Ballad vs Renji: (A Tale of Two Killers - PvP)

[Corporal Light]

Darkness enveloped his form as he slid down, down into the abyss of the caves. His pick left a long trail of cracked ice as he descended into the depths below the battle above.

He must have reached the end of the precipice at some point, though. A sharp crackling sound, like splintered wood or broken glass, followed by his pickaxe slipping out from the cliff face as pieces of ice fell away. A few moments later, he collided with the ground, ice chunks splattering next to him. Pain racked his body. He let out a groan as he stood back up, finding himself in a familiar situation.

Of all things, his mind went back to when he first arrived in the Omniverse. A realm of eternal blackness, where the laws of reality, of up and down, of sky and earth, were alien to everyone who came across it. It was inhabited only by Omni, the one who had summoned him in the first place. He remembered being glued to the ground, blood cascading from his shoulder from the bullet that had lodged itself into him. He could not move no matter how hard he tried; one might have thought the whole thing was an unsubtle attempt at a torture chamber for the pleasure of some disgusting hell being. Then, he was blinded by a series of flashing lights, then by a huge, almost psychotic-looking grin plastered on a porcelain figure, pale as the snow itself.

Perhaps it was a feeling of helplessness, of realizing that his ploy had left him in the most precarious spot imaginable since he had arrived, that caused him to think back to that. He had escaped from the mob of bounty hunters, only to  instead trap himself in a massive hole where no one could possibly find him or hope to find him.

He took a deep breath. All odds were against him, he knew this, but like hell he was going to let that stop him. He had a mission to do, and being lost in some cave in the middle of nowhere was the LAST thing that would make him draw the line in the snow.

He fished for his pack, pulling out a lump of wick the size of his fist. He flicked his thumb against it. A reddish flame burst from the hunk.

Above came the reverberations of grating, scraping metal. He glanced upward.

A moment later, he was on the floor, the wick flying a few feet to his side as he held his hands up, staying the two sets of blades from impaling his chest.

He struggled, his fists clasped around the tips of the blades. His assailant pressed his foot down on his stomach. Ballad tried to lift his legs up to kick. He could vaguely hear a “Ssshhh..” noise slither through the lips of the man as the gunsmith wrestled underneath him.

A sword steadily pushed through his fingers. It sank into his torso. With a rapturing bellow, he shot his leg up to his attacker’s chest. He kicked forward.

The man sailed off of him, his blade bursting out of the gunsmith’s torso with a squelchy pop. He fell into the shadows. The only indication he had landed were the sounds of broken glass that rapidly filled the room, echoing all around them both.

The gunsmith dashed forward, grabbing his precious wick. The crimson tint of the light that surrounded him barely hid the blood drizzling from his wound. He reached for his hand-pick, shivering.

He whirled around, his heart thumping a mile a minute as he concentrated on the area around him. He held his pick high in a threatening manner, as if to dare the one who had attacked him to come out again and face him like a man.

Footsteps.

He turned around, tilting his head to the right. A sharpened knife of a weapon, the tip glistening red with blood, zipped past him. On the end, roughly a foot from his face, was a bulging muscle of an arm from which the blade jutted out from the skin. The skin was wrapped around it with a tiny hole for the thing to shoot out of, a process far too painful to imagine, let alone experience themselves for anyone other than-

Any doubt of who had assailed him disappeared.

He leaned back as the greaser spun around, cutting for his neck. He slammed his pick down. The demon blocked, dancing out of the way. His wick flame illuminated the psychopath’s face. It was dark red; it only barely collaborated with the incandescence of the fire the gunner held in his hand. He was taller, with him standing a fair foot above the green man himself. He had somehow grown stronger too, now looking positively like a seasoned champion of a prestigious gladiator arena, with massive muscles visible even below his wife-beater shirt and 70s shades. What was most apparent to the gunner, however, was his smile. A toothy, cocky smile that could give anyone the urge to punch the dude’s face in and see if they can’t REMOVE said smile.

The first words of the brawl were spoken by Kuzuru, or, perhaps more accurately, a part of him. As he opened his mouth, his eyes caught aflame, his voice replaced with that of the pickaxeman’s most familiar foe.

“Don’t think you can win THIS time, greenie!” said Agern, slashing his blades against the ground, water surging forth from the incisions crafted from his hacks, “I have an ACTUAL demon on my side! One who won’t turn TRAITOR at the last moment.”

It was small, but he could sense a fierce tug at the back of his mind. Before he could ask what his enemy implied, SPB had already seized control away from him.

“My troth was never to you, Agern, you dullard of a Scotsman,” he said, just barely keeping it above a growl, “I’m committed only to my research, which you have demonstrated time and time again to be a significant trammel to.”

The gunsmith’s golden eyes brightened as SPB continued. “And if you dare collate me to this radge forwards of me, I will determine how best to deliver the eternal punishment you delivered to so many others prior.”

“Oh, shut the hell up already and fight!” shouted Kuzuru, having finally regained control of his form.

The greaser charged forward, his blades squeezing out of his arms to morph into curved scimitars. He leapt into the air, did a flip, and plummeted towards the gunsmith.

The sharpshooter jabbed a switch on his pick. The shaft elongated just as his opponent’s blades met his pickaxe. He stumbled back, the swords embedding in the rod of his weapon. He lifted his foot to smack it into his opponent.

The demon wasted little time. He rebuffed Ballad’s foot with his own, a spasm of  pain shooting up the gunner’s leg. Before he could recover, Kuzuru pushed, whirled around, and sliced across his legs. As the gunsmith fell, he kicked him in the stomach, sending him tumbling backwards.

When he stopped, he slowly pushed himself up, bloodied and battered.

“Wha-..how?”

[Kuzuru]

This was getting frustrating. Not the fight, no, Kuzuru loved the conflict. What was turning out to be more obnoxious by the minute was Agern’s insistence on making his presence known. In the demon’s eye Agern’s soul had served its purpose and was no longer need, and yet he kept wrestling Kuzuru for control of Renji’s body. It got to where Kuzuru couldn’t even enjoy the give and take of their fight with Ballad, every blow seemed to be orchestrated at least in part by Agern. It was like if you were given a lollipop, but another kid got to eat the candy while you were forced to hold the stick -- unsatisfying and absolutely infuriating. Turning his voice inward Kuzuru addressed the transient soul in his mind, “Agern, I swear to Omni if you try to wrest control from me again I will make sure you fucking regret it.”

“I did not agree to your deal to simply be a spectator and stand idly by,” Agern’s voice boomed between Kuzuru’s ears.

Kuzuru sighed and retracted his blades into his arms. Nearby Ballad crawled to his feet, recovering from the earlier assault. The gunsmith wrapped green fingers around his pickaxe, hefting the weapon up onto his shoulder. He started to trudge towards his opponent, ready to bash the demon’s skull in. Kuzuru held up a finger and said, “wait a moment, can I call a timeout real quick?” An audacious request to be sure, and one that perturbed the approaching Ballad. Doing his level best to ignore the approaching threat Kuzuru turned his voice inward once more, “I’ll level with you Agern, if you don’t act up so daddy can kick this guy’s ass we can go get some ice cream afterwards, how does that sound lil’ guy?”

“Do not patronize me demon,” Agern responded, “I will personally see that Ballad is driven into dust, and you will not stop me.”

“Fine,” Kuzuru growled out loud, “have it your way.”

