This is part of a storyline requested by Thirty3DeeJays! I hope you all like it, and I think it will be an interesting part of the story!
Once upon a time, there was a guy and girl. There was love and there was joy and happiness with a side of contentment. Everyone lived happily ever after.
The beautiful, amazing, fantastic, wonderful, redundantly pleonasmic end. That’s a True FactTM
I said it’d be on the shorter side! :>
Have you ever had that feeling that something important is happening? That someone near you is making a difference? I have. Many times, by this point. I suppose you should call me spoilt, havin’ spent so much time around great heroes and all. But the thing is, no matter how often something special, amazing and inherently good happens around you, the feeling of wholesome wonder never goes away.
But you don’t have to listen to me prattle on! Trying to get you to understand what I’m saying when you haven’t felt it yourself would be like… pushing a camel into a travel suitcase! Maybe that’s not a stellar metaphor, but you get what I mean!
Here, instead of hoping you get sniped with understanding, I’ll just tell you what I mean.
They moved so fast I could hardly see them. It’d probably be a bit cliché to say they were yin and yang, shadow and light, but that’s the best description I’ve got, love. Back and forth they went, like bolts in a thunderstorm. It was mesmerising, in a way.
From my spot up on the snow-mound I could see the exchange of blows. If there were some moments too fast to see, all I had to do was slow down time a bit to get a better look at the action.
Though the lack of witty banter was a bit of a disappointment, I was thoroughly enjoying watching other people fight for once. So, I just sat there for who knows how long, watching these two fellows trade blows. You might ask why I didn’t join in myself. The honest answer is, I had no real idea of where I’d ended up, or who was who! Wouldn’t it be lovely to just jump in, and beat the guy who looked like the bad guy just to figure out he was the good one? Not at all. Though, my money was on the guy dressed all in black bein’ the bad one.
Maybe it’d help you if I described them. They both wore everyman’s clothes, one wearing a dark jumper and black jeans and the other wearing a blue t-shirt and unremarkable dark-wash jeans. Their weapons were interesting though. The fellow in black had a sniper rifle ‘cross the back, and a wicked looking blade in his left hand. It looked to be made of some sort of black steel, with maybe a little bit o’ carbon fiber on the guard.
Does that seem impressive? I think the other chap’s gear’d blow your mind, then. He had a sword (pretty impressive by itself I’d say) that he had honest skill with. Seems pretty normal by this point, but as soon as the dark-clothed gentleman scampered out of the way, the blade would extend (to about twenty feet, by my examination) and push the little bugger off the high ground. Not sure how he could lift the darn thing, but there’s a lot in life that can’t be explained.
“Giving up yet?” The bloke with the rifle taunted his enemy.
Finally, some conversation, I thought. I was getting bored.
“Not on your life, I’m not!”
Not exactly witty banter, but banter nonetheless. I’d take what I could get.
After a moment of so of fighting, they backed off, panting like dogs who came in from a day in the sun.
“Why do you have to be so good?” I watched the dark-clad one’s hands, to see if they’d go for the rifle. Not so far, but we’d see.
“Why do you have to be so persistent?” The blue man’s sword retracted to a short sword length. “If we could answer that question, I might be able to answer yours.”
“Always so condescending and pretentious.” He spat the words like they were poison. “You’re too OP for your own good. You’ve transcended the boundary of Memelord levels and XP levels alike, over twice nine thousand. It sickens me how you reign simply because you’re strong.”
“Name one bad thing I’ve done that exempts me from leading the people! I never said anything but kind words to and about you until you attacked me out of the blue!” I could see a fire in his eyes, and I liked it.
I was getting a fuller picture of this conflict, and it was surely intriguing.
The guy I was beginning to suspect was the baddie had no answer.
“I didn’t think you could.” He held out his sword in front of him, as strange letters descended from the sky, surrounding him. It hit me then that I was a fish out of water here. Nothing here was consistent to what I was used to. For example, we were on a snowy mountaintop and we were all wearing summer clothes!
“Besides,” the blue-shirt chap said. “What would you do in power? Rule simply because you’re strong?”
The enemy rolled his eyes. For a moment, I thought we made eye contact, but I ducked away. I thought he wouldn’t be able to register he saw me. I peeked over the snow mound, and I saw the enemy was pacing. The glowy letters around the other guy moved, but not the man inside.
“The thing is, I will defeat you. I cannot be stopped. I am the AntiQ and I have vowed never to rest until your rest is permanent!”
Bit of a cheesy line, I thought, coming out to stand. I might intervene if things got hairy.
The enemy’s response was a cheeky grin.
“What?” I could hear confusion in the blue knight’s voice.
The next thing the dark-clothed man did shocked me. He turned towards me, on the mountain side, and winked!
I saw, as if in slow motion, (and I would know what that feels like) the blue gentleman turn his head. A his head turned, the gunshot sounded. That was such a dirty trick! Baiting him to look away and drop his defenses!
I turned on my chronal accelerator, zipping towards them. There was no way I could land a shot from this distance, I’m not Widowmaker. I saw the enemy’s shot land in the right shoulder, and red crystalline blood go flying outward as he fell backwards. I don’t know how he landed the shot through the text wall, but like I said earlier, some things can’t be explained.
As soon as I could, I shot at him. He seemingly zipped in and out of existence (copycat! that’s my move!) avoiding my shots. I heard an expletive or two, but I’m not entirely sure where they came from.
He retreated up to the high ground, aiming his rifle. Reflexes kicked in as I waited for the shot.
I couldn’t avoid these shots, they were like cannonballs!
A huge chunk of the ground was carved out by the next BOOM, and so I ran towards the fallen warrior. The text walls had dissipated, so I was able to scoop him up and carry him a short distance behind a cliff.
We’re not safe… Where should we hide? I was surprised by how light he was, it was almost like he was weightless! It couldn’t be a normal effect, but I was determined to use it to my advantage. I picked him up again and dashed to a narrow canyon.
When I was sure we had escaped sniper fire, I laid him down on the rock and examined the wound.
Standard gun wound to the shoulder, beneath the clavicle. If we’re lucky it won’t have shattered bone. If we’re unlucky…
“No problem.” I said, looking to get a better approximation. The bullet had gone clear through the shoulder, which could be a good thing, but he was losing blood. Speaking of which—
I stopped him before he could continue. He was losing blood fast, and he was likely on the edge of consciousness. I eyed the blood trail behind us. At this rate, the enemy would track us down. I had few options.
“Take this,” I mumbled, tearing off a good chunk of my coatsleeve and stuffing it over the wound. “We’ve got to go.” I picked him up again and dashed away, eying the thinning blood trail. I didn’t have time to evaluate if that was because he was dying or because covering part of the wound was lessening the flow. I put my arm under the hole in the back of his shoulder and ran under an outcropping, behind a bush.
A moment later, our hunter appeared. “Come out, come out, where ever you are! I know you’re out here, little missy.”
No one calls me “little missy.” I raised the gun in my right hand, aiming for his head. I was about to pull the trigger when I felt a tap on the arm. The blue-shirt bloke was shaking his head, signaling that I shouldn’t shoot. I furrowed my brows, but didn’t shoot. Eventually, the enemy walked away, leaving eerie silence behind.
“Thanks.” He said, again. Quietly, softly, he said, “Call me Q.”
He fell over, weak. His eyes fought to stay open, I knew I needed to think, fast. What could I do that would save him? I paced around, hoping. A spark of an idea blossomed in my mind like a daylily in the summertime. “Cheers, love,” I said, reverting back to habit. “The--”
I stopped in my tracks. How the blazes did he know what I was going to say?
