Realizing the situation, he shakes himself to snap out of his hypnotic state. He blinks a few times, trying to grasp the reality around him. He sees his sword is still underneath the truck. He must get to it, knowing that it is the only way for him to sever the bond.
As Argus runs towards his sword, Aceso intercepts him and throws a punch. Argus side blocks the attack and spins alongside Aceso. He throws a hook punch, striking Aceso’s kidney as Aceso grunts in pain. He then pulls Aceso forward, grabbing his mask as he slams him into the ground.
Pulling back his fist, Argus strikes Aceso’s face. Punch after punch, he savagely beats his adversary, trying to put him into submission. He has forgotten about his sword, a weapon he thought he would need. Aceso only lies back, dazed by the multitude of punches. His vision blurs as his mind drifts to his thoughts.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that Argus has no intention of rekindling their friendship. However, he’s doesn’t understand why Argus doesn’t want to resurrect their bond. His badgering perplexed thoughts pound him with mixtures of grief and anger, emotionally tearing him apart, burning him internally. His blood is boiling, and he can’t understand why. Yet, he feels rage building inside him, waiting to explode with fury.
“I told you not to waste my time.”
Argus launches his fist towards Aceso’s face. Every millimeter his fist travels, he gains strength and momentum. With growing strength comes soaring confidence, power that will give him the knockout blow.
As his fist approaches, Aceso catches it, stopping his momentum cold. Like a brute, he squeezes his hand around his enemy’s fist, applying immense pressure. Argus squirms, unable to escape the painful grasp.
Aceso then rises. He taps his mask and it folds back, unveiling his battered rageful face. He is angry that Argus won’t listen to reasoning. He finds his irrational thoughts on their bond repulsive, misguided. He’s done playing nice; he only wants his friend back. He has snapped.
He uppercuts Argus. Argus goes flying back, stunned by the hard-hitting punch. He lands on the ground once again, finding himself in more pain. He rolls onto his stomach and looks up. In the distance, he can see his sword sparkling, a small glimmer that gives him hope. He crawls toward his sword, desperate to change the tide of battle.
Then he feels someone lift him up. Aceso slips his foot underneath his belly, flipping him onto his back. He gets on top of Argus and grabs him by the collar and slams him into the ground. He raises his fist in the air, striking Argus square in the face.
“Why. Can’t. You. Understand!” he shouts with anger. “Our friendship means something, and you throw it away like it’s nothing? You will always be my friend. And I’ll beat that into you even if it means I kill you!”
He breathes and vents heavily as he throws punch after punch. With every punch he throws, he grows stronger, more rash. His increased strength is slowly damaging Argus’ mask, chipping away at it, denting and bending it. That is the situation of their bond.
The rays of sunlight also strike Argus, trying to show the reality he lives in. This light, however, is unaware of a threat approaching from the East. Dark clouds are slowly converging on the sun, a storm that approaches, coming to the aid of the dissipating shadow that urgently holds onto Argus.
~
Joseph’s and Indra’s blades collide, locking them into a stalemate. They push at each other, trying to overpower one another. Indra, however, is struggling to push back. His confidence has been decreasing as the fight has progressed, and he is uncomfortable that he’s trapped with no hope of escape. He needs to end this and fast.
Succumbing to the pressure, Indra jumps back, the friction of their blades screeching loudly. He straightens himself, pointing his blade at Joseph with a grimace on his face. Joseph rolls his shoulders, not impressed by Indra’s demeanor. He too, raises his sword and then charges in.
As both men come in range, Joseph swings. Indra bobs to the right and swings. The blade clanks loudly, hitting his opponent’s armor. The blade appears to glide through the Kren’s armor, cutting flesh and bone. The men pass each other, both of them coming to a grinding halt.
For a moment, there’s silence. Suddenly, Joseph grunts in anguish, grabbing his chest in pain. He falls to the ground, moaning silently. He then takes a deep breath and falls silent. Indra turns around and sees Joseph on the ground. He smiles.
“And the Red Devil is dead!” he screams with enthusiasm as he turns around and looks at the metal door. “Now I just need to get out.”
