As quickly as the space had opened up, it had simply vanished, sending Cenzo and Morgan out of the makeshift ring and away from the fray. How easily these rebels had turned the tables on them? Morgan’s men were making short order of Cenzo’s troops, having inverted their own tactic on them. Now, Cenzo’s men fought desperately to get out of the box, while the demon general’s men sliced them to shreds. It was this very shifty attack style that frustrated Cenzo to no end. One could even say he was envious of their cunning and quick wit. But the wound stung further when Morgan slipped passed him, unscathed, into the depths of the surrounding forest. In his anger, he had followed suit; disregarding the voices in his helmet warning him not to give chase.
As Morgan’s steed dodged the undergrowth, scattering brown and gray leaves all about, Cenzo glared into his back, wishing a branch would fall on him to halt his progress. He was boiling mad; the kind of rage that clouded his judgment and increased his killing desire. How could that beast make such an entrance and exit without as much as a scratch? How could his men not have fired off one shot to numb him? He would’ve taken the slip better if Morgan’s gravelly voice wasn’t still echoing his parting comment.
“Is the little boy having a tantrum? Are we breaking your toy soldiers?”
It rattled like the worst taunt. He had to catch the general this time. Like a wolf with a rabbit a bite away, he was ravenous. The forest began to unwrap before him into another valley. The battle behind them could barely be heard over the drone of his ground runner and the full gallop of Morgan’s stallion. The valley was quiet and it was the perfect place to layout Morgan. Having reached the valley first, Morgan stood up on his charger with the grace and precision of a skilled performer. As if the horse understood the next command he swiftly turned around to face Cenzo and halted. Morgan folded his arms as if studying his approach with amusement. Cenzo – not far behind – continued to send his ground runner toward Morgan.
As he drew nearer, Morgan crouched down sending the stallion in motion. His knees jutted out on either side while his ankles and feet glued together, making one sleek line. His long, war coat billowed behind him like a black sail. The mask glinted in what sun shined through the ominous clouds above. Morgan’s gloved talons gripped the saddle steadying him. As before, the two combatants were focused on the other’s approach. This time, Cenzo raised his L-gun and adjusted the calibration.
This son of a bitch is dead, Vicenzo said to himself. He’s gonna feel this in his grave.
Just as they were nearing one another, Cenzo aimed his gun directly at Morgan. Unfortunately, before he could let off his shot, lightning clashed the skies, blinding him for a mere second. However it was at exact moment Morgan flew from his steed straight into him, slamming him back into the seat. A sharp, biting pain dug into his shoulders, causing Cenzo to gnash his teeth with a grunt. With the same momentum, Morgan dragged him over his head and off his ground runner to the dried, craggy grass.
“If you plan to face me, face like a man,” Morgan growled in a low gravelly voice. “Leave the toys at home.”
Cenzo kicked off his opponent and rose with a wince for his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I got two man-made weapons just waiting to snap your neck.”
A cold laugh reverberated from behind the titanium mask as Morgan crouched into a defensive Crane pose. “Let’s see how they hold up.”
Like an enraged bull, Cenzo slammed his armored fists toward Morgan in rapid succession, only to have his enemy duck and dodge his efforts seamlessly. Morgan came back with a knee to the Spryten’s chin and then a fisted claw to his stomach armor. Cenzo stumbled back to quickly assess the damage. A large dent pierced his gray fight suit, which caused Cenzo only a momentary surprise. This armor was supposed to withstand a nuclear bomb explosion, yet with just a simple twist of the wrist Morgan had ripped a fist-sized hole in it. Anger quickly replaced his surprise.
“It seems you’ve heard stories about me, General Napoleon,” Morgan sneered.
“By the look of this dent in my armor, the rumors must be true,” Cenzo calmly replied, resetting his fighting pose.
“You shouldn’t always believe what’s been reported to you,” the demon general countered, deflecting the fist with a kick to his ribs.
“And why is that?” he growled catching Morgan in a grapple.
A glint of light pierced through the eyelet holes in the mask, drawing Cenzo’s eye to them. He wasn’t sure, but he swore he was seeing Morgan’s actual eyes. They shined like a pool of umber; a topaz gem encased in titanium. They were warm yet steely and in control with the smallest hint of mischievousness. This jarred him. Why would he notice something like that?
