there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb

One

ONE

Blitzø didn't remember making it from his couch to his bed the previous night – or stripping out of his clothes. But it wasn't the first time, so even if he hadn't been stuck smack bang in Depression Central he wouldn't have given it much thought.

Fuck, yesterday was a shitshow. A part of him didn't want to get up at all; didn't want to face his employees, his daughter (the people he wanted to care for, wanted to be close to). M&M must be pretty pissed at him for interrupting their anniversary date, and Blitzø wouldn't have the energy to cover his hurt this time.

But staying in bed meant being alone with his thoughts; alone, the gut-wrenching memories of Verosika, Fizz, Barbie, Tilla...Stolas...

'You are going to die alone...'

His phone buzzed, breaking him out of that unwelcome haze. It vibrated once more, twice more, before Blitzø could muster up the courage to reach over and grab it. Huh... he thought he'd have left it on the couch.

The messages waiting for him were... literally the same as yesterdays. Same wording, same client, same fuck-ton-of-lumberjacks targets, same everything. He scrolled up – nope, they weren't repeats, this was the first time this treehugger dick had contacted him. What the fuck?

And now he noticed that the date was yesterday's date. Millie & Moxxie's anniversary. The day they went (were going to) Ozzie's.

What. The. Fuck.

...

Head reeling, Blitzø went through the motions that day, the outside world a blur. He stiffly delivered their assignment to his employees, he walked through the portal into the gold-hued forest, he shot the lumberjacks cleanly and efficiently and unable to take pride or pleasure in it.

All he could think about was this time-looping bullshit, and how it had to be a bad dream. It had to. Or maybe the trippy truth gas those D.H.O.R.K.S used on him lasted a while. This just couldn't be real.

He suspected his employees saw how off-key he was, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that. Didn't even want to know their responses for sure, to be honest – if he looked them in the eye, would he see the sympathy he craved or the disappointment and abandonment he anticipated?

And what the hell did that matter anyway. This was supposed to be a dream. If he just went back to sleep this dream could be over (please please please), and then he could just get on with the fallout he could more easily psych himself up for.

So when the job was done (again) Blitzø just... left. Mumbled something half-congratulatory to Millie and Moxxie for their anniversary. Ignored what sounded like a concerned question. Convinced himself that his daughter wasn't staring sadly at him. Moped out the door and moped back home.

There was a part of him that still insisted on following Millie & Moxxie to Lust. Inviting Stolas on a faux "date". Letting himself get emotionally scraped raw again because clearly that's what he deserved.

But this time Blitzø skipped to the ending. He got home, curled up on his musty sofa, swiped through his photos over and over again until he could almost sob his heart out, and quietly cried himself into oblivion.