Aftermath

[Strazio Rockwell]

The white-haired boy sat, hugging his knees, in front of his friend’s grave. He had been sitting there for a long time. A familiar rifle rested against his shoulder, cradled between his arms with the barrel in the air. It was an old VSS Vintorez, issued to members of Russia’s special forces. Not that the boy knew that, words like Vintorez and Russia were foreign to him; having existed in, quite literally, another universe. At his side, muddy and broken in half, sat an acoustic guitar. The grave itself was simple, a mound of dirt with a headstone that read “Here lies Demetri Khrushchev, Defender of Darkshire and her people, may he rest in peace.” Shovels, wielded by tireless gravediggers echoed across the graveyard, as their wielders moved earth to bury the fallen.

“Ah yes Strazio, the unfortunate duality of existence, life and death, one pointless without the other,” a voice called out to the boy.

Strazio did not lift his head, he knew who the voice belonged to. His former teacher, clad in green, sat down next to him. The flamboyant mage studied his pupils face. Much of the dirt had been washed away and all that remained was a few bruises and faint bloodstains. Valerie sighed and looked to the sky.

“What a melancholy day,” he said, “though cliched it would be a proper day for rain.”

After a few seconds of silence Strazio answered, “I hate the rain.”

“Yes, but without it we’d starve, my friend.”

There was a long patch of silence. They watched pallbearers pass by, carrying the latest corpse to its resting place. The death toll wasn’t officially stated, but it was staggering, any fool could see that.

“I just,” Strazio started, sighed, and continued, “I just don’t get it Val, no matter how strong I get, no matter how much rage boils in my heart, no matter how focused my hatred is, I still can’t protect those that I care for, it isn’t fair, Demetri is dead because I couldn’t protect him, hundreds of soldiers are dead because I could barely stop one attacker, I hate this suffering and I can’t do anything about it, Dracula and Nemesis are free to do as they please and Demetri is gone forever, where’s the justice in that Val? What is the point of revenge if my vindication does not bring back the dead?”

Valerie stared off into the distance, a faint smile on his lips, so subtle that one would be hard-pressed to call it a smile.

“At the end of the day everyone dies Strazio, whether by blade or time it matters not, and as I’ve told you since day one your vengeance means little in the grand scheme of things,” Val responded.

“So then what’s the point?” Strazio asked “I kill Dracula and there’ll be someone to take his place, hell that’s if he even can be killed.”

Valerie thought for a while, “I don’t think I can tell you that, and as much as you might hate to hear this I think you’ll have to find it out on your own.”

“Damnit,” Strazio muttered, “I hoped you weren’t going to say something like that.”

More silence. A lot more silence.

Strazio stood and turned away from the grave, “well, I suppose I’m not too good at anything else Valerie, I might as well stick to cracking heads, even if it might be pointless I don’t have anything better to do.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The boy slung the rifle over his shoulder and began to leave.

“Nice talking to you Val, but I’ve got a competition to win.”