4 posts tagged “fight”
Ren was thrown back from the larger man, clutching his sword tightly as his feet skidded through the gravel. This wasn't good. He was out of breath, bleeding, and his arms were shaking ever so slightly.
I don't remember my mother. At all. Not a whiff, not a glance, not a whisper. Which makes sense, after all, if what my father says is true. She died giving birth.
So, my writing group met for lunch today, then afterwards, a few of us went to Borders and wrote for a while. And this is what came of that. By the way, writing with other people, EXCELLENT. I got a lot accomplished, and it felt good to not be in it alone. Anyway, Aaron and Danjal. This is near the end, I think.
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"The world is a very different place than you've been led to believe. Right and wrong, good and evil, black and white... they don't exist. It's all just one big smorgasborg of half-truths, riddles, and shades of gray. Heaven: laughable. Hell: about the same. When you die, you're dead. When you're alive, you're dead. When you're dying, it's just another go around the block. That's the shit of it, you know? Everyone keeps believing if they're good, something good will happen down the line for them... and maybe it does, but that doesn't have anything to do with whether or not they did anything good. But even if they do something they think is good: for instance, giving money to the homeless man on the corner. Guess what? That homeless guy takes that money to the bus station, gets a pass down to the suburb where he used to live, kills his wife, their two kids, and, just for shits and giggles, their new puppy named Oscar before holding a shoot-out with the cops, where he takes out a veteran and some poor neighbor kid before they shoot him. Good? No, you've done no good."
Aaron looked up at the man, his eye half-swollen shut, blood leaking from his lip. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Futility. You almost had it there for a while. I thought you understood. I mean, watching your brother die like that, that had to be a major blow... and I really thought that would knock all that silly idealism out of you."
The boy's hands tightened into fists.
"Of course, that's probably Danjal's fault. That boy always was trouble. I should have ousted him a long time before I did, but I thought he would come around." The man sighed, brushing the near-white locks out of his face. "Ah, well, not everyone can enjoy this type of thing."
Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron watched the man withdrawing a long dagger from the duffle bag on the table. "Danjal trusted you."
The man grinned, testing the sharpness of the blade against his finger. It slit open easily, then resealed itself. "Well, yes and no. He trusted Burdock, and had every right to. The man didn't mean either of you any harm. It was sickening, really. He took to you two as if you were his two dead sons come back to him. He did die protecting you both, but I couldn't just let all that trust he built up with the half-wit go to waste, and so I just borrowed his appearance. It was a little hard, acting as though I enjoyed the company of the two of you, but well worth it to get my hands on you."
Aaron pulled at his arm restraints, pushing himself to sit up more.
"Oh, now, that's not necessary. You won't be able to loosen those. Just a waste of energy, really. And you'll want that energy for later, or else you won't be able to scream nearly as much as will be required."
"Go to Hell."
"Now what did I just get done telling you? There is no Hell. Pay attention. They told me you were smart."
Aaron grinned a little. "Well, there's nothing like physical motion to distract someone from watching energy build up."
"Wha--"
The boy shut his eyes and slammed all the energy he'd managed to haul into himself back out, aiming it directly at the man. It slammed into the white-haired man full-force and slammed him into the wall, leaving a man-shaped crater in the cement blocks. The knife fell from the man's fingers onto the floor and Aaron gasped, his body going slightly limp. An impact like that would be the equivalent of being run down by a race car.
A cough came from the man in the pile of rubble on the floor. Aaron's eyes jerked open as the man hefted himself back to his feet, laughing a bit. "Oh, that was very good. Element of surprise, the power, the aim... Very clever. But you've worn yourself out now, haven't you? All of that energy, that was the last of your reserves. You really shouldn't waste energy like that unless you're certain it will take out your enemy."
"That's not possible. Nobody could have lived through that."
The man laughed. "No human, no. But just because I'm in the guise of a man does not make me a man." He picked up his knife again. "Now, enough of these games. I thought you'd be looking forward to seeing your brother again. Let's not hold off the joyous reunion for any longer than necessary."
Aaron renewed his struggles against the bindings, tugging at his wrists and torso.
"Now, now, you ought to hold still, or I might just miss..." The man sliced out at him, cutting a deep gash in his upper arm.
Aaron screamed, trying to kick out his bound legs at the man.
"See? If you keep struggling, this may just turn into a torture session." The knife slashed at his cheek.
The boy clenched his jaw and hissed in pain, breathing hard. His whole body tensed and he turned angry blue eyes up at the man.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to say something?" The man blinked innocently at him and smiled.
"You remember that prophesy Burdock found about my brother?"
