Day Four

[Doomguy]

I moved through the forest faster than I had ever done since I'd first set foot on this twice damned island, a dead sprint through the wilderness as fast as my failing body would allow. The green blurred past my sight, the tangled roots and fallen trunks bounded over as the path I took lead me through the thick foliage. The signs of past battles were scattered across every tree and rock and patch of land, energy burns and bullet holes marked everything and puddles and splatters of blood zigzagged through the paths and nearby plantlife. Despite the clear sign of ultraviolence, I wasn't deterred or intimidated by it. Instead it only pushed me onward, the chance to prove myself and unleash my own rage upon everyone else.

It was by strange fate that who I ran into was the same person I first fought. The ever stoic Eighteen, although her already marred body had gain more wounds since I last seen her. Both of us have. We paired up against each other, like two dancers ready to give the performance they had worked for so long towards. Neither of us expected the other to hold back, no mercy for soldiers such as us. Nor did we want it. Only one of us would leave this place standing, and walk away knowing that there could have been no other way.

Bolts and nails few, and when our ranged weapons were cast away we charged into melee. She was fast and caught a blow to my face, but ultimately I overpowered her with my hammer. Each blow sprinkled the red lifeforce across my armor and the ground, but still she refused to relent. She pushed on with the same ferocity that clutched my heart, our violent dance a battle of two forces of will, but the hammer was the law here and I threw it down until she laid on the floor bloodied and broken.

I hesitated a moment to catch my breath, and look over what I had done. To call something so brutal and violent 'handiwork' would be the act of a sociopath, only a deranged monster could compare what had happened to art. But I did not regret it. The excuse 'I did what I had to do' felt lame to someone like who had always chosen the harder option to do what's right, but we both came here expecting death and pain. Only one of us could have survived. I did not apologize for it, to demand forgiveness for a deliberate action would be an insult. There was no anger, only acceptance. She remained proud and strong even under the blows, and she managed to sit up in defiance. There was a tenacity that I had only seen in myself before, and before I brought the hammer down one last time, I nodded in respect.

Perhaps in a different time, we could have been comrades in arms.

I looked up towards the sky once the dirty deed was done. The sun peaked up from the horizon, a dark orange and red light spread across the canopy and grassy fields. My bloodlust and rage was lessened by the fatigue of the fight, but not completely vanished. But then it was tempered as I saw how it would end. It was focused like the point of a spear. Not longer was it merely discriminate, although there weren't exactly innocent civilian nearby that could have been possibly harmed. I could have shouted at the dome above me, and cursed and raved at Karl now that I have killed his pet player. But it would have been a waste. Energy and will tossed away to throw meaningless threats at a meaningless man.

I took my weapons, including the new crossbow I had won in the wake of the duel, and gave once last glance over the scene now with the morning sun fully over the ocean, and left it to the last battle.

My heart pounded in my chest, holding an ache for this to end. Karl's disembodied voice gave one last announcement. The final battle was to being soon. Those few left would square off in one last hurrah and kill each other with teeth and nail if need be. Every pain and broken heart, every moral questioned and sanity lost, will be paid back in full in a single moment of rage and desperation. When we would have off against one another, it would like wounded animals fighting to survive. One of us would stand a top the heap of bodies, with the most blood on their hands.

And I was to do that, to have my mountain of corpses.

There was no more plans, or strategies. It would be a mindless brawl, and those who would scrape by were those who could fight through it all. The audience would cheer and boo and then they would move on with the rest of their lives. The winner would hold the weight of this blood sport on their backs forever. I would bare it. For those who have fallen here.

My cause was just, my will was strong. The gun in my hand would have to do, but I would make up for it with my life. I would end this war. One way or another.