Arc 3 - Chapter 73: End of The Line

(Laurinius 21, 56 / 9:22AM)

A week after her death…

A lone man walked through a dressed white hallway. No sunlight was able to shine on his face. Hearing his shoes squeak, he stopped once he noticed another pair of shoes, laced in black. Raising his head, the leader, a bulky man with a girthy nose and buck teeth, smirked at him.

“What? Trying to act cool or something?” All of them wore grins, with most of their arms folded beneath their chests. Staring at the emotionless man, he didn’t rub or fiddle his fingers, he just stared. “Or is this the day you’re standing up to me? If you are…” The leader grabbed the lone man’s collar. “Better enlighten me.”

“Let him go!”

Two agents ran toward the group.

One of them had long silver hair, while the other wore sunglasses. Both of their faces scrounged and wrinkled, it didn’t take long before they reached the group. Grabbing the leader’s wrist, Eren’s fingers trembled.

“Wanna brawl too?”

“He’s barely returning to work, and you’re pulling this shit?!”

“You think I’m some bully? Some high-school, all-peaking alpha?! Wrong.”

Two agents grabbed Eren’s shoulders. Being from the leader’s friend group, Eren clenched his teeth, while Alexandra crackled her fists. The leader, turning his attention to Eren, only worsened that smirk.

“All I want to see is this rookie fight. Everyone says he’s a pro, but from where I’m standing, I don’t see a lick of it.”

Feeling the sunlight bask on his head, a hideous shadow formed underneath his face. Chuckling to himself, he pushed Eren aside, while his minions kept an iron hold on him. Looking down on the lone man, he still didn’t move, let alone speak.

“And I heard you’re no longer a daddy too.”

The lone man raised his head. One hand was balled, while the other was loose. His right hand fingers twitching and quivering, flinching even, the leader leaned his face in. Alexandra’s fists snapped, and slid back her right foot.

“So I’ll do anything to see you fight, even if I have to spit on your princess’s—”

—He couldn’t breathe.—

Without blinking, the leader rose with no oxygen flourishing his lungs. All airways blocked, raising his hands, he tried to launch them… his vision blurred. Then the crackle of bone blissed his ears.

Again and again, over and over, was a repeated thrust of only one fist. Like a trampoline spring, the man barred his knuckles deep into his nose, and into his cheeks. Blood spraying on his face and hand, he continued relentlessly until he let go of his throat. To send a finishing blow toward the leader’s nose.

“Gah!”

Stumbling back, the leader found his hands scrounging the marbled floor. Barely able to see, the pain wallowed every nerve within his face. Like it was pressed against a hot curling iron, he groaned, he wheezed, until his head arched all the way back.

By Brigg’s foot.

Half of the leader’s teeth tickling the marble, the leader’s minions took a step back. Letting go of Eren, even he and Alexandra were utterly lost. Wanting to step in, to break up the desecration of… he began kicking. Stomping onto the leader’s face, the sole of his shoe crunched bone from his cheeks and nose. Blood gushed from all over. Stomp, crunch, pull, repeat. Stomp, crunch, pull, repeat; until reality returned to him.

Pulling back, and without thrusting down his foot, he laid it on the marbled floor. His breathing fastened, but it didn’t wheeze. Looking at the dis-figured agent, he was already unconscious.

“Briggs…” Whispered Eren.

Straightening out his back, Briggs ignored the agents who brittled in fear, or the politicians who gasped in horror. Turning around, he continued along with his walk, and pushed his bloodied hand into his pocket.

The agents didn’t dare try to stop him, nor even the police. He showed himself as a threat, a weapon. A man who doesn’t dare hold back.

Noticing a familiar door, his right boot somewhat squished against the marble. He cocked his head back to look at the sun. Seeing the rays, his upper cheeks and eyelids were still mesmerized in that permanent darkness. His shyness was more, to which entered coldness. He finally reached a door, with the title stating: Spartan Gabriel.

________________________________________________________________________

(Reverence 6, 59 / 7:57PM)

Back to the present…

Luke leaped back. Sliding across the metallic roof of the second train cart, he sealed his breath, and kept it deep in his lungs.

—S-Shoot!

He began throwing.

Without so much as putting up guard, Briggs sprang his arms and elbows like the recoil of a sidearm. Each blow sending out mini gusts of wind, Luke felt it ripple his hair, down to his cheekbones.

“Sloppy.”