"Mm, I do seem to recall that. What about it?"
Aaron smiled. "I gotta tell you something important about it."
"Indeed? And?"
"It wasn't about my brother." Aaron's shoe hit the ground and he kicked the man hard in the groin. "DANJAL!"
The door jarred with a sudden impact. And again.
The man's eyes jerked to the door, then back to Aaron. He growled and grabbed his knife.
Aaron kicked himself backwards away from him, his chair falling backwards. His head hit the floor. "Danjal! Hurry!"
The door splintered with the next slam. Aaron couldn't move any farther. The man was on his feet, jumping at Aaron, knife extended. The knife jammed down into Aaron's side and he screamed, his back arching as much as possible through his bindings.
Danjal burst through the door and dove right at the white-haired man, knocking him away from the writhing boy. A flurry of wings and feathers erupted from both the men as they wrestled away from Aaron.
I should try to focus these things, but I'm just letting them jump around right now, and today's cup of tea is Phoenix.
"Phoenix!"
"Helen!" Nix stood up and even felt slightly ashamed as the older woman gently took his face in her hands. He obediently turned into the light so that she could examine his bruised and bloodied face.
Greg stepped up and looked over his wife's shoulder, frowning a little as he looked over the smallish boy. "Gotcha pretty good above the eye. Got a nice gash."
"Yes, sir."
"How many?"
"Two."
He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice so that the receptionist wouldn't hear. "Get a couple of good swings in?"
Phoenix smirked a little. "Yes, sir."
"Gregory!" Helen smacked her husband on the arm.
"Mr. and Mrs. Tempest?"
The three of them looked at the door of the office. The principal watched them grimly.
"Actually, I'm Greg Rudolph, and this is my wife, Helen," he took the other man's hand.
"I'm afraid I'm a bit confused. I was told that Phoenix's parents were here."
Phoenix blushed and Helen squeezed his shoulder a bit, smiling. "We're Nix's foster parents."
"Oh! Of course. I'm sorry. I just transferred in about a month ago... Why don't the three of you step inside?"
The small family moved into the office and took their seats, watching the principal sliding in across from them. Phoenix made himself as small as possible and sat on the edge of his seat.
"What exactly happened this morning?" Greg asked, indicating to his ward's battered face.
"Well, a few boys decided to take offense to your son's early morning activities..." Phoenix concentrated on his lap, "...they seemed to view it as a provocation."
"Are you saying Nix deserved this?" Helen asked.
"Of course not. I find the idea of two larger boys doubling up on a smaller boy deplorable. Both of them have been dealt with accordingly, but I do think there may have been a better way for Nix to deal with his anger..."
"Hold on a sec. Back up. Early morning activities and anger? I think we missed something important." Greg looked over at Phoenix for clarification.
Nix's whole body ached with tension, humiliation, and misery. Tears had started to form in the corners of his eyes, but he would not face the adults in the room.
The principal blushed faintly and shifted in his seat before carefully opening the top drawer of his desk, removing several sheets of paper and passing them over.
"Oh my god," Helen said, putting a hand to her mouth. Greg didn't say anything.
"Phoenix hung almost 500 copies of those this morning. The teachers took down what they could.... but quite a few ended up in the hands of the students." He let the uncomfortable silence surround them for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, though I understand the emotional duress that your son was under after... well, that... and the subsequent actions of the involved parties..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We are going to have to suspend him."
Phoenix was crying, shaking silently and unable to face his parents. He felt as though he'd collapse under the weight of his own thoughts.
"For how long?" Greg asked, setting the paper facedown on the desk.
"Ten days." The principal looked apologetic. "I think its best that you take him home with you, for his own safety, rather than having him finish out the day. George Mann has volunteered to bring his work home for him, so that he doesn't fall behind..."
Helen reached over, touching the back of Nix's head gently; he winced away, wiping his eyes. She was still holding the picture in her hands. He wished she'd put it down.
"That's great. George can stop over whenever he can. Thank you."
"I don't... I don't mean to intrude on something that is obviously a very personal matter... but sometimes... after something like this... you may want to consider counselling. I mean... first... well, it can be really hard on teens."
"I understand, thank you," Helen said, finally putting the paper she was holding onto the desk with Greg's. "Nix, do you need anything from your locker?"
He shook his head, standing up and shouldering his backpack, staying just out of reach of her comforting arms. Greg wouldn't look at him. Nix wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but it didn't feel good.
"So he can come back...?"
"Wednesday, the 13th."
"Good. Thank you again. Come on, boys." She slid her hand into her husband's and they made their way out to the car, with Phoenix trailing in their wake.
