Ascension/Descension- Coheed and Cambria Fanfiction

Untitled Part 1

"Oh Mother, are you awake?"

"I'm always awake. What do you require of me?"

"You'll stay with me won't you?"

"I'll be there every step of the way."

Together they rose on the platform up into the gleam of the electric lights of the arena. The crowd roared at the sight of Cyrus

and the man on the other side of the arena.

"Cyrus, it is time to take hold of your weapon." His 'Mother', the helmet voice, said.

Cyrus looked to his right and on the wall, he saw the shining blade of a knife, the generic weapon of fighting rings much like this one. He picked it up and caught the light on it, signaling that he was ready. A similar flash came from the other side of the arena, showing that Cyrus's opponent was also ready.

Up on a high balcony, a man stood up to a microphone and spoke into it.

"Welcome to the Everlasting All-time Low! Please put your hands together for the Ever Faring One Man Show, Dominio!", the crowd shouted and screamed, "And ladies and broken gentlemen, in this corner we have Cyrus, the undisputed Champ of Misery!" Another surge of the crowd.

A bell rang, signalling the beginning of the fight. Dominio gave a loud battle cry, running towards Cyrus. Cyrus took a breath and charged. They ran at each other, not slowing. Right before they collided, Cyrus slid down between Domino's legs and cut a power cord, locking the leg up, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Dominio growled, screaming "You bloody bastard!"

Dominio stumbled, and Cyrus stared. "Cyrus, your opponent is seriously impaired. The battle leans in your favor." Mother said.

There was no time to answer her. Dominio had found a way around the locked-up leg. He was turning around, roaring very loud. Dominio charged at Cyrus again. Cyrus stood his ground as his opponent ran towards him. Seconds before the collision, Cyrus spun to the right, slicing the power cord there, locking the arm up like the leg.

Dominio gave a loud shout of frustration as he dropped his knife. Seeing the opportunity, Cyrus ran, jumped over Dominio, stabbed him in the back, breaking the protective shell, and slicing the torso cord, making Dominio unable to move.

Cyrus had won. That was the end. The crowd cheered and roared, but Cyrus didn't hear. He was one step closer to winning the tournament, and one step closer to going home.

Late that night, when the whole world slept, Cyrus dreamed. He saw a woman, his young wife, crying as she looked up into the sky. A television flashed in the background, showing a fight, the finals it looked like, and Cyrus fighting. The blows were hard, and fast. Unfortunately, Cyrus's opponent took his knife, driving into Cyrus's skull, as Cyrus thrust his own knife into the gut of the opponent. The screen flashed "A great turn for the end of the fighting season. No champion this year, because the plot twist is they both killed each other!"

Cyrus woke up in cold sweat. He couldn't let that happen. No, he would win, and this dream meant nothing.

Cyrus fought battle after battle, each battle taking longer and longer than the first. But Cyrus remained the undisputed "Champ of Misery". He won his battles, whether by making the opponent unable to move, or even killing them.

Then came the final battle. "Cyrus, this is going to be the hardest battle you have to fight." Mother said.

"I know."

Once again, and for the last time, we together rose into the gleam of electric lights, to fight to the end, to win or lose, together.

The crowd was the loudest it's ever been, as if thunder cracked right in his ears. He looked to his right, looking for the standard knife. But this one, this one was longer, sharper, and stronger. He picked it up. It was a beautifully crafted weapon, he knew that much.

Cyrus flashed this knife, and saw a similar flash on the other side. The announcer walked up to to the microphone and said "Ladies and broken gentlemen, here we are, to the Everlasting All-Time Low! For the last time this season, we watch men battle men, for the money, or the glory, or just to kill people. Whatever their reasons, we are surely enjoying this!" the crowd roared. "Now, for this final show, we have in this corner, the undisputed Champ of Misery, Cyrus! He's only killed three people this season, and sending the rest to their momma's in tears and shame!" The crowd went nuts. "Oh, but over here, he who spares no one, killed every man that dared challenge him, is Vic the Butcher!" The crowd went into hysterics. "This is it people! The end!"

The bell rang, and both contestants walked farther into the arena. They circled each other, looking for weaknesses. Seeing no obvious ones, Cyrus simply circled around. Vic thrusted at him, and Cyrus jumped out of the way. Quickly Vic faced Cyrus again, making his back exposed only for a moment. They went back to circling each other.

Cyrus this time ran at Vic, aiming for the leg cord. Vic gave a shove, throwing Cyrus to the ground. Vic raised his blade, aiming for the head. Cyrus's eyes widened as the blade flashed, coming towards him. "Move Cyrus." Mother said. At the last possible second, Cyrus rolled out of the way.

"Grah!" Vic screamed.

Cyrus was back on his feet, facing Vic. They stared right at each other. Together they charged at one another, Vic with his blade high, Cyrus aimed at the gut. They collided, and the crowd went silent.

Cyrus's aim was true and better. Straight to the heart. The blood started leaking from the wound in Vic's body.

But Vic's strike was well placed also. His didn't go through the head, but made a straight line, down the spine. The line was from the middle of the of his neck, down to the center of his shoulder blades.

Cyrus could actually feel the blood on his back. It was soaking his sweaty shirt. Vic's knife had broken through the neck protector and sliced downwards, only managing to fit in the crevice between body and armor because the knife was so deep in the wound.

"Cyrus, you are mortally wounded. You need medical attention immediately." Mother said calmly.

The only thing running through Cyrus's mind was the dream. How sure he was that it wouldn't come true. It couldn't. He wouldn't let it happen. No.

Cyrus barely noticed when the pulled his knife out of his hands, when they picked him up and put him in the ambulance. When they pulled off his armor, when they started clean the wound... he only knew that he failed.

The pain made Cyrus pass out and a dream started.

In a garden, the sun was bright and shining warmly. Cyrus walked through, coming to a clearing. His wife stood there, smiling. "You came home." she said.

Together they smiled and talked and enjoyed the day.

And that was the last of Cyrus.