Guy Cecil (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nobleman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-10-20 07:38 pm
nobleman) wrote in damned_institute2009-10-20 07:38 pm
Nightshift 44: The Coliseum
[Warped in from here.]
When Guy's eyes opened, it was almost as if he was waking up, and yet he knew that wasn't the case; he was standing, with a weapon in his hand, and somehow feeling far more comfortable than he had in weeks.
His gaze was on his feet, and it took him a few seconds to let everything sink in. He was wearing boots. His boots. And while being back in familiar clothing wasn't so new to some people, it was definitely a big change for him.
His head then snapped up and he realized just what he was holding. It wasn't Ashton's sword, but his own, the Jewel of Gardios -- and on top of that, Guy realized that he felt more powerful somehow. Did he have access to fonons? He had been working without them for so long, but it was almost as if he could feel them in the air now.
All of those changes didn't matter as much when he took in his location. The sphinx had warned them, of course, but the huge coliseum still impressed him, and what was even stranger was the way sunlight seemed to be filtering in from overhead. Was it actually day? This almost felt like he was in some sort of dream.
But that theory was torn into shreds when he eyed Sync, also in full form, standing across the arena from him. So what, they were supposed to fight? Guy didn't have a problem with that (it was what he'd come down here intending to do, after all), but he knew there had to be some kind of catch.
As he glanced to the side, he saw that Claude and Dias were in similar positions, except facing each other. "Wait," he muttered under his breath. No way were those two going to fight each other except in a sparring capacity, so what was going on? He wasn't sure where Anise and that other girl had gotten off to, but maybe it was for the best that they weren't here...
When Guy's eyes opened, it was almost as if he was waking up, and yet he knew that wasn't the case; he was standing, with a weapon in his hand, and somehow feeling far more comfortable than he had in weeks.
His gaze was on his feet, and it took him a few seconds to let everything sink in. He was wearing boots. His boots. And while being back in familiar clothing wasn't so new to some people, it was definitely a big change for him.
His head then snapped up and he realized just what he was holding. It wasn't Ashton's sword, but his own, the Jewel of Gardios -- and on top of that, Guy realized that he felt more powerful somehow. Did he have access to fonons? He had been working without them for so long, but it was almost as if he could feel them in the air now.
All of those changes didn't matter as much when he took in his location. The sphinx had warned them, of course, but the huge coliseum still impressed him, and what was even stranger was the way sunlight seemed to be filtering in from overhead. Was it actually day? This almost felt like he was in some sort of dream.
But that theory was torn into shreds when he eyed Sync, also in full form, standing across the arena from him. So what, they were supposed to fight? Guy didn't have a problem with that (it was what he'd come down here intending to do, after all), but he knew there had to be some kind of catch.
As he glanced to the side, he saw that Claude and Dias were in similar positions, except facing each other. "Wait," he muttered under his breath. No way were those two going to fight each other except in a sparring capacity, so what was going on? He wasn't sure where Anise and that other girl had gotten off to, but maybe it was for the best that they weren't here...
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
But did they have a choice in the matter? Even if he didn't, he'd have to pick between killing Dias, Guy, or even himself. It wasn't something he could decide on so casually!
A swift attack from Dias brutally interrupted his thoughts, and he was greeted by several slashes that were similar to his own Twin Slash technique. Claude hadn't had the presence of mind to block all of them, and before he knew it his rival's blade has slashed through his jacket, drawing blood. The force of the attack caused the blond to stumble back with a sharp grunt.
Obviously, if he didn't take the initiative then Dias would have no problems picking up the slack for him.
"It's not like that!" he snapped as he forced himself to straighten back up. As if to prove his point, he leaped toward Dias and swiftly brought his sword down. The motion was simple and lacking the same energy that had fueled his more specialized techniques. But it was arched through the air smoothly, shooting out a wave of star-like sparks in the blade's wake.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
To allow Claude to do damage, however minimal, even if his opponent blocked the blade itself...whoever had made Claude's sword had possessed, Dias was forced to admit, a wickedly strategic mind.
