It's been eight years since they destroyed his computer. Dark created the Virablades as an escape from boredom. Chosen's bloodlust runs cold as she figures out what went wrong. The clashing of families, the rivalry of sticks. Crimson spurts from fresh cuts.
Hey, y'all! This is just a post for the collection of chapters from Crimson, my first finished series of fanfiction. I do have a page for it on the AvAF wiki and my profile, but decided I should put it here as well.
Table of Contents/POV switches
Part 1 - Dark
Part 2 - Chosen
Part 3 - Dark
Part 4 - Chosen
Part 5 - Dark
Part 6 - Chosen
Part 7 - King Orange
Part 8 - Dark
Part 9 - Chosen, FINALE
It'll make more sense when you read it, heh..
Anyways, enjoy!
Dark - Part I[]
I was walking in some weirdly messed up place. I knew going through the strange glowing portal in the files tab was a bad idea. The area was humid and the air felt heavy. Where in the Outernet am I? The place was covered in what seemed to be red fungus. Is this even supposed to exist? Then I saw what looked like -or what remained of- a castle. Now I was even more confused. I spotted a door, though, and walked in. A very strange sight met my eyes. There was a tall orange stick sitting on a throne, and a smaller purple one kneeling down in front of the orange stick. What the heck is going on here?
“Purple, it looks like we have a visitor,” said the orange stick.
This ‘Purple’ immediately stood up and turned around to face me.
“Who are you? Where have you come from?” They drew what seemed to be some sort of blue pixelated sword. Huh. Like that would hurt at all.
I did nothing to respond to the questions.
“My liege, what should we do with…?” Purple turned back around to the stick sitting on the throne and waited for an answer.
“How did a hollowhead end up here?” he asked with a smirk. “Are you lost, little boy?”
I growled, showing my still developing but fully operational fangs. Who was he to insult me?
“None of your business, twig. Now, I must get going-”
“Oh, but I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Dark Lord.”
I froze. How did he know my name? Chosen and I burned all of the wanted posters a long time ago. We even killed anyone who saw us. We pretty much had no identity or tracking code.
We were shadows in the dark.
“There’s a big bounty on your head nowadays. Way bigger than when you were small-time destroyers of websites. Oh, and did I mention, they’re out for you and your wonderful partner in crime? Too bad she didn’t accompany you so I could torment you both,” he purred, taking delight in my frustration and bewilderment. “The Chosen One is a female, isn’t she? You ought to know.”
I fought hard to push down my want of a fight.
I couldn’t give up the location of our house. Not when Chosen was still injured and she couldn’t properly defend herself. Maybe that last website raid was a bit uncalled for. And dangerous.
“How about we make a deal?” he asked.
I stayed silent. I didn’t know if he was being serious or not.
The stick continued, “I won’t turn either of you in. But, in return, you must stay here and help Purple and I conquer this world.”
I scoffed. “You’re telling me that you want to take over this blocky universe? There’s not much to take over, to be honest.. All there is here are cubes.”
“I could turn you in right now,” he retorted. An expression of pure anger crossed his face.
“Oh, sure you could. But I could kill you in an instant,” I said, sliding my new invention, my Viraband, onto my left wrist. I felt the burning energy coursing through my veins, the dark power connecting to my own.
Chosen would be proud. Especially when I gave her one of her own. I couldn’t wait to show it to her when I got out of this hellhole.
The King and Purple looked genuinely frightened as I let the blade come to life. The blade itself was outlined in red, with the body being Chosen’s own shade of black. The corrosive properties made the blade’s shape change a million times a second, the particles re-arranging and reshaping- something I worked extremely hard on to make it happen. I was happy with the design. Now to test if it actually works.
I lunged towards the throne with my left arm, equipped with the blade, extended at the figure currently sitting on it. I can’t leave any evidence. I can’t lead them to our house, to Chosen.