~
Everyone in the Vault freezes, stunned to see Joseph lying on the floor dead, shocked he has been defeated. Dread fills Scarlet as she turns away, unable to accept the outcome. Her dread is joined by sadness. She feels she has failed to protect Joseph, that she wasn’t persistent enough to persuade him to let her help him. Dmitri, sensing he should calm the situation, walks over and places his hand on Scarlet’s shoulder.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” he says painfully. “At least he can’t escape.”
Scarlet scowls at the man. Everyone looks at the President.
“What, too soon?” he asks, confused. “Look, he’s trapped now, he can’t escape. I mean, that’s at least a good thing, right?”
Sensing that he has angered the people inside, he turns away, embarrassed by his words. I need to be careful what words I choose. I need to redeem myself! Perhaps I should say- He stops mid-thought as he looks up, amazed by what he sees.
“Look!”
~
Tim watches the scenes unfold from the Phoenix’s digital screen. Since a kid, he as admired the Krens, viewing them as god-like figures who are sworn to protect the Empire and Zentari. He can’t stand when a Kren betrays the nation, the mission statement they had promised to uphold. He believes such turncoats are weak, unfit to lead from strength. And yet, one has managed to defeat Joseph.
He turns towards Marcus. He sees that Marcus is grinning lightly, as if he’s amused by what he has witnessed.
“Supreme Commander. How can you be smiling when your friend lies dead on the floor?” he asks, perplexed. “How may I-”
“Ask,” he cheerfully says. “He isn’t dead, of course.”
Tim leans back, surprised by his response.
“Not dead? What do you mean? He looks dead to me.”
Marcus turns towards Tim, seemingly baffled by his words.
“Of course, he’s not dead. He’s just playing possum. He got me with this move once during training. Still lost miserably, but it was brilliant and he almost won. Indra’s arrogance and his refusal to accept Einzgu and himself is why he’s destined to lose.”
Marcus folds his arms. The fate of this battle has been decided, potentially one of many turning points in their fight against the Gewerksma. In fact, he thinks it’s the exact turning point, the one they need.
~
Everyone turns their heads. Scarlet lifts herself up as Dmitri stares expressionlessly at the screen. They are wondering what he is looking at.
“Supreme Commander. This is Tank Commander Salil Demoto of the Fifth Lightning Cavalry. We have arrived and will be securing the Presidential Palace.”
“Hey! Don’t forget the First Lion Guard. Uh, Commander Ray Oslo, arriving as well.”
“Don’t leave me out either. This is Brigadier General Ariel McKarnacle of the Fourth Red Skulls Division, ready to kick some ass!”
“Excellent. The tides have changed in our favor,” Marcus says positively as he dips a bit in his seat. “Now there’s just a couple more strings to cut. Joseph, how does that sound?”
“Sounds good to me,” says a quiet voice over the speaker.
Everyone jumps to the sound of the whispering voice, recognizing the voice. A tear runs down Scarlet’s face. She is overjoyed by what she hears.
~
Indra smiles and puts his sword in its scabbard as he walks past Joseph.
“Ah Joseph, you were always the one to rush in; recklessly acting before you
think. You haven’t changed a bit. It’s unfortunate you are not around to hear this. Tis a shame.”
He takes a few steps forward, devising a plan to escape.
“Is it now?”
Indra stops, his smile vanishes. His eyes widen, his pupils dilate. He turns around slowly to see Joseph rising from the dead. Joseph smiles at Indra, brushing himself off, revealing the glamor of his unscathed armor. Indra stares at him in disbelief.
“I like this armor!” Joseph says with delight as he twirls his arms. “It isn’t old or weak like that shitty armor we used to wear. With great outfits come great actors. Damn, I thought those acting classes were a waste of time, but I was wrong, they actually came in handy. Now I wonder how well my new Nactbu will cut.”
He looks up and sees Indra, baffled and trembling.
“Oh, Indra. How’s it going? You know, being dead ain’t what it’s hyped up to be…”
“How’s that possible? My sword cut you. You’re supposed to be-”
“Dead? Nah, I’m still alive.”
