Joakim
BANG…
The shot whistled by her. Something silvery glittered by my head and swerved the gun off course. "No use in any of that, boy. Bullets won't help any of us." His voice was rough, unfiltered, yet I could hear the faint amusement behind it.
He was like a tall shadow behind me. His hand grasped my shoulder like the talons of a hawk, unwilling to let go even as I struggled. God, he was massive. "Trust me, boy, the way she killed those two wasn't normal. Don't throw your life away."
The point of his rapier was pressed softly against the barrel of my rifle. He pulled me backwards till I stood behind him, then he spun his sword with gusto, tilting it so the light would bounce off it like the glow of the moon.
She was terrible. But the man behind me made my chest sink into a far deeper abyss than she ever had. I sheepishly nodded. "Yes…. boss."
He stood before her like a figure of legend. His hair, long and black, was drenched in water. His face was aged, but full of life. He held a certain boyish charm that seemed to pour through him no matter the state.
He twirled one side of his dastardly, handlebar moustache. It reminded me of the sort a Disney villain would wear.
A gust of wind lifted back his red doublet coat. It was adorned with yellow string and gilded with golden shoulder pads. They were all fake, plastic trimmings. He had taken his outfit from a mannequin dressed like a pirate in a Halloween store.
Beneath this he wore nothing other than a white undershirt covered in food scraps and a pair of blue boxers.
"Oi, Blackbeard, the One Piece is that way." She smirked, pointing her thumb behind her.
Varren nodded, as if he was listening to a particularly tragic tale. Then he tossed a handful of coins in the air. They shimmered like stars, drawing my eyes upwards. Then, I heard a sound. It was like when you slap a ruler you have suspended halfway at the edge of a desk.
Varren had stepped forward and thrust his blade skyward, his solemn look suddenly vanished, replaced with his usual smile. "Ta-da, girly."
She started chortling at the random display. Then, she was dead serious. We all noticed it. The half-dozen coins that he had thrown were all impaled right down the middle and shish-kebabed by the sword.
She stepped back for a moment, clearing her throat. "How did you do that?"
"Saw a Frenchie do it in a cartoon my younger cousin used to watch," he announced. Then, he swiped his arm downwards. The coins flew off the end of the blade and embedded themselves in a ring-like pattern by his feet. Droplets of water splashed off his outfit and sprinkled the girl's hair. Instead of being absorbed, they seemed to bounce off as if they refused to touch her.
"Did your mom never tell you not to go outside with wet clothes?" She remarked with a look of mild annoyance.
He scratched his head before nodding slowly. "Yer right, Momma would have told me to dry up. Everyone tells you to do it—they say you'll get sick."
She tilted her head in response, her smile more intrigued than sly.
"Well, they are right, you will catch a….."
"Shut up." He raised a finger. Her eyes widened, then the skin on her face pulled back and crunched like a sheet of paper. The display sent a shiver down the back of my throat.
Varren just sighed. "That attitude is exactly why life is such a drag for most of us." He stepped forward, the girl's face warped further. "My father told me when I was five years old that you are supposed to undress before you bathe. I decided that today I wouldn't do that, you know? Try out something new? Why would I listen to stupid rules like that when life is about adventure?"
He lowered his finger, and she snapped. "You're a fucking idiot." She took a step towards him, gesticulating furiously. "So you would step on a landmine just because someone tells you not to do it."
He let her finish, nodding slowly as if deeply considering her words. "It is apparent that doing that will kill me, so why would I do that? Stretch any line of thinking to its conclusion and you can find pitfalls. That doesn't mean I don't have a point."
She shook her head from side to side. "Why are you wasting my time with this vapid crap? I just killed two of your—"
He raised his palm. "Girl, I am talking." Her jaw dropped, it looked as if she had been slapped. "I saw you doing it. What's it to me?" He turned his palm over as if passing her an invisible baton.
"So you don't care about your men? You just let me kill them? Isn't the leader supposed to watch over his own?" She crossed her arms, head tilted and face impassive.
"Eh, it is what it is? I mean, you were going to kill Joe over there so I decided to step in. Why would I save someone like Cook? That guy's an asshole." He raised a brow, leaning forward before winking.
"What do you think of killing?"
"Depends, stepping on roaches is always fun. Those two definitely had it coming." She smirked subtly.
He nodded along. "You get it now. Some bastards are worth killing. Is what I would say if that was at all true. Murder is probably one of the worst things you could do?"
