[ZW] HEROES DON'T DIE [PART ONE]

Day 847, 23:21 • Published in Pakistan Pakistan • by AgentChieftain
EDITOR'S NOTE: I'm not satisfied with the quality of this article, so expect it to be rewritten.

─ ℤ𝔸 · 𝕎𝔸ℝ𝕌𝔻𝕆─

───────── 時 · よ · 止まれ ─────────

ISLAMABAD, Pakistan - Gentlemen, this has been a long time coming. I've been collecting myself over the past two weeks, preparing myself in both mind and body, to transcribe exactly what happened three months ago. I directly experienced the divine will of Dio through a miracle: I was assassinated, and then I revived.

­

Three months ago, I, as well as a handful of my comrades, began spreading the good news heralded by JunkyFoodGuy. He preached of the apologies of Ikiru, the cat on the table, and the anal adventures of Emerick and JKD. I believe it was Althalus who accompanied me whilst I gave public speeches to the peasants in a third-world country known as the United States of America. The Americans were not ready to hear the news, and an unnamed politician hired the Canadian mafia to hunt me down.

I was then permanently suspended after an assassination attempt by none other than Captain Sam. I was in limbo. Limbo, gentlemen, is the middle ground between worlds; think of it as what lies between the PS3 and the 360. Between these two realms lies a desolate place inhabited by those awaiting judgment by Dio Brando himself, and that is where I now stood.

On his right was Paradise, which appeared to me as a PS3 with games in the middle of an oasis. On his left: the Inferno, which I saw as a Super Megason IV in Stockholm. When I stood before Him, I had nothing to say; Dio knows all, and as Supreme Priest of Dioism, he already understood all that there is to know about me, as my life was his life. He spoke briefly in a divine language that sounded rather unusual; I could not understand it at all, and it almost sounded like the biblical Japanese in which the Book of Dio was originally written by Sir Albert Nabla.

When it was time to pass my final judgment, Dio did not gesture towards the left or the right; he pointed straight ahead. He called me a "gaijin," which I believe is the Japanese word for "foreigner." Even though I could not understand his Japanese, the message was clear: I did not belong here. The last glimpse of Limbo that I could recall was the face of FFHHeero, a man who has lived a thousand lives and died a thousand times, escorting me out of the afterlife.

­

I then awoke in the top floor of The Doctor is In in a bed surrounded by sand, flowers, and gifts. The upper ward of the hospital is distinct from the rest of The Doctor is In, as it is reserved for politicians, priests, and virtuous outsiders. I heard prayers in Urdu coming from outside my door, and a certain sexy medic asking the pilgrims to make a path to retrieve my corpse. Upon his entry, I greeted him with a firm brofisting, and he greeted me by promptly fainting. I thanked the man, Herr Doctor Tanner, as soon as he collected himself.

And that concludes the first half of my tale. I promise that I will not keep you waiting for very long, but there is something important that I must show you in the meantime. Recalling what happened isn't easy; memories of the afterlife are not meant to be carried by the living. Take care, bros.


 ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>   ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>   ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>   ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>   ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>   ..😣/strong>☪😣/strong>

ℙℝ𝕀𝔻𝔼 · ℙ𝕆𝕎𝔼ℝ · ℙ𝔸𝕂𝕀𝕊𝕋𝔸ℕ
Copyright © 2010 ZA WARUDO. All rights reserved. For questions or technical support, see here or contact the editor.
For print copies, back issues, and official merchandise, order online at our store or call +ZA WARUDO NEWS (+92 917-836-6397).