He didn't expect to die so quickly.
Scott usually managed to survive a while. Not all the time, mind you, he was only mortal after all, but it just came as a surprise.
When he died, aside from the intense pain that came with being burned alive, Scott could almost feel his bones fracturing. Which was strange since he no longer had any bones to break. It was as if, in his third death, he had died as a Transporter too.
He felt a baby zombie sink its teeth into his non-existent flesh. Its fists collliding with his ribs. He felt that, as well.
Scott tried to shake the feeling off. He wasn't a Fungal Mage anymore. It was a new life, a different life. He wasn't like the others before him.
It was as if he was being pulled apart and pieces of him were scattered through lives he'd lived in the past. Glimpses of a sword thrust through his heart in snowy mountains, of dying to a friend's hand, of standing atop a mound of TNT and lighting it.
Of waking up in the flower fields again with a blurred face smiling at him.
Shivers crawled over his body.
He was dead now, wasn't he?
An emptiness crept inside him. The others would be gone soon. Properly gone. Would he be the last one left?
Scott thought about Sausage, his new life as an assassin. Of all his friends. Jimmy. Sparrow (although sometimes he thought he was Owen instead. Maybe he just had one of those faces). Lizzie. Martyn. Everyone he had cared about, gone.
Dead. Just like he was.
Something seemed familiar. He couldn't tell what it was.
"Home."
"Are you coming?"
"Martyn!"
"I'm giving you ten seconds to run."
Scott's eyes snapped open.