Arc 2 - Chapter 37: Stan and Gary vs Ryan I

(Libertatem 1, 59 / 4:40AM)

Gary remained still, as he uttered those words straight at Stan.

Seeing that he still had his eyes averted, Stan tried his best to avoid eye contact. Even though Ryan had a grasp on his neck, Gary began to feel numb, leading to his neck to grow cold.

“Gary…”

He wanted to mutter out to him, but how could he? At most, all Gary ever wanted was to be in peace, but fate thought otherwise. Being in the reserves, as well as losing everything he once loved, it tore his heart into sunder.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye. To my parents, or to my robotics club friends…”

He had his hands enclosed into fists, and his fingers dug deep into his palms. Even when the heat molested their bodies, Gary continued to feel like his body was enclosed in ice.

“I trained. I worked my ass off, and what I got in the end is still a chubby body and no blessing. And after that, I’ve been nothing but a spectator for the past two years…”

His grip on the cement loosened.

Wobbling his hands, trembling his knuckles, his own scleras began to strain red. With a trail of mucus rolling down his nostrils, he sniffled once, before plunging his fingers deep into his palm.

“And when hell came back to us, they brought with them our old friends. Friends who were nothing more than shells. And … I’m tired …”

Slowly lifting his head, Stan trembled the outside of his cheeks the longer he heard. Because he already said his point, loud and clear.

“I’m tired of being useless…”

Ryan let go of Gary’s neck, and took two steps back with his hands dangerously low. Letting Gary speak, as if he was letting him say his last words, it placed Stan into a chokehold. Like a devil waiting for his chance to strike, Stan’s grip on the rifle tightened the most it ever did.

“You preferred Luke over me. You preferred Fred over me. In a way, I never had a chance to shine throughout these past six years.”

His throat quivered, and his vocals jumped repeatedly while staring at Stan. Holding back tears, since he knew that Ryan was preparing one of his fists, Gary took a step forward with blood dripping from his palms.

“Gary … I don’t …”

“Save your breath … I already made peace.”

He let go of his fingers, which were pressed onto his sides. Unable to move them, or to defend the fist that Ryan had honed, the lich already took many steps back. Like he was giving Gary a merciful request, Stan wanted to shoot Ryan more than anything.

But he couldn’t.

“If twenty years of this would bind me, then I can’t do any more … I quit at six.”

His head was tilted downward, and his eyes were no longer connected with Stans’. Keeping his tears that were held to his eyes, he felt Stan’s eyes try to peer into his souls.

Thrusting his arm back, Ryan had a gargantuan amount of inertia all forced into his knuckles. With the air being rippled by his pale skin, Gary showcased a simple frown.

“Tell Diego that I was killed.”

A single tear swept from his right eye.

In slow motion, the world went silent, once the arm thrusted forward. Rippling the air, cutting it apart with his very knuckles, it made Stan loosened his grip on the floor.

As he tried to reach—

“GARY!!”

His body off the ground, he had the barrel aimed at Ryan. Although he ran, his aim was steady, but his breathing jumbled with the extra breaths he pushed.

Emitting tears, he didn’t look up, as he felt his vision flutter moments in time. Moments that he lost, moments he'll never recover again, even if he tried.

—But the fist stopped.—

“Leave him alone!”

“Luna…”

Gripping his right wrist, she dug her nails straight into the bone. Clenching his teeth, Ryan glared at the tanned beauty to the right of him. Because he pushed her fingers deep, he jumped back extensively, leaving his arm to stretch out in return.

“Ready or not…”

Pushing a devil smirk, the corners of his lips reached the bottom of his ears, while flaring his nostrils upward. Chuckling softly, he licked his lips with his blackish tongue, as his putrid breath was shown to the world. And upon pressuring his bare feet on the pavement, followed by his abs tightening, he honed his glaring eyes at her.

“Here I come!”

Leaping through the air, he garnered a vast amount of air with his body.

Crackling the concrete from below, he barreled his entire body against the hard wind. His fur rippling and swaying, he had a crazed look that most serial killers had before they take a life.

“You’re an actual dumbass.”

She let go of his wrist.

Widening his eyes, he took in the sight of his own fist barreling toward him. Striking his nose, it dug deep into the bone, along with his cheekbones that chipped and crackled.

Because he held enough power in his fist, it sent his own body to fly backward. Barreling himself into a brick building, an abundance of bricks collapsed onto him, showering him like it was water.

As a small dust storm scattered the area, Luna turned her attention onto Gary, who fell flat on his butt. His knees unbuckled, it was like they failed to carry the body weight they were always adjusted to. Which made Luna make a tch sound.

“Hey, what’s your issue?”

