(WP) For Good

(WP) For Good

               It had
all come to this.

The villain and the hero stared at
each other across the cavernous throne room. There was silence, with only the
sound of their heavy breathing.

Both of them were bloodied and
bruised, and the villain’s arms were still raised, the tips of his fingers
glowing a dangerous, electric blue. One of his eyes were swollen shut, and when
he smiled, it was stained bloody.

“I won’t give up until I have what
I want,” He said through heavy pants, and his fingers twitched.

A lightning bolt crashed to the
stone floor, sending cracks like spiderwebs through it.

The hero barely had enough time to
avoid the blast. Though he’d trained for this for years, he was beginning to
tire. A demigod he might have been, but his powers were paltry and minuscule in
comparison to his parents.

“Have you ever considered doing
things differently?” He asked, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “You
could be more than this, you know.”

“I care little for your pathetic
sniveling,” The villain, Fafnir Blackheart, replied. “Fight me like a man!”

Cain Markham looked at his
opponent, and his shoulders drooped.

“Aren’t you tired of this? Of being
the bad guy? Have you no compassion?” He pleaded, and he put down his weapons.

“I won’t fight you, Fafnir.”

“Then you will die, you foolish
hero! This is no fairy tale, there is no happy ending. Not for me.”

Cain stood in the center of the throne
room, unarmed, hands held out in supplication.

“It doesn’t have to be that way!
You can make the world a better place!”

“Your idealistic platitudes are
boring me,” Fafnir retorted.

He flew across the room in a blur,
fingers flashing a toxic, venomous green. A noxious cloud of gas began to
envelop the room, and Cain covered his mouth, his eyes and nose already
beginning to water.

“Please, Fafnir. I know that the
world has been cruel. But you don’t have to make it worse.”

“Will you shut up?” The mage’s voice grew high-pitched and desperate.

Cain knew that he had found a chink
in his former friend’s armor, and he kept pushing.

“I don’t want to kill you. I won’t.
You can do so much good, and you don’t even know it! You’re so powerful!”

**

Fafnir was tiring of his former
friend’s begging. It was too late for him to change; he’d already caused so
much damage.

There was no such thing as salvation
or redemption for someone like him.

He had way too much blood on his hands,
literally and metaphorically.

All he wanted was to silence Cain,
and all of the incessant, loud voices in his head.

“You’re not alone,” Cain was
saying, still pleading with him to turn away from his path.

“I know you feel that way, and the
world has been awful to you, I know that. But can’t we be friends? I know that
this isn’t you, not really. You can be compassionate.”

“The world showed no compassion to
me!” Fafnir roared, and the shriek scraped its way out of his throat, raw and
hoarse.

**