I whipped my tail back and forth. Each time I struck, my tail blade connected. Each time I whipped my tail, I drew blood.
Visser Three was fighting back, but I was winning. His stalk eyes had been slashed off by one quick strike. He was limping. He had only one arm. The other arm lay on the ground. He was dazed after I had smacked him alongside the head with the flat of my tail blade. He was badly hurt—but he was still alive.
He slashed at me with his tail, but I blocked it with my own blade. But he reversed his tail and got past my defenses. Blood spurted from the cut in my shoulder.
I cried out in pain. But I kept fighting. The cut hurt badly, but I couldn't stop. The Visser was still very dangerous, and if I let up for a second, he could kill me.
I focused my attention on the Visser. And with a lightning-fast movement of my tail, I struck the Visser at the base of his tail. His tail fell to the bloody ground and twitched once.
Visser Three stared down at his separated tail in horror. Then he turned back to me. I saw rage and evil in his face. But I also saw fear. Yes, he was afraid. Oh, how I longed for this moment.
In a split second, I had my tail blade at his throat. Visser Three's eyes widened. I pressed it against his stolen Andalite throat and spoke the words I had wanted to say for so many years.
This is for my brother.