"What did you just say?" Thomas frowns, giving Zhang a dirty look.
"I'm not special," Zhang declares, taking a defiant step. "I never was, and that doesn't bother me."
Thomas clenches his fist.
"So you admit what you really are. A worthless cog in the machine."
"No," Zhang cuts back, "I know the reason why I decided to fight."
"That is?"
"I refuse to turn my back on the jeopardy." Zhang unsheathes his katanas; steel gleams in the sunlight. "The will to fight back and protect. That is why I fight; the reason I am a leader."
His stance tightens, blade poised and ready.
Thomas' eyes narrow, claws glowing with radioactivity. He steps forward, tone dripping with contempt.
"This world's already full of maggots and grass. Just fodder to be fed on."
Zhang takes a steady breath, clenching harder on his hilts. The two fighters stand across from each other, the tension unmistakable.
"I don't need to fight for your petty ideals," Thomas scowls, low and cold. "When the ideals rot, I'll be the last one standing. I'll still be here and the only thing I'm wasting on this petty fight is time… and a sliver of my patience."
Zhang's expression hardens.
"I will tell you one thing, Thomas." his words cut through like a knife, steady and calm. "Survival without a purpose is just waiting to die."
Thomas' expression drops.
He leaps forward.
Closing the gap, Thomas unloads a fury of strikes, aiming for the chest and face. Zhang's blade locks with Thomas's gloves, and sparks burst around him.
Taking a calculated step back, Thomas fixed on the opponent.
An acidic web sprays and envelops the surrounding buildings. Zhang jumps into the air, like a calligraphy through the sky. He watches the web wrap itself around nearby roof tiles and wooden beams. Parts of the roof buckle and give in to its weight.
The residue digs and eats away at the floor below them.
Zhang's katanas whip through the air, spinning in a wide arc.
Snapping his body back, Thomas narrowly dodges the air slashes. The indents were carved deep into the gravel floor.
"Tch," Thomas glares.
Zhang stares, definitely, as he carefully lands on the floor. Unsummoning his katanas, Zhang extends his hands forward, palms straight as a wooden plank.
"Qi: Tempestuous whirlwind strike," He yells, his right arm enveloped in a violent vortex. He leaps forward, closing the distance. Swiping his arm, a large wind dragon's mouth forms around his arm.
As Zhang's palm crashes onto Thomas's shoulder, the dragon's mouth clamps shut with a thunderous shockwave. The force pulls Thomas to the floor, blood dripping down his shoulder.
It felt as if the world had cracked apart.
[ Qi–Another name for Spiritual Energy originating from ancient China]
Thomas raises his head, gritting his teeth. His breath ragged yet calm–unyielding even now.
"That's new," he compliments. The radioactive glow radiates more intensely. With a sudden burst, he lunges forward, wrapping in a bear hug. He pulls Zhang into the air before yanking back onto the gravel floor.
Zhang's feet barely touched the ground as he sprang into action. Zhang resummons his katana, arcing like a crane wing in the air. He spun on his heel, a sudden counterattack.
Thomas' fist thunders, crashing into Zhang's blade, a devastating force that cracks through the silence. A shower of sparks follows.
They stay still, gaze locked on each other. Zhang's katana rattles against Thomas' glove. Pushing his fist forward, Thomas pushes Zhang off balance. A green corrosive ribbon shoots out from the glove's palm.
Stepping sideways, Zhang watches the acid zoom past him, singeing part of his hair.
He charges, sending shockwaves with every step. Thomas jumps off the rooftop, landing on the nearby building.
Zhang pursues.
Steel clashes against steel.
Their weapons kissed against each other, again and again. They jump over the building tops, their speed almost matching. Suddenly halting his momentum, Thomas snaps his body back, sending a wave of corrosive acid.
It eats and consumes everything in its path as Zhang jumps back up to a higher surface. Thomas watches as the acid consumes the floor below and the rooftop caves in on itself. His gaze darts to Zhang, standing on top of the building in front.
"Don't look so bored in front of me," Thomas glares.
"I'm not," Zhang says, his hair flapping against the wind. "All I'm seeing now is that young boy you told me about."
The faceless man flashes behind Thomas's eyes–cold, suffocating.
A presence devoid of mercy with nothing to plead with.
The air grew thick and heavy.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Thomas cuts back smoothly. "I'll repeat this one last time. I spared your life, so you should leave behind your fantasy worldview."
"You carry a lot of baggage around you," Zhang leaps forward, gliding through the air like a crane.
Thomas steps back, blocking the strike with his metal gauntlet. Particles of molten confetti cascade around him.
"That scared kid?" Thomas says, voice low and dry. "That's all I ever was. Not anymore."
His gauntlet crackles.
The air around the assassin shimmers. Glowing with a toxic green, he steps forward, shooting the corrosive thread towards Zhang.
The warden leaps out of the way, gliding like a soaring bird. He flowed through the battle, each step a dance of lethal intent. Thomas parries the strike before lunging violently without warning.
The fist landed like a hundred razor blades, eviscerating Zhang's side.
He stumbles, clenching the wound.
"There are some things you can only gain through being at the top," Thomas says. "Sacrifices only gives birth to graves and empty names. There is no such thing as glory or honor. Just noise."
His fist shoots out, colliding with skin and muscle. Zhang takes a shaky step back, katanas still raised. His eyes are sharp, already making a plan. He takes a deliberate step back.