“Why … why did you …”

“Are you really going to sulk there? Like a little baby?”

“Please … just leave me alone …”

Folding her arms, she continued to look down at Gary. Glaring at him even more, her frown was riddled in ice, instead of the usual anger she held. As for the mentally exhausted man, he had his face looking down at the pavement, as he scoured the many cracks with his pupils.

“You think I want to live a normal life too?”

His lips quivered, as she heard her voice grow dim instead of loud. Unable to bring his face up to her, he didn’t answer, but he perked his ears the longer he heard her speak.

“You think I liked training? Trying to be the strongest fighter? You think I enjoyed being angry?”

“What…”

“Stop playing the victim.”

Letting her arms be free to her sides, she wiggled her fingers against the side of her pants. Her knuckles quaking, her frown only worsened the longer she stared.

Thrusting her hand down, she tried to—no … she pressed her palm onto his head.

Bending down with flexible knees, her frown didn’t worse. It was breaking apart, like her face was trying to thaw the coldness that enveloped her soul. Putting on a casual smile, the tension was drastically altered for this very moment.

“You have friends. We both have friends. We all care for each other, even if some of you are nothing but spectators.”

It was like she was speaking to a troubled kid. Her tone different than her usual growling, she honed in that sweet girl she had long dropped. And upon hearing her tranquil voice, he slowly lifted his head, and stared at her with a slightly gasped mouth.

“Whether you like it or not, we all pull our weight. You may think that you’re not, but you’d be surprised how many times we need your help.”

Moving her hand down to his collar, she then dragged him up with little hardship. Like he weighed nothing, although he was pretty chubby, he found the strength for his knees to hold his weight.

Turning his head at her, he saw her face showcase a bit of compassion.

“Just do what you do best. And I’ll do what I do best. Not every person has to be the strongest to shine.”

But her speech was cut short.

Taking note of the burning monster to their right, she pulled back her hand from Gary’s collar. Widening her eyes, she took a few steps back, as her hands immediately pulled out her batons. Unleashing them from her holsters, she saw that the beast was lifting up her right leg.

“Shit … got to help out that meathhead.”

Just as she vanished, Gary kept his eyes onto the beast who readied her attack. Even though it wasn’t directed at them, it was at the building near them, as they felt her heat grow on their skin.

And in that instant, she stomped on the building.

Pushing down to the foundation, the building had already crumpled from the weight of her leg. Rumbling the street they were adjusted onto, it led Stan and Gary to loosen their footing.

As a cloud of dust began to be unleashed, Gary sprinted forward toward Stan. Along with Stan, he pushed his legs to work as well. With no rifle within his arms, Stan had already extended his hand out, trying to reach out to grab his.

“Gary!”

“Stan—”

The cloud of dust had already splattered onto them, its burning heat surrounding the area.

________________________________________________________________________

His eyes burned.

Covering his eyes with his right sleeve, he walked through the dustfield that clogged his throat.

“cough cough … Gary!”

Placing his left hand onto his chest, he felt the heated dust throttle his lungs. Pushing his feet forward, he couldn’t see what lay in front of him. Feeling debris beneath him, it wasn’t enough to break down his guard.

“Gary! cough cough …”

Gritting his teeth, he began to cough once more, with dust pushing out from his throat. Barely able to breathe, his nostrils felt the burning sensation.

“cough cough … where the hell are you?!”

“Over here!”

He turned his head toward the direction of a familiar voice. Knowing that it wasn’t Gary, it was meant for someone, someone who had fur and zompire like abilities.

“Is that you Ryan!? Show yourself!”

“Hehe, can’t see through the dust can you? You know, it won’t kill your eyes.”

Hearing footsteps in front of him, Stan moved his left sleeve up to his eyes, and had his right arm hung down his side. Gripping the assault rifle he had, he made sure not a speck of dust got into his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to attack me? You could see through the dust perfectly fine.”

“I could, but I have someone with me. Want to open your eyes?”

“I’ll pass … you have Gary huh …”

Stan held his body tight, as if his feet and boots were glued to the floor. Wanting to unveil his arm, he couldn’t, as thoughts of whether he was actually with Ryan began to occur. If Ryan wanted him to open his eyes, and let the burning dust blind him, it would be a perfect chance.

“Answer my question!”

“Hmm … do I? You know, it’s quite a mystery. I mean, I could see in the dust, and Gary and you could not, so how do you perceive it?”

The dust began to pinch and burn his skin, but his hair was surprisingly still intact. Feeling the oven air seeping into his clothes, he knew his skin would shrivel up like a prune if he didn’t do anything.

His throat already mummified, he had the butt of his rifle stacked on his bicep.

“I’m taking you out.”