Ballad was now only a few feet away from his target, a few more steps and he’d be within striking distance. There was a change in the atmosphere, almost imperceptible, but Ballad noticed a slight shift in the demon’s posture. Like a drunkard after happy hour Kuzuru lurched forward, his feet performing a clumsy stumbling dance. Ballad took a cautious step back, and watched as his enemy continued to fumble forward. Swinging his weapon like a baseball bat Ballad aimed for Kuzuru’s bobbing head. In the split second before impact the demon’s eyes ignited like road flares, signaling Agern’s control of the body. Boom. The flat edge of the pickaxe collided with the side of Agern’s newly acquired face with a sound not unlike that of throwing a raw chunk of hamburger patty at a concrete wall. In a burst of blood, teeth, and plastic shade fragments Agern was thrown into a snowbank several feet away. It was only after the blast of viscera that Ballad realized Kuzuru intentionally threw himself into the swing.

“Hurts doesn’t it Agern?” Kuzuru’s voice thrummed in the depths of Agern’s aching cranium, “This is my fight, not yours, and I am not so proud that I won’t swallow the barrel of his revolver and eat lead just to keep your thieving mitts from taking what is mine, so either shut up and sit down or get ready for another trip to the dentist.” Without another word Agern relinquished his control over to Kuzuru. The smoldering fireballs in his eyes extinguished themselves. 

Blotting out every last scrap of light Ballad towered over the downed demon. In a high arc Ballad swung his axe, hoping to crack open Kuzuru’s head like a melon in a Gallagher act. Schunk. The pick dug itself deep into the snowbank, having been dodged by only a few inches. Ballad looked upon his fallen foe and was met with a visceral smile. Shattered sunglasses hung uselessly from Kuzuru’s ear and the left side of his face was covered in blood. He grinned, showing off a bloodied set of chompers, half of them cracked or completely missing. Kuzuru was back and he was ready to rock baby. Braced against the snowbank Kuzuru pulled back his legs and kicked at Ballad’s sternum, the solid strike sent the gunsmith stumbling backwards gasping for air.

The demon peeled himself from the snowbank and stood, half of a grin still plastered across his face. Ballad’s pickaxe sat buried in the snow, abandoned by its owner, the demon couldn’t help but free it from its icy tomb. Thick bundles of muscle pulsed beneath burgundy skin as Kuzuru felt the weight in his hands. First swallowing a tablespoon of blood and then opening his mouth to speak the demon taunted, “you know, you really shouldn’t leave your toys lying around Ballad, someone might-” Muzzle flare, followed by a thunderclap interrupted Kuzuru mid-sentence. Something hot bit into the lower portion of his ribcage and he took a half-step back. Ah yes, bullets, how could he forget the most pernicious of weaponry? Kuzuru cast aside the pick, tossing it back into a slush of blood-covered snow. A “fuck you!” followed by another series of gunshots lit up their battlefield. Like a swarm of hornets each bullet tore into the demon, and every impact threw up a mist of red. 

After the hail of bullets there was a moment of almost serene silence, the ghosts of each gunshot echoing throughout the chamber. “Six,” Kuzuru said, stepping towards Ballad. Between them sat the still-burning lump of wick, casting harsh shadows upon the two combatants. “I counted six shots Ballad,” Kuzuru said, taking another step. A series of curved sabres, four in total, erupted from Kuzuru’s forearms, their points curved towards their green skinned target. “You’re out of ammo,” and with those words the demon broke out into a reckless sprint. “Not quite,” Ballad responded, and raised his left arm. With a flick of his wrist he produced what appeared to be a gunmetal grey flare gun. A quick squeeze of the trigger let loose the mother of all gunshots, deafening anyone within earshot. In a fraction of a second the massive slug rocketed from the barrel, dead-on for the demon’s chest. A sound, not unlike the shattering of fine china, resounded throughout the room as one of his four blades shattered into a million pieces. The demon was not abated.

Having participated in countless battles the demon had acquired a sort of sixth sense when it came to conflict. Before Ballad had even pulled the trigger Kuzuru’s battle sense was on red alert. With timing that could put an atomic clock to shame the demon predicated the path of the bullet and swiped at it. He managed to divert the .50 caliber bullet, and only for the meager cost of a single blade. With every gun empty Kuzuru was free to close the distance, and he did so with pleasure. There would be blood.

[Corporal Light]

Kablam! went the hand cannon, and soon, the whole world held nothing more than the fighting and the low whistles that invaded his mind. A small reed instrument being blown into his ear, deafening him, blinding him to everything else except from what was ahead of him.

He almost felt his brain shatter alongside the sword as it fell, in pieces, onto the blood-soaked ice. The cons of housing a logic spirit within the tombs of your inner self was that you could never not consider the chances of failure. Even now, with himself in control, his shade sent small pockets of dissuasion, all detailing the shortening list of options to win. With his single-shot wasted, the only outcome now was death.

He stared at the demon as he rushed at him, grinning evilly with his toothless maw. Pounds of crimson muscle, body-grown steel, and bloodlust barreling towards him with elongated, hungry blades. To the rock-star, he looked as if he was in a trance. A stupor from which he appeared to be too deep inside to escape from.

Kuzuru’s smile grew wider. It was time to end this.

But, unlike before, this was not a case of indecision, of a lapse in memory. As his hand dashed for the inside of his coat, the devil’s eyes widened in realization.

He lifted the gun, flicking the bottom of its barrel to ignite the cardinal fire serving as its fuel. Ballad did not hear his screams, nor his own, as he pulled the trigger, engulfing his opponent in flames.

His enemy fluttered past him, the burgundy tendrils licking his flesh with every passing moment. The gunner aimed down and whirled around, surrounding himself in a circle of fire.

Soon, is gun sputtered out some leftover napalm before giving up, but by then, the damage had been done. He blinked, the shrill hissing in his ears dying down, sending him back to reality.

You are most welcome.

What?

If it was not for my proposed action, we would most likely be deceased.

…Good point. That was… actually a good save there.

Just remember to utilize ALL of your weapons before lapsing in judgment.

The flames around him flickered, decreasing in size. He quickly reloaded his flamethrower and stuffed a bullet down his single shot hand cannon right before the flames dissipated entirely, leaving him alone with the monster of a being.

Kuzuru had since extinguished the napalm, having rolled around a bit on ice to do so. He was standing up, parts of his clothes charred to ash and burn marks all over his body. The skin on his arms looked ready to melt off, but judging from the indifference his spirit felt about it, combined with the absolutely livid expression on his opponent’s face, he could discern the injuries were not as bad as they could have been.

“Fire? On a demon? You’re getting poetic here!” he shouted, barely masking the pain, frustration, and most importantly, shock in his voice through gritted teeth and a confident smirk, “perhaps someone will write about this one day. Sing a song about it. How fucking lovely.”

“I procure zero amounts of pleasure for this act of violence, foul one,” said the winter inventor, sliding bullets into his revolver’s chamber, “I am simply doing what is necessary to be extant.”

“Blahdy blah, ‘I procure zero amounts of pleasure from this’ my asshole!” Kuzuru replied, gesticulating in an exaggerated hand motion in a gross parody of the green man’s behavior, “as much as I love listening to you rant about philosophical shit like that, I know that’s exactly what it is. Shit. And it’s real smelly, too.”

