“You can’t hash it right now? I’m shocked, look at me SHOCKED! You look fine to me, Broccoli.”
V wouldn’t pretend to understand what Splatter had been through, and he wasn’t entirely sure he cared. But one thing was for sure, Splat didn’t seem eager for a fight anymore.
Vendetta, at that point, felt robbed.
“C'mon, you can’t just have some fun with a lil’ sparring match? It’ll be fun–”
Leave or apologize, neither would happen as the pink ghost surged forward, his own fists curled with flame. Several rapidfire punches, up close and personal. Knowing damn well he’d get sent flying again but not caring. He was already dead, what else could happen?
The yellow heart at his lapel pulsed wildly, excited at the prospect of a proper fight.
That mocking tone from the other Lewis was curling the anger deep inside of Splatter Lewis. It was insulting! And yet at the same time, the green haunt had deigned to give him a chance. To leave, let the embers of conflict subside and calm. Sure if this had been a friendly spar, it would be different. But the situation that he was in, mentally and emotionally, was not conducive.
“Sparring would be better than what my soul and curse demand of me. Please, I’m begging you, leave-”
A rush of pink and purple came at Splatter Lewis, and he jerked backwards. Too late however, punch after punch slamming into his chest and face over and over. Leaving bits of ash and smoke from the flames ignited with each contact. Sparks of pinks and limes brightening from every single one. Like sparks or fireworks of pain and fighting.
“Please!” Another punch. “Stop!” Another. And another. “Don’t-” Slam, punch, whack. “This isn’t a good time-” No matter how much he begged. “Please, Lewis, Stop!”
The undead allowed each and every hit to make contact. Almost hoping it would take him down, knock him out, anything! But the power boiling deep down was too much. Lewis wasn’t strong enough-
Images went through Splatter Lewis’s mind in that moment. Memories of Vivi, Rainboo, Pompadour, Arthur’s, Lucan, Lance, Kia, the Peppers, Louise, Other Lewis’s, and so many more. Every single face and memory that went across his thoughts was accompanied by bitterness, anger, fear, turmoil, and self loathing. Followed, by nothing but rage.
One hand launched out, slamming a fist into the other’s chest, followed by grabbing hold of the suit, and perhaps a rib or two. He did not care. The unnatural heat coming off him skyrocketing. Plants near by withering near immediately, and black char marks left upon the very dirt. He lost count of how many blows he had taken. Parts of his suit burnt and rumpled, imprints of fists left all over.
“And I hoped you were B̀͜͞è͟t̶̵te̷̷r͘. Than me.”
He roared at the top of his lungs, any and all control that he once had on that power snapping. Aura coming off him in waves, as he suddenly spun, and hurled the other Lewis through the air with all his might. The force and speed of which he used was left to be a blur.
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dailybridgerton
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