Thrusting his whole body down, he swiped his right leg like a mini blade. Having his instinct blare at him, Luke jumped; but right at the knick of—

He was pushed forward. Because Briggs only used his right foot, his left catapulted out like a spring. His shoe didn’t make contact, but it did release oxygen from Luke’s lungs. Feeling his whole body run on empty air, his footing stabilized on the floor, and his vision flickered.

—C-Come on, think!

The gong roared.

Twirling himself 90 degrees to the left, small ripples of wind danced on his clothing. Feeling the air shift around him, Luke saw the agent spin himself at the same time. Throwing his right fist, Luke felt the bottom of his right foot grip air, not metal.

—Think Luke! Think!

Keeping his hand low to his hip, he had his fingers trickle the cloth, while his right tightened. Hearing his own knuckles pop, Luke noticed blurs of black and white corrupting reality. The back of his feet grappled near the roof’s edge. Lunging right, Briggs took note.

“H-Ha!”

Thrusting out his right arm, it was there to only block the incoming fist. Then the pain roared and spread down his wrist and up his shoulder. Hissing air out of his teeth, Luke lowered his eyes. He continued to keep his right hand balled.

“Acting tough are you?”

Zig-zagging, even when the train was rocking with the wind, Luke couldn’t decipher where he'd show up. Either to his left, right, in front of him, or all the above; he would show him, and—

He was in front.

The literal wind shifting around him, Luke widened his eyes, and jumped back with hissing air. Straining his eyes, he saw the requiem of blow after blow he pulsated. He was like a machine, a cog that couldn’t fail its given duty. Until a full fist encapsulated his eyes.

“Gah!”

Hearing bone crackle, it laughed and shingled all the way into his brain. His teeth shivered endlessly, as he glanced down at his left hand. The pain came, and it gnawed. Clenching the inside of his cheeks, it wasn’t enough to strip the flesh from the inside. Leaping back, he hunched his head forward. Sweat plagued his temples and cheeks.

“Take on this.”

Zig-zagging, curving, zipping, it was a collection of different ways to fully throttle in speed. He didn’t strike just yet, as if he allowed Luke to take a breather.

—W-Where is he… h-ha!

Jumping back, Luke held his breath as his two arms dangled with gravity. His right arm slightly fractured, his left had multiple cracks that spilled marrow shards. He couldn’t pulsate them forward, not until he knew exactly where he'd strike. But it was like playing a game of battleship.

—F-Fine here!

With both hands, he thrusted them into his pockets. Because of the small window he was given, his fingers grazed against glass. It wasn’t shackled in cold, nor in heat, and without a smirk to his face, he pulled out both his hands. Flinging them out, if he played his cards just right… Briggs drew near.

“What the…”

A gust of yellow sprouted in front of him. But because his eyes were hyperfocused, he clenched his teeth, and spun himself right. The cloud grazed the left side of his body, as it tickled his clothes like prostitute nails.

‘That fucker.’

Because the gas followed the laws of physics, the wind took it and threw it like a frisbee. Glancing at the left side of his body, Briggs took note of the fabric that crackled in heat. Briggs balled his right hand.

“This was a nice tuxedo.”

Lightly hopping, he slid his right foot back and sprang himself forward. Thrusting both of his hands out in back, they were balled, tightened enough to snap even bone. Luke noticed the way he flew, as Brigg’s body was hunched forward like a bullet. Taking it in through quivering eyes, he lowered one of his hands to his pocket.

—Gotcha.

Pulling out a simple vial, it was nothing but white air. Throwing it underhanded, Briggs easily took note of such a capsule, and twirled himself to the right. Luke knew, and the train already swept it off its feet. Leaving behind glass shards, it didn’t fly, as if the edges itself glued into the metal.

‘Perfect.’

But he was way too focused on the vial. Moving his eyes toward Briggs—

His instinct roared, sending his body to pulsate in danger. Leaping to the right, he held his breath, while his hands and arms rumbled in ricocheting pain. Luke had to not get hit again, but Briggs appeared to the side.

“Wait—”

All of his leg muscles acted like a garage door spring. Jumping back, he saw the eyes of a man chastened in veins. Red in his eyes, saliva wallowing from his lips, he was beyond trying to serve justice.

Using only his toes, the agent spun around with lightness in his body. He heard his own heart beat, as his chest felt pounded by a literal drum. But most of all, the man—sent a fist into Luke’s nose.