His chest thumped, a war drum serving as his heart. It pumped more and more blood through his veins and out the small hole in his torso. He grit his teeth underneath his crimson scarf, smoke steadily rising from his coat sleeves. Waves of pain flushed through his torso and legs as blood drizzled from his wounds.

“Yeah, look at you,” the demon said, pointing at him, “you know I’m right. I ain’t going back on what I said, Ballad. I’m not some pansy running away the truth. I’m a killer, and I like it. You're the same way, just that I don't make excuses!?”

“I’m not making an excuse!” he growled, his hands palming for his pickaxe. He glanced to the side, seeing his only melee weapon had been tossed off into the darkness.

“Oh, quit your bitching and let’s kill each other already!” he said. His retracted his blades, seeing he gunsmith was no longer armed. With that, he ran towards him, fists drawn.

Spur of the moment, wanting nothing more than to tear the bastard who accused him of so-called “excuses” into many, many gory pieces, he met the demon head on. Their fists collided, both of them recoiling from the shock and twinges of pain. The devil greaser recovered first, responding with a thrust to the gunsmith’s midsection. He clumsily sidestepped out of the way. Before the demon could do anything else, he leaped into the air to smack both of his hands against the demon’s head. Kuzuru stumbled back, dizzy. Ballad ran forward, his momentum suffering due to the gashes in his legs as he rammed his fist into the greaser’s face.

The demon toppled to the floor, his nose cocked to the side in an unnatural angle. He got back up, smashing his fist into the floor as he bellowed. He swung wildly in the inventor’s direction, his attacks dodged or diverted several times. Shooting forward, he tried to crash his clenched fist onto some part, any part, of the gunsmith. His heart yearned for that rush of excitement, of accomplishment, that feeling he got in every fight with every punch, blade-lock, and removal of blood.

Predictably, he missed. However, as the gunner tried to riposte, his legs stumbled. He groaned. Before he could recover, Kuzuru grabbed him from both sides, lifted him up, and began to twirl around. After a short period of spinning, which the inventor spent bludgeoning his fist into the devil’s tenderized jaw, he let go, sending him flying.

Ballad crashed into the ground, sliding to the edge of the burgundy light that served as their arena. He tried to push himself back up. His limbs wobbled, and he tumbled back down onto the ground.

The rock-star demon scoffed, walking towards his fallen foe. As the virescent inventor raised his hand, gun pointed at him, he kicked it back down, grinding the barrel into the ground. He took a deep breath, coughing up a glob of blood as two sets of blades squeezed out of his arms.

“Any last words?” he said, his blades poised to end him.

“I… am not a coward…”

Before the demon could reply, Ballad pressed his thumb against the button of his gun. The colored buttons along the barrel lit up, and as he did that, he wrapped his legs around the demon’s own legs. Kuzuru let out a cry as he fell to the floor; the gunsmith rolled away, getting up to escape the oncoming explosion.
   

Word Count: 1,199

   Moves Used:
   Flamethrower (Ballad)
   Gun Bomb (Ballad)
   Demon Blades (Kuzuru/Renji)

   Powers Used:
   Burst Movement (Ballad)

   Tier 2 Super Attack Move (Gun Bomb) used against Renji!

   Current SP = 4/6!

[Kuzuru]

A million thoughts raced through the demon’s mind as he scrambled backwards. The revolver, or rather the blinking goddamned bomb, had landed in his lap. Panic consumed rational thought and Kuzuru thrashed about in the snow, trying to get away from the explosive. He managed to swipe the gun from his lap and crawl to his feet. The demon planted his legs and stood arms outstretched, facing the impending explosion. Hundreds of blades erupted from his body, blooming outwards in the shape of a lotus flower. In but a moment his entire body had become nothing more than a bristling mass of swords; each of them layered and stacked upon scores of others, collectively forming a bulwark of jagged edges.

A wave of pressure rocketed throughout the cave system. Spiderweb cracks formed in the sheets of ice that constructed the walls and snow was blasted every which way. Scorching heat engulfed the demon. Shrapnel slammed against his bladed shell, ricocheted off the angled surface. Underneath the booming explosion one could hear a sound not unlike the shattering of ceramic plates. His blades snapped and splintered against the overwhelming force, sending shotgun-like spurts of metallic chunks across the cavern. This all happened in a matter of seconds, it was over before the demon could even register the sudden sensory overload. When all was said and done the demon was left smoldering, but still standing. A smattering of fractured blades and daggers jutted from his seared flesh. Thin fingers of smoke wafted from his sizzling skin. Muscles tensed and trembled as he strained against the sheer weight of his own body. The Invisible devils of tinnitus screeched their falsetto song into his ruptured ear drums.

Kuzuru sucked in air, his lungs felt scorched and full of hot smoke. With shaky hands he slicked back his smoldering mass of matted black hair. “So,” he said, taking his time to form the words, “you really felt the need to unleash something of that magnitude against civilians? For shame Ballad, for shame.”

“That bomb was not intended for civilians, and you know it devil,” Ballad shot back, “I’ve no interest in reiterating that fact again.”
“Whatever,” Kuzuru muttered. He started to walk, testing out his damaged limbs. Every motion sunk painful fangs into his nerves. As he walked the remains of his defense crumbled and flaked off his body, leaving a trail of metal chips. The demon was moving towards Ballad’s pickaxe, which was now buried beneath a foot of snow. Ballad moved to intercept, but stopped as Kuzuru picked up pace. He had no desire to engage the demon in close quarters combat without a suitable weapon. Instead the gunsmith watched from a distance, taking the peaceful moment to catch his breath. The demon winced as he bent over and fished the pickaxe from the snow. “I like your toys Ballad, I really do,” Kuzuru said, trying his best to hide the strain in his voice, “nice and deadly, the kind befitting a man of your caliber.” The demon hefted the weapon over his head and threw it towards Ballad. It sank into the ground within arm’s reach of the gunsmith.

“This’ll be no fun if you can’t fight back,” Kuzuru said.

Kuzuru’s right arm fell limp to his side. More accurately it grew too heavy to lift. Starting from his elbow and trailing down to his wrist a thick blade squeezed out from beneath his skin. This one was different from the sabres and other blades, it was a cumbersome thing. Probably weighing close to a hundred pounds the blade was more of a cleaver than a sword. The demon’s muscles bulged and twitched as they strained to keep his shoulder from dislocating. He stepped forward, widening his stance to account for the added weight. Charging forward the demon started slow, but gained momentum like a freight train. Ballad raised his flamethrower and let loose a gout of flame, forming a wall of conflagration. Without a moment’s hesitation nor an iota of care for his being the demon charged through the fiery shroud.

The following impact sent Ballad sprawling. He had managed to block the cutting edge with the shaft of his pickaxe, but the sheer momentum forced him onto his ass. Towering above him Kuzuru stood and grinned. The demon groaned as he heaved the cleaver high into the air and brought it down upon his adversary. Ballad rolled to the side, avoiding the meteoric descent of the massive weapon. A cloud of snow was launched into the air as the blade buried itself into the ice below. It took Kuzuru a solid moment to wrest the blade from its cold tomb, and in that moment Ballad had sprung to his feet. 

Ballad adopted a defensive stance. His feet danced lines in the snow, carrying his body as he dodged devastating strike after devastating strike. Once or twice he attempted to parry the leviathan, but its sheer mass made it difficult to divert. To an outside observer the whole fight was a carefully choreographed routine. They fought within the pallid confines of their little globe of light, on a stage surrounded by suffocating darkness. Thespians flirting with death. Weapons clashed. Blood was spilled. Two beings caught within a tempest of strife, both of them in a familiar home. One fighting for his life and the other fighting to feel alive.

