When General Sam Ridgemont rose from the dead for the second time in his existence, his first thought was that he must be getting [i]old.[/i] 

The first time he had died, the resurrection was quick, quiet, and [i]painless[/i]. There weren't any messy memories of being shot, no bloody bandages to deal with, no residual pain or soreness of any sort. He had been shot, he had died, and then he had woken up in a bright, clean medical facility a week later, in perfect health other than a slight stiffness from being immobile so long. 

So the throbbing pain his forehead, near-darkness surrounding him, and unmistakeable scent of blood in the air were really rather worrisome. The room was silent, too, and in the darkness no distractions presented themselves. 

[i]Clive Williams screams, the sort of scream Ridgemont's never heard come out of his quiet, composed young assistant before, but before he can react he's lying on the launch pad. Clive is still screaming, but his voice grows harder to hear. Ridgemont feels the boy's hands grabbing his torso, pulling at his uniform and turning him until he lays face-up. 

Clive's face fills his vision, and even through the mounting pain Ridgemont's taken aback by the sheer [i]terror[/i] in his eyes. He tries to tell the boy not to worry, that he's been assassinated before and survived, but Ridgemont doesn't remember assassination hurting this much, and then Clive and the other officers slowly fade and all is quiet.[/i]



Ridgemont scowled. [i]Assassins.[/i] Inconsiderate and stubborn, the lot of them. Not content with killing him once, [i]no.[/i] They just had to come back and interrupt him when he was trying to board a shuttle, of all things. 

[i]The command ship.[/i]

Ridgemont quickly brought his custom-engraved watch up to his eyes, only to be met with a bare wrist. [i]When were they leaving?[/i]

The command ship would wait for him, surely. 

Leaping into action, General Ridgemont rolled over and made to stand up, barely catching himself as he plummeted off a gurney. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously but still mobile. The world flashed white as motion-activated lights turned on. 

A wrecked operating room came into focus, the exit on the Farr wall. Picking his way across biomat containers (scattered and emptied of all biological material), biological hazard containers (overflowing with emptied blood bags), and some sort of wiring (were the doctors really so busy with war trauma victims that they couldn't tidy after themselves?), he staggered into the hallway. 

Someone here would know if the shuttle had departed yet. Someone here would know if he had been abandoned by his chain of command. Ridgemont resolved to aggressively fire Clive Williams if he was in any way involved with the General waking up in a forgotten operating room. 



Williams would have to wait, because Death himself awaited General Ridgemont in the hospital lobby, casually arranged in a chair.

"[i]You,[/i]" Ridgemont hissed. The man merely grimaced, the expression distorting the familiar, grotesque scar marring his face.

"I'm getting tired of killing you," his assassin said.

"So you're who shot me the first time, too," Ridgemont stated, moving closer despite the pounding in his head.

The man nodded. "And I'll probably shoot you the third time, too. And the fourth. And so on, until my employer gets a damn clue and has me kill whoever's responsible for overseasoning the solar system with your warmongering ass." 

Ridgemont frowned. "I'm right here."

"I see that, General," the man drawled. "And while that's a lovely opportunity I'll be capitalizing upon soon, my job would be much, [i]much[/i] easier if you weren't also [i]there.[/i]" He nodded to the screens lining the wall. 
 
Onscreen, a group of military officers were in the process of boarding the command shuttle. Ridgemont immediately noticed Clive William's ramrod-straight form amidst the uniformed bodies, trailing closely behind none other than General Sam Ridgemont. 

He blinked, then looked down at himself. No, his uniform was still there—albeit bloodstained and devoid of accoutrements—but it was unmistakably [i]him[/i] boarding the shuttle. 

"I don't understand," Ridgemont whispered. 

"I didn't either," his assassin agreed. "But I think I do now. My client wasn't lying when he said you were essential for the war efforts. They're really committed to keeping you around."

Ridgemont stared at the healthy, beaming version of himself waving at the cameras. "But I've died twice"

"[i]That[/i] body's only been shot once, I think," the assassin corrected, reaching into his jacket. "But I'll fix that."