Cleo's Game

22. Collapse

Mince and Tranquility did not have the luxury of watching Cleo's battle safe and uninterrupted. Rather, Mince was tasked with shielding Tranquility from the armored juggernaut that knew better than to idly wait around for his boss. His movements were slow, predictable, and relentless, with Mince being completely out of tricks against an opponent he couldn't blow over or cut. He ducked and weaved away from each attempt the soldier made to attack, but knew that this strategy only wasted time.

"My element is so weak... I just can't believe that I can't do anything here," Mince lamented. "This is so-" "Shut up, Mince," Tranquility interrupted. "My powers aren't particularly useful at busting through metal either, so I guess we'll just have to improvise." The armored man swung towards Tranquility, slightly embedding his fist into the wall with power. It took a moment to get it unstuck, and he flailed his other arm around himself in the meantime.

"There's no way we can stop a swing like that if we're on the receiving end of it," Tranquility noted. "But maybe, if-" "I'm one step ahead of you," Mince interjected while moving within striking range of the soldier. However, instead of keeping enough distance to dodge his swings cleanly, he got close enough to where it was impossible to. Mince's shoulder was against his chest as he grappled with his arm, holding it still.

"It must be real heavy to swing that around, no matter how strong you are." Tranquility followed suit, grabbing ahold of his other arm and preventing it from getting the necessary momentum to swing towards Mince. However, even if they hold him still, preventing both him and themselves from doing anything, it achieves nothing. There needs to be a way to damage someone who is protected all over.

In unison, they pulled backwards on his arms, only resulting in a slight rocking of his absurdly heavy frame. Then came a pull forward, followed by a pull backward again, exerting all their strength to create a swinging momentum. After a significant amount of repetitions, he had been thoroughly gripped by the rocking motion, and his attempts to lash out were in vain. Pulling back one last time, they followed through, sending the armored man toppling backwards, but not only that, toppling backwards on top of his own stiff, metal-encased arms. His arms were holding up his entire body's weight, locking them in place, especially with the extra weight of the armor.

Pitch was continuing to use speed to stay one step ahead of Cleo. Darting to the left, and the right, and left again, making sure that any projectile she tries to throw will only open her up to attack. All she could do was stay wary and not lose focus. "You're going to slip up," Pitch growled. "And when you do, I'm going to finish you off for good." Over his right shoulder, he noticed he was getting approached.

He turned slowly, expecting his second-in-command to be the one to have walked away victorious, leaping to the air when he realised it was Tranquility. His side had lost a battle that started off stacked in their favour from the start. Some ants crawled into their hive and were going to leave with the honey. He leapt up into the air, close to the ceiling, panicking and wanting to keep an eye on them from a vantage point.

Pitch's eyes were darting around the room, looking for an out. The entrance and the exit were the same hole, and it was blocked up because that's what he, now regretfully, chose to do. It locked in the outcome of the fight, which is wholly undesirable for the loser. He zipped over to the door, crashing his leg into the boulder after diving at blistering speeds.

It cracked well and looked fragile enough to be crumbled up and pushed aside. He started to claw through the boulder, pulling it apart, until his ears picked up something he didn't like. There was breathing on the other side. Breathing of another person. He withdrew from the door, and took flight once more, aimlessly hovering. Surely, as long as he kept an eye on Tranquility, the one that had wings, he would be fine.

His webbed wing was outstretched when suddenly a cut appeared in the centre of it, causing him to plummet to the ground. When it comes to flying, this is just as bad as losing both wings. He landed on the cave floor with a crash, quickly trying to scramble to his feet, but it was too late. Cleo pinned him to the ground with just her palm forcing down on his back, gritting her teeth.

"This is over!" Cleo shouted in frustration, while encasing Pitch in a layer of ice. It didn't take long for it to creep all around him, trapping him entirely in a transparent block of ice. His fury was preserved through the expression of his face in his last thawed moment. Without a word, she turned and walked hastily towards the cracked boulder. She punched it and kicked it repeatedly, with tears in her eyes, until it broke into pieces.

On the other side of the door was Francis, with a shocked look on his dirtied face as he saw Cleo's wounds. "There's nobody left," she said coldly. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there to help," he replied, ashamed. "It doesn't matter now," she replied, the dim lighting from the room behind her casting a shadow that hid her expression.

In that room lied dead, injured, and frozen soldiers. That was something they all knew was a possibility during every day that they served. Something that Cleo knew too. But seeing it with her own eyes and being in the room was different. Images flashed in her mind as she looked into the empty darkness. Tranquility sped up to Cleo and put her arm around her shoulder, comforting her. Keeping a brave face, she attempted to use warm words to thaw Cleo's dark, cold gaze. 

"It's over now. At least it's over."