“You’re not Marcus, damn it! You are not him-”
“Ever heard of Project Ominous? It’s where I got all this fancy gear from. You missed out on a deal, a bargain I tell you.”
Indra takes a step back, comprehending the magnitude of his words. The name rings a bell, a name he read in a Black File days ago. He and Argus failed to extract any information from it due to the CBW failing to collect the information. He now sees that Project Ominous was a secret program to improve and upgrade the Krenma’s arsenal. He rolls his shoulders and snorts, trying to shake off the realization that he’s at a severe disadvantage.
“Hmph! Rising from the dead? Your pretty outfit won’t protect you from my Nactbu. Let’s see if you are still alive when I cut your head off!”
He charges forward. He retracts his blade, taking aim at Joseph’s head. Joseph stands motionless, eyeing his opponent, unafraid of his untempered anger. Indra swings, unleashing his full might, his adrenaline pumping.
Joseph steps to the side as Indra swings, missing him. Joseph then swings, striking Indra’s right shoulder, piercing the armor that protects his body. His skin rips open, his ligaments and muscles tear. Blood splatters everywhere.
Indra’s sword falls out of his hands. It bounces delicately off the ground, chiming like a smooth melody. He runs forward until he crashes into the wall, grunting in pain as he covers the gushing wound in his right shoulder, feeling the warm blood that gives him goosebumps. A sense of urgency hits him as he tries to move his arm and yet, he can’t.
He takes several deep breaths and turns around. He sees Joseph staring at him, shaming him with a scowl. Joseph takes a few steps forward, impressed by what his new Nactbu can do.
He then comes to a stop. He looks down and glances at Indra’s sword. He places his foot underneath it and flicks it towards Indra. The sword slides across the debris-covered floor, coming to a stop at his opponent’s foot. Indra looks down and then up, surprised that Joseph would give him back his weapon.
“I think you’re going to need that,” Joseph says teasingly as he relaxes his posture.
Indra glares at Joseph. Despite the pain he feels, his boiling anger is masking it. He doesn’t like the insult thrown at him, the mocking of his current condition. Enraged, he picks up his sword and points it at Joseph, slumping forward as he tries to recompose himself.
“How-how dare you! I am one of the best…”
“You never were. You allowed your emotions to control you. Your lust for power has corrupted you, bringing instability that you could never reverse. You have shamed us all for going against the teachings we learned.”
“None of you taught me anything! I only need my strength to win. Have you forgotten what I have told you? Power is all you need!”
“I feel so sorry for you,” Joseph says, shaking his head in sorrow.
Indra rushes forward. His heart tells him that he has no shot, but his clouded mind has bamboozled him into thinking he can win. He won’t surrender. He will go down fighting. He swings fanatically.
Like before, Joseph sidesteps him and swings, aiming for Indra’s left shoulder. The sharpness of his Nactbu again penetrates his armor, severing the ligaments and joints connecting his left arm. Indra stumbles as the pain pulses through his body, forcing him to drop his sword from his lifeless arm.
Unable to stop, he crashes into the wall, gasping in pain. He turns around and slides against the wall, defeated, seriously wounded. He looks up and sees Joseph standing in front of him.
Then he gasps again, his breath becoming short. He coughs up blood. The life wanes from his eyes as he stares dully into Joseph’s eyes, becoming numb. Then he feels something sharp being pulled from his body and yet, he doesn’t feel the pain. He slides to the left, leaving a red smear on the wall as he falls to the ground. He lifts his head up and looks at the door.
~
“Fall back!”
The Gewerksols pull back. Government reinforcements have arrived and are slaughtering them mercilessly. This gives the Red Skulls a morale boost as they push forward, unafraid of their disheartened foes. Throughout the Empire, the Gewerksma’s uprising is falling apart as the government and the Regiment push the Gewerksols out.
Many Gewerksols realize their dreams for a Neo-Demokrist society, their hopes for a happy life, have been vanquished, their will to fight diminishing by the second. They no longer believe the cost for establishing their utopia is worth their families or their lives. For some, conceding defeat would better suit them, believing they can at least live longer, even if it means being in prison. Throwing in the towel, some Gewerksols drop their weapons, surrendering in hopes they will avoid a full searing of retaliation.