—Ah…

Tumbling back, his arms and legs wailed in the air before slumping to the ground. Laying his cheek on the roof, he coughed dryly, and blankly stared at the man who stood with perfect balance. Luke felt his nails scrunch the metal.

—Got to get up.

All of his face wallowed in that burning sensation. Feeling it sting all over, he rose from the ground with ease. He pretended it was bees, wasps even, as the pain stretched wide. Hissing air through his lips, he narrowed his eyes at—

He appeared again. Because of the speed in which Briggs traveled, Luke’s blessing was almost useless. With nothing to block him with, he sprang his forearms to… he heard it crackle.

“A-Ah!”

And he found his footing loosened once more. Growling from his throat, he forced that hellish roar into a sweeping silence. Yet he returned.

The wind blew to his right, narrowly grazing his right ear. The tip streaked off small lines of blood. Luke squeezed his abs and lunged to the right.

“You’re getting slow.”

Luke felt his whole face shackle in wrinkles.

Right in front of him, the agent barreled straight. He gulped, as saliva ran down his throat before it too was robbed from. Air blew from his throat, leaving his vocals to crackle out a yell. And he heard his stomach churn fire. Kicking him away, Luke tumbled and collapsed all the way toward the edge of the train cart. Groaning, saliva ran down his chin and down his neck.

“And I’ll keep it that way.”

Luke laid on his stomach. His fingers resting on the metal, he tried to squint, tried to narrow, but he saw flickers of both reality and imagination.

—Luna… Hope… w-where are you two—

It was like his nose took in a hammer.

Gasping, coughing, he extended both of his hands out in front of him. Still laying on the floor, ripples of blood stained his skin. Groaning deep from his throat, he felt his teeth loosen, but not fully.

“Gonna get up?”

Then there was another stomp.

Digging into his nose, it caved the bone deep into his cheeks. Snapped, broken, the fractured remnants glued and sprawled outside his skull. Feeling it again, it worsened in heat, worsened in complete… he turned around. And with his fingers gripping deep on the metallic roof, his body pulled forward. Instead of Brigg’s foot thrusting into his head, or even his neck, his back took in the pain.

“Gonna get up? Come on.”

But it only increased the intensity. Feeling his muscles snap, his tendons bleed, it all thundered and ravaged his poor back. His spine, his literal spine, started to creek against punishing cruelty.

“Come on, get up.”

His vocals colliding with one another, he screamed as the pain finally took its toll. Having the floor to keep his grip on, he roared with redness in his eyes. Briggs enjoyed the little game played.

“Get up.”

Worsening his already parched throat, Luke lost count of the many stomps his back took. Drool, blood, roar; repeat. Drool, blood, roar; repeat. All aiming his sides, instead of his spine, it was all calculated with a precision to—

Break.

________________________________________________________________________

He finally pulled back his foot.

Barely breathing, the young man’s body was bruised beyond repair. His nerves failed to deliver pain, as only shards of static pinched his back. Blood oozing from his mouth, his eyes were completely rolled into his skull. Gasping, groaning, it motored with so much rust, so much blood, he could smell the iron. Half his teeth littered the train cart roof. Unable to grasp the floor, Briggs sulked his voice in venom.

“You’re way too weak to be called an elite soldier. Hell, you’re not special to begin with.”

Grabbing the top of his hair, he had it so that Luke’s head arched back. Continuing to gasp out air, Brigg’s fingers dug so deep his own scalp popped. Tears strangled his lower eyelids, stinging his scleras like electricity.

“So why do people put so much trust in you? What do they see in a nerd such as yourself?”

Shaking his head, his eyes rolled back to straightness, leaving his pupils to stare forward. Still seeing blurriness, Brigg’s grip only worsened the longer he heard those groans.

“If you ain’t gonna speak.”

Lifting the barely conscious Luke from the ground, he grabbed him by the collar. His lungs squeezing themselves to ribbons, arms dangling from his body, it all corroded in numbness.

“I’ll make you; and it won’t be just for the mission.”

The hot desert wind blew against their bodies, as Luke tried his best to conjure words. Gasping, groaning the most he could muster were silent whispers. Riding on nothing, working with nothing, his whole body corrupted in that stinging numbess…

Until Brigg’s eyes finally entered light.

—And the herculean wind that followed.—

Coming from the center of the train, a fireball emerged many carts back. The light dimmed, and the smoke began to decrease in size. Taking a step back, Briggs felt his jaws shiver, and he pushed his eyes on Luke.