“Go ahead. Try. You know what to do. Use my voice as per direction, aim away, and fire. That’s all you gotta do.”

Doing exactly as Ryan told him, he had his finger on the trigger, and pulsated his biceps along with his shoulder. Even when he felt like his lungs were blackening, he felt his right hand beginning to shake, while his breathing intensified.

“How do I know you’re not using Gary as a shield?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows.”

“Bastard…”

Leaving his eyelids to be the guards to his eyes, he puckered his lips into his mouth. Feeling sweat drenching his face, he let his left scour the fabric of his jacket, as his knuckles grazed against a substance of things.

Having it enclosed in his left palm, he didn’t allow anyone to see it. Without hearing footsteps, or the sound of bare feet slapping the pavement … he heard his voice from behind.

“Whatcha got in your hand?”

Stan flinched.

Hearing his voice unusually close, for a second, he smelled the putrid breath of his mouth. Exhaling a huge breath out, while inhaling slowly in, he didn’t allow any dust to brittle his tongue.

“You’re probably using your head to redirect your voice. Are you messing with me, huh?”

“Like I said. Maybe, maybe not. When you think about it, it’s all based on luck, right?”

Now hearing his voice to the right of him, Stan moved his rifle 270 degrees from his original position. Feeling the tension, feeling the pressure, his throat quivered the longer he kept his left hand balled. Straightening his back and neck, he moved his left hand close to his chest.

“Is it a present for me? Come on, tell me.”

“It’s just water.”

“Water eh? Do you think you could beat me with water?”

“Water weakens rubber.”

“Alright then…”

The sound of gushing wind bristled his ears. Panning his head to the left, his face paled with sweat.

“We’ll see about that!”

Spreading his feet apart, Stan tightened his body. Like the sound of a bullet coming at him, he thrusted his left hand at the incoming wind, with the object he held sticking out.

It wasn’t metallic, but glass, as he felt it be stained by his warming sweat. And because Ryan had thrown a fist at him, it collided with the vial … leading whatever was stored in that bottle to burst.

“AH!!”

—It wasn’t water, given the fact that water would never steam or eat away flesh.—

Hearing the sound of Ryan’s wailing, Stan pushed out a smirk before grinding his teeth.

‘Who would’ve thought acid was a good idea? Oh shit! That burns!’

His hand on the border of melting, he knelt down to the floor. Even though it wouldn’t fully melt, it felt like it wanted to dig deep into his blood, or even his bone.

As he sucked up the pain, while seething air through his teeth, he dropped his rifle to the ground. Bringing his right hand into his pocket, he took out a metal device, a device that had a red button in the center. And upon settling his boots to grip the floor, he pushed his body up.

“But like you said Ryan … groans … me and Gary aren’t meant to see in this dust…”

Pushing the button, the device unleashed a herculean gust of wind.

As if the heavy wind swished a burning candle, all the dust that circulated was swept off. With no burning dust around him, it pushed Stan to finally open his eyes. While Ryan grieved with rage.

‘That damn gust sweeper!’

Allowing his scleras to feel the cool summer air, as the beast was long gone, the heat from her still lingered from the street. Scanning his surroundings, he saw a lich to his right, who groveled on the ground with his right hand tucked in.

Dropping the dust sweeper, he picked up his rifle that he dropped earlier. Aiming down his sights on the lich, he pushed down his face, and had his finger on the trigger.

“Your piece of shit! Your piece of absolute vile shit! You’re going to pay!”

“Guess you don’t like it when I play mind games huh?”

“I’ll kill you … I’ll torture you … I swear … I’ll make it worse than hell…”

“Cool. Where’s Gary?”

Gary wasn’t with Ryan. Still having his rifle pointed at the lich, he began to walk forward slowly, while Ryan held his chest with his right hand.

His body still tucked in, Ryan had his glaring eyes on Stan, who was ten feet away. On the verge of firing, he furrowed his brow, and cocked his head to the right while glaring back.

“Or did you use his name as your mind game? Tell me now you dirtbag.”

“I’m not telling you jack! I hope you rot!”

“I had enough of your shit talk.”

Pulling the trigger, he sent a barrage of bullets straight at the defenseless Ryan. Piercing through his back, they lodged themselves into the lich, which led tar to drip from his wounds. Feeling his ears pulsate from the gunshots, his eyes reflected the yellow light that flickered from the barrel.

“Does that acid feel good huh?!”

Flicking his trigger, he soon found the chamber to be empty. Replacing the old cartridge with ease, he swapped out the old one with a new one—

Ryan took this opportunity, as he uncurled himself.

“Eat this!”

Barely having enough time to react, a flying fist came soaring at him.