I was so close. Just a couple of inches, and-
The blade cut through not orange flesh, but what I guessed was an obsidian block. It immediately disintegrated into ones and zeroes, the raw binary code floating away into the air.
“What the-?” I was standing right in front of the king, my Virablade still ignited.
“You like my staff, Dark Lord?” he asked me in a pompous way, brushing his finger down the handle of the staff he was now holding.
“Not particularly,” I muttered under my breath.
“Well, you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”
I felt something invisible grab me by the neck and fling me across the throne room, pushing me forcefully against the wall. The band fell off.
“Sh*t,” I cursed, not caring if either of the sticks in the room heard it or not. I tried grabbing for the thing pinning me. It was no use. I was losing oxygen. I couldn’t breathe.
“You lost your chance in joining me, Dark Lord. I guess I’ll just have to turn you in. Oh, and we can’t forget the beautiful Chosen One either-”
“Shut the f*ck up! Don’t you dare lay a finger on her!” I shouted at the stick from across the room, thrashing violently, trying desperately to get free. I knew it was hopeless, though. He’d take me to the city authorities, and then who knows what’ll happen to us? And with Chosen still injured… My vision was blurry and I could only see the faint outlines of the room. I was gasping for air, still being held a couple of inches above the ground.
He only laughed. “Sleep tight, Dark Lord,” the king called to me.
That was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness completely.
___________________
Chosen - Part II[]
I was resting on the couch in the living room of the shack, too injured to move or do anything, really. It was a boring day. Dark had been out for a really long time, and I was getting worried. I couldn’t do much but wait.
Then I heard a knock on the front door, and hushed voices. Multiple voices. Maybe Dark found some friends…? I shook my head. He would usually kill people, not befriend them.
“Who is it?” I asked from the couch. My legs hurt too much to stand.
“It’s the Stick!City authorities. Open up! We know you’re in there!”
Oh, sh*t. How did they find me?!
I tried to stand up, but a searing pain in both of my legs told me that my effort would be pointless. I took a quick look and immediately regretted it. The bandages that Dark had wrapped around my lower legs was a shade of crimson. The bright ruby-red drops, the same shade as my eyes, were trickling down to my ankles.
The door was broken down by the sticks outside, and they barged in, guns raised.
“You’re under arrest for breaking Stick!City law, Chosen One,” said the leader, cocking his own weapon and motioning me to follow them to wherever the hell they would be taking me.
“I’m not going down without a fight,” I snapped back, letting out a fierce snarl. I knew my fangs were showing. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to use them.
“So be it.” He spoke in a menacing way; I could tell he was used to being superior to many other infamous mafia leaders and black market sellers the way he was acting now.
I mentally counted the number of sticks in the house.
20 to 1. A pretty fair fight, in my opinion.
It was as if the world was moving in slow motion. I took a step forward. My legs burned but I ignored it. I was fighting for freedom. There were many who had some sort of weapon and I knew that there would be a slim chance I would win out. Despite everything, I ran forward and tackled the closest stick within punching range, aiming a kick to their head. I felt my foot make contact with my target’s head. Scarlet droplets flew through the air, and I heard the thud of a body falling to the ground.
I quickly grabbed the gun from the fallen stick’s belt and aimed to fire, closing one eye.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered under my breath as I pulled the trigger. The ringing of the bullet echoed in my ear, and I saw the little piece of metal fly through one of the stick’s face.
The fight continued with the still standing soldiers not giving up. My legs hurt like hell.
A bullet aimed for my head ran into my thigh and I winced in pain. More crimson trickled down, the flow increasing from a drop every once in a while to a whole bloody mess. I knew that it would make the floor stained for a while.
Two more were fired from the guns of the first officer that spoke to me. They both made contact with my right arm; one dug into my shoulder and the other ran into my lower arm. I stumbled back, my whole body aching, panting heavily.
