Processing the Aftermath

GREEN | stickfiguregreen.exe

The hook flew past the training bag and embedded itself in the far wall with a thunk. Green reeled himself towards the wall in a sliding crouch. As he reached the bag, he swung his sword at the bag's base, sending it into the air. He slid to a stop, forward rolling into an attack position. He yanked the fishing rod and the hook came loose from the wall. As the training bag hit the ground, he attacked. One, two, three, four. Cut, guard, forward, counter. Kick, tuck-and-roll, reset. He cast his rod at the far wall again. He crouched and reeled himself forward. He was just starting to slide when the hook came loose and he tumbled sideways to an inelegant stop.

He stood up, wiping sweat from his face. Bad cast. He could have hit his head. That wouldn't actually hurt him - stick figures had high injury tolerance - but he would have a decent headache for the next few hours.

That drill wasn't anything new for him. He was definitely distracted. That talk with the others earlier was not helping things.

He walked over to the weapons wall and set the fishing rod and sword back into their spots. Perhaps hand-to-hand drills would help him focus.

He hauled the training bag back to the center of the room and began a drill. One, two, three, four. Hook, counter, duck and upwards.

Orange had powers.

He wasn't sure what to think about that. Orange was his best friend. Green had been his best friend right back. Orange had always been really good at everything he did. Green had to admit he appreciated the competition. Orange had a special connection with Alan. Green had learned to be fine with that; Orange was just like them most of the time. But the fact that Orange was some kind of super stick figure... it wasn't right. It was unfair. It hurt.

Green paused between moves two and three. He didn't like where these thoughts were going. Sticky frames, Orange literally saved all of their lives. And he had to watch them all die first. It was literally a miracle that Green was alive to feel bitter about this. To be less than grateful was unacceptable right now.

His mind drifted to the red stick figure - The Dark Lord. He remembered Red falling to the ground. The rush forwards. Yellow in the air, choking. The glitching blade appearing. Grabbing The Dark Lord's other arm, holding it down, feeling the staticky bone-jarring blade so close to his face right before -

It had been a stupid move. He should have tried twisting The Dark Lord's arm. Or tackled him from behind. He could have bought Blue and Yellow a few seconds to run. Instead, he had been standing at the perfect angle for The Dark Lord to stab him, he had died in the dumbest way possible, allowing that stick to kill Blue and Yellow. If he had actually been thinking, he could have even grabbed Red before Red started running forward. There was some kind of feeling there that he didn't like but couldn't name.

And then there was Alan and what he had done to The Chosen One. Green had mostly come to terms with Alan deleting them all those years ago, but now that old anger flared up again. What Alan had done was inexcusable. Oh, Yellow was probably right, Alan was probably different now - but Green just - couldn't - bring - himself - to accept that. Besides, if not Alan, there were so many other humans who could do worse things. To him. To them all. Well, maybe not Orange, but to Blue and Yellow and Red.

Not strong enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough to protect them. He wasn't The Chosen One, and he couldn't even be Orange. There had to be some way to help - and not let Orange get all the glory, he had to admit. If Orange was too busy doing his... special thing, perhaps Green could watch Orange's back. Take care of the lesser bad things while Orange took out the big bad thing. The others could help too, of course, but Green felt reasonably certain he could help the most.

He realised that he was standing still. Ah yes, he had been training. He began the drill again. One, two, three, four. He needed to be better. The best. There was no other way.

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This was the final part of "Processing the Aftermath". I hope you enjoyed the story!

I hope you all aren't too disappointed with the ending. I didn't design this story with a traditional story structure - it was more of an exploration of how each character initially responded when they learned what actually happened in AvA 5. Perhaps the best way to describe this story is as a foundation for future stories (although I currently don't intend to continue this).

If you're interested in behind-the-scenes, see the next two parts! If you'd prefer to stop here, thank you so much for reading! I never thought I'd get this far <3