Jack died and no one came to his funeral. He lay on the chair of his home. That is how warriors go, I suppose. A life filled with demons and pain evaporated from him that morning. He had his gun in his hand like he had always had. But his death came through from not a hole in his heart or head. Just the heart beeping. He was not a great man nor a noble man. He was just an ordinary man who did extraordinary things. Many people went the same way all through the universe. In the morning when there was no one around. His eyes spoke of despair and failure. Even though he was a man who had lived a adventurous life, the pain of his failures still haunted him. His marriage, his relationship with his parents were all stained. Having lived a life alone most of the time, it was only fitting that he died alone. His assistant came much later on the evening. A young man in his twenties, whomJack had taken a liking to. He did not weep for his employer. He just buried him. That is how he wanted it to be. After having buried him, he felt a sense of hopelessness that he felt all his life. Failure. He clenched the trigger of the gun that Jack had on him previously. He pressed it against his head. Some people are not born straight in the head, Jack would often tell him. You are one of those people, he said. You will drown in your sorrows, your motivations will not aligned. Misery! Jack had once said to him. Once I'am gone, he said to the young man without a hint of empathy. Take the gun and shoot it between your eyes. You would be doing yourself a favour, he said.
The young man was trembling now as he pressed his gun between his head. He shook and he was ready to pull the trigger. He wanted to end his life now rather than endure a life of failure. A craft came flying down, burning its body. He looked at in awe. He had not seen anything like this. He dropped the gun and ran towards it. The craft flew down and crashed on the ground. He opens the door and picked the man up. It was an European, he could tell. He was full of blood but his eyes were wide awake. It was as though the man had seen a thousand battles and lost many. But he had never given up. Plato asked for the kids name. Marlon, the kid replied. Take me to the hospital, he said without any fear or remorse. His ailment was to be treated and that is all he cared about. Where are you coming from? asked Marlon as picked up Plato. Who was much smaller than he was in size but he could say that he was much larger in his heart. Somewhere people like you could serve a purpose, he said. Marlon had never seen Plato before, but every word that came out of his mouth rang true. People like me never had a chance here? asked the young kid. Plato could not help but laugh. No one has a chance here kid, said Plato. Not if your heart is in the right place. If you are a just man, they will take away your home, they will take away your honour. They will strip away your soul, he said. Plato did not wear the uniform of a soldier, but at that moment he sure did speak like one. If you do not point the gun at the direction they tell you. They will shoot you right between your eyes. Marlon was stumped. And up there? he asked. There you got a chance, at least, he said. You got a family? asked Plato. No replied, the young man. Then you come with me, he said.