I threw kicks and punches whenever I could, and every stick was down except for the leader in a matter of minutes. The only problem was that I was almost down as well. I quickly and hastily checked my gunshot wounds. I counted four. Thoroughly drenched in blood, I wasn’t sure if it was mine or someone else’s. I leaned against the wall I was closest to and tried to catch my breath.
“You willing to give up now and come with us?” he asked gruffly. Even though he was badly injured as well, he was still standing. The last one standing. I saw his gun lower just a millimeter.
I ran forward again, this time charging my left hand up for a punch. The swirling white energy sang and I was pleased to unleash it again.
The opposing stick didn’t know what hit him. The power-induced punch sent him flying across the room. I’m pretty sure I heard a sickening crack.
I waited for a couple of seconds to check if anyone was still alive. Looking around the room, I had to admit, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Every single stick had an open wound in some area or another. Some of them were bleeding from the head. It took me a minute to realize what just happened.
They were all down. I did it! Triumph and victory ran through my veins as one, the glory giving me all the elation I’d ever wanted. 20 to 1. I smiled to myself. Dark would be happy. And proud.
While I was busy trying to patch up my newly earned wounds and change my leg bandages, though, I felt a chill run down my spine. Something wasn’t right. Something, or more like someone, was still alive.
Before I could turn around to see who was there, a foot kicked me in the back and I fell forward on the hardwood floor. I heard my nose bridge snap and it bled, the crimson-colored gems running down my chin. Pain. More searing pain ran through my nerves, the throbbing ache spreading rapidly. I coughed up more blood and almost passed out. I felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of my lungs. My body was trembling and my legs were not responding to my demands.
I struggled, trying to stand up under the weight of the unknown stick’s foot. I heard a slow, bitter chuckle. Then something hit me on the side of my head. Hard. That was the last thing I felt before I blacked out on the floor.
___________________
Dark - Part III[]
“The Dark Lord. Male, age unknown. Anything else we need to know?”
The voice speaking to me was distorted and fuzzy. I tried to move my hands, but they were tied to the back of a chair I was sitting on.
“I don’t think so,” I said, keeping my gaze trained on the stick in front of me, an angry glare on my face.
They sighed. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
“Your preference,” I muttered, not caring all that much.
Right after I said that, a wave of electricity ran through my body, the excruciating pain not making my already existing headache any better. I gritted my teeth, struggling to not give them the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.
“One last chance. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” the stranger asked. From their voice, it sounded like they were bored; almost tired. Like they took no pleasure in torturing others.
As I was about to make another cleverly snarky remark, the door on the far side of the room opened and a dim light filtered through the doorway, illuminating thousands of little tiny specs of dust.
“How’s the interrogation going?”
In sauntered the same idiot that I’d met a couple… minutes? Hours? Days? I had no clue how or when I got here.
“Not so well. He’s not responding to any of my questions, really,” the stick told the other in the same monotone voice.
“I’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind,” the king said, eyeing the remote control the one in front of me was holding. They shrugged their shoulders and handed him the device, leaving the room.
“Well, that was easy. Now, let’s have a little fun,” he taunted, pushing the button on the panel.
I couldn’t stifle a groan as another shockwave traveled up my right arm, making its way to my neck. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take much more of this.
“Enjoying the pain?” I saw a smirk.
“Not really,” I muttered, turning my head away so I wouldn’t have to see the look on the twig’s face.
“If you don’t want to cooperate, I’ll just have to go over to The Chosen One’s cell…,” he trailed off. My eyes widened. It can’t be!
“You- but.. How?!” I stuttered. “I never told you anything!”
“Oh, I get my way. So.. Do you want to answer questions now?”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him everything, and yet I didn’t want him to hurt Chosen more than she already was. I felt my brow furrow in concern and frustration. I had to choose.
“Fine. I’ll answer your questions. But what do I get out of it?” I asked.
“Hmm… let’s say a couple minutes to yourself,” he said, the smirk growing into a wide, malicious grin. “Then we’ll see about your crimes.”