He exhaled. "Think about how complex and beautiful each human life truly is. The sheer magnitude of thoughts and memories we each have is something beyond any measure. Each of us is a vast network of ideas and emotions. It is honestly shocking how all of that can be discarded and erased if our bodies are destroyed. Life has more value than any of us can comprehend."
She grimaced. "And yet, you do nothing as your pals get butchered."
He examined his blade, checking its polish before looking back at her. "Oh, that's plenty nasty too. It won't stop me from doing it again, though."
Suddenly, her expression changed. She seemed at a loss for words. Then, she took a step back. Her eyes darted around for a moment. "I don't get you. You don't make any sense."
"The human psyche has adapted in order to make us social animals. Do something bad and you feel guilty. Do something good and you feel both a sense of reward and you avoid the pain of regret. It's the same primal dance: eat and you feel good, starve and you feel bad. Avoid the flame lest you get burnt, but seek its warmth after a successful hunt. Give your brother an apple lest you feel bad for keeping it." He grinned again, wider now. "That's about it."
Her eyes narrowed. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"The world is more complex than that, however. And so mankind had to pass down lessons to those that followed them. These lessons kept social order and became tradition." He took another step towards her. "Some of these lessons stuck around when they shouldn't have. We find sex a taboo, and yet it's something our brains are built to seek out. We are told not to overeat, and yet our souls crave calories."
She reimagined her baring, her eyes focused as she stepped forward. "Sleep around and you are bound to get an STD. Overeat and you will get fat. Those lessons exist for a reason?"
"Do they now?" He bellowed out. "If they do, then I will find out for myself. I won't let ignorant fools saunter their rules around." He took a breath, calming himself down.
"You see, I was a pious man. I did what I had to do lest I end up in hell. I tamped down my humane instincts in service of a being whose will preceded all. Now he is gone, and I am free to learn what being human truly means."
She seemed a little less amused as she heard his words. I could feel what he was getting at, and somehow we could all tell it was beginning to disturb even her. "Yeah, Batman, we live in a society. Is that what you are trying to say? Some bullshit about good and evil being made up?"
He scoffed. "Never said that, love." He relaxed his eyes, resting his weight on his rapier and cupping his chin. "Good and evil are most definitely real. We humans don't get to define it. What's good is good and what's bad is bad."
"Oh come on, you sound like an 80's comic villain. You even twirl your moustache and have minions calling you boss." She retorted.
He pointed his blade at me and David. We held our breaths. "You see those two lads? If you killed them I would feel awful." David's gaze snapped up to meet my own. Confusion washed over us. "I saw them handing out food to survivors, even if it meant they would get less. They want to do good things, and so they are good people. I gave them double rations without telling them anything after that. I am proud of them."
"Some saint you are." She snarled.
"Not at all." He shrugged his shoulders. "I know good and evil and I can appreciate the virtue of goodness. But it's just not who I am." He started walking in circles, slowly maneuvering himself around her like a shark orbiting its prey. "I used to be a proper God-fearing man. I sat down and did my job and started a family. But that wasn't me. I was just playing pretend. I was terrified of ending up in hell. But now God has left us, and I can understand what it means to sin."
She didn't let him get behind her. She turned to face him, her eyes never leaving his, yet she said nothing. She seemed disturbed, truly now. "I never really knew who I was. So, I decided to try all the things I knew to be wrong. I killed, maimed, burned. At first, I felt a little guilty. But it was just programming. The rush beat the guilt a thousand times over, I never look back. I will do everything wrong and see if I enjoy it. Then and only then will I ever be true to myself."
"So you will do anything…. absolutely nothing is off the table, and the only thing that will stop you from doing it again is if you enjoy it?" The girl didn't seem amused anymore; she didn't even seem like a threat now. She felt small, as human as any of us before him.
"You got it, love. I respect those who are good deep down but I know I ain't."
He burst into a fit of raucous, chilling laughter. There wasn't a drop of malice in his words, just a violating sincerity.
"Ya know, can't say I'm too bad. Killed a mother and her child yesterday. I felt bad about that, so I won't be killing kids again."
She looked away. Her composure beginning to truly crack. Then she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Listen, I came here because there is someone I thought you would find interesting. I want you to be the villain in my story. There is a would-be hero I want you to crush."
"Not interested, anyways girl. You said Cook was a roach. I have to disagree, he was a bad man, but he had a soul, and had as much value as anyone else." Varren brushed her words off, making a motion as if flicking the lint off his clothes.