Their blades locked together, Dias used his greater strength - no matter how much progress Claude had made as a fighter, he was still smaller and lighter - to shove the blond backwards, giving himself a few feet of space and a few moments to think. He'd hoped that some alternative to fighting to the finish might occur to him during combat, or that perhaps the night would end, but it had been some time now(including the time they'd spent chasing Sync before arriving in the arena); if dawn had been able to spare them an inevitable conclusion, he suspected, it already would have. And no alternatives had made themselves known, either...and, even if there were some, he couldn't help wondering if they could possibly get away with any of them with the head doctor personally overseeing the action.
Claude was an optimist, almost frustratingly so; that meant he would never accept that one of them had to kill the other, no matter what evidence he was given. That, rather appropriately, left Dias - the realist - to confront the harsh reality, and make the choice that Claude could never make.
Celes, Claude, or himself?
Guy was technically an option, but only in theory; his fate was Claude's to decide through his actions, and Dias couldn't force Claude to fight or stand down, one way or the other. But if he himself stopped fighting, he'd kill Celes(and, come to that, probably Guy as well; he couldn't believe Claude would be able to bring himself to continue attacking if Dias stopped fighting back, even for Guy's sake). He could also try to kill Claude...although, if he was entirely honest with himself - and it stung - he was currently losing. If they continued fighting exactly the way they were at the moment, it looked as though Claude would win fair and square. Dias could try to play it off as his not having had much practice recently fighting a fellow swordsman, but he knew that would simply be an excuse; the fact was, Claude really had come so far that the younger man had surpassed him.
His pride hated to acknowledge it, but there was something deeper than that which burned with what might have been satisfaction, even excitement; as a challenge and a rival, Claude had gone beyond everything Dias had believed, and hoped, he could achieve, and he wanted nothing more than to push himself harder in response to match Claude's new strength.
But, he realized, he wasn't going to get that chance. The choice of who lived and who died (if it could really be called a choice) was his, and there was only one life out of the three of them whom he could possibly make that choice for. And if he was to be the one to die...Claude would never forgive himself, not if he killed Dias in the course of a fight. And Dias knew too much about living with guilt to sentence Claude to that too readily.
Well, he'd forced decisions on Claude and Guy before; let them blame him for this one, too.
Gripping his sword, Dias charged forward again in silence, the next few seconds playing themselves out in his head already as he worked out how he'd play it.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
But he didn't have time to dwell on that -- Dias quickly used his brute strength to shove Claude back, something that was easy enough to do given their difference in weight and height. As Claude regained his footing, he fought the urge to glance over toward the Head Doctor or at the fight between Guy and Sync. Right now he needed to keep his focus on what was in front of him.
How long would this last, though? Some part of Claude was still banking on the idea that night would end before anyone he cared about got killed, but Landel hadn't mentioned anything about a time limit, right? Did that mean he intended to sit and watch them for however long it took?
He wouldn't have been surprised. Sick bastard.
When Dias charged toward him again, Claude was ready to meet him head on. Not wanting to be accused of holding back again (or to risk Guy anymore than he already had, for that matter), he rushed forward and raised his sword to deliver a blow that he was certain Dias would be able to block almost as easily as the last.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
It was a sharp sword, and a strong blow(and, in what Dias distantly thought was overkill, one that spewed sparks as it went, burning him as it cut). He'd been hoping for something immediately fatal, but a wound this large and deep, particularly on top of the other wounds he'd taken, would be more than enough...he'd nearly died to the one the bandits had given him, and that was comparatively small.
He kept his feet momentarily, but shock and lightheadedness hit him soon enough, and he dropped to the floor as his knees buckled.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
A chill ran down his spine, and Claude's body grew unnaturally still and cold once he saw a glimpse of the crimson blood seeping from fresh the wound. At first he wanted to tell himself that the injury wasn't as fatal as it looked -- wanted to believe it with all his heart, despite the fact that the experienced fighter in him knew better. But his heart leaped into his throat once Dias collapsed to floor, almost like a doll that had been abruptly knocked off its stand. Before he even realized it, Claude's hands had let go of his sword, allowing it to clatter to the ground. He felt his body dart forward, though he may as well have been drifting through some sort of dream due to the sheer unbelievability of the sight before him.
"Dias!" The gasp tore from his throat as he dropped to his knees. Fingers grasping onto the front of the man's cloak, he tried to haul him up to where he was at least sitting, to where he wouldn't bear a horrifyingly close resemblance to so many of the enemies he'd vanquished on the battlefield before. As he did so, one of his hands pressed against Dias' broad back in order to give him a little more support.