Morgan took advantage of his distraction by doing a full kick to his helmet, which promptly fell to the ground under impact, rolling a good couple of yards away. Long, heavy black dreads spilled down Cenzo’s back like cat-o’-nines. The mane surrounded a strong, dark chocolate face covered with a neatly trimmed, but thick beard. His eyes a blackened brown shade framed by thick slanted brows glared back at the general viciously.
“My, my, my, aren’t we a pretty boy?” Morgan chuckled from behind the mask.
Thoroughly enraged now Cenzo charged the general, this time prepared for whatever tricks he had in mind. As Morgan went to duck his onslaught, Cenzo dove for his legs instead, knocking them both to the ground. Not wasting any time, Cenzo began to pound his heavily armed fists into the titanium mask. He was determined to rip it from Morgan’s face. He continued pounding, trying to smash it into a mass of skin, brain and blood. But he failed to notice that his punches were barely causing a scratch, much less a dent, in the armor.
However, despite the protection of the mask, Morgan could feel every knuckle and scrape. Cenzo was truly determined to maul the general’s face into putty. This he could not allow. Finally, a chance came allowing Cenzo to lace his fingers under the mask in preparation to remove it, thinking Morgan had fallen unconscious. With a strong brace to the ground, Morgan wedged upwards throwing Cenzo off balance. This allowed for Morgan’s knees to connect solidly with his unprotected midsection, left open during an earlier strike. Cenzo leaned off to the side trying to invert the piece of armor bruising his ribs.
How long do I have? Morgan demanded, mentally. This bastard wants blood.
Silence greeted her.
Ginz, how long do I have?
Still, there was no answer.
This was not good. Morgan did a quick mental scan of the field where the troops had been left. What greeted the general was an eerie silence? No trace signatures. No mental blips. This could only mean one thing. Fuck, Morgan thought.
Fuck, Ginz, tell me you’re still mobile, Morgan called out.
Through a fuzzy fog Morgan heard Ginz. Morgan, the operation may be compromised.
Talk to me, Ginz.
Apparently, they got a new toy we haven’t heard about. I’ve got no intelligence about it. Fortunately, no one’s dead as far as I can tell, but they’ve been paralyzed temporarily, the lieutenant explained. I’ve been watching the Sprytens move the troops into transport vehicles. I was able to roll out the way when it rumbled through, but, Morgan, this is not your normal L-gun.
Shit, Morgan gritted. Hightail it to a hiding place. I’ve got to move fast.
Be safe, Ginz replied. No telling if he’s packing it too.
Morgan returned to the fight and was able to stand up. The two warriors were wearing down. Morgan needed to insure that the plan would continue itself despite being taken off line. Stepping forward, swaying from the recent assault, the general squared off against the Spryten.
“You don’t realize the danger that you’re truly in,” Morgan began elusively.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cenzo gritted out holding his exposed side.
“I wonder if you were allowed to see your brother’s body,” Morgan taunted.
Cenzo could feel his rage rise again. “Why?”
“Then I’d wonder if all the blame could truly be placed at my feet,” Morgan continued, starting to circle him.
“It was your handy work, alright,” he affirmed. “Right down to the bite marks from your scimitar.”
“And who provided you with such fine information?” Morgan pushed.
“Who do you think?” Cenzo growled. “The attending doctors on the battlefield, a soldier who witnessed your treachery.”
A laugh rumbled from beneath the mask as Morgan drew closer. “And what makes their words ring true, if you never saw the body?”
“All the witnesses had attested to your presence on the field,” Cenzo threw back.
“And I have witnesses attesting I wasn’t, namely the Spryten soldiers I had defeated that very day,” Morgan tossed in return. “Including the soldier who claimed to have seen me. Now what?”
Cenzo stepped forward his anger brimming to the top of his resolve, but with it also brewed his doubt. Morgan stepped even closer. “Didn’t you even doubt your brother’s unfortunate mishap with me? How or why would I ever have met your brother on the battlefield if he wasn’t a soldier? It would’ve been you I had encountered more easily than him. More likely as well. Why would I need to eliminate him? And lastly, aren’t these the same doubts running through your mind – even now?”
