Hotline Waffegeist, Eplilogue

Hotline Waffegeist: E P I L O G U E

How long has it been since that moment? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? …Years? All sense of time is non-existent.
Darkness surrounds me, blocking all my senses. Even my sense of self feels like it is slipping every now and then.
And when it happens, flashbacks of that moment keep replaying. Always ends the same way.

>It all happened in a flash, completely out of nowhere. One moment I was in my chair, and then I felt spirited away.
>And now, I remain in limbo, neither sure if I am alive or dead.
>Sometimes I hear voices, though I cannot make out what is being said, or it is in fragments.
“-ropped off like this.”
>”-ou hear he died?”
“-e murderer is still unknow-“
>”-missing, and still being search-”
“-push for legal prote-“
>”-saved us-“

All these things that happened, have they all been a dream? Is any of this real? So much has happened, or at least I think happened.

>I think I will continue to remain asleep, for there is nothing else I can do with this feeling of complete disconnect.

I see a light ahead, is this finally it? I feel stuck and unable to move any of myself, but the light persists.

>Faces flash before my eyes, but I cannot see them. It is all a blur.

+“**** can you hear me?”
Am I waking up? Is the dream finally over?
* “How is he?”
+“He has begun to move, and his eyes open intermittently”
* “Can you hear me? If you can, tap two times.”
I try to tap with all I can, but the voices from before do not answer back.

>Time continues to drift by as I wait in white light.
>Voices continue to come and go, whispering or muffled, but always fragmented.
>I still try to hold on each perceivable day, hoping for this nightmare to end.

*“-ou awake?”
A blurred face appears once again, but now with greater clarity. It is the face of an older looking man in a whit-Wait a minute! Where am I? What is this place? Why can I not move!?
*”Patient is agitated again! Nurse, bring ----- stat!”
Agitated again? What is going on!? Get awa…

* “Hello there. I need you to remain calm, and that you are in a safe place.”
“ugnh.”
* “If you can understand what I am saying, please move your head up and down or tap once.”
I feel dulled, but I complied move my head as instructed.
* “Good, able to move again and responsive.”
* “Now, how many fing-“
For the next few weeks, similar tests were conducted. It wasn’t until I regained my ability to see clearly and had shown that I haven’t become retarded that I was told I had been in a coma for almost 4 weeks. I was soon released from the hospital, and was sent home after confirming that I have regained my ability to move independently.

Thrust back into reality, I return to the only clue I have to where I call home.

>Yet, everything doesn’t seem right. A part of me feels as though there is a large hole that hasn’t been filled.
>I continue to languish, and hold onto memories of this dream.
>What is this new sensation? This feeling, I know it from somewhere. But why is it also raining?
>My vision returns, and…

“It wasn’t a dream. Viveca, how I missed you!”

>”P-papa? You’re alive? I saw you die!”

I embraced Viveca as hard as I could, weeping. We survived through it all, from storming gangbangers to taking out heads of state. And now we’re are out, retired to a place where the both of us can live without fear, and away from the warzone to live out our lives in a place where these wonderful girls are accepted.