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Tommy had always hoped for a noble death. Painless, too, but those don’t usually go hand-in-hand.
He’d had a simple life, taking after his mother. Often over-prepared. Could easily live a grander life but simply not wanting to.
Owning the powerful guns to take over a much bigger ship, but adoring his small one so much, loving the minimalism and having everything so organised. Plus, the smaller he was, the less of a threat he was perceived as.
Part of him always wanted to start fights, add more mayhem to the galaxy that it didn’t really need, but the more sensible side stopped him. No use starting a war when it’s just him vs the world, as fun as the self-destructive voice in his head makes it seem, the one that tells him nothing would be better, nothing could make him feel as alive.
The most daring thing he’d done since he broke off from his first party, the one where he was nothing but an annoying child (a bit that gets tiring quickly), was go to a music festival. Tommy usually despises such large gatherings of people, especially when those people are so drunk and hyped up by blaring music, but his two favourite artists were playing on the same day, one after the other. How could he deny himself a little fun after such a harrowing time of it?
He’d managed to grab recordings, too, decent ones that he could watch whenever he wanted, whenever he wanted to hear the voice of his favourite artist telling him that it would all be okay.
Other than that, he’ll steal a little to help himself, harvest wild fruits and vegetables, hunt wild animals and keep finding new, safe adventures. Whatever the universe has to offer him.
All this to say, Tommy couldn’t help but worry for his future. Not because it was unclear, but because it was too clear, and too short. Since he was young, he’d always felt in his bones that he’d die young, that when he was put on this earth he simply wasn’t meant to live long.
He’d live his teenage years happy, stupid, sometimes drunk, and then leave in that beautiful state. A bottle in his hand, gifted by his mother as a celebration for his birthday, only meant as something fun and innocent and not something to drown his sorrows in, as much as he denies this accusation he makes against himself.
Alcohol seeping into his mind, the stars seeming brighter and more colourful as he stands at the front window, almost feeling like if he takes one more step forward he would fall out into space. He’s still waiting for the moment where things will click, where things will make sense and he will know what to do with himself, the moment he was promised as a child by almost every adult around him, and it terrifies him deeply that it hasn’t happened yet.
A small beep distracts him from thinking any further, a small sigh of relief leaving him as he rounds the controls to check the screen in the middle. A party invite.
He doesn’t make a habit of accepting these, but… he couldn’t shake this feeling. Like some voice other than his own is telling him that something awaits behind that invite. Something that gives him purpose, something that puts him into the small spotlight that could mean the beginning of something meaningful.
Tommy shakes his head, placing the bottle down and rushing to the bathroom sink, drinking fresh cold water right from the tap before splashing his face with some. The movements seem more difficult, though. His brain is pushing him to sit down, accept the invite, go.
He suits up, sliding his black gloves onto his hands and grabbing the controls. Another beep as he accepts the invite, then the ship is shaking and rumbling as it makes the jump.
Tommy quickly realises he has made a mistake.
He’s not sure what to focus on first. The huge ship in front of him with no discernible players on board, but he can see people. Just no usernames. Looking around, he notices that many many others have accepted this same invite, and they all seem to have the same goal in mind, guns of all shapes and sizes aimed at this ship in front of them.
What war he has just signed himself up to, he isn’t sure. He only knows one thing for certain.
He is afraid. Well and truly afraid. That feeling of knowing his lifespan isn’t as much as his mother wants it to be, it’s made so much worse. He feels like he could be sick, but something is stopping him. He wants to, he needs to… but he can’t.
He feels watched.
There are expectations of him, he is known, he is loved, and he is made fun of.
Bullets ripping through space, already dealing damage to the large ship as it flies away, and Tommy’s body takes action before he can tell it otherwise.
He follows his fellow ships, readying his guns and aiming best he can. His target may be large, but it’s moving at such a speed that he isn’t even sure if he should be aiming for it. He doesn’t know anything about this, and how is he supposed to?
Guilt creeps into his mind already, the gnawing feeling that comes with following the crowd just because you’re scared to do anything else. Even when you’re questioning if what you’re doing is wrong.
Dodging meteorite after meteorite, his bullet count slowly declining and what will he even get out of this? The knowledge that he’s won, when he doesn’t even know if he’s on the right side of history?
These confounding feelings, a mix of pure adrenaline and being watched and blinding guilt but somewhere in there is fulfilment. Somewhere in there is the beautiful rush of being alive, something he’s only ever been able to find at the bottom of a bottle. Far too young to be thinking such things, and yet he couldn’t feel older, couldn’t feel more like this is it.
The large ship at the end of the meteor field deploys defensive measures, its own weak guns managing to knock a few enemies out of the sky and Tommy can’t even focus on those, not when he’s chasing the rush, chasing the ship, chasing the victory.
This is his place in the universe, this meteor field, this moment, and he’s determined to live through it. He can almost see what his life was supposed to be, a wild life with friends and family and adventures, true adventures, making so many memories instead of rotting in his ship. Why didn’t he think to do this before? Live his life to the fullest?
Tommy’s ship rumbles again, the speed he’s at detrimental to the other functions of the ship. He’s almost out of bullets, but he somehow believes that there will magically be more, because how could things go wrong when this feels so right?
The enemy’s guns get weaker by the moment, Tommy convinced that he’s on top of the world, on top of the universe, until one last shot from those broken guns comes barreling towards him quicker than he can blink.
He stares at the ball of light careening towards his ship and he doesn’t move quick enough to dodge it, his ship lighting on fire instantly as every alarm the ship has installed blares in his ears, the red glow of a thousand errors sending him into a rushing panic.
Tommy shakes his controls meaninglessly, his hope for a noble death replaced with begging and pleading for his life now that he’s got a taste of what it could be. While his seatbelt stops him from bashing into the sides of his ship, he can make out the sight of every other ship still headed for the enemy. Not caring who dies in the process.
He regrets not getting a bigger ship, his beloved one seeming so claustrophobic but space seems terrifyingly large and he doesn’t want his body out there.
He can feel in his bones that his spotlight moment is gone, that the dose of a better life was all for nothing.
The last thing Tommy feels is a disgusting sense of purpose. That he’s served his time. That his fears of being put on this earth to die young were correct. Who knows if it was his fault, if he thought it so much that it became reality, if it simply isn’t up to him.
Left abandoned in space to meet his death, and none of the options are painless.
A jigsaw falling into place.