The Sixth Titan | Teen Titans

Chapter Fifty-Three - The End, Part Three

    I've tackled her to the ground and her hair is in my hand, burning and crumbling under my fiery touch. I pull at it, yanking her head back, as I hear a snarl leave me. It doesn't sound like myself, and the mere fact scares me to bits. It sounds inhumane, bordering on an animalistic growl.

    "Come on," my evil twin taunts. She wears a cocky smirk, as if she knows something I don't. "Unleash it. Give me everything you've got."

    As she speaks, I bash her head against the earth, before her words sink in and my grip loosens. I shake my head but it's too late. The pent-up power from the fire that I absorbed as the world ended has already begun to overflow, and we both know I can't stop it.

    "You did this to me," I breathe. I come to the distant realisation that she could overpower me at any moment, but she isn't.

    "Wrong," she whispers. "We did this. Together."

    I resist the urge to spit on my doppelgänger. "This is not some twisted teamwork exercise," I sneer. "We both know what happens if I lose control, so shut up and help me!!"

    Red electricity sizzles from my duplicate's eyes, and she shrugs innocently. "No."

    "No?" I stand up and pull her up with me by the collar, before throwing her over my head. "What do you mean, no?!"

    My nega self staggers towards me, but the grin has never left her face. "Why should I have all the fun killing you, when we both know you'll just do it yourself?" She stands in front of me, before tilting her head in amusement. "Go on. You can't stop it, so why try?"

    I don't know what to say to that. She's right. My anger pulses through me, and I know at any stage I will explode. I try to think of things to calm me down. My friends instantly float to mind—I don't know what else will slow my pulse—and I remember the day the world ended, before it actually did. It was just the six of us, being teenagers for once. Excluding the fight with Plasmas, we spent the day doing normal things, relatively speaking.

    It has the wrong effect. Instead of calming me with floods of happy thoughts, I only become more motivated to defeat any demons—both internal and external—in my way and it fuels my anger in a way that I have never before felt. I want more than anything to return to that, and it tricks my body into doing anything to get back to that feeling.

    "You wanted a level playing field?" I recognise it as my voice, but it's not coming from the duplicate opposite me. My lips move as the words enter my ears, and I realise that I'm talking. My voice is low and slightly hoarse, but in a way stylised to intimidate. "You got it."

    I feel like a spectator in this fight. I'm not in control of my body anymore, but I see what happens as if I were. To the inexperienced eye, this is all me. Every roar, every punch, every snarl is my willing and conscious action, but that can't be further from the truth. Despite wanting to beat my evil self, I know this method involves me losing control and potentially hurting those I love. I have first hand experience with both.

    My clenched fist collides with my doppelgänger's chin, sending her flying back. Time stands still as she flies through the air, before somersaulting and landing on her feet. I catch myself rolling her eyes and know that soon, it'll be hard to tell the difference between myself and her. 

    The evil twin grits her teeth and fakes a punch before throwing her real one at my gut. I flatten myself on the floor to avoid it, looking up as she lifts her foot up. I roll to my left instinctively, but that's exactly where she stomps and I clutch my nose, tilting my head back as I stand up. I'm forced to lower it when she stalks towards me and the metallic taste of blood begins to fill my mouth. If looks could kill, my glare would send her six feet under.