“My what?! I didn’t do anything! I just burned a couple of-” I cut myself short. I said too much.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. See? It’s not that hard.” He walked closer, his gaze meeting mine. I thought I saw a genuine smile, but it quickly turned into a sadistic one as I felt another shock. I never felt it coming, so I was surprised when it came and I didn’t have time to prepare for it. A hiss escaped my lips.
“Do you really have to do that every single time?" I groaned, giving the twig a cold, hard stare.
"I thought I was the one who was going to ask the questions," the king responded, malice dripping from every word. The grin grew even wider, wider than I thought was possible.
I stayed silent. There was no need to answer; it was a statement rather than a question.
Another jolt flew through my body. I winced again, this time successfully hiding my whimpers of pain. The shocks were to be expected now.
“So… how old exactly are you?"
"I'm eight," I muttered.
“Wow. I’m surprised. If you’re eight, then, how old is your sister?”
I hesitated. Could I tell him? Probably shouldn't.
"I don't know.. She never told me." A part of that was true. I only had a faint idea of how old Chosen was.
"I'll find out myself, then, since you're unwilling to tell me any more," the king said. “Well, I better get going. See ya!” He ended the sentence in a mocking tone, and he put the control back on the table.
“WAIT! You can’t just- you-...” I shouted after the tall stick.
“You can’t always trust everyone, Dark Lord,” he said, closing the door behind him. I heard the locking mechanism slide into place.
There was no stopping him. He would be on his way to Chosen’s, and it would be all my fault.
All. My. Fault.
___________________
Chosen - Part IV[]
I woke up in a dimly lit room. I was sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back and a thick handkerchief was stuffed into my mouth. I heard a voice speaking to me.
“Someone wants to talk to you.”
My body was still aching and I couldn’t move. The door to the cell I was in opened, issuing a small creak, and I saw a blurry orange figure standing before me. The stick walked closer, so close that he was a couple inches from my face.
“Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is King Orange, but please call me Mango.”
‘Mango’ gently untied the gag and placed it on the nearby table. Then he wordlessly put a finger to my chin, raising my head so I was forced to look up into his eyes.
“You’re definitely not what I imagined,” he told me in a soft, smooth tone. Then he looked over my face, presumably taking in every single detail. For what, I didn't know.
I didn’t like it, either. I knew he was either playing with me or he was trying to bribe. With what, I didn’t know. I forcefully looked away, and he took his finger off my chin.
“You’re not what I imagined, either. From what I heard, you were a tall dark orange stick figure wearing a red robe and a crown adorned your head. What happened to the setup?" I chided, clenching my fist for emphasis.
“Just as snarky as your brother, aren’t you? My, my. So feisty,” he taunted, receiving a death glare from me. It was best to keep my mouth shut.
With that, I quietly and quickly grabbed my pocket knife from my coat pocket and slowly started to cut through the rope bindings that were tying my hands together, careful to not let Mango see what I was doing.
“So.. I was trying to ask the Dark Lord what your age was- never got an answer,” Mango purred lightly. It sounded so much like Dark’s…
Almost there.
“So you want mine?” I asked bitterly.
“Of course. If you don’t mind, that is.” Intrigue was seeping through the sugarcoated voice.
“I’m 12, turning 13 tomorrow,” I answered coolly, not taking my eyes off of Mango’s.
So close.
“Interesting. I never thought you were so young-”
“Enough bull****. What exactly do you want?” I cut him off.
The rope broke with my sudden outburst. Now to just take down Mango and I’ll get Dark and myself the hell out of here.
“Such a dirty mouth. Tut, tut. I just want to talk,” he responded. I could practically see him lying through his teeth.
“My senses are telling me otherwise,” I muttered. I inwardly grinned at the subtle insult.
He froze in place, conveniently stuck where he stood, a look of pure surprise mingled with an undertone of anger crossed his face.
I jumped at him, leaping forward and punched him. In the face.
