nearest arcade and inserted it in playing a game of Zombie Blaster, his favorite game as a child. He looked over to see everyone else enjoying there games especially a man yelling out loud over winning a game “OH YEAH, FATALITY” Raiden scoffed a little remmebering how he used to brag at winning games. He returned to his game to find that he had been playing without even looking earning the top score easily. The Exoskeleton he wore enhanced almost everything he did which was amazing and fearful. He backed away and sat at the nearest table near the boy who had just yelled out loud over his victory, He thought silently to himself as to what he should do next. He closed his eyes and remembered Sarah perfectly, he wouldn't ever forget her, he remembered the weird times they had and the fun times and even the sad times. All of these were the only things he cherished as of late. he reopened his blue eyes and simply stared at the empty seat.

The problem with relying on a black trench coat and hood to remain inconspicuous was that… Sith Lord cosplay wasn’t particularly inconspicuous. If Trent weren’t so wrapped up in his ascent to defeat the mighty Shao Khan, he would have noticed Raiden much sooner than he wound up. Trent’s skills were formidable, true, but only for a teenage boy. Doubtlessly the cyborg could have crushed him easily if he chose, but mere mortals stood nary a chance against the Throne of the Pesedjet.

The Throne of the Pesedjet needed a soda. He’d been at it for thirty minutes straight, maybe, before the scene-kid had bailed on him. He looked around surreptitiously, making sure there was no one around who was likely to steal his game if he headed off for a tick, and that was when he noticed the trench-clad voyeur.

He decided to give the guy some rope to hang himself with and departed the MK machine to quickly feed a dollar into the Coke dispenser just down the aisle. As he passed Raiden’s table, he did his damnedest to discreetly get a better look at the stranger’s hidden face. He couldn’t quite put his mental finger on it, but something seemed a little off. Maybe it was the guy’s proportions? Trench coats usually fit pretty slim, comparatively, and this guy was shorter than he was. Hmm.

He got himself a Diet Coke (because he preferred the taste, not because he had any worries about his waist-line) and twisted the cap off, strolling back toward the machine as he took the first swig. He tried to keep his presence as innocuous as possible, as if he wasn’t intrigued by the Neo-Wannabe who had set up camp by his console. All told, he was away from the machine for maybe twenty seconds, tops.

Raiden noticed the boy pass right through him. He didn't bother identifying him sense he probably was nothing more then another boy. Raiden sat there for a bit longer thinking to himself when a group of seven teenagers entered the building. Them, it was them Raiden identified with his visor. The group was a common here as they were bullies who take money and play games and don't pay for anything. This was because the leader, Sam Witherson's father was rich and powerful so the owner can't do anything. He noticed them as they all began taking money and driving some people out, the group slowly split up until sam and another one of his friends came closer "Hey bud.. this is my spot.. just for sitting here im gonna need a toll of twenty bucks" he said as his friend snickered "See now im Sam Witherson, as in my father owns this town? so if you don't pay up ill make sure you disappear for ever!" Raiden scoffed again, he reached up and easily pulled Sam down to his level "Get lost you pathetic spoiled little brat" Raiden said with a cold hard voice, Sam backed up and his friends did as well. They were all shocked at what he had just did. Raiden could see veins appear on Sams head as he reached for him, and in an instant, *BAM!!*. Raiden slammed Sam's hand into the ground and stabbed a knife straight through it. Sam screamed as people stared in his direction. Raiden in a flash keeping both his hood and his trench coat still on, moved and took out each of his little friends in only a matter of seconds. He then pulled Sam by his red hair and held him back to him "If i ever see your pathetic face around here again... I. Will. Kill. You." he said in a deathly cold whisper. Raiden then removed the knife and palced it back in its sheath and sat back down as Sam ran away along with his friends. Raiden simply scoffed as everything returned to normal like nothing ever happened.

Of all the things Trent had been expecting, bearing witness to the hooded figure skewering a kid’s hand and knocking a bunch of others down like bowling pins wasn’t one of them. The attack was so sudden, so vicious, so efficient that he could barely do anything but drop his soda with a fizzy splash and take a few steps toward the scene before it was practically over.

“Hey, kid, wait.” Trent snagged Sam by the shoulder, jerking him to an abrupt stop. This part he could handle. He wrapped his hand around Sam’s injured one, sort of spinning the kid so his back was against Trent’s chest (in part to obscure visibility of what he was doing, and in part to shield the kid from further attack). The knife had gone through clean, but for all he knew the boy was a hemophiliac or something. Squeezing gently, reassuringly, he let Sekhem flow into the wound, using his own life-force to repair the damage that Raiden had done. It would take a while for him to finish, maybe a full minute, during which Trent had presented the attacker with his back, seemingly heedless of the consequences.

