The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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With a slick splash, the Faceless fell off the stage, inching its way up the stairs to appraise the approaching undead. The corpse lurched to a halt as the darkness struggled to raise its slurried self. It was difficult to tell if the zombie recognised the starless pile as a target, before it resumed its shambling descent of the stairs, right into the waiting black. The slurry seemed to embrace the wretched creature, before it sharply retracted to ram an inky pseudopod through its head. Skull yielded to spike with a sickening crack, replacing Vyrm'n's vanishing starscape with a spatter of gore. The black spine was curiously still as the last snags of bone detached, retreating into the bulk as the decapitated corpse slumped into an aisle seat. None of the contestants moved, as the shadow melted up the stairs and slithered out into the main mall.

A horde of formerly peaceable shoppers milled about the theater lobby, about a score of necks snapping in the Faceless' direction as it exited before their owners turned and shambled towards the shadow. Samuel's light, presently in clumsy control of the normally mindless void-form, ignored the the ineffectual teeth and talons of the moaning dead as it struggled to interpret the atomic song permeating existence. The entity, murder incarnate, was as close to frustration as its limited personality could make itself. Having finally found a form that could equal it in its black-hearted purity, Conscience's inability to manipulate it maddened the zealous one. Eventually shrugging off the feeble efforts of one particularly persistent zombie, the shadow slipped through the grille of a bank teller, and crushed the undead employee's skull against the till before pooling on the blood-splattered tiles.

Ignoring the gathering mob of groaning horrors, Conscience crossed a universe; seeking, for the first time, understanding.

---

Vyrm'n drifted, half-conscious, through a dimensionless darkness, its lack of definition a source of comfort to the battered, shrieked-at spirit. Normally this state would not have been worthy of note, the Faceless tiredly accepting of whatever horrors its voidself would commit, slipping back into a starscape whose song was marred only slightly by the rampage when the universe eventually deigned to howl a little softer.

This time, though, came an intruder to Vyrm'n's quiescence. The Faceless ineffectually told the Light to leave me alone, knowing the futility of her words.

Control it.

no

I will destroy you, Faceless.

no - The simple denial was this time nuanced with, well, not so much a challenge, but a refutation. Calling Conscience's bluff.

It is not my hand that must be stayed - the schrotgolem could gouge and carve you into oblivion if I provoked it.

Another denial, only wavering slightly as Vyrm'n argued the light could not bear to immolate what lay within.

A dank, cavernous chuckle was Conscience's reply. While ever the strongest of men cannot face the foes of their own heart, I will live on.

But what about you, Faceless?

...

Discrete, indivisible, unique... alone. Will you die for your pride, Vyrm'n?

...

Take control.

the void

With it, we can end this battle in three strokes - even the Observer himself, if you wish it. I will protect you.

Vyrm'n was drifting again, seemingly too tired to even think straight any more. Regardless, she wasn't accustomed to communicating here, in the solitude. Conscience was about to say something else, when it departed the nameless space to the Faceless' relief. Her peace was short-lived, as it flung itself across the void and returned, its oily tones aflame with triumph.

There is one with a flamethrower. The glass won't hold much longer.

Your move, Vyrm'n.