He stumbled back, shocked. “How did-?”
“When you have a pocket knife, well..” I trailed off, still holding the sharp blade, its pointy end facing Mango. His eyes widened even more.
“Do you really want to use that?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“If you stay in my way I will,” I retorted. I slowly started to walk towards him, a fierce glare of pure hatred on my face. “If you don’t, I’ll leave you be.”
“So be it,” he spat, taking out what looked like a.. Minecraft scepter? I recognized the block, the icon from the game, that was currently sitting in the maroon staff. It definitely was from Minecraft. I remembered it when Dark and I had previously raided the website.
“What’s that gonna do?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” he said, staring me down. I couldn’t register what happened next. I was knocked off my feet, and I fell on the floor. The blade skidded a couple of inches away. I immediately scrambled back up to see that Mango had called security.
“S**t,” I cursed. “Dark, where are you?!”
___________________
Dark - Part V[]
“How could I have gotten into this mess?!” I was absolutely fuming. Who knows what that degenerate stick would do to Chosen? What if- No. I couldn’t think about that right now.
I suddenly realized that a cup was sitting on the small table next to me- a glass cup at that. An idea struck, and I kicked the table leg with my foot. Hard. The cup fell and shattered upon impact with the hard floor. I picked up a large shard of glass with my mouth (which was really difficult to do, considering the fact that I was tied to a chair), and somehow maneuvered it to slice the rope binding my wrists together.
I stood up, sighing in relief and flexing my cramped arms.
Freedom at last.
The only problem was that I wasn’t really exactly free yet. The door was still locked, and I didn’t have my Virablades to assist in disintegrating it to ones and zeroes.
I sighed again, this time in exasperation. Time to think. Let’s see.. If I use my powers on the metal door, it might not be enough to break the locking mechanism, especially if I was on the inside of the cell. What if I tried tripping the lock instead of destroying it?
With renewed energy and hope, I scanned the room, seeing if there was anything to use. A loose bobby pin was there. Huh. I guess I’m going old school.
I grabbed the pin from the dusty gray floor and jammed it into the latch holding the door closed. The lock broke and I opened the door, tossing the pin over my shoulder. I started to run.
Voices echoed through the dark gray corridor I ran through, becoming louder and louder. I had to find Chosen. Now.
As I neared a cell door, a security guard was thrown out of the room. They hit the opposite wall and didn’t get back up. I froze as a flash of blinding white light and a burst of hot, intense flame also exited the open doorway. I knew instantly who was in the cell.
“CHOSEN!” I shouted as I charged into the room. She was in mid-fight, fending off around twenty guards or so. She gave me a small wink and turned back to block a spear.
By the look of it, she was holding up pretty fairly, but I could see the slight trembling and drops of blood every so often. Without thinking, I jumped into the blood battle.
We were back-to-back, using fire and flame to repel the onslaught of guards flooding in from the doorway. There must’ve been at least forty in the room when all the sticks had entered.
Up against Chosen, I could hear her jagged breathing, feel the somewhat uneasy movements and see all the blood she’d been losing. I was torn, but there was no time to heal any wounds of the sort. She sensed me staring and turned around to give me a reassuring smile.
The rest was a blur. I didn’t know what I was doing until I looked down at my feet and saw a stick lying on the ground in a huddle, blood pooling up from a burn. I saw an ice crystal winking at me out of the corner of my eye and I realized Chosen unleashed her powers again. I kept persisting, throwing fireballs and attacks, hardly noticing my vision was getting blurry and sounds became faint.
In a matter of minutes, all of the guards were down, either knocked out or completely dead. Chosen turned to give me a triumphant high-five paired with a mischievous grin. I let out a sharp gasp. She was absolutely covered in wine-red blood, trembling even more than when I saw her from the doorway. Regardless, I took her hand and pulled her into a hug.
“I thought I would lose you,” I whispered, close to tears.