However, they are less fortunate if they are captured by or surrender to the Regiment. For a small group of Gewerksols, their luck has run out as they are lined up against the wall by the Corps to be executed. This act of justice has gone unseen for years within the Empire, a violation of the Verfa Zurk. Yet, it wouldn’t be until the Golden Civics took power that they cracked down on these crimes, further infuriating Falcon. Strolling behind the Corps is Falcon, examining the traitors he wishes to exterminate.
“What do you want us to do with them, Commander?” asks someone.
Falcon stops and glances at the Gewerksols.
“They’re merely rats,” he replies apathetically as he walks away. “Kill them all.”
The Corps charge their weapons and take aim, rattling their captives. They slowly move their fingers towards their triggers and squeeze. Like dominoes, the Gewerksols fall to the ground, riddled with bullets by an enemy that gives no quarter.
~
The door slides open, revealing Indra’s chance to escape. He tries to reach out, hoping by some miracle he’ll escape. He pushes himself up, trying to ignore the pain coming from his mortal wounds. Yet, his frail body is too heavy for him as he falls onto the ground, unable to prop himself up. He moans in pain, realizing the end of his life is near, their revolution faltering.
However, while he may have failed, he believes that there will be someone who will succeed, who will bring the ideas of Neo-Demokrism to the forefront and institute the changes society needs. Perhaps The Speaker? In addition, he realizes that his lust for power has blinded him, believing now that if he were stable, he would be the one looking down at Joseph. He can’t allow his thoughts to die with him, not without him sharing them. Mustering his remaining strength, he lifts his head and looks at Joseph, who’s staring remorsefully at him.
“Joseph,” he says in a low moan before breathing out loudly.
Joseph doesn’t blink. Despite Indra being his enemy, deep inside him, he considers him a friend, one who went astray. He finds it shameful that politics and ideals can morph people into partisan hacks, individuals who see it no other way. He despises the division it causes, the extremes it produces. In Indra’s case, his beliefs were radicalized by this partisanship, fueling his desire
to bring what he thought was right without regard for others. Regret fills him that he had to kill Indra, even though it was the only way.
“I guess I was… wrong. You do need to have some form of stability to thrive and survive. I was taught that, but refused to believe it-”
He coughs loudly and blood spews everywhere.
“But none of that matters now. You may have manipulated the people into labeling us as scum. But-” he coughs again. “you can’t stop us. This is only the beginning of your nightmares. When the people see through… your deception, they will rise up- and set forth a… new… society where we are truly free. You’ll… see. We… will… be… free…”
His voice dies out, his head slumps down. His breath is long and drawn-out, becoming quieter with every second that goes by. Blood runs from his mouth, dripping quietly on the debris-covered floor. The life drains from his eyes as they remain half open, giving the room an eerie feeling to it. Creeped out by his lingering eyes, Joseph bends down and closes them.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this, my friend.”
He backs up, exiting the room. He can’t emotionally bear to stand in there any longer. He taps the side of his mask, which materializes over his face. As the circuitry within his mask comes to life, footage sent by Marcus appears. It shows Aceso pounding Argus, appearing victorious.
“Marcus,” he says shallowly. “Status Report. Gewerksols on the run. Indra, KIA.”
“I know,” Marcus murmurs, having watched the scene unfold. “So much potential and it was just thrown away. Truly a sad day.”
“Indeed. I see Aceso is winning. About time he snapped out of it. Looks like you were wrong about him.”
“I never was,” Marcus says gloomily.
~
Aceso is getting tired of hitting Argus. He goes to strike Argus again, only to come short of hitting the bruised man’s face. His anger and rage are slowly dissipating as he grows weaker.
“Are you ready to listen now?”
Aceso places his hand on Argus’ mask, forcing it open as it folds back. He can see Argus’ bruised face, some blood running from his nose. Argus is a bit dazed by the beatdown, a bit too stunned to move fully. Argus’ listless eyes stare at him as his hand slowly reaches for his Silvras[94], hidden in one of his suit’s compartments, waiting for an opportunity to strike his opponent.
Zurkerx- The Empire Shall Grow Page 27