A curtain fell upon their routine just as it came to a zenith. Darkness swallowed them. Light was cast aside and all that remained was uncertainty. Their source of illumination had itself been consumed by the snow it had melted around it. Such was the fate of warriors, ever bound by the whim of circumstance. Ballad steadied his breath, trying hard to quiet himself. Kuzuru thrashed about, swinging into the darkness hoping to find solid contact with something squishy. The demon yelled. He screamed and raged and cursed and bemoaned the fact that their fight was put on hold. To him this was the ultimate denial of the climax he had been working towards for the past few days. This was agony.

Using Demon Lotus - Tier 1 Defensive Super Move to mitigate some damage from Ballad's super move. 2/3 SP remaining 

[Kuzuru]

The two beings clashed in the darkness, only finding one another through frantic swings. Light came in ephemeral snapshots as their weapons met and threw off sparks. Without sight it was merely a guessing game, one with lethal consequences. After receiving what must have been the seventh or eighth laceration of his fight Ballad raised his flame pistol and fired. A gout of heat erupted from the weapon’s barrel. The torrential blaze licked at the edges of the cave, bathing everything in a warm red light. He swept it from side-to-side, trying to locate his adversary. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Kuzuru, but it was far too late.


Ballad stumbled back as Kuzuru closed the distance and swiped upwards. Alarm bell rang in his head and he shouted in pain. A numb tugging sensation was felt at his hand, or rather at the wrist where his hand should have been. His hand, the one that once held the flame pistol, now sat several feet away, severed cleanly at the wrist. Spurts of blood spewed forth from the open wound. Kuzuru kicked out his legs and sent him sprawling into the snow. Before he could react a blade was spiked through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Kuzuru stood over him, a wicked grin plastered across the devil’s face. Fire burned in his eyes and Agern’s voice leaped from his mouth, “checkmate greenie.” Kuzuru shook his head, dispelling the impudent vagrant that was Agern. Without a word he twisted his forearm and snapped the blade off, leaving it impaled in Ballad. “Now now, don’t die on me yet Ballad,” Kuzuru growled, “you’ve got a movie to star in.”


The demon retrieved Ballad’s hand, which was now stiff with the cold. He pried open the fingers and grasped the still-warm pistol. Planting a boot on Ballad’s severed wrist and kneeled down and pressed the red-hot barrel against Ballad’s stump. Kuzuru shivered with delight as Ballad yelled and his flesh seared shut. By the end of this torturous process the charred stump was still seeping blood, but it would take a while for the gunsmith to bleed out. Satisfied with his work Kuzuru discarded the weapon and looked around the battlefield. It was a painting birthed inside a madman’s mind. To Ballad he said, “don’t worry this won’t take long.” He then shouted for his companions, or what was left of them.

[Dawnika Snow]

Though the stress of Kage’s influence was stretching through Dawn’s inner being, she was able to slip the glove back on her hand. After a few seconds, the pain in her body subsided and her vision cleared. Vile feelings swept away from Dawn like waves calming on the ocean after a storm. She wiggled her fingers and tensed her arm, feeling the power come back to her. The Omnilium in her glove must be acting like demon repellent. That would explain why she was able to grow wings on Dawn’s back so quickly.

She clenched her fist tightly as light danced around her torso. Within a few seconds the light disappeared, and finally the vigilante was no longer half naked. She wore a black wool sweater and a scarf around her neck. With a quick adjustment to her beanie, she took the lead readying her gun. Koal seemed skeptical at first seeing the assassin ready her gun, but he let it slide. If she was going to shoot him, she probably would have done it by now, and he already proved he could take more than a just a single bullet.

It would probably be best to catch up with Kuzuru. By now, he had probably already killed their mark and be ready to move on and claim the bounty. He was probably going to be upset that she had lost her fight, though it probably mattered little considering Koal was not a mark. They were only after Ballad. She didn’t doubt Kuzuru’s abilities. He has probably already buried his dead body.

The vigilante made her way into the hall that the two factions had met. No one was here. They’re fights must have led deeper into the cave. She observed the paths that branched off into different sections of the cave. One was marked with scores from a blade and bullet holes. Must be the way Kuzuru went. She could feel his demonic presence too, he could not be far.

“This way, my best guess is my boss went this way.” The vigilante turned into the tunnel, gun at the ready. Her muscles were sore from her previous fight, but she would fight to the death if it came to that. Koal tailed right behind her.

“How can you know that?” He asked. “These tunnels are huge.”

“Simple observation and sixth sense. The walls are covered in blade marks and bullet holes. As far as I’m aware, Ballad used many types of guns and my boss uses a katana. I can feel Kuzuru’s demonic presence just like I can feel yours. Can you not feel it on me? I’m sure you can, my sixth sense is probably just much stronger.” She explained without turning her head. The ebony hair blocked Koal’s view of the girl, he just noticed how comically long her hair was. It was almost longer than her whole body.

“Whatever, just get us there.” He said trying to take his eyes and mind off her. The further down the tunnel they got, the darker it became. The assassin halted Koal while she summoned a torch in one hand. The heat blew into her face as the flame dance on the end of the stick. A light breeze blew behind Koal and Dawn, signalling the direction of the entrance they came in. The wind must be blowing hard if it reached this far into the cave.

As they walked through the cold cave, Dawn wondered about Koal. She knew he had some kind of resentment built up inside him. He has been carrying it for a long time, but he can’t admit that not all of it was his fault. One of these days, he would get crushed under the pressure.

At the end of the tunnel, the duo came upon a giant hole in the ground. The bullet holes were still fresh in the wall next to the hole, so Ballad and Kuzuru must have fallen down their. The vigilante stopped in front of the gaping fissure. Koal, lost in thought, bumped into her, knocking her down the abyss-like hole. She screamed at first, impending death coming closer, but remembered that she had a fresh new pair of black wings. They spread wide into the air and blew air below them, keeping her up, flapping wildly from being used by a novice.

“Watch where you’re walking!” Her voice boomed up at the dark haired boy.

“Are they down there?” He yelled back, ignoring Dawn’s statement.

“I don’t know, but I don’t see any other way. They have to be down there.”

“Can you carry me?” Koal asked.

“Down the hole? I can hardly hold myself up, but I’ll try. You’ll have to take the torch.” The vigilante flew up in the air, handing the fire to the demon-boy. Flying behind him, she used all her strength with the help of her wings to fly them both down into the darkness.

[Koal]

Koal felt the presence in his mind go still as they were set down on the hard ground at the base of the pit. The torch in his hand did little to light their way, instead deepening the shadows of Koals face, giving him even more of a sharp and regal appearance. His lilac eyes had once again shifted to red, though they were nearing black. These shadows put him on edge, as well as made him feel more at home. It was a rather strange combination of feelings, and the Young Demon moved forward through the inky darkness, not bothering to let Dawn gather her bearings. 

"Stay close." 

"Kinda hard when you keep leaving me behind." Koal bit back a snort, his features twisting into a dark smirk, his now pitch-black eyes locking onto hers. His fangs glinted with an orange light, reflecting the torches' feeble glow. She took a step back, her hands griping her gun tighter, raising slightly, as if to ward him off. She didn't understand the sudden change in his behavior, and that eye color...couldn't be good. His body posture had relaxed, his arms loose, his posture lacking the usual slouch. He stood at his full height of 6' 4", dwarfing the Assassin. It was a frightening change in behavior indeed. 

