🕷️|The Next Battle

[9] FOOL ME TWICE, SHAME ON ME. [9]

I'm not great at detailing fights... bear with me here.

The Second Coming didn't exactly register what had happened quickly. He just stood there, watched as his brother was penetrated, bled, and died. He could hear the soft drip of the blood that left his body as he went. It was infuriating. He looked up at The Dark Lord in horror.

"What... what did you do?"

The Dark Lord sheathed the Vira-Blade. A wince seemed to pass through his face for a split second until he glared at the other. "What I had to."

What he had to?

No, he didn't have to do anything.

He could've forgave. He could've made amends. He could've helped. He could've spared. No. To The Second Coming, The Dark Lord didn't do what he had to. He did whatever the fuck he wanted to. And it was infuriating. Death over nothing was infuriating. The death of his brother was infuriating. The death of his brother to his friend's hands was infuriating. Death in general was infuriating.

The Second Coming found himself hyperventilating as a flash seemed to echo in his mind. What was going on? He couldn't think. He dropped to his knees. Was this a panic attack? He wished he knew. He really did. But he didn't. He stayed on his knees, unable to breathe as spots danced across his view. The stickman looked up at The Dark Lord, catching his breath and standing. It was hard to stay balanced, but he did it.

"You didn't have to do shit." The Second Coming glared at the other, rose his hands in a fighting position. The Dark Lord didn't seem afraid. Not this time, he didn't. This time? The Second Coming faltered. Was there a time before this?

He shook the thought out of his head and glared at The Dark Lord, who sighed as he twisted his Vira-Bands, and the atmosphere seemed to shift. "Okay, laser boy. Want to fight? Let's fight." The red stick said. The Second Coming felt a tingly sensation, and decided to let his body go on autopilot. He didn't know what was happening, but he could trust himself... couldn't he?

It didn't matter. He was already behind The Dark Lord, grabbing his waist and throwing him over his head, to which the other planted his feet and used his weight to send The Second Coming over him. The Second Coming landed a few feet back, his eyes illuminating green and his hands thrust to the side to create a familiar tingly feeling as he shot at The Dark Lord not once, not twice, but five times. The Dark Lord side stepped and tried to shield himself, but his arm got burnt in the process.

The Dark Lord unsheathed the Vira-Blades once more, kicking off the ground and into the air, to which The Second Coming followed as he ran at him, slamming him against the foundation as they wrestled. The Dark Lord kicked The Second Coming off of him, punched him in the stomach and landed on the ground again. The Second Coming appeared again The Dark Lord and raised his foot, kicked him and had him on the ground in seconds.

The Second Coming took a breath as he set his foot over The Dark Lords stomach. He didn't know what just happened, but he couldn't get enough of it. The feeling of absolute power? It was... fueling, really.

He turned to The Dark Lord, rose his hand. With this new feeling... power... whatever it was— he could end him. But he faltered. The Second Coming turned to The Chosen One. It wasn't his fault. Nor was it The Dark Lord's. It was Alan's. But that wasn't a problem he could necessarily solve.

But just under Alan, was Victim. Victim had done something. The Chosen One said that Victim had The Dark Lord in containment, right? Then Victim was the source of this mess. He let go of The Dark Lord. Perhaps he was repeating history, with The Chosen One allying the stick in the past. Well, needless to say, The Second Coming didn't care.

"I don't know what happened to you at Rocket. But I need your help." The Second Coming said simply, holding out a hand to the red stick-figure. The Dark Lord seemed to hesitate, glaring at The Second Coming. He swatted his hand away. "I'm not making that mistake twice." He muttered, standing up. He didn't make a move to attack The Second Coming. Perhaps it was an untold promise of truce. Or an untold promise of this would continue another day.

Either way, The Second Coming stepped back, walked towards The Chosen One. "Can you help him?" He asked The Dark Lord, who simply shrugged. "I can try." He responded. Trying was good enough. Anything was. The Second Coming took a breath, steadied himself, then ran off to find Victim.