“W-What did your comrades do?”

Luke couldn’t hold his head straight, as his own eyes failed to deliver reality. A completely fractured nose and dark purple cheeks, his whole body shingled in complete numbness. But even with all of this, his gurgles began to correlate breaths. Forcing blood out, it wallowed his chin down his jacket, and it was the very thing that blocked his throat.

“I… they…”

“Speak up you bastard!”

On the verge of ripping apart his leather collar, a vein sprouted from Brigg’s right temple. But Luke carried bloody tears, and they flowed down his cheeks. Sniffling even, a small smile began to crease his lips, whilst his tears stung like rabid hornets.

“They saved me…”

And his smile sprouted out a chuckle. Saliva and blood mixed together, he lowered his head, and barraged the dead air with laughter. Crackles, forced wheezing, it was as if a demon had possessed—

—An orange cloud encompassed the agent.—

Barely hearing the crunched glass, Briggs jumped back, but he was fully within the cloud’s path. Although it was fast, like the wind had snagged it away, he was in the epicenter completely.

“A-Ah!”

As for Luke, he had his butt firm on the ground, whilst his right hand sizzled from two pains. Hundreds of miniscule shards glued to his skin, and the bromine grilling his right hand red. But that pain, that increasing load on his nerves, it deflected from what he remembered.

[I won’t kneel…]

His duel with Kenji, his fight with Briggs, they were almost identical. The wounds he carried, the blood he spilled, there was one thing different between the two. One held back; one is going all out. If Briggs is showing all that he had… that was his limit.

—And I won’t bow…

Having his right knee on the roof, his left foot bulged to formulate a muscle cramp. It tried to hold him back, and the pain in his back and face tripled. He had to push forward.

—So I’ll keep fighting. For them, and nobody else.

Both of his boots stabilized to the ground. Five meters ahead, Briggs coughed out through wheezing breaths. Like his own lungs were rusting before him, blood gushed from his eyes, and his face tattered in rashes.

—That’s what being a leader is, huh Me?

He stood tall, stood with knees that could buckle at any moment. Raising his left hand toward his lip, he swiped a small glimmer of blood from his skin. If every ordeal was gonna be like this… he had to get used to it.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” Pointing a shaking finger at Briggs, the agent laid his reddened eyes on him. Specks of blood stained his pale face, while his whole body shivered in rage. Pushing his lip to the right, he gave him the cockiest of all smiles. “Don’t cry when I actually win. Because after all…”

He flung out his fingers, which cradled a small metallic object invisible to the naked eye. Briggs sprang his left hand out, to which his palm acted like a net.

“It all comes down to luck in the end.”

He heard the coin shiver. Glancing at the hand he caught it with, Briggs felt a vein grow from his forehead. He still coughed, he still felt like jello, but his will and fire only soured.

“Luck huh?” Pushing it in his pocket, Briggs hunched his body forward with venom in his eyes. Sliding his right foot back, Luke continued to smirk with blood wallowing from his lips. “I’ll show you luck!”

He lunged forward.

Despite crackling the metal beneath his toes, his movements were well kept by Luke. Seeing him zig-zag his way toward him, Luke slowed his breaths, before leaping back with the same venom in his eyes.

—He’s slower.

Luckily for Luke, his legs didn’t swell with bruises or fractures. Spinning himself to the right, knuckles grazed the tip of his nose. Like Briggs had lost his own composure, his movements were sluggish even to him. Waving his arms at the height of his thighs, he balled his left hand. Thrusting it into his pocket, his right meanwhile still creased with glass shards.

—Ah! So I have to make this count!

Pulling out his uzi, his finger already wrapped itself around the trigger. Laying it right on the mechanism, he pulled it with ease. But it was only a small burst, as shooting too much would loosen his footing. Briggs clenched down on his teeth before zipping straight forward. Luke tallied it with his eyes.

“Come and get me!”

He was already halfway. Pulling out his left hand from his pocket, Luke felt his own bones pinch his skin. Continuing to bite the inside of his cheeks, he felt red spray his teeth and gums. Iron already lacing his taste buds, he had to push forward.

With gripping toes, he spun himself once more to avoid the slicing of air, all from Brigg’s own knuckles. Nothing flickered in his eyes. No imaginations, no hallucinations, only what he saw in front of him.