Chosen stiffened a little at first but quickly went limp and let her tense muscles relax, sinking into the hug. “It’s okay, Dark. I’m here,” she responded, patting me on the back, “We’re safe now. We can go back to the shack and rest.”
I opened my mouth to comfort her as well, but a low chuckle came from somewhere in the doorway, plus a couple of slow claps. A frosty chill ran down my spine.
“How. Cute.”
___________________
Chosen - Part VI[]
I released myself from Dark’s bone-crushing hug and turned around to find the one stick I really didn’t want to see right now.
Mango.
“F**k,” I cursed, “This is just great. The little…” I muttered under my breath, cursing out the orange stick every single dirty name I could think of. Either he didn’t hear me or didn’t bother to show he cared because there was no remark.
I thought he had left as soon as he called backup, but he stayed to watch us fend off the guards. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed like the arrogant prick he was. The Minecraft block staff, surprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. A grin was on his face.
I shot a wary side glance at Dark, hoping the expression I gave off was enough for him to decipher. He met my gaze and exchanged the same look. We both knew the battle wasn’t over, far from it. I took a deep breath, one I didn’t know I needed. I could feel my pulse slowing and the adrenaline building back up in preparation.
Another chuckle fell from his lips, followed by a slow, drawn out question.
“Did you really think you’d be escaping here alive?”
His left hand twitched. I shifted my gaze to the red and black band around his wrist.
“Dark, what’s that?” I asked, failing to keep the worry out of my voice.
He was staring at the same thing. “I-” Dark started, “Wh-where did you get that?!”
He knew about it?
“When you passed out, of course. In my bastion. It fell off your own wrist, and I simply picked it up,” Mango drawled out, taking pleasure in the stunned expressions of us both.
“That’s mine and you know it!” Dark retorted. His pitch-black irises narrowed.
I paused. He knew…? “Dark, what the hell is he talking about?” I demanded.
Neither of them responded. Dark and I stared as the weapon came to life. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It was a blade, I knew that much. But the way it changed shape and virtually floated around Mango’s wrist was mesmerizing. How the colors seemed to radiate around the little particles drifting off the thing was unknown to me.
The sadistic grin on the orange stick’s face grew wider. His eyes were the utter portrayal of malicious intent, anger, and pure hate. His voice was dripping with a sweet sugar-coated quality but I could hear the cold-blooded viciousness underneath that was almost begging to be let out. I drew in another quick steadying breath.
“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun killing you both.”
___________________
King Orange - Part VII[]
“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun killing you both.”
I enjoyed the shock of both hollowheads. The way they froze with expressions of unfiltered anger and hate, towards me, and maybe just a twinge of fear.
The Chosen One wasted no time and made a lunge for the band around my left wrist, growling. I swore I saw a flash of ruby red.
I quickly stepped aside, evading the attack. I heard a thud and a stifled groan from behind but didn’t turn around and focused on The Dark Lord before me. He was also seething with rage, his hands lit in a threatening manner. His pitch-black irises narrowed. His sharp fangs were fully exposed, the sharp facets glinting in what little light the musty cell window could offer.
“Whadda you gonna do to me, Dark Lord?” I asked, taunting him once more. The look on his face didn't change, his lips unmoving. His eyes were nothing more than thin slits. After a few seconds of silence, he also ran toward me, one hand outstretched to grab the creation he claimed his. As soon as he was within range, I brought the blade forward and ran it through The Dark Lord's torso.
His eyes went wide as the weapon made its way through his chest and exited out his back. I shoved it in harder and farther, backing him up against the wall, and I could hear his uneven breaths and whimpers of pain.
"S-stop," he said quietly.
"Wha-" I started. Something heavy grabbed me into a chokehold, making me release The Dark Lord. A metal rod was being held against my neck, pressing up against my windpipe. Hard.
I struggled to break free, putting my hands up against whatever was holding me up off the ground. It was no use. I gasped for air, choking and spluttering helplessly.
