I’m not usually the religious type, but I’d like to think that there’s a special place in heaven for the Alphas.

A different kind of heaven- the kind where B.O.W.s run amuck. There’s plenty to go around but not enough for them to be afraid. And they’ll take them down like they always have- as a team, having each other’s backs, screaming out hooah and yeah, bitches, every time another one topples. 

It’ll be heaven’s hell, and they’ll love it, because war is a drug, and they’re lost in addiction.

When they’ve finished up for the day they’ll all head to the bar- something every heaven needs. Andy and Carl will drink themselves shitless, singing loudly and sword-fighting each other with the pool cues. Ben and Keaton will lean up against the wall and dare each other to try and get a conversation going with whatever girl just walked in. Marco and Finn will be off in a corner somewhere, tipsy but not yet drunk, discussing scenarios in which their knowledge of explosives would save the day once again.

Piers’ll be sitting at the bar, the steak in front of him untouched, waiting.

And when Chris finally walks through the door, aged yet ageless, he’ll greet him like an old friend.

Hard to find a good steak around here, he’ll say. And Chris’ll pull up the stool beside him and order one of his own.