Her eyes didn't budge but her brows narrowed; she didn't want to answer. But his eyes were hungry and insistent. She looked into my eyes, as if asking for assistance. "Cook was nothing more than a plot device. He wasn't a person, he had no value."
"Girl, you are a good person. You need to justify yourself. I bet accepting the weight of your sins would reduce you to a sobbing mess." He stepped forward, the distance between the two shrunk.
I hastily drew the bolt of my rifle back and loaded another round. Varren side-eyed me, as if telling me to watch and stay back. David grasped my shoulder and pulled me back, stopping me from taking any rash decisions.
"I am a God." Her voice echoed through the yard before the gate. The shadows at her feet seemed to pull closer to her, vanishing into an abyssal disk of darkness that pooled at her feet. The oily texture of the air seemed to intensify till breathing became almost difficult.
She bore her teeth and revealed twisted rows of fangs that filled up her mouth like some sort of alien lamprey. "Killing some rapist doesn't need justification. I wanted to do it and so I did."
"First of all, you just gave me justification, stupid. Secondly, I am definitely a rapist, though it was only one time. It was a bit hit-or-miss in my opinion."
Bang
Her finger raised, her voice echoed like the gunshot that it imitated. But the shot would never come. Varren had crossed the meter-wide gap between them in a single step, too swift to follow.
His blade was through her hand, piercing her tongue and poking out the back of her head. Her eyes were wide as saucers, full of raw shock. Then they squinted, and I felt reality jar like it had before.
She was pristine—
A crescent moon of violet blood ripped through the air. Varren's blade flashed like quicksilver as he yanked it vertically. Her head split. Her brains oozed out her ears and dribbled against the floor.
Reality tensed, I could feel it like stretched cloth. But it didn't snap back. He had interrupted her ominous abilities.
She stumbled, then roared. It was an icy rattle. Like the grasp of death wrapping around our throats. She took a swing, her hand blurring as it approached her foe. But it never reached him; he stepped aside and stuck his foot out.
She stumbled. But he didn't let her fall. Instead he grabbed her hair and drove his knee into her stomach. The force almost erupted out her back. Her blood sprayed out the split in her skull as his blow pulped her organs.
He let her go, and she fell to her knees, attempting to speak, but only vile, black bile left her mouth.
Varren smirked, stepping towards. "What's wrong? Is a God really letting some 80's villain kick her ass? Get up."
She looked up at him, eyes now darting madly, deliriously. She didn't move.
He snarled in response, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her to her feet before smashing the pommel of his blade against her nose. "I don't like frauds. If you are going to live, then be true to yourself."
Her head snapped to one side, her face was caved in by the blow. Her features folded in on themselves like playdough. "B…"
He sank his blade into her belly. The point exiting her back, he wiggled it then giggled. "Speak up, I can't hear you."
"BANG"Her face moments ago a shattered mess was now completely untouched. A triumphant grin spread across her face as Varren looked down and noticed her index pointed at his sternum.
Varren swallowed, the briefest glimmer of panic in his eyes. Then he spun them both around, their positions swapped.
Abruptly, a force slammed down on her. Her own attack struck with a delay. Her head buckled then exploded, her body collapsed against the ground, cratering the tarmac and snapping at odd angles.
She groaned, the stump of her throat still trying to form words. Varren posted himself against his blade and slid it through her chest. He looked over at us. "I can't hear you."
David gulped… "What?"
But Varren only stared back with a look of deathly seriousness. "I can't hear you." He repeated.
I replied, squeaking out softly. "SpongeBob Squarepants."
Varren beamed at me. "Ohhhhh."
I felt like a coward. I wanted to tell him what I thought of him and his advice. But I didn't want to die. Nor get David killed.
The girl shot to her feet. Body restored.
Varren sighed then grabbed her head. She tried to resist but he was too swift, too decisive. His blade danced across her body. Silver streaks carving into her flesh before he spun the weapon away and sheathed it.
She collapsed, cubed into chunks. Varren swept them into his coat and held it like a sack. He dangled it mockingly before holding one end and spinning. He built up centrifugal force, blood spiraling around him as the sack picked up speed. Then he let it go. She was launched into the darkness past our walls.
David and I stood stark, frozen like blocks of ice. He patted me hard on the back and thawed both of us out of our stupor. He had dealt with her so… easily. We didn't speak. We didn't respond.
"Shit." He suddenly barked. He shook his head and scratched his scalp. "That was my favorite coat."
Monster