Gecko-Man

Prologue- Extract from "The Murderer's Diary, Modernised Third Person Edition".

The Murderer fell.
Well, jumped, actually. Very few killers are clumsy enough to just trip over themselves and off of a building. Unless, of course, you were stabbed by the Devil, who in turn was aided by three of the most evil beings in history, but that's another story, and wouldn't happen for a long, long time...
No, the Murderer jumped because he had no choice, because he could either take that literal leap of faith or face the monstrous thing that had started this mess.
And that thing wasn't human.
He leapt, arms swinging and eyes wide, and for one glorious moment he was flying, soaring through the air. Then, all too suddenly, he plummeted like a stone. It may have been a bit more merciful, the Murderer thought, if he had died right then, but instead he smashed painfully into a cart full of hay, conveniently placed under the building from which he had leapt. He rolled, wincing at his once again broken ribs, and scrambled up. The thing behind him roared. No sooner had he ran around the corner of the alley and out of sight than a colossal black foot the size of a table smashed down onto the cart of hay, reducing it to splinters. The Murderer ran through the streets, which were completely deserted. This was strange for Otterham, even at night, but for now he had to concentrate on running, no matter how painful his ribs were becoming. Suddenly a bolt of orange light exploded no more than three feet away from him, singing his dark moss green cloak. He ran on, faster and faster, he was getting away, he might make it...
Then out of nowhere, he'd suddenly reached the end of the wooden houses and realised, almost too late, the vertical cliff looming closer beneath his feet. He skidded to a halt, knocking a few rocks down into the chasm, which smashed into the various ledges below. He looked up, and saw the infamous Otterham Mountain,
towering on the other side of the chasm like a giant stone
guardian.
The Murderer took a deep breath. There was nowhere to go. In that moment, he decided he would face the thing, the monster, and cause it as much pain as possible before he was obliterated. With that, the Murderer turned around, and met the most horrid sight he had ever seen. A giant of a thing stood fifty feet away, and looked as if it was made of lava turned solid. Great black shin armour shone dully like obsidian, and what looked like pure fire swirled underneath it. It held a thirty foot high axe in its right hand, shaft made of
obsidian and blade of steel, with a single bolt of flame
shooting up to the height of two men behind it, at the point where the blade met the shaft. In its other hand it had some sort of clamped-shaped weapon made from the same black as the armour and axe handle. And somehow, suspended in between the two black clamps blazed an orange ball of fire, swirling in the air, as if eager to burst from the clamps and wreak havoc. But the worst part was the face.
A rusty red helmet the size of a small cart was clasped tight around its head, which seemed to be made entirely from fire, and flames leaked out through the jagged eye and mouth holes.
And then the monster spoke.
"Where is it?" It said, in a rasping, booming voice, which sounded like a thousand rusty steel bars scraping over metal.
"I don't know!" The Murderer stammered back. "I- I lost it on the moor!"
"LIAR!" spat the monster, spewing white-hot sparks from its mouth in anger.
"I swear!" yelled the Murderer, "Your attempts to hunt me down are for nothing."
The monster let out an inhuman, blood curdling screech of rage, one that reverberated from cliff face to cliff face, into the depths of the steep chasm.
"Very well," the monster rumbled at last, "If you refuse to utter the truth... Then you shall die."
And with that, it emitted a howl even more bone-chattering than the first, and swung it's colossal black axe down upon the its prey.
The Murderer leapt to the left.
The shockwave of the axe hitting the hard rock caused him to be thrown three metres and roll two more, his hood falling down.
He then sprang to his feet, a feat in itself considering every breath now caused him agony, and as the unsettled dust returned slowly to the ground, the Murderer saw the monster, standing on the cliff edge, breathing heavily. Its axe was wedged in the cliff face, exactly were the Murderer had stood a few seconds ago, with the blade jammed in the new fissure that the monster had created.