For Sam’s part, he’d realize rather quickly that whatever Trent was doing was good. The soothing was immediate, and even if he was interrupted, the little bully would be better off than before the impromptu, sorcery-fueled treatment.

Meanwhile, Trent had a… something to deal with. The hooded figure could have been normal, but he couldn’t shake his earlier feeling of offness, and stabbing a kid was pretty cold for your average criminal. This was a full on psychopath.

This was the hard part. Dealing with the bad guy. The muscles behind Trent’s cheeks flared as he clenched his teeth. His pulse picked up, and he could feel the start of some flop sweat. He was still so new at this. How did he deal with this guy, who had… apparently just gone right back to sitting… without causing too much collateral damage. Those who had born witness to the attack had fled, and likely already called the cops, but the arcade was hectic and noisy. There were still plenty of potential casualties enjoying themselves, unaware of what had happened across the room.

Ability Used:

Raiden looked over to the boy who had just healed the pathetic kid who just ran out the door to cry to his daddy. He had been glaring at him. But he quickly returned to looking at the empty seat across from him "Problem?... If so I really don't care... Get lost kid" Raiden said in his cold voice. He was a good guy but right now he was in no mood to be trifled with. He got up and bumped into the boy before walking out the door and walking into the alleyway behind it. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and was tired of cleaning up small time criminals. Ever sense the government had transformed him into the Cybernetic Beast that he is nowadays Raiden had been miserable. The death of his lover had struck him harder then anything considering she was his best friend. Anger slowly swelled up inside of him he took his right hand out of his pocket and smashed it into the building next to him causing it to crack. He looked over thinking himself as a monster before slipping his hand back in and continuing on his way. "Oh Sarah... What would you think of me now... As a mechanical freak?" he asked himself out loud. He kicked a lightly enough for it to just roll away.. that would be if his body was human.. being his body as a machine the can was sent flying onto the Fire escape above, Raiden just sat down and thought to himself silently.

Trent was super-glad he hadn’t been stabbed in the back in the time it took him to mend Sam’s hand. Like, positively ecstatic. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this hero business after all! It was that jubilation that finally put a bit of steel in his spine, and so he straightened and turned to deal with the ruffian.

“You’re damn right we have a- oof-“ Trent was… pretty ordinary, physically speaking. He was teeming with metaphysical power, but that didn’t make him any more resistant to being shoulder checked than an average plucky teen of his mass. He sagged back a couple steps, his train of thought interrupted.

“… problem,” he finished, a shade quieter, watching the trench-coat flap as Raiden stalked off. How anti-climactic, if ultimately for the best. He hadn’t really had a throw-down mano y’ mano with another super-thing, and even if this guy was normal, he was clearly a psycho. He’d go for the kill, and Trent wasn’t sure he was up to staving that off in combat just yet.

… but, how would he ever know if he didn’t test his limits? How many other kids might get stabbed in the hand because Trent just let him walk away? How many puppies drowned, how many angels left wingless?

“I am so fucking stupid,” he intoned miserably as he jogged off after the departing figure.

[You are the Chosen of Isis. Do not mistake duty for stupidity.] A lot of reassurance she was. He was the one who had to face-down a knife-wielding maniac. He hit the sidewalk running, and jerked his head to and fro looking for his quarry. The sound of a very heavy clank drew his attention to the alley, and he arrived just in time to note a trench-coat cloaked figure sitting on the fire escape. Not fleeing, sitting.

Trent didn’t have cybernetic enhancements to rely on. He coiled up his muscles and leaped, but his fingers just sort of brushed the wrought-iron ladder of the scaffold without gaining any purchase. He tried again, and this time managed to grab hold, deploying the ladder with his body weight and gravity. Once it was accessible, he started his ascent. There really wasn’t any way of hiding his approach, and it felt ridiculous to confront the man from the ground, so… here he was, pulling himself up to join Raiden.

Trent didn’t look like he was spoiling for a fight, mostly because he wasn’t. Truth be told, he was a little confused by what had gone down. Why stab someone, then retreat to the alley to brood? Something didn’t add up here.