—He’s losing focus as well.

Each time Briggs threw a fist, Luke felt the rippling wind splash on his cheeks. The agent hunkered himself all the way down, all to sweep to the right with his legs. Luckily for Luke, he already took note of such a movement.

—You ain’t gonna fool me again.

He pulled back his left hand, while jumping back. His fingers already opened, the small glass vial flung right toward Briggs. Lunging to the right, harrowing mist scraped the sides of his jacket. Hissing air through his teeth, Briggs roared with all the strain he had in his throat.

“Come back!”

Still having some ammo in the chamber, Luke fired in bursts, but his accuracy worsened with every recoil. Along with his muscles, they ached and bled, only increasing the instability of his footing. Jumping back once more, he found himself on top of the second train cart; again. Briggs zipped forward with no zig-zagging in sight.

—He’s doing the exact same thing again.

Pushing his left hand into his pocket, Luke’s fingers trailed the glass of the few vials he had. With Briggs already drawing near, Luke inhaled air through his nose, and out his mouth. As he flung the vial with a twitch to his wrist.

—Then I’ll just repeat what I have been doing.

Briggs hopped to the side, as a cloud of white mist formed near. Feeling his own tuxedo hiss, the frost that nibbled the fabric only tickled his ears. Keeping his lungs from failing… his left hand went numb.

Static plunging deep into his bones, and into his blood, he then heard the roar of bullets. Lead, pulsating wind, it reddened his eyes and wavered his irises. Briggs leaped high in the air. Luke took note of it… but the barrel shot out emptiness.

“W-What!?”

Having no time to think, Luke pushed his uzi into his holster, and had his left hand already in his pocket. Feeling only three more vials, two of them were nothing more than capsules. One of them being in the shape of a small bottle, he’ll save that as his last option…

Taking out one of the vials, he spun himself to the right, but small scraps of his skin blemished from Brigg’s knuckles.

—Damnit! He’s gonna get me sooner or later!

Like a timer ticking in his ears, his legs would only work for so long. Having no time to shoot with his right uzi, his left had ammo. Moving the vial to his right hand, he plunged his left hand to—

He crouched. Feeling the wind slice parts of his hair, he held it all in the pit of his stomach.

“You better stop moving.”

Rivers of blood ran down the agent’s eyes. The effects of bromine worsening in his system, his own voice sounded like a chainsmoker. Hearing his own wheezes meld to rust, Luke twirled while having bent knees, an unrealistic yet possible move to commence.

Jolting his whole body straight once more, the tips of his toes screeched the metallic floor. Hearing his own leather scrape, his finger wrapped around his left uzi. Extending it out, he did the same thing prior, fire in miniscule bursts. Zig-zagging this time, his speed was slower than before. Lead scratching the surface of his clothing, Luke still kept his right hand balled.

“Stop moving.”

His words sounded even worse than before. Like his throat hadn’t touched water in two days, it was rasped with both venom and sand.

In that single instant, a fist sprang itself straight toward Luke. His knuckles aimed right at his face, and Luke stepped to the right… to find another launch of knuckles. Fastening like garage door springs, Luke clenched his teeth hard, hard enough for his own gums to bleed.

“Stop moving!”

—Oh no…

He was right in front of him. Feeling his own breath be lodged in his throat, Luke kept it there, whilst his left hand finally unveiled itself the vials. Letting the glass fly, it sparkled under Luke’s eyes, but not Briggs.

—A huge whirlwind of air blasted him down.—

As if the literal wind tackled him, Briggs collapsed on his knees, as smoke hissed from his back. Coughing dryly, the agent looked up, all to see his eyes shimmer in blurriness.

—It worked…

It was one of two trump cards. Having a piece of glass filled with purple liquid… it wasn’t actual purple liquid. He had food coloring, with the concoction in the vial being nothing more than an explosive. A fuel for simple dynamite.

His rough gamble giving him a chance, Luke subtly smiled.

“Now for part 2.”

Moving his left hand into his pocket, there was one more trump card, but one vial and that small bottle. Both engraved in glass, Luke slowly nodded before seeing Briggs get back up.

Shaking his head, he groaned from a hoarse throat. Pushing the air with his body, Luke loosened his footing with the ground once more.

—And I got to get him distracted…

He hovered right on the edge of the second train cart. Spinning himself to the right, he heard not only the wind, but the clash of metal to his left. Being none other than Luna, he glanced at her fight, at the embers that birthed from her blades. Moving his eyes away—he arrived.

