Write To Rank

Brown Belt Submission - Candid Duplicity

Alexander Bardot rests onto his bed after taking a shower so pleasing that he wishes that he could relive the cascade of hot water hitting against his face over and over again. The pillow he rests his head onto cushions the comfort, as well as his rising setbacks that wish to resurface once more. Go away, he shakes the thoughts as vigorously as his head.

He stares into the ceiling above him – the room’s fan spinning in his peripheral – as he feels the fatigue of barely catching a kip in days finally settling in. As much as he does not wish to, and as much as he feels the paranoia of all of his enemies attacking him in his sleep, he cannot help but close his eyes. A lullaby his mother always hummed for him resonates, as he recalls when they both sat under the shade of an ole apple tree in the backyard.

Before he knew it, the indolence swooped in as quickly as an owl once it spots a little mouse lurking in betwixt the roots of the crops below it. It was an exhausting month for the man – plotting the perfect revenge plan on his greatest foe, the conscription of individuals to expand his clique, and the battling of strong opponents. It is the time to rest, but only for a minute moment. Just for a moment.

~ ~~ ~

The grating jab of a finger on Alex’s forehead vexes him in his sleep – he’s getting to the illustrious part, for he’s unstrapping the bra’s hooks. Until the small, vexing child eventually shouts his name out multiple times, bringing him to his abrupt wake.

Damn it.

He jolts up, meeting with the nonchalant child’s face, staring deep into his brown, innocent eyes. “The hell, kid?” he shoves the boy aside, grabbing onto his head. Until it occurs to him – he has never had a little boy roaming around his room. He looks at the vicinity around him, noticing that there only hangs a dimmed light above their heads, with the area around pitch darkness. Where am I?

“What is your name, mister?” the boy’s frail voice echoes throughout the room. It must be big, Alex assumes as he listens to how far the echo resonates.

“Alexander. Where am I? Who are you?”

“My name’s Mark. My master told me to wake you up and tell her when you do.”

“Take me to your dammed master,” he rapidly grabs the boy’s rags.

Their glances meet, one chockfull of confusion and frustration, as the other remains nonchalant and stoic. His vexation grows with the passing seconds, as the boy remains completely unfazed by the man’s abruptness. One of his empty little hands slide onto Alex’s wrist.

Mark exerts a daunting force onto Alex’s hand that it makes the man quickly unhand the boy’s clothes and tremble to its brute force. He tightens his grip on Alex’s wrist, the grown man succumbing to the little boy’s sheer strength. A light groan escapes his parched lips as he falls to his knees.

A brief blink later, Alex finds himself thrown to the wall behind him – his back smacks the wall, all due to the little boy who indifferently looks Alex’s way. He falls to the ground face first, as he is followed by debris from the marred wall.

Luckily I turned on my enhancer within time. Would’ve lost my life without it, he caresses his chest and back, checking if anything broke. But a little boy this strong? Is it truly their working?

“You must be part of the Disclosia, correct?” he gets up to his knees.

“My dream! My life! My mother! My bearer! Closia loves us all, oh yes she does. She teaches us that we need not men, we need not refuge! We are eternal, like Time itself!” Mark loudens, smiling to the words he articulates.

The short speech from Mark confirms the rising suspicions Alex has. The boy with remarkable strength, the injection wounds all around his arms; it is the work of one group:

Dislosia.

The union established decades ago when the first appearance of The Goddess of Time had transpired. Taking the form of a little, bloodied girl – with the blood of a strong warrior smeared all over her clothes – holding the two limbs of a male warrior. She had taught the people that men were weak, useless and strongly obnoxious. And so, the birth of a movement that at some point, evolved into something completely inaccurate, began.

They moved completely off-course, aiming to turn young boys, into strong warriors who will all eventually erase the remaining men from the face of the Earth – targeting men who are against their movement, and especially those who were robust, expedient and enchanting.

The poor boy. They are putrefying his mind, and forced their poisons into his blood stream, Alex clenches his fist.

“. . . Mark, I said take me to your master,” the smile he wears immediately falters, returning to its apathetic look.

“Master told me to kill you when you didn’t stay quiet. You’re not going anywhere until she says so—” a click occurs, and a flashlight suddenly brightens the room up.

Two pairs of feet clash against the ground as they near in haste, echoing all the way to the two. One of the two wears heels, as the other sounds barefoot. Alex attempts making out at least one of the two, but the bright flashlight blinds his vision. Mark throws himself to the ground below him

“Now, now, Mark. Calm yourself.” Her stern voice playfully reverberates throughout the room. Alex raises a brow to the familiarity in the woman’s voice.

Her voice sends chills down his enhanced spine, and goose-bumps materialize on the man’s arms – a feeling he has never felt ever before: fear. His eyes widen in trepidation, and his heart races to just the mere presence of the woman.

