Alfred cackled, his arms extended with a gun in each. Victory was his and boy did he like the taste. Even with a torn jacket, a bleeding face and possible concussion, he won. He was the one left standing. Bleeding and in pain, but oh so full of life. His opponent however, laid on the ground in a pile of blood, bruises and broken bones.
Arthur Kirkland.
He put up quite the fight, and frankly Alfred wasn't even sure if he could win. But now, as he towered over his opponent, he didn't linger on this thought too much. That's what made winning so satisfying. What accomplishment would it be if Alfred's first blow, the one earning Arthur a broken nose, kept him down? But he had to give the man props. Even as he was crumpled to the ground, sure to die, Arthur's wicked face curled up in a grin. A smile not to be confused with a ace up his sleeve. No, he was thoroughly beaten and they both knew it. However, the smile remained, as a reminder that he was surely beaten in their fight, but in no way was he defeated.
Arthur Kirkland was never defeated. And they both knew that too.
"So?" Arthur said, but it was more of a statement than a question. He clung to his left arm, not in a hope to save it as it bled out, but more in an instintive way.
"So." Alfred replied with a smirk and cocked both guns. Carefully he aimed both at Arthur's smiling face. Sure one gun would suffice, but really what's the point of having two if you're only going to use one? And frankly, Alfred believed one gun wouldn't wipe that damn smile off of the man's face fast enough. Alfred had won dammit.
"No regrets Arthur?" Alfred asked, deciding to return Arthur's intense smile.
"None." Arthur replied in a low, even voice.
Bam.
Arthur's skull and it's contents burst into a million pieces, splattering on the wall and floor behind him.
"None." Alfred echoed.
Author's note: And this is why I should just go to bed half the time.