Clenching down on his teeth, he pressured his soles and walked on that edge. All with precision, he acted similar to a cat-human stalking a victim. Tiptoeing with silence in his boots, he glared with so much redness.

—But he’s not stopping.

Bending down, he felt the top of his hair spike with the wind. Everything in his gums, down to his tonsils, soured in so much stinging. There was only enough pain to ignore, enough pain to push on through.

Squeezing his stomach, he continued regardless.

---So I got to make this count.

Straightening out his body, Luke walked back with flat feet. Seeing Briggs continue his relentless assault with fists, his own knuckles hot-wired and greased in stress. Seeing the endless fury, the strength that Briggs still had, it all pelted the poor wind to act like punching gloves. Luke felt it pounce on his face, but Brigg’s own knuckles didn’t lay a dent.

Luke felt a cold shiver run down his back…

—What…

Briggs finally stood still.

In the flick of a switch, the agent stared blankly at Luke, his eyes completely swallowed in darkness. He couldn’t even see his irises, let alone his scleras. So mysterious, it was enough for Luke to… he heard a gong. It was his blessing.

“I had enough.”

He moved a hand toward the bottom of something metallic. Having a hand wrap around the grip, he—

A gunshot roared into their ears. Without blinking, Briggs saw his desert eagle fly toward the landscape. Keeping his hand still, he imagined that he still had that gun. Feeling nothing, and pulling nothing, he moved his eyes toward Luke.

“I’m not giving you the easy way out.”

Briggs lowered his hand at last, and kept it rested against his thigh. Waving his arms back and forth, the agent felt even more of his face shadow in darkness.

“Then make it easy.”

Having a steady finger on the trigger, Luke took a step back, and lit up the barrel with a crinkled brow. The recoil once again throttling his bones, and his blood, he held his breath as the lead—

He stepped right. Like the group of bullets were nothing more than dodgeballs, his hands didn’t bother to flinch upward. The time limit for instability was three seconds for Luke, and he stopped at a second and a half.

“W-What are you…”

He just walked; that was it.

Balled hands, they weren’t shriveled in unyielding rage or frustration. Like he was at his wits ends, he didn’t even care to lunge nor leap. Luke gulped, as he pulled the trigger once more but with fear.

“J-Just stay back!”

He stepped to the left. Again, the recoil made him take a step back, but he was already at the edge. On the verge of falling on his back, or rather into the gap between the second and third train carts, Luke wailed his right arm up, before stabilizing himself with clenched teeth. The adrenaline, the very thing that made him ignore pain, finally dimmed…

“G-Gah! Ah… ah!”

He dropped his uzi.

The glass of shards in his right hand, his fractured fingers on his left, and his forearms that crackled marrow… he roared through colliding vocals. Luke felt veins wrap around his neck.

—Damnit! I need that purple liquid! I need—

A gong ruptured his soul. Hearing it with widened eyes, he looked up, only to see Briggs five meters in front of him. But the pain was too much. Like nails formed and cradled itself home, where his hands and arms were, the heat it rippled out made him wheeze. Saliva running down his lips, more veins began to wrap around his—

He lunged to the right, but his movement lacked spin. Easily catching up to Luke, Briggs had a frown that could’ve froze all layers of hell. No light in his eyes, only his eyebags clouded his eyelids and upper cheeks. Thrusting his left hand, it was already packed with rippling wind.

“H-Ha!”

Grazing his cheek, Briggs threw another punch, and Luke squeezed his lungs for no air to throttle. Clattering his teeth, Luke slid with the tips of his toes, and sure enough…

Another fist flew, right where his face was. Arching his whole head back, there was another flying toward his stomach. Closing his eyes, he allowed his blessing to do his bidding. He felt the cuts, the scrapes of such bones tightened to that of iron.

—I-I’m at my limit.

He dodged fist after fist, as the barrage continued with ragged movements. Barely able to stand, his knees did their best to make himself buckle. Throw after throw, Briggs etched closer and closer toward that quaking face. All he needed was patience, a window with the timespan of a single second.

—I don’t have any purple liquid… out of all times, why—

—And that second passed; as Luke arched his head all the way back.—

“You may be lucky.”

Spinning himself to the side, it was all to avoid the edge, one that he memorized right before he saw white. Tumbling onto his back, Luke groaned, coughed out saliva already tainted with red. His left hand pulled from his pocket, what he released was a small bottle painted red.