"You stab him one more time and I'll ram this thing straight into your head," a voice growled, fierce and intense.
I didn't need to look to figure out who it was. But instead of trying to continue forcing myself out, I thought better of it and merely rotated my wrist and shoved.
I didn't know what happened until I fell down on the floor face-first. The clatter of the heavy pole hitting the ground resounded in my ears. I quickly got to my feet to see the siblings panting heavily and leaning on each other for support. Both were clearly in immense pain, judging from the fact their faces were screwed up in agony and a hand was on each of their stab wounds.
Those wounds I had made left ugly harsh black and red lines on each of their bodies, and fresh blood was trickling down, plus the occasional one or zero.
I couldn’t help giving another chuckle. “You won’t be able to defeat me or even hold me down for long. I’ve got the upper hand.”
“But we weren’t fighting fairly,” The Dark Lord responded in a mock sweet tone, another band now on his right arm. “It’s time we end this, once and for all.”
The other blade ignited, and The Chosen One lit her hands, the embers sparking, and her palms glowing a very dangerous red.
"Finally, a challenge," I remarked.
I studied the effects of my retort. The underlying hate of the hollowheads never left.
Without a word, The Dark Lord set his own band alight, the glow of the blade and its steady humming filling the room. He raised it up in front of his face, grim determination clearly showing.
I shifted my footing, digging the back of my heel into the crumbly cement underneath, preparing for the second round of heated battle. Discreetly, I took the radio out of my pocket and pressed the button.
More backup will be on its way soon.
To the hollowheads, I muttered, "Let's do this," and raised my own blade.
___________________
Dark - Part VIII[]
I crouched down low with the black-and-red weapon raised, going around in a circle counterclockwise facing the orange stick in front of me. I kept my eyes focused on my target. It was as if he was staring me down, assessing every little move I made. I felt Chosen’s presence almost directly behind me, waiting to back me up.
I felt the tension and suspense rising, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, empowering and increasing my senses.
I ran forward. The king mirrored my lunge, and our blades clashed together, grinding and sending black particles flying.
He rapidly attacked and I had to quickly switch to the defensive, parrying and blocking. Finally, I saw my chance in his open stance and aimed a sweeping blow to his legs. He stepped back just in time and countered.
We continued that for a long time, while Chosen continued to hold back and watch.
The king ran at me again, this time slashing my arm and just barely nicking my right cheek. I stepped back, examining the wound. I looked back up in time to see his blade pointed down at my head. I quickly brought up my own arm to block the attack and throw him off. Instead, he landed on his feet.
He growled and shoved me backward, sending me stumbling over the gravel floor. I heard Chosen give a kind of gasp.
“DARK LOOK OUT-”
I turned around to see her with a horrified look on her face, her ruby eyes wide with terror. I wasn’t quick enough. The king engaged in a flying kick, knocking me to the ground. Before I could get up, he pinned me down and prepared to stab me again in the same spot. I raised my arms and braced for another jolt of pain.
It never came.
I uncovered my face just in time to see Chosen send a fireball to the stick on top of me. He went sprawling and crashed into the nearby sidewall, giving out an astounded “oof”.
“You okay? It looked like you were gonna get murdered there,” Chosen teased, holding out her hand. I took it, letting her pull me up off the ground.
“Yeah, no kidding,” I replied, brushing the little pebbles off my arms, which were also cut and bleeding from my trip across the holding cell. A quick glance at the king told me he was knocked out cold.
“He deserved that,” Chosen remarked, reading my mind. “He deserved that for stabbing you that first time, and when he shocked you.”
I stopped and stared at her. “Wait... how did you know about that?!”
She chuckled and said, “Well… I never told you this, but we have a kind of, say, a bond.”
I kept staring. “What?”
She continued, “I can feel your pain, Dark. And you can feel mine. You can bet your life I’m feeling those scrapes on your arms.”
I stood there, aghast and dumbfounded. “How come I never knew that?!”
