Post by Guardsman Patrick on Oct 12, 2006 23:08:53 GMT -5
Chapter 23: “Have Mercy, My Brother”
Alex stepped forward towards Shade, his Light Blade flaring. He stopped before Shade and waited, knowing his brother would have something to say.
“So it comes to this,” Shade said with a strange irony to his voice. He smiled, his blood stained lips curling slightly at the corners.
“I guess it does,” Alex remained calm. Shade was no threat now, stuck to the brick wall of the remaining portion of the tower. These were his last moments; he might as well have a few words.
“Funny, it worked out just the opposite of the way I was expecting. You lived through our last fight. You returned twice as strong, and now you have conquered me,” Shade coughed up a large clump of blood, as he spoke, and his breathing became rough.
“You never could accept that I could be equal to you, but I guess now you know better,” Alex’s words were harsh and ragged as his body urged him to simply kill Shade.
“I have made plenty of mistakes, and I wish I could do it all over, but what’s done is done.” Shade’s voice dropped to a low mumble. He seemed ashamed now that he looked back on it all.
“We all make mistakes Shade. Some are worse than others. Some are excusable,” Alex looked at Shade seriously, and Shade looked back with a strange sort of pitiful, painful, bittersweet joy. “But I’m afraid that your mistakes are not.”
Shade’s eyes dropped again, looking down at his bruised chest visible through the rips in his shirt. He seemed to be too lightheaded to feel emotions right now. The blood loss was getting to him, and he was beginning to turn pale.
Shade looked back up at Alex, staring deeply into his eyes. Tears began to fill them and he spoke only four words, “Have mercy, my brother.”
The tower cracked along the middle, cracking right between Alex and Shade. Shade’s face turned to fear as his half of the tower shifted down about two feet. He grabbed onto the ledge of Alex’s half and held on with all his remaining energy. As the tower slid down, Shade's left arm was torn his body, severed by his own blade. Shade clenched his teeth tightly and refused to let out a scream of pain. He looked back up at Alex and continued to hang on tightly.
“Help me, brother!” Shade hung twenty feet over the boiling soup of lava that would engulf him momentarily. The Dark Blade below was about five feet above to surface, sinking slowly into the lava.
“You have chosen your path, and you will suffer for it,” Alex said, placing his boot right above Shade’s fingers. He leaned forward, putting all his weight on them. “I’m sorry.”
Shade fell down nearly two stories and burst into dark green flames, the lava taking with it all but his headband that sizzled as it hit the boiling pool. Alex turned, looking back only to see the Dark Blade gone; missing from the pedestal that it had been jammed into. Alex paid no mind. It would turn up again to haunt him. It was only a matter of time.
Patrick cut into the tank’s backend and shoved a grenade snuggly beside to fuel cell and jumped back, watching as it exploded into a blue fiery mass. He ran to the next and felt something odd. Something was missing. The evil that had filled the air not twenty seconds before was gone, and all he could feel was the light radiating from the top of the ruined tower. Alex had succeeded, he had purged the shadows.
Patrick ripped into the tanks hull, making a hole in the side. He kicked one of the guns into his left hand and squeezed the trigger, aiming at the startled men inside. Each of their dots disappeared quickly from the green radar on the dashboard of the tank.
Patrick turned to the next tank and saw the gunner on the turret aiming straight at him, ready to fire. There was no way to block the bullets or to dodge them. He hoped that the silver haired General on the back didn’t have good aim.
Just as Patrick felt like the bullets were going to hit, he heard to twisting of metal before him, and opened his eyes to see the Gatlin gun ruined on the tank and Alex fighting the General now. The General didn’t have a gun, but instead had a large staff, electricity crackling at both ends.
Patrick rushed in to help, jumping on the back of the tank to get in on the fight. There was no way the General was good enough to take them both, but that proved wrong. He quickly jabbed Patrick with the electrified end of his staff and shocked him until he was launched a good five feet off the tank, hitting roughly. His left leg felt numb and bruised. He could feel his heart pump blood through the spot where the staff had made contact each time it beat.
Alex followed behind him, knocked off by an uppercut with the wide pole. They both stood up to see the tank rolling away at top speed, getting away from them as fast as possible. This was the beginning of the retreat. The A.O.T. now knew that they were not wise in coming back after they were defeated the first time. They should have followed their instincts, not their superiors. They should have known. They never were, they aren’t, and never will be a match for The 3 Gym Masters.
