Archive of Our Own ^beta

Men fight long after the war ends. Big Boss and his right hand man, Kazuhira Miller, were no exception. Almost everyone at MSF who saw combat suffered the same fate: sleep would not come, and if it did, it was no longer restful. Night terrors, memories, regrets, like vengeful spirits lodged in the subconscious. It was not uncommon to be woken from sleep the nightmares of the men around you.

Big Boss had suffered from these symptoms since his first mission, he knew a cruel carousel of every torturous moment he endured awaited him in dreams. It was not uncommon. Like all the others, he was still fighting long after the war ended. Whisky helped, the cocktail of pills from paramedic rendered him dreamless at least, but never for long.

But one dream was different. He had it since 1964 and it was never the same twice. He was unsure the event had even happened in real life. It was like the line between dream and memory were blurred. Whichever came first did not matter. He was back in that river, with that man, and the souls of the dead.

He was there now. The water was cold. The faces of the men he killed - some soldiers, some civilians - were distorted as they clawed at his clothing, desperately trying to drag him under the current. Like the River Styx, but he was no Greek hero. He had no home to return to. No lover to rescue. No divinity to reclaim. And someday, he would be a phantom in some other soldier’s dream. Distorted, anonymous, just another dead soul in the current.

Then, the man appeared through the storm above. He hovered above the water just ahead - The Sorrow. He looked so familiar. A trace of him lingered in another man Big Boss knew so well. He spoke.

“You have returned to me, John.”

The apparition lingered above as he fought off the dead below.

“There are more of them now. You can never free them. They will only accumulate.”

He trudged ahead. The current was getting stronger. The river rising with rain.

“I have a warning for you,” the pale ghost brought his hands to his face, “I see all futures. Your future. Your past. They are a tangled web of misfortunes. But you must play your part, John.”

Despite the heavy rain, The Sorrow remained dry, like nothing in this realm could affect him. He seemed to enter a trance. More spirits rose from the current, twisting amongst the others. Big Boss had to fight harder through them all.

“There will be many more sacrifices. You will lead countless men to their deaths. They will die willingly, even by your own hand.”

Lightning. The Sorrow thrashed above him. As if trying to decipher all the visions swirling past him at once.

“I see two brothers. They will decide the fate of this world. A final stand. They are you, and you are them. Yet, you are already gone.”

Nonsense. This was a dream. This is just another night terror, a manifestation of his own guilt.

“You will trust and be betrayed. You will build a kingdom with the stones of this betrayal. It is filled with bloodshed. You will be defeated. I see you draw your final breath. I see you dying as two men.”

The Sorrow stilled.

“My own flesh. You have already killed the woman I loved, and you will take more from me. You will always take more away.”

The river swelled. The Big Boss was starting to succumb to the dead souls’ relentless assault.

“You will lay with him like a lover. He will wait for your return. But you will find him in bed with another you. Another man who is haunted. A man with a trail of blood and bodies.”

Big Boss felt a rage deep in his gut rise to the surface. There was only one man who fit that description. A man he longed to forget. A man he knew would never let him.

The Sorrow lowered himself to river’s surface. The waters calmed immediately. The rain faded out. The spirits stopped moving. They stood face to face.

“John. You must die,” the pain in his eyes was apparent, “your future has been written already.”

“But what was it all for,” Big Boss’s voice trembled. He stood motionless in the calm water. It had turned from his Styx to his Jordan. A baptismal pool of his own sins. “How else can I carry on her will?”

“I do not know. I see a world where you can live freely. I see a world where there are no wars. Where men love one another. Where you are happy. Where he waits for you. There is no kingdom. There are no cursed progeny. But this world cannot be.”

“Why?”

“You must die, John. I will be there when you do. I will guide you here.”

The calm waters swelled up and up, faster and faster. The water was climbing over his shoulders. Over his head. He gasped and held his breath. No matter how fast he tread, the surface crept farther away. Just out of reach.

He woke.