For a moment all was silent, and then suddenly, the monster's head whipped round to face the Murderer and everything happened at once. The monster wrenched its axe from the gash in the cliff, swiveled around to face the Murderer and thrust out its left hand.
The ball of flame flew from the black clamps and shot towards the Murderer like a white hot cannonball.
Once again he leapt to the left, slamming onto the ground and avoiding the orb of fire that would've hit him a millisecond earlier.
His ribs were agonizing now, so much so that he let out a scream of pain, which nearly got him killed. If he had wasted anymore time shouting, he wouldn't have seen the huge axe that had come swinging down upon him. The Murderer rolled to the side as the monster struck with his blade, and kept rolling, only the sound of the axe hitting the ground again and again in his ears. Suddenly the Murderer stopped rolling. He'd lost all sense of direction and had reached the edge of the cliff. One centimetre further and he would have rolled over into the abyss. Then he felt something cold and heavy clamp around him, and he was lifted up over the chasm by the monster. The only thing between him and death were the now empty obsidian clamps that the monster was holding him by.
"This is your last chance," rasped the monster,
"Or i shall simply... Let go."
"I told you, the blade is lost in the Great Lake," The Murderer replied, "If- if you want it, search among the fish."
The monster growled in anger.
"I shall bleed you." It said.
Then a wicked smile crept across its lips.
"I saw the ruin you left upon that community in London, it sneered, "They call you a reptile, a vile murderer. They call you the twisted one, the sticky one... They call you the Gecko."
"It was an accident!" Shouted the Murderer. "He would've killed me if I had not... It was not murder." He breathed.
"You need not worry any longer," answered the monster, "For I shall find the blade and destroy it, but you will not be alive to witness my rise to godliness... I am Xplode, King of the Igniti, and I am the destroyer of the Gecko!"
"STOP!"
The Murderer would have been dead if it were not for the unfamiliar voice, shouting from behind the monster.
The giant turned to to sound, swinging the murderer from over the abyss and back to relative safety.
"Who are you to command me?" The monster growled.
"King of Pyrovillia, are you looking for this?"
The stranger stepped out from the shadows, and the Murderer caught his breath. The stranger was dressed in blue, with a darker head wrap that revealed nothing but cold, grey eyes.
And in his hand was a three-pronged weapon the size of a dagger, glistening pitch black.
The Dark Blade.
"Hawthorne," snarled the monster, "I thought I killed you centuries ago."
"You took my brothers, but I'm not so easy to destroy," replied the stranger. "But the same cannot be said for you, with this in my hand."
The stranger, Hawthorne, gestured to the blade.
"Now, if you want it, let that man go."
A crooked smile spread across the monster's fiery mouth.
"With pleasure."
It let go, causing the Murderer to fall twenty feet onto the hard rock floor. His left arm snapped, and he roared in pain.
"Get out of the way!" Hawthorne yelled, and he charged.
The monster opened his mouth wide, and shot a column of white-hot flame into the air.
The Murderer scrambled out of the way as Hawthorne leapt, impossibly, onto the clamps in the monster's left hand. The monster tried to redirect its fiery breath upon Hawthorne, but the blue stranger was too quick. He jumped onto the monster's head, avoiding the fire and the spikes on its helmet.
The monster bucked and roared, but Hawthorne clung on.
"This is for my brethren!" He shouted, and swung the Dark Blade downwards.
But not quick enough.
The monster swung his axe around, hurling Hawthorne off of its head a millisecond before the Dark Blade struck.
Hawthorne flew five, six, ten metres before he crashed into the rocky ground, and lay still.
And as for the Dark Blade... It skittered to a stop right in front of the Murderer.
"The blade," Hawthorne shouted across the cliff, "Only the blade can kill Xplode, you must pierce its heart or mind!"
Then the Murderer realised.
It had to be him. Some force at brought him, the blade and the monster together, their destinies entwined for one reason.
The downfall of a king.