Raiden sat there for a bit longer when he heard the ladder drop. He looked down to see the boy from before in the arcade climbing up it. Raiden scoffed, he immediately gripped the top of the ladder and ripped it off letting it drop. He then proceeded to do a twirling black flip over the fire escape and landed on the ground facing the building he was just sitting upon. "Kid you wanna explain why your following me?" Raiden said. He moved himself into a defensive ready position. and waited, The boy was persistent as to follow him. Raiden was ready to remove his trench coat and fight if needed, for the trench coat had decreased his fighting abilities and he knew without it he could easily beat his kid. "I already told you in there to beat it. That kid got what he deserved for you do not demand someone for something. Furthermore why in gods name did you heal that pathetic loser? I would sooner rather bend knee to the devil himself then help a roach like him." Raiden moved closer "If you keep this up your going to end up dead one day. You do not heal your enemies you make sure they lie on the floor in a pool of there own blood.. you make sure they stay dead and kid you should REALLY learn that lesson." Raiden wasn't angry at all, this was just his usual self. He scolded people for things that they do and what not. With that he awaited his reply

He wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy had attacked him as he came up. That would have made sense. It was a little other-wordly, though, to watch the guy rip the ladder off and fling it away… with Trent still clinging to it. With speed born of frantic worry, he released the ladder and managed to grab hold of the edge of the landing, just barely. He didn’t have the strength to haul himself up, though, so he sort of just hanged there for a few seconds before closing his eyes and letting go.

He plummeted straight downward, graceful as a cat of the dead persuasion, and had the sense to bend his knees to absorb some of the shock when he hit. It still hurt like hell, but as far as he could tell, nothing was broken or sprained as he staggered a bit, opening his eyes.

Mr. Brightside there had dismounted a lot more cleanly, it would seem. Rather than the fight he was dreading, Trent found himself on the receiving end of a Nefeki worthy lecture.

[I would never offer such odious counsel, Chosen.] The priestess sounded fairly offended, but Trent was a little in the thick of things to explain that he meant in terms of length and berratingness, not topic. He let the guy finish, dusting himself off a bit and waiting his turn.

“Okay, I’m pretty new at this shit, but I think I’ve got this. First off,” Trent’s voice had a little ghetto-worthy sass in it as he jutted out his right index finger. “Thanks for not stabbing me. Second off, that kid didn’t stab anyone. If he had, sure, I’d say maybe he got what he deserved, but s’far as I could tell, you were the only one stabbing people up in the joint.” He smirked tersely at Raiden, adding a second finger to the mix, and then a third.

“Thirdly, I healed him because he could have bled to death. He wasn’t my enemy. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t your enemy. He might be Tommy Hilfiger’s enemy, because he really had the Manhattan wigger thing going on, but that’s beside the point. I don’t know what he did to set you off, but to say that you overreacted would be like saying Vesuvius is a two-liter with vinegar and baking soda in it. I mean, come on man. Not cool at all. Use your words, you know? I mean, I’m scared shitless of you, so you totally could have put the fear in him without going all Jason on him, right?” He paused, actually pretty pleased with the state of his discourse, and then added a final “Riiiiiight?”

Raiden heard the boy talk as he got up dusting himself off “Okay, I’m pretty new at this shit, but I think I’ve got this. First off,” Raiden scoffed, "Great, a newbie." Raiden heard him talk some more “Thanks for not stabbing me. Second off, that kid didn’t stab anyone. If he had, sure, I’d say maybe he got what he deserved, but s’far as I could tell, you were the only one stabbing people up in the joint.” Raiden glared at him "That idiot demands money from the arcade and doesn't pay for anything... he got what he deserved without a doubt." Raiden replied back. “Thirdly, I healed him because he could have bled to death. He wasn’t my enemy. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t your enemy. He might be Tommy Hilfiger’s enemy, because he really had the Manhattan wigger thing going on, but that’s beside the point. I don’t know what he did to set you off, but to say that you overreacted would be like saying Vesuvius is a two-liter with vinegar and baking soda in it. I mean, come on man. Not cool at all. Use your words, you know? I mean, I’m scared shitless of you, so you totally could have put the fear in him without going all Jason on him, right?" .... “Riiiiiight?” With that Raiden stared at the boy "First off no idiot would bleed out from a wound like that no matter how small.. secondly.. so you wanna play hero in this world boy?..." Raiden laughed then threw back his hood and took off his trench coat revealing his cybernetic exoskeleton body "Then allow the professional hero, the cyborg ninja, and the professional killer teach you a few things about being a hero!!" Raiden yelled as she unsheathed his blade. "The super powered freak... versus the mechanical monster... a friendly spar between two heroes." He moved himself into a battle ready position and awaited the first move to be played upon this chess board. "By the way... You may call me Raiden." He said finally

Trent’s right eye sort of… twinged. He didn’t need an Egyptian priestess to tell him that stabbing kids was deeply wrong, and the fact that this supposed-hero didn’t get that made his head hurt a little. Maybe it was just sour grapes over the whole nearly-throwing-him-off-the-fire-escape thing, but he was starting to get a little peeved.