"You're a capable individual. You shouldn't need me to wait for you in the first place." You linger in one spot for too long, and you get left behind, a concept you should be very well familiar with, Dawn." Koals voice took on a chilling undertone when he uttered her name, and an involuntary shiver began, bare working its way down her spine before she killed it. Her face became a mask, and her eyes hardened, walls going up again. Koal pivoted and began to walk once more, throwing the torch behind him, Dawn having no trouble catching the oncoming object. 

As he continued walking, Koal smelled the acrid scent of smoke, his eyes stinging as it blew past his face. He could faintly see broken blades and bullet casing scattered about, the floor bathed in blood and burn marks, as well as scars in the stone from a blade. Koal took a few more tentative steps forward, Dawn walking past him with seemingly no worries, and Koal only wished he could match that. 

With the right training, you could overcome her. You lack skill, but your mind is strong. Your soul is unbreakable. 

Koal felt the voice echo through his mind again, his body temperature dropping even further. His tongue darted out, wetting his pale lips, his eyes fluttering as a wave of memories overtook him. He staggered forward, reaching out a hand for Dawn, his lungs not quite finding the air to make any real volume escape him. He fell to a knee, then finally to the floor as his vision went dark. 

Koal shot awake, his eyes wide and his chest heaving , Dawn hovering over him, eyes glowing with a faint amount of concern. He brushed her off, The Assassin flinching back at his ice-cold touch. His breath frosted the air In front of him, and the atmosphere around the Demon was noticeably colder. 

"We need... to keep moving." Dawn gave him a skeptical once-over, eyes traveling down his body then back up again. She turned and continued to walk, Koal tailing close behind. 

"We're close."

Koal grit his teeth at that statement. Not because of what she said, but because of what that meant. Ballad. What he had just seen... Koal wasn't easily rattled, but the barrel of his revolver struck a chord in his stomach. Koal felt hatred form in his heart for Ballad, and Koal cleared his throats in preparation.

"What...did Ballad do, exactly?"

[Claptrap]

Claptrap heaved as he picked himself off the ground and levelled his gun at the winded Chara. Before he could fire, however, Scarecrow swooped in and spirited her away. The robot fired a potshot after the fleeing villains but they were already too far away. 

"All threats neutralised." Chimed the cheery voice of the Hyperion spokeswoman in Claptrap's head. "May I suggest that you actually kill your target next time." Claptrap wasn't even listening to the jibes, too relieved that he had survived the encounter with the demon girl without sustaining too much damage. This feeling of relief was increased when Kuzuru called out to the blades, decidedly not dead despite the deadliness Ballad had demonstrated.

Thoroughly encouraged by this turn of events, Claptrap turned to find his boss and their target. Looking around Claptrap saw Gaige was in alright shape, and Shadow... Had wings? She walked up to the edge of a pit, and was promptly, and apparently accidentally, knocked in by her target. 

Her flailing to lift herself back out would have been comical if it weren't for the threat of the assassin falling to her death. Claptrap watched, fascinated as he picked up her former target and descended shakily into the hole. The robot wheeled himself over to the pit and looked in. It was pretty deep, and very dark.

"Eh, maybe I should stay up here. You know, incase Ballad's friends come back." Claptrap said to himself, before tripping and falling into the pit. He screamed shrilly all the way down, before being muffled by a layer of snow on the floor. Picking himself up, Claptrap was prepared for total darkness, before remembering that his eye was a light. 

"Oh, yeah. I make my own light. Heh." The robot wandered forward into the cave, barely able to hear the echo of the two goth demons talking ahead of him. Was goth demon an oxymoron? Claptrap didn't know, and this upset him. He wandered for a bit, only slightly lost, before seeing the backs of Shadow and the boy in front of him. A small difference in front of them was a bloody Ballad and a slightly less so Kuzuru.

[Dawnika Snow]

The vigilante raised an eyebrow to Koal’s question. Seemed odd that he would approach Ballad as dangerous as he looks already and not know he had a bounty. It was reasonable she guessed. The assassin sighed and spoke softly, but loudly enough for her companion to hear.

“Ballad blew up a small part of Camelot to escape the authorities. I’m quite sure it had something to do with a shooting. Either way, he killed over 20 people and injured just as many, if not more. I can’t sit by and watch someone like that roam the streets that armed and dangerous. They will only do worse things.” Dawn choked on her words slightly as she spoke. Even though she had not been there when the bombing happened, she felt as the families who lost loved ones to the fiery situation.

“I see.” He said before pausing. It was hard to form a response to that. He was not sure whether to be outraged or appalled. Ballad was a bad guy, but Koal had not imagined him making such a rash move on a big power like the Kingdom.

“You seem rather upset about it yourself, did you lose anyone in the explosion?” He asked to Dawn, who was just a few feet ahead of him, following the trail of bullet shells.

“No, but I know that many people lost someone that day and it make me just as sad as them to know they’ll never see their friends or family again. I do everything I can to prevent more loses, that’s what it mean to be good, like a hero.”

“Lots of people died though.” Koal said. “How come you did not protect them?”

“If I could have, you don’t think I would have? I can’t save them now, but I can do my best to save anyone who could be a victim in the future.”

The two continued to walk in silence for awhile longer until Dawn got too frustrated. The trail was there but still no sign of her idiot leader. Time to make this a bit easier. The assassin raised her voice and yelled down the cave.

“Hey! Fucking Kuzuru! Where the hell are you!” Her voice echoed through the cave back and forth many times before it stopped and she waited for a response. Koal stood behind her listening too.

“You know, for assassin, you guys really like the stealth part.”

“You don’t have to be stealthy to be an assassin my friend. In fact, I’m the only ‘Assassin’ kind here. You would define the others as mercenaries.”

[Koal]

It was dark in the cave, but Koal recognized the yellow glow of his eyes. A murderer and terrorist. A man who had used him for his own personal gain. A man who had lost His trust. Koal walked forward tentatively, footsteps echoing on the stone floor. And after a few moments, the Demon found him.

Koal stared at the broken and defeated form of Ballad, blood caking his body. The red substance stained the stone floors, and Koals nostrils flared as the metallic scent hit his senses. The Demons pitch-black eyes locked onto the dim yellow glow of the Gunsmiths'. He seemed to be arguing with himself once more, and as Koal contemplated that, Seraph made his presence known once more, albeit in a different way. A dark form took shape next to the young Demon, slowly taking on distinct features. Pale skin, white hair, and crimson eyes were the most striking features. The Elder raised a sculpted eyebrow, looking condescendingly down at Ballad as he walked in a circle around him. Like a predator stalking prey.

'He has a relationship like ours, one of a shared vessel. It has corrupted his mind, integrated itself into every part of his being.'

 Seraph stopped next to Koal, who listened with rapt attention. It made sense. A lot of sense actually. The mumbling, arguing with no-one; hell, even his vocabulary. Koal felt the ice in his veins splinter in anticipation as he reached his hand forward, lifting Ballads face so his former comrade- his enemy- could gaze upon his face. The fear Ballad was trying so desperately to hide, the doubt the man felt, was absolutely delectable. Koal took a deep breath, bringing The essence of Ballads sins into his soul, the void eagerly drinking in the dark emotions. His claws extended slightly, digging into the flesh of Ballads face, crimson blood lost in the dark, Koal grinned, barring his fangs, leaning his face close to The Executioners'.