He reached for the Dark Blade, but a great black foot stamped down on it, leaving only the hilt visible.
The Murderer looked up, and saw the monster towering above him.
"Now, little human, your time has come. I shall destroy you and the blade, and then, finally, nothing shall stand in my way. I shall be king of the universe once more, and this planet shall be my throne!"
The monster raised it's axe, bellowed one last blistering roar, and swung downwards. Then time stood still.
The Murderer lunged, and with inhuman strength he pulled the Dark Blade from underneath the monster's foot. He raised it above his head, and stabbed down.
Time returned to normal, heralded by the earsplitting scream of Xplode as the blade pierced its foot. The Murderer ripped the blade out, and stepped back.
The terrible scream echoed off of the cliff faces long after it had left the monster's lips, and now the fiery giant glared at the Murderer with death in its eyes.
"That was a mistake, child, and you shall pay."
A final fire ball ignited in the monster's clamps, but this time the Murderer was ready.
As the orb of fire burst forth, he jumped, leaping over the ball of flame and onto the clamps.
The monster grunted and pulled its arm up sharply, flinging the Murderer into the night sky, but he flipped in mid air and landed on the monster's head. Just as the monster swung his axe around, the Murderer jumped once more leaping between the axe's blade and shaft, ignoring the agonizing pain in his arm and ribs, and clung to the monster's head.
Before Xplode could try anything else, the Murderer raised the Dark Blade one final time, and plunged it down upon the monster's fiery brain.
The blade sank right down to the hilt, and the monster froze.
Then, a ring of fire burst from the point where the blade had pierced the monster's head, throwing both the murderer and the Dark Blade off.
The Murderer was flung threw the air, but somersaulted and landed on his feet, skidding back a few feet.
Hawthorne was on his feet now, three metres away, and they both watched as the monster convulsed.
Xplode juddered and shook like one million volts of energy were arcing through it's body.
"N-no..no!" It wheezed, "This is not possible... I am invincible... This cannot happen... NO!"
The monster's body started dissolving, its hand blew away like red dust, then its foot, then forearm, convulsing all the while until the monster stepped back, and its footless leg found nothing but air.
Xplode teetered on the edge of the chasm, and for a second it seem that the monster would regain its balance. But then its right foot slipped on the crack that Xplode had made earlier, and the monster finally fell, screaming and screeching, into the dark cavernous abyss.
There was one last thud as Xplode, King of Pyrovillia and Scourger of Earth hit the rock floor hundreds of metres below, and then all was silent.
Then Hawthorne limped over to the Dark Blade, which had skittered to a halt a couple of metres away, and picked it up, then hobbled back to the Murderer.
"A great victory has been won this night," he said, "A victory over the eternal Darkness, and the fiery devastation of the monster, Xplode. I give you this blade, as a way of thanks for avenging my brothers and saving countless lives. You have been redeemed from you sins."
Hawthorne held out the Dark Blade to the Murderer, but before he could take it or answer, a great rumbling shook the ground.
The two men looked to the mountain, where a great crack appeared upon the side.
The crack grew, traveling up the mountainside from the chasm floor until the great Mount Otterham split in two, and crumbled into the steep rocky valley with an almighty crash.
When at last the noise died down and the dust had started settling, the Murderer looked up.
He had been thrown to the ground by a rock that had flown across the abyss and struck him in the back.
Now he stood up, ignoring the pain across his body, and looked upon the mountain.
At least, was was left of it.
The entire rock edifice had collapsed, filling the chasm to the brim and leaving a huge pile of boulders spilling over the edge. If one climbed to the top of that pile, the Murderer was sure, one would be able to see more miles and miles, with no mountain to obstruct the view.
The Murderer turned around to see Hawthorne standing six metres away, but when he blinked, the mysterious man in blue had vanished, leaving nothing but the cursed Dark Blade, glinting darkly in the moonlight.
* * *