Chosen started laughing. I smiled in spite of myself. I loved it when Chosen would laugh.
“I found out only a week ago when you stubbed your toe on the dining room table leg. My toe hurt as well, but I was all the way upstairs in my room,” she answered, struggling to hold her laughter in. “It was only when I heard you cursing from downstairs that I knew we shared pain receptors.”
“What?! That’s how you found out?!” I cried in disbelief, my mouth open in shock.
Chosen’s laughter only intensified, and when her eyes glimmered with joy I instantly knew that it was one of those rare instances where she would be really happy.
I was enjoying myself and laughing so much that I couldn’t register the sounds of footsteps entering the room until we were surrounded.
Or the echoing shots of gunfire. Or Chosen’s piercing scream.
That was the last thing I heard before the world went black.
___________________
Chosen - Finale, Part IX[]
I was laughing and I was so close to tears that everything seemed blurry and distorted, but I didn’t care. This was the most fun I’d had since… forever. I was thinking for a while, since that one rainy day, that maybe a life of fighting wasn’t the best thing for Dark, and I was getting tired of all the website raids. Now was as good a time as any to start anew.
I looked back at Dark. He was laughing as well, grinning happily. I noticed that his laugh was genuine, not like the maniacal laugh when we crashed parts of the internet. What I didn’t notice were the armed guards flooding in through the doorway, surrounding us and blocking off any possible escape route. I didn’t notice that they immediately raised their guns and fired.
I saw the whole thing in slow motion. The bullets tearing through the air with a loud, echoing bang and making contact with- with Dark.
I realized with a dawning horror that I was too late to save him, that he would be dead before he hit the floor.
“NO!” I shouted and ran forward to catch him. His eyes were closed, his body limp. My hands were soaked with blood immediately. Sobbing, I gently laid him on the ground and stood back up to face the platoon of guards.
They said nothing, the bastards.
I glared at the sticks through my tears and blurry vision, ready to kill every single one of them. Pulling out my pocket knife, I jumped forward.
The nearest guard took the stab by the face, blood spurting from the deep gash on their cheek. Another rushed in to take their place, and I tackled them as well, cutting and slicing anywhere possible. They murdered Dark, I murder them.
Bullets pierced my skin and knives carved holes in my arms and legs but I didn’t care.
You’re doing it for him.
I was filled with such immense rage that I took pleasure in seeing each stick fall.
One. By. One.
I took a spear from a guard and rammed it into another’s chest, pushing them up against the wall and sinking the sharp tip into the concrete. Then I grabbed a gun and bullets flew from the firearm, lodging themselves into flesh and bone. They shot Dark, I shoot them.
I didn’t flinch at the violence, or the feel of warm liquid on my hands.
You’re doing it for him.
I didn’t notice I was bleeding until I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against the bloodstained gray wall, panting hard. I didn’t notice how many sticks I killed until the adrenaline left my body and I took a moment to look around the room.
I didn’t feel the stare of eyes upon me.
Until it was too late.
I turned around slowly and looked up into the black barrel of a gun. There was a very specific orange finger on the trigger.
My eyes widened when I figured out who that was, holding the weapon.
I barely heard the gunshot. I barely felt the bullet's impact, the warm familiar rush of more blood pooling up near the wound. I looked down and found that the little piece of metal ran through my ribcage.
I felt nothing.
All the pain in the world could never amount to what I’d just lost a couple minutes ago.
I realized with abandon: This is it. I’ll be with Dark in just a few moments. It'll be over very soon. You can see him again. You can be with him.
I was semi-conscious when more tears started to fall. And just now, I understood. Dark is what made my life special. The only thing that made my life special. I took one more breath, probably for the last time, finding myself replaying the best memories of my life.
As I was reminiscing, the firearm moved and aimed in a different place- my head. Everything clicked.
The finger moved again and the world flashed a brilliant red.
The color of blood.
The color of death, the color of him.
The color crimson.