He was all geared up for some first class smart-assery when the cyborg ninja revealed himself in all his cyborg ninja glory. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so weird thinking of himself as the vessel of a bunch of gods with animal heads, what with cyborg ninjas running around. That brief sarcastic thought gave way to the familiar fear. Provided that he couldn’t talk this guy down, things could get really hairy. The cyborg (he was glad he’d identified that much, since he’d have no idea what the right term was just by looking at him) had said spar, but then again, he’d also demonstrated a colossal inability to mete out punishment proportionately. For all he knew, cyborg ninjas sparred to the death.

Maybe he was broken. Some kind of short in his personality matrix, like when Data went crazy all those times. Data was an android though, but, maybe the same thing could happen to cyborgs.

“Listen, um, Raiden. Not that I’m calling you a liar or anything, but… heroes don’t stab kids. They’re just kids. Sometimes they don’t know any better. I used to be a lot like that kid. Worse, actually. People can change, and violence is just going to breed more violence, you know?” He tried to be as tentative as possible, using his talking someone down from a ledge voice. He frowned, remembering something: the way Raiden had just come outside to sit and brood. Maybe he did realize it was wrong, on some level?

“What were you doing just sitting up there on the fire escape?” he asked quietly, earnestly, meeting Raiden’s very human blue eyes with his own green coronal ones.

Raiden sighed and shook his head "Two... No... Three weeks before your dead in a ditch.. You can't fix everything kid by healing and good will... somethings just need to... Disappear." Raiden chuckled when he looked up and glared at the boy "Tell me kid.... Have you ever loved somebody? And no not that fake love from best friends or family love.. i mean truly loved someone?" Raiden's question hung in the air loosely as if Raiden already knew the boys answer. "Have you ever held someone to dearly that once they were gone.. You lost everything?... Kid let me tell you something.. You are DEFIENTLY new to this.. Because you know absolutely jack squat that a small rat would make a better super hero." Raiden glared at him with an intensity in his eyes to scare most kids. Mixed in with the fact that his entire lower jaw was removed it looked even more sinister, "Over you i would choose a Rat to save my life or a beggar. You are nothing, you reading me boy?" Raiden continued to glare at him "The sooner you learn how to man up.. The sooner ill learn to accept you as anything that's not worse than a rat." Raiden moved closer still in his ready-to-fight stance "Have fun in hell, because if you keep this up thats were your going." in truth Raiden was trying to provoke him into attacking, one way or another he would teach this kid how to survive in this world even if that meant a few limbs were going missing on him. Of course though Raiden could always replace his limbs later sense he would survive them being torn off. He stared at the boy and scoffed "You pathetic roach. You worthless waste of human life, I would sooner rather have a rotting corpse protect me over you." Raiden with that locked his visor down and waited for the boy.

Raiden got lucky, in terms of riling Trent. The insults just rolled off like rain-water, but the bits about him not knowing what the hell he was doing really hit him where he lived. He didn’t quite buy the notion that he needed to maim little kids to break into the superhero racket, but he really had no clue what he was doing. There was never a clear course of action for him to follow when the s hit the f. He just reacted and reacted some more, and usually, he wound up in situations like… well… this one. After an inward sigh, he readied some replyage.

He wound up smirking just a bit, shaking his head as he folded his arms over his chest. “Actually, I have clear confirmation that I’m not going to Hell, but I get the idea. And for the record, my feelings are really hurt here, I’m just too stoic to cry.” His smirk hitched up at the corners before his lips pursed into a more thoughtful expression.

“I can’t say I know much about love that doesn’t involve a crusty t-shirt hidden in the hamper, but… I have lost everything before. My life, literally. My friends, my family. So, that much I do get. But you know how I get by? I like to think that what I’m doing now is something they approve of. That if they could see me, they’d be proud to call me their son or their friend.” He paused a bit poignantly, basically deciding whether to take the offensive here or to keep playing nice. “I know for a fact they wouldn’t feel that way if I went around picking on people who were weaker than I was, stabbing kids, that sort of thing.” He shrugged non-committal, then canted his head and regarded Raiden quizzically.

“The person you lost… do you think they’d be okay with that?” So maybe he was deflecting, just a little. He still felt lost, as far as hero training went, but... he felt less lost than Raiden seemed to be.