This must be her, for her voice does not make me hear her speech, but physically feel it, he slightly trembles in thought.

The woman snaps her finger, and light suddenly covers the dark room, and everyone’s faces appear clear. The tall, brunette woman emerges, her radiant beauty seemingly not as daunting as Alex had hoped. She reads as the definition of beauty itself, wearing a gentle smile across her crimson red lips. She looks down to Alex, who bothers not to share a glance with her, for he is bewildered by the person who stands beside her.

Graham.

The very first person Alex recruited for his all-star clique, and the closest friend he has ever made. Standing right next to the enemy . . . the enemy who stole everything from the both of them. And there he was, right next to her.

“Graham? So this is where you were?!” Alex protests.

“You dare speak in such a manner in Closia’s presence? How foolish!” he shouts at Alex, who sits in bemusement. She then stops Graham from punishing the confused man, gesturing that she insists.

“Calm yourself, my love,” she speaks.

Love?? Huh?
You’re even in love with the enemy? She ordered her peasants to massacre your family while purposefully making you watch!

“Your friend, who is now my lover insisted on joining my side of this war. Not only have I, The Goddess of Time, found a mortal who caught my eye, but I know of all your plans. Using your time machines to recruit every one of your ancestors before I kill them? Bitch please. I AM TIME,” she crosses her arms, and her words shake the room.

“For a Goddess, you’re really a contradiction. Falling in love with a man? Do you not educate your underlings that men are useless?” he smirks, noticing Closia frown.

She glares at Alex, and a heavy force befalls him. The gravity around his body intensifies by ten-fold, and his face connects with the cold, wet floor.

“You have guts for a mortal. Your entire bloodline is exactly like this. And this is why they all deserve to die by my hands.” She reaches her empty hand out to the struggling man, attempting to get up onto his knees at the very least.

Graham abruptly stands in front of her, and gently caresses his mistress’ cheek. She raises a brow to his suddenness, lowering her arm. He stands onto his toes, whispering something into the tall goddess’ ear, invigorating a devious smile onto her face. She radiates with delight, senselessly returning the gravity around Alex back to normal.

She turns around and heads for the door before wearing a grin that stretches from ear to ear. A click quietly transpires, echoing throughout the room.

Graham gazes down to Alex, who pants frantically. “You were too bold to work with. And saving me from Thrasher? I was a man who made powerful potions – I did not need your help.”

“I get that we did have a quarrel all just because of my undying ego, but to run off and help the person who killed your family? Let alone tell her our plans?” he jolts to his feet.

“My family’s still alive. I work for the enemy, you see. I was never with you to begin with. It was all staged from the beginning, you fool. And now you’re going to die today,” he arrogantly smiles.

Graham snaps his finger and Mark jerks up in response. “Deal with this thing right here,” he commands. Mark turns towards Alex all too suddenly. With his time-limited enhancer and without weapons, he remains a regular human being. One who can die by the hands of a boy who can throw fists that can move mountains at a time.

Graham walks towards Alex, violently grabbing him by the shoulder.

“You know, a really great person once said that building trust is the first step in the perfect betrayal,” he whispers into Alex’s ear.

Devastation flashes across the man’s face, the reality of trusting one with their life, sinking in.

. . . Until he feels Graham’s fingers tap onto his shoulders in a familiar order of sequences. Hmm . . . is this Morse code?

Wait . . . let me make this out.

“She’s probably watching and listening to us. Stop the boy, and leave. I gave him half his daily dosage. He should be an easy one. Give me time, and I’ll return to you and the rest. Leave while you still have the chance . . . I’ll distract the Goddess for now.”

He unhands him before striding out the door with haste. He rushes to his woman and master, who awaits his arrival. He promised her something special after all – a little assurance he had given her so that he could have some time with Alex. A little man who chose to deceive an entire Goddess.

Alex smiles, relieved to the sudden outcome that ensues. He remains assured to the loyalty Graham holds, scoffing to himself, building trust is the first step to the perfect betrayal, he says.

And just as the door swings close, Mark leaps over to Alex, catching him off his guard. He grabs onto Alex’s arm, diving his nails into his skin. The man holds onto the boy’s face, countlessly bashing the back of his head into the wall behind him. Mark slips out of his grip, biting onto his index finger before he reacts with diving a punch into the boy’s face. Sending him off his feet.

Alex rushes out the door, before closing it with haste. Mark bangs onto it briefly after his escape, desperately scratching his nails onto the steel door. An exhale of relief absconds his lips, before a familiar feeling returns. A feeling he’s felt not so long ago; engendering strongly from behind him.

He slowly turns around and eventually meets the eyes of the woman who wears a daunting smile.

“And where do you think you’re going?”