As soon as you’re born, out of the darkness and
into the light, bloody and screaming, you are dying. In my line of work
you normally go out the same way. If you’re lucky then the blood may be
someone else’s as well, mingling with your own as you take the
screaming bastard that did you in with you, out of the light and into
the darkness, quick and fast. If you’re unlucky then you get to add
lingering pain to the blood and screams, insides spilling out as you lie
festering in your own guts and shit. If you’re very lucky, of course,
then the pain, the blood, and the screams are someone else’s and their
death comes at the end of your blade; and you get enough coin to last a
week in one of the better whorehouses before picking up the blade and
walking the red path once more.
If you’re very lucky you get to live.
Because everyone dies, you see, but not everyone lives. Not truly.
This is how I did both.