Cenzo glared at Morgan. He was standing within arms reach and if he reached out his hand he could wrap it around his neck easily. But he began to notice things about Morgan he had not noticed before. Morgan was a head shorter than him and, despite the heavy the armor, his frame was very nimble yet athletic. He had always pictured him to be a hulking beast with bulging muscles, standing eight-feet tall, but now that he got a look at him his original doubts surfaced more strongly. Even though Morgan was a skilled fighter, Victoro should’ve been able to take him, at least enough to stay alive.
“I see you have your doubts surfacing again,” Morgan urged stepping forward. He stood a hair’s breath away now.
Cenzo was at a loss. He never questioned any of the doctors’ findings since he trusted they would never lie about something as serious as a royal family member’s autopsy. However, Morgan’s newest assault had sparked old feelings about the assassination of the Heroic Seven nearly six years ago. This is why his father had made it imperative to capture Morgan, to stop him from repeating his treachery. His father had begun to ingrain the notion in everyone’s head that Victoro’s death was directly related to their lax persecution of Morgan the Merciless for his earlier perfidy. What would the Messians gain by assassinating his brother, despite his being the next in line for the throne?
But despite his doubts, Morgan was named as the killer and that image was all Cenzo had (or needed) to send him to his death. However, if he wanted the real truth he needed Morgan alive to get it, which would not sit well with the court or his conscience. Even though Morgan was a known killer with one war crime behind him already, could he be capable of another? This sparked more doubts and questions, considering the demon general seemed to take credit for any wrong doings he had done.
“And do you have answers to my doubts?” Cenzo ventured easing his guard slightly.
“I may be able to fill in some holes on a lot of doubts,” Morgan replied. “The question is: are you willing to hear them?”
Morgan could see the wheels turning in Cenzo’s head. He was actually considering it. Just as Morgan was about to latch onto Cenzo’s wrist, a flash caught his eye. Morgan recognized the blast from an L-gun. Checking the signature, Cenzo’s troops had caught up to them. Fuck, he swore to himself, hollering aloud, “Get down!”
Cenzo turned his head. “What the f—“
Morgan kicked him down, nearly dodging the blast. Seeing his chance, he began to run toward his charger. Stunned, Cenzo registered that the general had just saved him from being blasted in the back. He bolted back up and raced after him. Morgan had made it to the stallion and was mounting him, when Cenzo took hold of the collar of his long coat to fling him backward.
Morgan leaped back onto his feet, and then quickly crouch kicked Cenzo, who just as swiftly dodged the attack.
Ginz, how long do I have? Morgan demanded, dodging Cenzo’s fist.
The blast is not far. One maybe, two minutes, Ginz replied. They are currently aiming it your way.
How do I absorb enough of the impact? He wondered.
If you can reverse your internal pulse to create a small kinetic shield, it may be enough to knock you out, but not enough to paralyze your body, the lieutenant explained. Just know that jolt is gonna hurt the both of you like a motherfucker.
Thanks for the heads up. Proceed with countdown.
Morgan quickly grabbed a hold of Cenzo’s arm and pulled him toward his body so they were face to face. “You insure my safety, I’ll insure your answers,” was all he said before a barrage of images flashed before Cenzo’s eyes, one being his brother standing on a smoky battlefield staring back at him.
Morgan glanced back to see a wall of electricity heading right for them. It bore down on them like a net. He returned his countenance to the Spryten warrior, still dazed by the images he had seen. But soon, Cenzo was staring at the wall of electricity as if he had never seen it before in his life. Could the general not know of this new technology? Morgan would find out soon enough, feeling the first waves of the electron pulse run through his body.
The grip he had had on Cenzo’s arm had been ripped apart due to the impact of the blast. The two combatants were tossed clear across the field from one another. Morgan’s steed raced away in fear leaving his owner to the troops barring down on him. Morgan could see the cloudy sky above, trying his hardest to stay as conscious as possible. Suddenly, as if another blast had fired, Morgan felt his body short and black out.
“Fate, guide me.”
No comments:
Post a Comment