Jubilee Line

The sad reality is this:

Wilbur leaned back and closed his eyes, the gust of hot air and the sound of nearby explosions coming long before he realized what he had done. He raised his hand to his forehead in a salute and smiled as hot steam blew through the rock wall behind him and caved it inwards.

"Wilbur!" Philza lunged forward and spread his black feathered wings in an attempt to block most of the blow. Wilbur felt his father grasp his white shirt in tense fingers and throw him to the ground behind him, just before the crumbling stone shattered to pieces and Phil was enveloped in orange light.

The sudden blast knocked Wilbur backwards, his body skidding across the stone. He squinted his eyes shut as ash and smoke flooded into the room, settling on every upward-facing surface. He slowly fluttered his eyes open, and despite his glasses, the floating debris left in the air still stung them painfully.

Wil winced as he supported himself beneath his elbows and tried to lift himself upright. He glanced up at the clearing smoke, which was beginning to reveal the darker silhouette of his father stumbling forward, hacking and coughing. Eventually, he fell out of the thickest of the fog and landed in a heap on the ground.

Wilbur got up slowly and brushed the dust off of his clothes, then made his way over to Philza and helped him up. Although as soon as he saw his father's face he faltered.

He looked a hundred years older than he was, the smoke staining his face in places where his skin didn't wrinkle. He had pale crow's feet beside each of his horrified eyes, and his expression was nothing short of pure terror and disbelief. His normally dark green clothes were black and tattered, and one of his black wings bore glistening red blood between each of his feathers. Wilbur looked curiously at his eyes, which seemed to be looking past him, at something far in the distance.

Wilbur let go of Phil's smoke-stained hand and his father limped to the back of the room, where he turned around and gazed helplessly at the wreckage.

Wilbur turned and stared through the new hole in the wall where the blast had instantly demolished the entire side of the control room. Now that the smoke was beginning to clear, he could see the silhouettes of people lining the edge of the large crater in the earth. Some of them scattered as more explosions tore up the ground like carefully placed landmines, the distant sounds like fireworks painting colourful sparks across the sky. Except these fireworks spewed rock and smoke in every direction, rather than a beautiful canvas.

The people were all screaming and yelling and trying to figure out what was going on.

"NO!" Wilbur heard the distinct cry of his younger brother, Tommy, yelling as the only home he'd ever known blew to pieces.

"It's still going!" He heard someone yell.

"What the heck is going on?"

The screaming and commotion ranged from loud sobs of grief to the maniacal laughter of someone's twisted triumph, echoing off of the crumbling rocks and towers.

Wilbur spread his arms at the ruined city and laughed at the destruction, before whirling towards Philza with a smile laced with twisted pride.

"Wh-" Phil started, clutching his arm, "Wilbur, what?" He took a staggering step forward and collapsed on the rocky stone, grasping the ashes like he was trying to hold on to his lost nation. "What did you just do?"

Wilbur took a deep breath in and out, wincing slightly as his clothing chafed against his burn scars. The ashes flooded his lungs and bit into his throat, but chaos never smelled so good.

I've destroyed L'Manburg.

He walked to the very edge of the control room where the crater in the earth was still getting larger, "My L'Manbrug, Phil!" He called out. "My forever unfinished symphony!" He took a step back and shook his head, laughing. He turned to his father and threw a sword down by his feet, the shiny blue metal screeching as it slid across the ground.

Phil bent down and picked it up, slightly shaking his head in disbelief, before looking up at Wilbur with hollow eyes.
Wil spread his arms and smiled, "Phil, kill me."

His father looked down at the blade, his hands shaking slightly, "I-I don't know. I can't. I can't!" He looked down and grasped his head with one hand, his other hand still holding the handle of the sword.

Wilbur felt his eyes darken, but the weight of what was happening tore at his lips. "Look at them, Phil!" He gestured violently at the distant accumulating crowd on the other side of the crater. Through the thinning grey smoke, he spotted Tommy pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get a better view. When he got to the front, his eyes widened and he slightly shook his head in disbelief.

"Wilbur?" Tommy whispered so quietly, that only the movements of his mouth gave away what he said.

The smile dropped off Wilbur's face, and he whipped his head around to glare at his father, "They all want you to! Look at how much effort went into this! Now it's all gone!" He stepped closer to his father, who was now looking up at Wil with something like hurt and defeat on his face. Wilbur lunged forward and grasped the hilt of the sword over his father's hands. Leaning close to his face, he whispered, "So kill me. Murder me! Stab me right now!"

Phil closed his eyes and exhaled, "Wilbur," He whispered, "Why are you smiling?"

Wilbur stood back without letting go of the blade, slightly taken aback. He frowned and kneeled on the ground. Setting the sword over his neck on his shoulder, he bowed his head and waited for the sharp edge of the weapon to slice into his skin.

"You-you're my son. . ." Phil whispered, the only audible thing Wilbur heard in between a chorus of mutters and curses. Wilbur kneeled there with his eyes closed, patiently for what could have been hours, or perhaps a few seconds.

Finally, Phil took a deep breath and Wil felt the edge of the blade slice into his neck. He bit his lip, trying not to scream as he stumbled back and collapsed on the ground, deep red blood pouring from his wound and mouth. His breath grew uneven as he heard the sword clatter to the ground and his father run up to him. Wilbur numbly felt as Phil put his hands over his mouth and gently wrap his arms around his dying son. He held him close and mumbled apologies through quiet sobs of grief. Wil opened his clouded eyes and smiled up at his father, a stream of warm blood trickling from the corners of his lips.

Phil choked and hugged his son, Wilbur laying limp in his arms as warm tears fell on his face. He strained another smile as his eyes drifted close and his own tears started to fall.

But suddenly, he was no longer caressed in his father's arms anymore.

He was falling through thick black darkness.

And the last thing he heard was his father's sobs echoing through the void.