Claude took a moment to gaze over the wounds, and his stomach turned at the sight of the red stain that seemed to gush more blood with every beat of the man's heart. "What the hell were you thinking?!" As if to punctuate his words, he gave Dias a rough shake. "Why'd you ditch your sword like that?! You could have blocked me!" He was probably screaming, Claude dimly realized as he stared hard into his rival's face, but he didn't give a damn.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
"You'd rather have killed me fair and square?" he muttered; not even his fading consciousness could make him unaware of Claude's having yanked him upright, or the boy's shaking and yelling. "No one to blame but yourself? Don't know if I could have beaten you if I'd wanted to." What was there that needed to be said? He could think of only two truly important pieces of information he wanted to waste what breath he had left on. "You've gotten strong." That was one; the other, fortunately, was even simpler. "Sorry."
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
It hadn't been enough to save everyone.
"Sorry?" he echoed, faintly shaking his head as if he couldn't believe he'd heard right. "Sorry?" For throwing the fight? For throwing his own life away? Claude took a shuddering breath as moisture stung behind his eyes, and he swallowed hard, willing himself not to completely fall apart. Suddenly he wasn't sure who he was more angry at -- Dias, or himself.
"I can't believe this," he choked.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
Still, two last words found their way to his lips, largely unbidden by his conscious mind. "Cecille...mother..."
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
All it'd taken was a sick game, a reckless choice and his own weakness to fell Expel's strongest swordsman. But the sense of loss ran deeper than just that. Claude had been cheated out of a fair fight, and had been robbed of a respected ally and rival.
You could have told me before deciding for the both of us, you idiot! he wanted to yell at him, but Dias' breaths had already fallen silent, and his body had grown limp. Claude could have screamed himself hoarse and it wouldn't have made any difference. He'd still wanted to believe that they could have found a way to get out without one of them having to die, but now he'd never know for certain.
"Dammit, Dias!" he hissed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut.
The Radio Man had told Dias that the basement was the only way out. Had this all been some sick joke? Maybe death itself was the only way to escape from Martin Landel's clutches after all...
To think that they'd spent all their time working toward this, he thought as he set Dias back down onto the ground. He suddenly felt ill.
Claude looked up when he heard an all too familiar laugh sounding from the other side of the arena, though. For a moment, fear chilled his heart at the prospect of Sync getting the upper-hand against Guy. It was already bad enough losing Dias. The last thing he needed was that bastard making an unbearable situation even worse.
He gave a small breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he realized Guy was still standing. Suddenly, though, his relief was replaced by a jolt of surprise when he saw his friend perform a technique he'd never seen before. Bursts of flames engulfed Sync's body before the replica finally landed on the ground, soaked in his own blood. Claude couldn't find it in him to get much joy out of the blow against Sync, but some part of him was satisfied to see it. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if that was the true power of the fonons he'd heard so much about.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
Really, the battle couldn't have ended soon enough. Claude's eyes were drawn to the bloody wound in Guy's stomach. (Had that been a result of one of his bouts of hesitation? He hoped not.) By now he looked like he was on the verge of collapse himself, and Claude was anxious to get him healed before he wound up losing someone else tonight.
But just as he was about to jam the blade into Sync's chest -- just as it was about to end -- the unthinkable happened.
"Guy!" he gasped as his friend's sword clattered to the ground. Claude barely had any time to react beyond that, for within a split second Sync, powered by whatever fonons he'd managed to control, had managed to unleash a barrage of high-powered punches and kicks against Guy's already battered body. Stunned, he was helpless to do anything as he was forced to watch his friend be tossed around the air as if he were nothing, only to collapse onto the ground like a broken toy.
Even from a distance, it was obvious Guy could barely move. He was losing!
No, even worse than that. He was about to get killed.
That realization struck Claude deep into his core. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, but that didn't stop Claude from grasping his dropped sword and springing up from where he'd been crouching near Dias' corpse.
Claude didn't get far before his body collided against the invisible barrier that had been separating them this whole time. Giving a grunt between his clenched teeth, he stumbled back. Was there really nothing he could do?!
((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/744481.html?thread=61070369#t61070369).))