Housing a liquid so mysterious, it didn’t bother Briggs in the slightest. Allowing the bottle to roll near the edge, it didn’t fall just yet…

“But luck’s only a rollercoaster. It has to go down sometime.”

Grabbing the back of Luke’s neck, his fingers dug deep into his skin. Raising him in the air, gustful winds blew against their clothes, rippling the bottoms while Luke tried to breathe.

With his other hand, Briggs pulled out a small piece of nylon rope from his pocket. Wrapping it around Luke’s ankles, he tried to kick his way out. As soon as Briggs was finished, he tightened the rope for Luke’s feet to blister in static. And right below, was a collision of tracks that blissed out pure embers. Seeing it be grinded by the wheels, the screeching itself made Luke’s face grow pale.

“Any last words, Fenix?”

All six years played in his mind. Training, The Array, the raids… and then those campfires. Those bonfires of just drinking, playing games, laughing at crude jokes… every conversation, every voice, every favor… it all played like some 5-star orchestra. He had friends, he had comrades. He now leads them after fulfilling their duty as soldiers. He cannot fail, will not fail. Digging his molars against each other, Luke roared with a clear throat; and pushed his hand into his pocket.

“I can’t die yet!”

He was pushed forward, ten feet away to be exact. Gasping out air, his hair fluttered with the wind, and the laws of physics began to take play. He pulled out his hand.

Hunching his body like a turtle, he found the maximum length to which the rope reached. It was only two seconds before he would be thrown into the tracks. Half a second. He reached where his right boot was. The canister already opened, he put the tip right into the hole. One second. He began pouring. Filling the metal with that hideous liquid, it was clear, but that wasn’t important. One second and a half; he stopped fueling. Just enough for a burst, he didn’t have time to even pull his hand away…

His boots were first to kiss the—

—A burst of flame emerged from his right boot.—

Clenching teeth, narrowed eyes, the metal canister launched himself five feet high. He reached the limit, with gravity returning him down.

“What the—”

Luke had his right hand on the grip of his uzi, while his left focused on putting in that liquid. Falling right where Briggs was, Luke rightfully aimed at the bottle clastined in dark red… which was near Brigg’s foot. One bullet, one roar, one echo that scoured across the endless horizon of sand. Sending a gust of smoke and wind to encompass the agent. And because his footing was loosened, he—

Fell off the train.

Sending him flying, he still had his hands glued to the nylon rope. Reaching the max height forward, inertia began to send him back. Like a swing, physics pushed him right where the tracks were, or most specifically…

Landing on his chest, a subtle oof blew from Luke’s lips. Feeling his ankles tighten, or rather be tugged against, he turned around while laying on his stomach.

“Briggs!”

—He saw his life flash before his eyes.—

Nearing right into those wheels, the endless clash of steel only burned in his irises. Memories played. Countless scenes, all glassed in golden filters derided from the sun. For six years, he longed for that joy, but it was all taken with no penny left. His eyes took in reality, metal that neared right in front of his face. In an act of humanity, his vocals crackled in panic.

“H-Help—”

Luke’s body was pulled toward the edge, while vicious screams plunged his ears. Unable to cover them, he dug his nails to the floor, until his boots hung. Those screams, it was only for a single second before…

—A cloud of pink mist fluttered up to the sky.—

The rope loosened completely, as he crawled back upon the wind that snatched such a vicious cloud. His throat quivered, as not a single groan or word was expressed. His eyes took in the shifting landscape, to which sand dunes flowed against the hot wind that blew north.

“I didn’t want to kill him…”

He won. His fight, their fight, ended with all their enemies defeated. He should be basking in glory, in victory, but he shed a small tear from his right eye.

—You changed … and you didn’t have a choice…

Sniffling once, he cleared his throat, and moved his left hand toward his hip. Pulling out a small switchblade, he began cutting the piece of nylon from the center up. While he did this, his breathing finally mellowed in such ebbing calmness.

—Just what happened to you… what happened to your group?

Beginning his walk toward the front, the clashing of swords was brought to an end. Knowing the fight was done, his eyes slugged down, and his cheeks wallowed in exhaustion. Feeling his whole body exceeded its limits, he stopped at the center of the roof, and looked up at the sky. A night that was finally packed with small glittering stars.

—You fought well, but you should’ve listened… we could’ve talked, you know?