“I can’t say I know much about love that doesn’t involve a crusty t-shirt hidden in the hamper, but… I have lost everything before. My life, literally. My friends, my family. So, that much I do get. But you know how I get by? I like to think that what I’m doing now is something they approve of. That if they could see me, they’d be proud to call me their son or their friend." Raiden looked at him in the eyes, was this kid an idiot? "Hey, wise ass.. i said anything but family.. were talking about two different types of love here." Raiden stepped forward, this kid really had no idea how the world works. And that sickened Raiden, this kid was going to end up dead in a matter of days, probably cause he is to stubborn to see what life is like Raiden stared at him a bit longer. "“The person you lost… do you think they’d be okay with that?”" ... Raiden stood still completely.. That had struck him in his core. He glared as a single tear dropped down below. "And what exactly do you know kid!! how much could a worthless pathetic kid like you know!! ... THATS RIGHT.. NOTHING!!!" with that he ran forward preparing to strike downwards-left after that he would lead up with a slash to the chest leaving his mortally wounded. If this kid was asking for death.. he was going to get it. As soon as he was in the midle of making his striking motion he activated his power, and in his mind time slowed down. On the outside Raiden and everything else appeared normal to everyone else, but for Raiden Everything slowed down. should the kid fight back he would easily counter it considering he can see everything now.

Ability Used:

Trent figured he had him. He thought, finally, he’d managed to get through to the… whateverthefuck-Raiden-was… and maybe they could start talking sense. He could find out who and what this guy was, and maybe even help him with his obvious five-year subscription worth of issues. He was still wary, of course. The guy was clearly a psycho.

At least, he was wary till he saw the tear. Naïve as he was, hopeful as he was, he bought into that tear, like it was actual physical evidence of decency and the potential to change. He relaxed a bit, let himself start constructing the next sentences, the next verbal needles with which he would pith until he’d managed to get through the machine and uncover the man.

It was about halfway through the first of those sentences that he realized that there was a katana arcing through the air. A fucking katana. That was more or less the last thought he had before it sliced through flesh and muscle, and then there wasn’t so much thinking, just pain. He was no stranger to pain. When his body eventually wound up in a morgue, the medical examiners would no doubt have a field day with the plethora of scars mapped across his young body.

He tried to keep his feet but couldn’t. He managed to get his hands up, to try to staunch the flow of blood, but it was too much. Too much for him to heal. He was on his knees, and then his haunches. Maybe Raiden was right; he wasn’t, pardon the pun, quite cut out for this hero business. That was the last thought, the real last thought, that he’d have before he died for a second time.

The instant of death was release. The unique circumstances of his existence meant that Trent didn’t get to simply go up or down, like anyone else. Instead, he was standing there, up to his phantasmal ankles in his own corpse. Invisible and ghostly, he looked down at the mess and shook his head slowly. If he got sent back again, he wouldn’t be making this mistake again.

He turned his attention to Raiden, vaguely curious what his reaction might be. Odds were, he’d go get a hamburger or something similarly sociopathic and banal. It occurred to him that, in this state of existence, he would have been able to attend his own funeral if there would actually be one. There wouldn’t, though. Anyone who’d ever cared about him had already mourned him once and gotten on with their lives, as far as he knew.

Power Relevant:

Raiden looked down at the now dead boy. He scoffed and returned to grab his jacket, he sheathed his sword, unlocked is visor, and put his trench coat and hood on and began walking away. "Pathetic..." he said to himself he stopped for a moment and stood there. He looked back and began walking over to his dead body and knelt over, he reached for his cell phone and dialed in 911 "Hello 991 emergency how can i help you?" a lady with a high voice said over the phone, sounding like she was no older then eighteen. Raiden masked his voice to anothers for the time being the voice of a lady "A boy has been killed in the alleyway on 42nd street behind the arcade.. come help pick up his body" "Hold on ma'am were sending a squad over" with that Raiden hung up and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of cash, to be precise there was seven hundred dollars in it, he took out a stick note and a sharpy, on the sticky note he wrote down "Use this for his funeral -- signed anonymous" and stuck it on the was of cash leaving it on his body, He then walked away like nothing even happened "Its the least i can do for you kid..." he muttered under his breath. And with that he left the arcade and began wandering once more.

Trent wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. It took a few seconds for him to sort out the mechanics of his friendly-ghost form, but he was soon aloft, rising higher and higher until he’d ascended above the most ambitious of the skyscrapers jutting up from the petty ground below. He cut right hard, speeding up until he couldn’t any longer, and then streaked off unseen over the Hudson.

If this was the beginning of his afterlife, he was at least going to enjoy it.

[=Exit, and uh, dead=]