The lone mercenary slowly works his way up the side of the mountain. A dropship would have been faster but he wanted to experience every last detail, every footstep, every strained breath. It's not often that you get to choose where you die on the battlefield, war is ruthless like that. Even so this time was special because it would be the last time. GÇ£Obsolete technologyGÇ¥ they said, GÇ£The hardware is degrading too quickly.GÇ¥ He knew this day would come, they all did, but even so it was more difficult that he expected. It's a funny thing, being an immortal and dying thousands of times...only to be forced to suddenly cope with your own mortality.

He knew this clone wouldn't last, they weren't designed to, and the system to transfer his consciousness would soon be taken offline. He was going to die soon and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Fear of death was always the first thing new mercenaries needed to overcome, yet he could feel it wrapping around his heart yet again, its cold grip squeezing his chest. If anything he welcomed it, the fear of death is truly proof that one is alive, a feeling he had long forgotten.

He reached the peak of the mountain, a spot he remembered well. He chuckled to himself, looking at the spot where he died for the very first time. It was during his first battle that he was crouched in this very spot overlooking the canyon below trying to perform recon on the enemy below. He was so scared of dying that he didn't notice the scout behind him until the nova knife was buried in his back and he fell from the cliff to his death.

The mercenary shakes his head, a faint smile on his face, thinking about how much things have changed since then. Even so it seemed fitting that it should all end in the same spot where it all began. He offered himself this quiet comfort of choosing where to die to help quell the memories of all that he had endured to get there. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be on his terms for once.

He stands and checks the time, 11:59, this was the end. He presses the release on the back of his dropsuits helmet, pulling it from his shoulders and dropping it to the ground; he wouldnGÇÖt need it anymore. His eyes are closed as he breaths in the planet's thin atmosphere; it's cold and harsh, but he welcomes the dull pain in his lungs. Standing at the edge he lifts his face up to meet the warmth of the sun, letting its light engulf him.

All the memories, all of the experiences, all of the people he met. They rush into his mind one by one, filling him with a sensation of a life well spent, and well fulfilled. He went through hell, but it changed him for the better, and for that he was satisfied. The gripping fear of death slipped away from his heart as he opened his eyes to meet the blinding whiteness of the sun.

The mercenary smiles and says to himself GÇ£Such that we may rise again.GÇ¥ and takes a step forward.