Thomas charged full force, no hesitation in his step. Zhang's body contorts and shifts like a moving river, narrowly dodging the strikes. A heavy boot thudded on Zhang's chest, sending him staggering.
Acid crackles.
Zhang's eyes widened.
Thomas unleashes a burst of corrosive radiation in the nearby surrounding area. It rapidly eats at the surface of concrete and stone. Zhang launches forward, and the clash of their weapons echoes like thunder.
Sparks fly in every direction.
The debris buckles and crashes on top of each other. Dust rising in the air. The civilians turn their heads, seeing the cloud of smoke on a nearby building. Some point. Others record.
A punch lands with a sickening crack, sending Zhang into the cloud. It consumes him seemingly as Thomas finishes the job with a corrosive wave. The green inferno lights up the cloud, illuminating it like a paper lantern.
Silence falls over the surroundings like curtains drawing over a play. The unseen breeze flows over the area, whipping and snapping the edges of Thomas' coat.
"I win," Thomas declares, almost stepping off the building's ledge. The cloud shot ahead with a choking veil that swallowed everything in its path.
"I've had enough of your excuses," Zhang's words echo in the air. The dust cloud enveloping him stood stark against the sun, as if it were his shadow.
Thomas' eyes twitch, widening with surprise. He turns his attention, quickly preparing himself.
Silence draws.
Only the sound of Thomas' heartbeat broke through the stillness.
Zhang throws one of his katana, the crescent steel cutting forward a path. Thomas swipes his arm, knocking the blade of his trajectory. The steel reflects Thomas' body. Zhang narrows his gaze, razor sharp.
He carves through the smoke, fingers clenching around the second katana's hilt. Extending his legs forward, he whips towards Thomas. Zhang, using his free hand, knocks his opponent's arms out of the way.
Thomas' eyes widened, a sharp intake betrayed his surprise. His gauntlets crackle with a bright radioactive glow. Zhang spun his katana, a whisper of steel.
Thomas blocks. Sparks of metal flow across from each other.
Grabbing the katana in the air like a paintbrush, Zhang glides sideways, redirecting momentum with purpose. With a violent twist, he turns defense into offense–fast, brutal, final.
Not good, Thomas' mind races.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Thomas's heart skips a beat.
He sees himself as a young boy. Grey uniform. Wooden sword. Ready to kill with no hesitation. The form shifts into a sketchy, distorted outline of raw sketches. It resembles unfinished art, more memory than man.
His past finally caught up–faceless, formless, and reopening like a wound.
Steel slices through flesh. A perfect brushstroke of crimson red.
A thought flickers. The line between then and now blurs.
"What do you think you want, Thomas?" Emp asked, laying her feet on the glass table.
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked, looking into future hit lists.
"She means what you secretly wish you had," Stitch mocked, rolling his eyes.
"Oohhh, tell us, boss," Hanger joyfully asks, sharpening his knives. "What did you wish you had?"
Thomas keeps his eye on the hitlist.
"Nothing," he said flatly. "I have everything I need."
"Really? Aw, come on," Hanger grinned. "Not even a little something? A nice girl? An even bigger house? A pet?"
"Why would we need a pet?" Stitch angrily shouted, raising his arm defiantly like a rally cry. "We already have an extra mouth to feed."
"Hey!" EMP shot back.
Thomas lifted his head off the hit lists, almost pondering.
"A nice girl? I could never see myself settling down. A pet… maybe?"
He rhythmically taps on the letter keys.
"Maybe I want something more than looking over my shoulders all the time," Thomas says, low and clipped. "Feeling alive. No chaos. No lies. Just… a place."
He closes the laptop, almost shutting down the conversation.
The click of the device snaps Thomas back to the present.
He looks down on the gash across his body, and his vision blurs. He blinks, unsure if it was blood or sweat in his eyes.
His legs stumble on top of each other, and his body collapses onto the stone floor. His blood slowly drips down as he clutches the slash mark across his body.
Zhang, turning his head, quickly looks over the downed assassin–no triumph.
He doesn't look the other way as he leaves the scene.
His footsteps become more distant and fade away as Thomas lies there helpless.
Is this it? Thomas thinks, his vision becoming blurrier by the second. His breathing becomes heavier and less frequent. No. What was the point of all this?
I know why- I wanted to run away. I was scared. Scared of that room.
As Thomas' eyes slowly blink after another, his surroundings shift back into the sterile white room. He sees himself back as a child in a gray uniform staring at the man in a white suit with his face sketched out.
The buzzing sound of the dilapidated lights reverberated in Thomas' head.
I wanted to live so badly that I fought extra hard to earn it. When everyone had to fend for themselves to earn a meal of mushy rice or to earn sleep, it was a free-for-all.
Only numbers differentiated themselves from the rest.
I thought I was free. I became an independent assassin just like they wanted, to escape their grasp.
I thought by being the Acid King, I could hide those painful memories yet…
The white room's walls slowly transition into darkness. The shadows slowly approach Thomas as he looks at the white suit man.
The white suit walks over and slowly crouches down to the child version of Thomas. His smudged, sketched face looks directly back at the terrified, sheepish Thomas.
Zhang's words rattle in his head- Survival without a purpose is just waiting to die.
I'm scared, Thomas thinks. The kid Thomas looks around, clutching his hands together, fearful of his surroundings and the man in front of him.
Thomas coughs up blood from his lips, slowly pooling underneath his cheek. His chest rises one last time before stopping. His eyes stop blinking, and the light disappears in his eyes.
Thomas Maloum has died.