"Tell me Ballad. Do you fear death?" Koals voice was overlapped with that of Seraphs, the two entities speaking as one. One eye shifted to a vibrant violet, the other to a chilling blood-red. They have off a faint light, practically glowing as brightly as their victims. 

"I know you don't. You disregard death in this world, as every prime does. It holds no sway over you." Koal forced his claws in further, eliciting a muffled groan. "I can feel your fear, and I recognize it. You fear the death of those close to you. A very natural fear." Koal saw an iota of hate spark within Ballads eyes.

"But the truth is, you have no one left. You are alone. The Koal you knew is dead. I am privy to the ways of the world, and have learned that in order to stay alive, others must die.

"Because I have chosen not to fight my nature. My humanity isn't worth holding on to. I was weak, but now... I've never felt stronger." Koal released Ballads face, standing up, looking down on him. A sneer twisted Koals features, before the Demon swiftly planted a kick in the Gunsmith's face. Ballad reeled back, falling onto his back. He stood over his victim, his foot on his chest, leaning down to bore his eyes into the soul of the individual under him.

"When you die, bring my image to the void. Remember my face when you see God."

[Corporal Light]

Golden locks of massive wild flames surrounded him in one circular spot. His knees buckled underneath him as the poisoned dark air seeped through the scarlet fabric around his face. The toxic air burrowed into his nose and mouth before it settled inside his throat and lungs. He let out a series of desperately choking wretches, his throat raw from inhaling the deadly ash. Fire rose up and up and up and up into the air and lit the sky above into a dirty monochromatic yellow.

Ballad.

Glowing yellow eyes rolled upwards as the voice reached his ears. Just in front of him, consumed in a reddish-orange abyss, was a tall and blackened but otherwise indiscernible building. The heat had melted its features and left only a decaying ruin in the wakes of the oncoming apocalypse. The bright fiery inferno emanated from the sides of the building as it spread forth from beyond to devour what remained of the land.

Ballad!

The voice echoed with the sound of thousands -yes- thousands upon thousands of people. Above and below, all around him they rose from the whitened cinders. Orange embers slipped between their decaying bones and shredded fur clothing as they climbed up, mouths agape as if screaming. They were speaking to him, crying out to him, their voices accusatory and despairing. He remained motionless as he saw them charge at him, but not with the intent of harm. Their eyes said it all.

They needed his help, but as he tried to stand, his limbs remained glued to the earth. His eyes widened more than they ever had. Why? He glanced down. He was on his knees, his hands buried in snow-like ash. It seemed as if the inferno was reshaping the world around it, reshaping its very atmosphere for its own destructive purposes.

It was only at that point did he notice that he was sinking. The dust of his disintegrating village settled around him. Each particle stacked on top of its fellow, threatening to drown him. His gloved hands had already been enveloped by the time he understood this.

Ballad…

The fire consumed the dark building and removed it from his sight entirely. Slowly, but surely, the wall of fire drew closer. Each passing second drained the hourglass of his life. Soon, though, his eardrums were assaulted by screaming. It was the most unbearable noise he had ever heard in his life; it echoed, high pitched and eerie as it rang from every direction.

He looked around. More and more numbered the skeletons that stood as his race. The very people he had invented his weapon for were being burned alive all over again. Families held onto each other, attempting to comfort one another in one last show of love before their excruciating demise. Those who were not fortunate to have another to hold close could only flee towards the gunsmith himself. Their jawbones clattered in a twisted mockery of language, begging him to save them before they were swept away in the wind, disintegrating to ashes.

He opened his mouth, the words he wished to speak replaced with an inhuman wail. He tried once more to lift himself off of the ground, crying out in pain as his elbows locked in place. The flames spread forth, infecting the land, and slowly advanced towards him. The screams, cries, nor the fire ceased as it made its death march to him.

He struggled against the massive, seemingly insurmountable phantom weight placed on top of him as the ashes of the dead surged up his arms and shoulders. He tried to breathe, but he drew in nothing but snow and soot. He opened his mouth again to say he was sorry, that he wanted to help, that he was trying to help, that he was doing everything he could. This time, though, the only thing he could scream was the sound of silence.

Tears streamed down his face. The heat of the fire began to lick his body. What cruel god wouldn’t allow him to shriek? To allow him to share in the agony of the deceased? What wicked god wouldn’t allow him that?

The world seemed to tighten around him, forcing the air out of his lungs. He felt the control of his body slip away from him as his vision turned to black.

————————

“Ballad!”

The gunner felt a force crash into his cheek, followed by a heavy crunch. The next thing he knew, his head was on the ground, his cheek cold as it landed on the icy floor. He groaned, rolling his tongue around in his mouth. The clacking of something square and bloody sounded out from inside his mouth as it knocked against his teeth. The aches within his gums informed him that whatever hit him had knocked out a fair amount of his molars. He lifted his hand to pull his scarf down.

He gazed at his wrist. His hand was nothing more than a charred stump. A light amount of fluid oozed from the warped and injured tissue a mere few inches from where his fingers had once met the joint.

He looked up, seeing the greaser standing above him, a wide smile curled its face. In the demon’s clutches was his gloved hand, the fingers bent from rigor mortis; it still held onto his revolver, poised to fire.

“You radge!” Ballad cried out. His voice was raspy as he shot upwards, his remaining hand outstretched to grab the demon. Suddenly, he was forced back down, a scream tearing from his mouth as an agonizing sting twitched around his shoulder. He laid back down and glanced to his left, weakly glaring at the blood-stained blade impaled inside his shoulder.

Kuzuru chuckled, turning away from him to call for his allies once more. Meanwhile, Ballad tried again to rise up from the ground, lifting his torso up in an attempt to stand. Each attempt was met with agonizing and relentless pain that coursed through his system and forced him back to the ground. His formerly green clothes were covered in the muck and grime of battle, and each nerve and bone in his body ached. His head lulled to the right as he looked towards the blade lodged inside of him. He had no other option.

He raised his remaining hand and curled his fingers around the base of the metal blade. He held on tight as he pulled, not even attempting to hide his groans as the metal pole of a weapon shifted around inside of him. His whole arm wobbled and the veins on his arm popped out from under his skin as he pulled harder. Even with his best effort, however, he got no leeway.

He tried again- he had to get out. He couldn’t die, not to this psychopath. Before he could do so, however, the rock-star demon turned right back around, lifted the gunsmith's head, and slammed it down onto the ice. The entire world was indiscernible for what seemed like forever as he lay there, his energy spent.

'SPB?'  he whispered so quietly that he doubted that Kuzuru could tell it apart from incoherent mumblings.

'You have awoken.'

'Not the time… how do we get out of this?'

'We cannot. Our only grounds for hope is to pine for their mercy.'

He lifted his head up from the small hole it created when it hit the ground. He glared at the back of the demon’s head.

'No. That’s not fucking happening.'

'… Well, then… I have only one other solution to this conundrum.'

'Do it.'

'It will require additional time.'

'I don’t care. Whatever it is, do it.'

'You will despise the outcome.'

'What could be worse than this? Do it.'

'… As you request.'