Alex stepped forward towards Shade, his Light Blade flaring. He stopped before Shade and waited, knowing his brother would have something to say.
“So it comes to this,” Shade said with a strange irony to his voice. He smiled, his blood stained lips curling slightly at the corners.
“I guess it does,” Alex remained calm. Shade was no threat now, stuck to the brick wall of the remaining portion of the tower. These were his last moments; he might as well have a few words.
“Funny, it worked out just the opposite of the way I was expecting. You lived through our last fight. You returned twice as strong, and now you have conquered me,” Shade coughed up a large clump of blood, as he spoke, and his breathing became rough.
“You never could accept that I could be equal to you, but I guess now you know better,” Alex’s words were harsh and ragged as his body urged him to simply kill Shade.
“I have made plenty of mistakes, and I wish I could do it all over, but what’s done is done.” Shade’s voice dropped to a low mumble. He seemed ashamed now that he looked back on it all.
“We all make mistakes Shade. Some are worse than others. Some are excusable,” Alex looked at Shade seriously, and Shade looked back with a strange sort of pitiful, painful, bittersweet joy. “But I’m afraid that your mistakes are not.”
Shade’s eyes dropped again, looking down at his bruised chest visible through the rips in his shirt. He seemed to be too lightheaded to feel emotions right now. The blood loss was getting to him, and he was beginning to turn pale.
Shade looked back up at Alex, staring deeply into his eyes. Tears began to fill them and he spoke only four words, “Have mercy, my brother.”
The tower cracked along the middle, cracking right between Alex and Shade. Shade’s face turned to fear as his half of the tower shifted down about two feet. He grabbed onto the ledge of Alex’s half and held on with all his remaining energy. As the tower slid down, Shade's left arm was torn his body, severed by his own blade. Shade clenched his teeth tightly and refused to let out a scream of pain. He looked back up at Alex and continued to hang on tightly.
“Help me, brother!” Shade hung twenty feet over the boiling soup of lava that would engulf him momentarily. The Dark Blade below was about five feet above to surface, sinking slowly into the lava.
“You have chosen your path, and you will suffer for it,” Alex said, placing his boot right above Shade’s fingers. He leaned forward, putting all his weight on them. “I’m sorry.”
Shade fell down nearly two stories and burst into dark green flames, the lava taking with it all but his headband that sizzled as it hit the boiling pool. Alex turned, looking back only to see the Dark Blade gone; missing from the pedestal that it had been jammed into. Alex paid no mind. It would turn up again to haunt him. It was only a matter of time.
* * *
Patrick cut into the tank’s backend and shoved a grenade snuggly beside to fuel cell and jumped back, watching as it exploded into a blue fiery mass. He ran to the next and felt something odd. Something was missing. The evil that had filled the air not twenty seconds before was gone, and all he could feel was the light radiating from the top of the ruined tower. Alex had succeeded, he had purged the shadows.
Patrick ripped into the tanks hull, making a hole in the side. He kicked one of the guns into his left hand and squeezed the trigger, aiming at the startled men inside. Each of their dots disappeared quickly from the green radar on the dashboard of the tank.
Patrick turned to the next tank and saw the gunner on the turret aiming straight at him, ready to fire. There was no way to block the bullets or to dodge them. He hoped that the silver haired General on the back didn’t have good aim.
Just as Patrick felt like the bullets were going to hit, he heard to twisting of metal before him, and opened his eyes to see the Gatlin gun ruined on the tank and Alex fighting the General now. The General didn’t have a gun, but instead had a large staff, electricity crackling at both ends.
Patrick rushed in to help, jumping on the back of the tank to get in on the fight. There was no way the General was good enough to take them both, but that proved wrong. He quickly jabbed Patrick with the electrified end of his staff and shocked him until he was launched a good five feet off the tank, hitting roughly. His left leg felt numb and bruised. He could feel his heart pump blood through the spot where the staff had made contact each time it beat.
Alex followed behind him, knocked off by an uppercut with the wide pole. They both stood up to see the tank rolling away at top speed, getting away from them as fast as possible. This was the beginning of the retreat. The A.O.T. now knew that they were not wise in coming back after they were defeated the first time. They should have followed their instincts, not their superiors. They should have known. They never were, they aren’t, and never will be a match for The 3 Gym Masters.