Re: The Battle Majestic (Round 3 - Oxbow Inc.)
03-15-2012, 02:41 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
“It’s a shame, really.”
Lionel slumped against a nearby lamppost to catch his breath, arm still charged should Jacob make a move. The swordsman seemed content to lounge against his giant glowing bean bag, though.
“Never like leaving a job undone. I was looking forward to running you through, too.” Jacob snorted. “Or this thing, preferably.” Sen gave a half-hearted squawk at the thumb jabbed in his face and nudged the swordsman away with his snout.
Wykerr spat. “What’s stopping you, then?” His grin seemed to split his face, and indeed the scarred corner of his mouth was trickling blood. He wasn’t seriously hurt, but he wasn’t used to prolonged combat – his kills were usually quick and quiet, and he’d come out of their block-spanning spar rather worse for the wear. “Too strong for you, am I?”
“Empty words from an arrogant kid. No,” said Jacob, standing slowly as much for dramatic effect as that his legs were friggin’ sore, “I’m not going to kill you because I’d like to get out of this stupid tournament.”
There was an awkward pause. “…Sorry, I think you have it backwards. We have to kill each other to win, and the winner-”
“There’s another way.”
Jacob would have liked to think it was the confidence with which he said it, but more likely Wykerr paused because he’d thrust his sword a couple inches into solid concrete.
“Steven’s looking for a… for a rift. A rift in space-time. I think. Something to take us out of this city, out of this world… out of this Battle. He says he knows… a… guy, who, uh, look, this is coming out all wrong. Can I start over?”
Lionel just rolled his eyes. “So the kid with the gloves says he can get us home. And you trust him?”
“Nope.”
“…You’re getting things backwards again.”
“I’m not a very trusting person. I didn’t trust him when he first mentioned it, and I still don’t fully trust him. But!”
And for the first time in a very long time, Jacob smiled. “But I can hear it.”
“Hear… what?” Lionel snorted. “A way home? You’re not making any-”
“There’s a tear. Almost too high to register, but there’s still the tiniest whine on the edge of my perception. Like that pop when you change altitude. Hard to notice but unmistakable. Heard it many times before. At home, there’s –” He cut off abruptly, apparently remembering where he was. “Rambling again. Hate that.”
“Well that's nice and all, but there’s one small problem with your plan.” The thunderboy was on his feet again, massaging his shoulder. “You know, besides the whole 'totally implausible' thing.”
“And that is?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Jacob’s palm reacquainted itself with his forehead. “God… Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this?”
“You’re certainly not going out of your way to avoid casualties!” He was smiling that smile again – the one you’d know if you’d seen any horror movie ever. Lionel spread his arms wide and spun in a slow circle. “Look at it! The carnage, the destruction… at least half of it was you! Hell,” he snapped, pointing accusingly at the knight, “there were certainly better ways to subdue me than rampage halfway across the city. But no! You picked the most destructive option possible.” He shrugged. “I had fun, at least.”
Wykerr’s grin turned to a scowl. “And I’m not about to let you-“
CRACK
***
Blitz groggily came to, lying gracelessly atop something squishy and radioactive. He brought his good hand around and gently massaged his jaw, which ended up just making the pain worse. Something screeched, and Jacob came around into view.
“You were right.”
“…About what?”
“Should’ve knocked you out sooner. Still crazy?”
“What? No, I… I’m good for now.”
“Good. Now help me figure out to steer this dumb fruit. Or sit on it, for that matter.”
“Wait. W-what?”
CHIRP.
“It’s a shame, really.”
Lionel slumped against a nearby lamppost to catch his breath, arm still charged should Jacob make a move. The swordsman seemed content to lounge against his giant glowing bean bag, though.
“Never like leaving a job undone. I was looking forward to running you through, too.” Jacob snorted. “Or this thing, preferably.” Sen gave a half-hearted squawk at the thumb jabbed in his face and nudged the swordsman away with his snout.
Wykerr spat. “What’s stopping you, then?” His grin seemed to split his face, and indeed the scarred corner of his mouth was trickling blood. He wasn’t seriously hurt, but he wasn’t used to prolonged combat – his kills were usually quick and quiet, and he’d come out of their block-spanning spar rather worse for the wear. “Too strong for you, am I?”
“Empty words from an arrogant kid. No,” said Jacob, standing slowly as much for dramatic effect as that his legs were friggin’ sore, “I’m not going to kill you because I’d like to get out of this stupid tournament.”
There was an awkward pause. “…Sorry, I think you have it backwards. We have to kill each other to win, and the winner-”
“There’s another way.”
Jacob would have liked to think it was the confidence with which he said it, but more likely Wykerr paused because he’d thrust his sword a couple inches into solid concrete.
“Steven’s looking for a… for a rift. A rift in space-time. I think. Something to take us out of this city, out of this world… out of this Battle. He says he knows… a… guy, who, uh, look, this is coming out all wrong. Can I start over?”
Lionel just rolled his eyes. “So the kid with the gloves says he can get us home. And you trust him?”
“Nope.”
“…You’re getting things backwards again.”
“I’m not a very trusting person. I didn’t trust him when he first mentioned it, and I still don’t fully trust him. But!”
And for the first time in a very long time, Jacob smiled. “But I can hear it.”
“Hear… what?” Lionel snorted. “A way home? You’re not making any-”
“There’s a tear. Almost too high to register, but there’s still the tiniest whine on the edge of my perception. Like that pop when you change altitude. Hard to notice but unmistakable. Heard it many times before. At home, there’s –” He cut off abruptly, apparently remembering where he was. “Rambling again. Hate that.”
“Well that's nice and all, but there’s one small problem with your plan.” The thunderboy was on his feet again, massaging his shoulder. “You know, besides the whole 'totally implausible' thing.”
“And that is?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Jacob’s palm reacquainted itself with his forehead. “God… Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this?”
“You’re certainly not going out of your way to avoid casualties!” He was smiling that smile again – the one you’d know if you’d seen any horror movie ever. Lionel spread his arms wide and spun in a slow circle. “Look at it! The carnage, the destruction… at least half of it was you! Hell,” he snapped, pointing accusingly at the knight, “there were certainly better ways to subdue me than rampage halfway across the city. But no! You picked the most destructive option possible.” He shrugged. “I had fun, at least.”
Wykerr’s grin turned to a scowl. “And I’m not about to let you-“
CRACK
***
Blitz groggily came to, lying gracelessly atop something squishy and radioactive. He brought his good hand around and gently massaged his jaw, which ended up just making the pain worse. Something screeched, and Jacob came around into view.
“You were right.”
“…About what?”
“Should’ve knocked you out sooner. Still crazy?”
“What? No, I… I’m good for now.”
“Good. Now help me figure out to steer this dumb fruit. Or sit on it, for that matter.”
“Wait. W-what?”
CHIRP.