Somewhere, deep within his chest, he felt his heart thump. Not like a regular heartbeat, but like a punch from within his body. For a few moments, he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest until it slowed down. He only got a moment’s time to breathe before it returned in a more intense fashion. He felt his blood pulse and ooze out of his wounds. He bit his lip; he would not give the leader of the Ashen Blades any more satisfaction.

Suddenly, he saw a light. A massive beam of blue incandescence had been shined directly into his face. He moved his hand to his face to block out the annoyance; he squinted, trying to see what was shining said light at him.

The little orange robot from earlier stood in front of the injured Ballad and the standing Kuzuru. It didn’t look like it had changed much from their first encounter. A few dents here and there, but he was more or less intact. He said nothing and just stared at the bloodied and battered gunner. Ballad glared at him in response; he didn’t recall that robot EVER shutting up like this.

“Claps, would ya mind NOT blinding the poor thing?” the demon said, turning towards the inventor with a smile on his face, “I want him to SEE everything I’m gonna do to him.”

The gunsmith clenched his teeth and spat out a response. “Fucking inbred…”

A swift boot to his side launched a huge jolt of pain through his body. Despite it all, though, he smiled; even if he was going to die, he was going to die pissing off his enemies. It would be the perfect moral victory.

He was about to goad Kuzuru into attacking him again when he saw the other two. They stood only a few feet away, but they were close enough for him to discern exactly who they were. The girl with the beanie on her head and the sniper rifle on her back stood small next to the taller, black-haired, black-eyed boy. The gunner frowned for a moment and squinted at the boy.

'Is that…?'

'I can confirm that that is him.'

'Wai- what?!'

'Quiet down. I require concentration.'

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to another individual that had materialized right beside Koal. It was shadowy and barely visible in the darkness of the cave. The one thing that he could see from any distance, however, was its blood-red eyes.

'Seraph…'

He said nothing as the pale-skinned demon circled him with a cocked eyebrow. He wasn’t entirely certain, but he swore he saw the thing’s lips curl into a grotesque mockery of a smirk upon sighting his plight. He tightened his fist as Seraph walked back towards Koal; he was tempted to shout him down before he got to the boy just so he could find an excuse to tear him apart once he got near his fallen form.

That’s when the white-haired demon spoke to his black-haired prisoner.

'He has a relationship like ours, one of a shared vessel. It has corrupted his mind, integrated itself into every part of his being.'

He did not fully register what the abomination had said before the Mister Lynch had sprung forth at him. He let out a loud gasp as the boy’s fingers wrapped around his face and brought his head up off of the ground. He winced as Koal’s nails dug into his cheeks and drew blood. Their eyes connected, and while no words left his mouth, the inside of his mind consisted of nothing more than questions. 'What is happening?! Koal, what happened?! I thought you killed him! Why are you doing this? I thought I was your friend…'

"Tell me Ballad. Do you fear death?" his former friend said, Seraph’s voice overlapping with Koal’s. Their eyes shifted colors until they glowed two different kinds: bright red and a vivid violet. The gunsmith kept his mouth shut, but really, what could he say? He could only stare into the boy’s malformed, hate-filled eyes and try to find something, ANYTHING, that resembled the Koal he knew. The Mister Lynch he knew would never have simply ALLOWED the abomination of an apparition to possess him like this, let alone use the demon to kick the inventor while he’s down!

He groaned as the Seraph/Koal being squeezed his face and dug his claws deeper inside him.  The being continued his rant, going on and on about how the world was like a cruel mistress and how in order to stay alive you must kill everyone else and that humanity was weak and that he was stronger now before he ended with a swift kick in Ballad’s jaw. By that point, the gunner was still staring at him, but not in confusion. Rather, every ounce of his self-control was being spent on him not rising right the goddamn up and tearing the red-eyed demon apart.

'How dare he accuse me of disregarding death!' he thought, biting his lower lip as he lay in a trance on the ground, 'how DARE he say I’m corrupt! How DARE he compare myself to HIM!'

"When you die, bring my image to the void,” he said, planting his boot on the gunsmith’s stomach as if to goad him even further down the path of rage, “remember my face when you see God."

Ignoring the aches and pains that shot through his body, he let out a ferocious kick forward. His boot slammed into the boy’s foot. Koal brought his uninjured leg off of Ballad’s chest and slipped backwards, swears muffled behind clenched teeth. Claptrap and Dawn both drew their weapons, having been watching the whole event, and aimed them at the green man. Kuzuru only watched, a curious eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“You think you’re fucking strong?! YOU?! A cowardly FUCK who’s sole achievement is taking over the mind of a mentally unstable CHILD?!” he screamed, his torso slowly rising up the blood-stained blade and smoke rising up from his pores. Blood was flowing out of every wound in his body like a waterfall; some of the Ashen Blades might have wondered how he was still conscious with how much blood he was losing. His eyes were now a solid white and glowing like a massive flare.

“You come here, kick the shit out of some crazy old man, kick the shit out of an INJURED PERSON, and you have the fucking GALL to claim YOU are the strong one?! YOU STUPID FUC-”

His speech was interrupted by a massive pulse from his heart. He thought he saw an image- it looked like snow, or perhaps it was the sky?- flash in front of him before he was returned back to reality. He took a series of breaths and darted his eyes to everyone in the vicinity. They settled onto the girl, who was too busy staring at him with an incredulous look on her face to really feel like shooting him.

“WELL?! YA GONNA KILL HIM?!” he said, thrusting his head towards Koal. Dawn glanced from Mister Lynch back to him as he continued, ”well?! What are you waiting for?! Were you LISTENING to what he was saying?! Huh?! WERE YOU?!”

He stopped and glared at the sniper. Sweat poured down his face and mixed with the red coloring of his blood. The air in front of his face whitened as his breaths became increasingly ragged. He waited for a reply that never came.

Sighing, he got right back into it.

“You don’t care, do you? You don’t care about death any more than me or this FUCK does! All that shit about ‘understanding morality’ was a FUCKING LIE, was it?! If it wasn’t, you’d have shot him right here, right now! So WHY DIDN’T YOU?!”

“I know why,” he said without hesitation, “it’s because, deep down, I’m the only one of us here who’s actually fucking different and who’s actually MAKING a fucking difference. How fucking ironic, isn’t it? The so-called ‘psychopathic criminal’ understands and, more importantly, HAS more morals than the people hunting him down for the sake of… of what, exactly?! Justice?! Blood money?! Satisfaction?!

“Who cares, though, right?! In the end, everyone in here who ISN’T ME is nothing less than a KILLER contributing to a FUCKED WORLD led by FUCKED-UP people. Yeah, I’ve killed people, but never unprovoked, unlike SOME OF US IN THIS ROOM, I’M VERY FUCKING CERTAIN!”

He made a not-so-subtle glance towards Kuzuru, who responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But you know what?! All the people I killed DESERVED TO DIE! And no, before you backtalk at me, GIRL, I’m NOT counting the innocents caught in the bombing, so DON’T FUCKING BRING IT UP. I killed a squadron of troopers being led by a corrupt organization that virtually the whole Omniverse DESPISES, and I WIPED OUT an entire BANDIT ORGANIZATION FROM EXISTENCE! In just ONE WEEK, I’VE DONE MORE TO HELP THIS UNIVERSE THAN ALL OF YOU COMBINED SO WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK HAVE THE REST OF YOU BEEN DOING?!”

