Authors Note:
I do not own TWEWY, Guess who or whatever else is written in here.
He was walking down the corridor, away from the main gathering place of Officers, not that there were any left, and back towards the outside world when he was attacked. A gigantic ball of energy darker than the midnight sky was all that filled his vision, before it hit, sending him sprawling on the ground. Immediately getting back to his feet, he faced his attacker.
"You... You're still alive?" He asked with mild surprise, moving his hand towards his pocket. Suddenly the opponent was behind him, and kicked him in the back, sending him falling to the ground again.
"And you've gotten faster..." He glared from the floor.
"Heheheh... You zetta shouldn't have underestimated me so much, Composer." The attacker smirked.
"You're still calling me that, Sho? And yet you still dare to attack me..." The Composer got to his feet, pulling something out of his pocket. In a few quick motions, a vending machine fell out of nowhere. Sho teleported out of the way... Straight into the path of a falling car. The Composer slowly walked over, with each step slowly crushing the car and the ex-Reaper underneath. Sho glared up at him, still able to move the top half of his body. He struggled to get up, his legs pinned down by the tonne of metal.
"Did you really think you could defeat me, defeat God?!" The Composer said quietly, crouching down next to him. Sho aimed his clawed hand at the Composer's neck in reply. He moved back quickly, but it still caught him. Blood trickled down onto his white shirt, staining it red.
"Nobody's zetta perfect." Sho snarled.
"Minamimoto... Why do you not understand that you've lost? You had no hope of ever defeating me, not in a million years, or as you would say, not in a zetta million years. I'm God, I can decide who lives and who dies, and if you don't like what you're given, well too bad! No matter what you do, you can't change the fate God has given you. Not a puny, weak, insect like you. If I decide to kill you now, then nobody will realise... After all, you're supposed to have been erased. I've known all about what you've been doing, I knew you were the one behind the Taboo Noise, I knew you'd come back... And as much as you tried so hard to hide it, I know you've had help. I can even name the one who helped you. Finding out was a bit like playing 'Guess Who' really... It was Hanekoma. Mr. H, always trying to ruin my fun. Well, very soon, he won't even be here, and I'll be free to do what I want. Of course, you won't even live that long!" The Composer stood up, laughing madly.
"You're zetta insane. If you'd known everything, then why were you so factoring surprised I am still alive?!" Sho yelled over the laughter, which stopped abruptly.
"Shut up. I've had enough of you." The Composer pressed another button on his phone, and a vending machine fell, crushing what could be seen of Sho, spilling its canned contents over the floor.
"Aaaaaaaaagh!" There was something almost animal about the muffled cry of pain that came from the pile of metal. After a while, the thrashing noises stopped as the life drained away from him, and the dark puddle of blood continued to spread across the floor, mixing with the contents of the vending machine cans.
"And this time, you won't be getting a second chance." The Composer laughed, before pocketing his phone and heading outside.
Hanekoma's pace quickened as he reached the entrance of Cat Street. He fumbled around in his pocket for a key, breaking into a fast jog. When he reached WildKat, he opened the door, ignoring the mess Sho had made earlier. He pulled out a few drawers, scattering their almost empty contents onto the floor. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a piece of paper and a pen. Hanekoma scribbled hastily on the paper.
The door of the cafe opened with a ring of the bell. Hanekoma looked up.
"Hey, Josh-"
Bang
Bang
Bang
The bullets shot through the air, easily finding their target. Hanekoma fell off the chair, the force of the bullets sending him flying into the wall. He fell to his hands and knees, the strange feeling of being filled with lead giving way to immense amounts of pain. The metallic taste of blood trickled into his mouth, before he coughed and spluttered, blood streaming out and making a crimson sea on the already wrecked floor. Hanekoma stared up at his 'friend', his sight going blurry, his skin going pale.
"J... Josh... What are you...?" More coughing obscured the rest of sentence, but the Composer knew what he was going to say.
"You helped Minamimoto. You tried to kill me. Why should I let you live?" He stood over Hanekoma, spots of blood staining his white shirt.
"I didn't try to... kill you! Why... would I?" Hanekoma's breathing was heavy, it was taking a lot of energy just to talk.
"How should I know? It's your decision. And it's a decision you took against me, against God." He raised the gun to Hanekoma's head. "Although, I will be generous. Any last words, before I uphold justice?"
"I... I'm... s..." Hanekoma couldn't talk anymore, he kept coughing and choking, his breathing becoming increasingly uneven and ragged.
"Well, I'm going to put you out of your misery." Josh smiled as he pulled the trigger. The last gunshot rang out around the room. The corpse of Hanekoma collapsed to the floor, spreading the sea of blood further. The Composer stopped for a moment, wiping his hands on his blood stained shirt. Then he broke into a wide, deranged grin.
"Haha! I finally did it! I finally killed all those who plotted against God!" He laughed crazily for a while, before noticing the paper Hanekoma had been writing on. It had a few spots of blood on, but was otherwise readable. He unfolded it, and scanned the text.
'The Composer has snapped, seeking revenge against me and other Reapers. May not be alive by the time you come. Please send help. He needs to be stopped.
Sanae Hanekoma.'
"Planning to betray me again, Mr. H? Well, looks like you were too late. No-one will know about this. No-one will find out. No-one will betray me again. So you can have your letter back, not that you'll have any use for it!" The Composer screwed up the letter, and threw it at the corpse. Smirking, he turned and walked out the door.
I'm God. No-one can beat me. No-one will. I'll stay as God for ever. Lifetimes will pass before me, everything under my control. Everything under my control...