Shattered Sands

[Shay Cormac]

    “Fuck you.”

The words slipped from Shay's mouth. The man had to stop for a second, shocked with himself. It's been a very long time since those two words even conceived to form in the Templar's head.  

Yet, they were genuine all the same. Even Enel knew of it; that expression of contempt mortal men and women give to him in the heat of battle. Of course, Shay knew as well. The so-called God was pleased by the man's anger.

Then, Shay wondered, slipping a rope dart from under his cuffs as Enel laughs, why bother?

No more words from the privateer were spoken. Letting the rope of his weapon dangle for a second, Shay flourished the dart. Spinning in the air at violent speeds, Shay slowly walked towards Enel. The gentle whizzing of the flying metal was dangerously close, threatening to nick at the God's nose. The intention was clear; or so it was to Shay's opponent.

"What's this?" Enel chuckled, "need a bit of room?"

The dart was still swinging, and the man was still walking. A few steps further.

Enel, cocky enough to grasp at the rope flying towards his face, opened his mouth to speak in confidence, only to grasp at nothing but air.

In a mere second, the God watched as Shay Cormac swung the rope dart above his head, taking a step back, and throwing it. Though Shay immediately noticed he aimed lower than intended as due result of being at point blank range, the Templar was pleased enough to see the sharp metal stick into the man's arm. Shay could tell that the dart only stuck in about an inch, but there was something cathartic watching a person who claimed themselves to be a deity bleed.

Still in motion, the Templar held his breath. Almost stepping off balance, Shay hopped out of his low stance, not stopping his feet for a second. Yanking at the rope still in his hands, Shay let the weapon fall to the ground as he backpedaled a good distance away.

At least, a good enough distance to use his most distinct arms at his disposal. As quickly as the man could, the Templar breathed in through his nose, reaching for his air rifle on his back. Crudely aiming at Enel's feet, Shay reached over to trigger his grenade launcher to fire.

However, at the corner of the man's eye, Shay could plainly see two... small figures approaching him as he moved. Before he could even turn his head, the two Primes could hear strangely distorted high-pitched... screams? Shay pondered, hesitating to fire.

Turning his head, the Templar's arm was bumped into by a tiny humanoid in a brown robe and hood. Emphasis on the word "tiny," for if Shay found himself in a situation where he wasn't in a sudden death duel with a Prime, he might have smiled at how much these little ones resembled gremlins.

Though, since he is in mortal combat after all, the privateer felt a knot immediately form in his stomach as he felt the recoil of the grenade launcher. Subtle, but just enough to grab his attention in order to watch as the projectile completely missed his opponent. The gremlin-like men ran in a panicky circle, running off to find another dune to hide behind, and the only other thing Shay could see was the electric man approaching him, bō-staff quickly approaching his face...

"Shite."

THWACK!

Immediately, Shay felt not only his jaw and how it was misaligned with his face, but also the smug aura permeating from Enel currently behind him. By the Father, did it hurt. The man's first reaction was to grasp onto the dent in his face; Shay didn't even get to feel the sting of his hand touching his newly formed wound when he could already feel blood trickling down his neck.

The Templar heard yet more friction in the air, and instinctively decided to do the best combat roll he could accomplish in that moment, which didn't look anything more than clumsy and accidental.

Feeling his body lurch against the hot sand beneath him, Shay's body suddenly ached in more places than his cheekbone. The fight in the Nexus did a number on the man, and it made him nervous. Thankfully for him, Enel was in the same boat. Yet, the God was trying his best not to show for it.

So? Shay thought, picking his body up slowly, I'll be patient. That'll do.

Breathing deeply, the Templar turned to face Enel, watching as the golden staff collided with the dunes below, narrowly avoiding Cormac's back. Dusty sand flew into the air in what looked to be a small cloud, and watching it made Shay slightly grateful it didn't hit him. At the same time, the man groaned in frustration watching as Enel flew forward, eager to continue his onslaught of attacks.

Ripping both sword and dagger from his sheaths, Shay steadied his breaths further, through the hazy air of the desert, the sand in his boots, and the sweat dampening his coat.

Distance, he thought as he put both his weapons forward in a defensive stance. Now he needed a bit of room. The Templar could feel it in his gut; here was the moment this conflict would resolve, in his blood or Enel's.

Enel could feel it too.

"Perish," the God growled, raising his staff up to the heavens, striking down.