Even despite all of the questions he tossed at everyone around him, he did not stop shouting and cursing and ranting and raving. He simply kept going, ignoring his rapid and painful heartbeats.

 “But no, I’M the villain. I’M the bad guy here. All because of some ACCIDENTAL deaths entirely out of my hands and NOT MY GODDAMN FAULT. Yet, here I am, being compared to psychopaths, demons, a non-organic, and a HYPOCRITE with me being the unfavored! I’d rip you fucks apart if I had the OPTION to right now!”

He took in one final deep breath, his energy spent for good this time. His heart was now visibly beating out of his chest; how much blood had he used up in his spiel? He lay back down on the ground, his back slightly bent due to how far up he had gone up the blade during his rant. The back of his head barely touched the ice below him.

The entire world was silent for what felt like eternity before the rock-star demon coughed. The gunsmith didn’t even look at him; the last thing he wanted was to give the leader the satisfaction of acknowledgement.

“Well… that was,” the greaser said, scratching the back of his head, “something else. Anyways, let’s just get on with this.”

Right as he was about to set up the film, however, another voice rang out that was unfamiliar to all but Ballad himself.

“I’m afraid that will be unnecessary, you ignorant, bloodthirsty devil.”

Floating above the gunsmith’s prone form was a shadowy being. It was comprised entirely of smoke, with the only part of its body discernable in the dark being its glowing white eyes. It stared at the rest of the Blades with what appeared to be a glare, and one that was focused primarily on Kuzuru.

“For as you see, the one primary difference between a demonic being and a logical spirit like myself is this,” it said, “I don’t need a vessel to function, and thus, self-destruction is a viable option.”

“Wha-what?” said the gunsmith, with the amount of effort required just to move his tongue and jaw to craft words into speech being a chore for him. He squinted, watching as SPB shot down at him and absorb itself into his body.

No sooner did it do that was when he was assailed by images of blood-covered snow, bullet-casings clattering against the ground, and the sounds of burning wood and agonized screaming. He opened his mouth, letting out a massive shriek that matched the echoes of his past memories. His heart beat faster and faster as the images increased in frequency.

The last thing he saw before he felt an explosion within his torso was of a revolver, blood painting the barrel and lying in the snow.

Just to make sure those who are reading things understand, Ballad is now dead. His bounty can still be collected, though.

[Kuzuru]

Kuzuru had just about the biggest grin that he could muster. The group stood semi-circle around Ballad’s fresh corpse, absorbing what had just transpired. Breaking the silence Kuzuru began to applaud the moldering corpse before him. He stepped over to Ballad’s body and with his foot turned the gunsmith onto his back. Using his arm blade as a pick he punctured Ballad’s ribcage and twisted. Upon seeing that he elicited no reaction he retracted his blades. Well, there was no chance of an execution video now; despite this the devil was giddy as a schoolgirl. After a swallowing a fit of laughter Kuzuru reached down and hoisted Ballad by the scruff of his neck, holding him up like some sort of limp and bloody trophy. “Take note boys and girls,” he said and pointed at Ballad’s face, “this is how a warrior dies, by his own hands while spitting in the face of his enemy, and although the dead have little place in this world this man is deserving of our respect and you all would do well to emulate him.”

The demon released Ballad, letting him smack against the stone floor. Kuzuru reached into his pocket and removed his dataverse device. He asked Claptrap to shine the light on Ballad’s face and the little robot was more than happy to help with the photoshoot. It was a morbid scene to be sure, but it was carried out with a smile. Kuzuru licked his lips. How many lives had he taken before Ballad? Countless. And yet Ballad had brought out a sublime exhilaration in him that was better than any high. After the final picture Kuzuru shivered and inhaled. The Omniverse was his playground, and Ballad had proved to be an excellent toy.

Turning on his heel and pocketing his phone the demon surveyed his colleagues. Upon spotting Koal he asked, “who the fuck are you?”

Dawn answered for him, “his name is Koal, he wants to join us.”

“Neat,” Kuzuru muttered and inspected the boy with a sweeping glance, “s’long as you can fight your welcome to join our band of murderers.”

It was at that point that Kuzuru noticed Gaige’s absence. Seeing as no one had come to Ballad’s aid he didn’t think she had lost, but if she had lost, well, the weak deserve to be buried and forgotten. Still he tapped out a message on his phone and sent it to her letting her know that the hunt was successful and they were heading back to headquarters. Despite her young age, the girl was the resourceful sort and would be fine without his handholding. “Alright, Blades, let’s pack it up,” Kuzuru said, “we got what we came for.”

[Dawnika Snow]

Dawn watched the blood drain from Ballad’s lifeless corpse. Now the souls of those he harmed could finally rest in peace. Before she left his body to rest, she closed her eyes and whispered under her breath as Kuzuru passed by her.

“Requiesce in Pace.” With a slight bow of respect to her former target, she spun around on her heel and followed behind her leader. A soft click played as Dawn put her sniper on safety and with that, she slid it back into it’s holster. The damp smell of mossy rocks was starting to get to Dawn by now.

“Let’s hurry up and get the fuck out of here. I miss my bed.” The vigilante said throwing her hands behind her head to stretch out her back. Kuzuru snickered at the comment.

“I agree, I’ve had my fair fill of caves for today.” The group of four returned to the giant hole in the ground, which they now had to get out of. It didn’t take long for Kuzuru to start scaling the wall using the blades that came out of his arms to anchor his weight. Koal followed his lead, using his black claws to keep him up. As Dawn spread her wings, Claptrap’s annoyingly high-pitched voice stabbed Dawn’s ears like a knife.

“Wow! I wish I could do something like that!” He said enthusiastically watching the two climbing the wall. “Unfortunately, I have problems with stairs, let alone a completely vertical surface!” Dawn had to cover the ear that Claptrap stood next to just to hear him correctly, and not bleed through her eardrum.

“If I carry you up the hole, will you please not talk again until we get out of this fucking cave?” She asked looking down at the little robot.

“Yes Ma’am!- I mean, of course!- No wait.” Claptrap said while trying to figure out how to reply without talking. He simply nodded and readied himself to be carried. The young adolescent spread her wings and lifted off, floating over Claptrap. She grabbed him by his cold, robotic hands and lifted off. She struggled to pick him while staying airborne but with some decent effort she was able to lift off and get him to the top of the hole where Kuzuru and Koal waited.

“Goddammit you’re heavy.” She said after putting him down and breathing heavily. Resting her arm against the wall, she attempted to catch her breath.

“I apolo-” Claptrap started then remembered he was asked to be quiet for the favor. In fear of possibly being kicked back down the hole, he made sure he stayed quiet from now on.

After Dawn finally caught her breath, the band of murder-hobos continued their trek for the exit of the cave. They passed back through the Super Villain's hideout room and into the tunnel that led them back outside. A black spot charred the floor where Koal and Dawn had spent time recovering from their fight. Burnt twigs scattered around the hard rocky floor around the soot. The blizzard from earlier had stopped, though the wind still blew hard. Loose snow that had already fallen fogged the air, being swept up by the chilling wind.

“Let’s go collect our bounty then, shall we?” Kuzuru said, back tracking through the snow towards the gate to the Nexus. They passed Amber’s fortress again, it made a decent landmark to find the exit since it was so close to the gate in the first place.

A mountain of snow had collected around the gate to the Nexus. The four had to climb over the mound to finally make their way back into the white void of nothingness.