Filled for this prompt: Linkara or Spoony sacrifice themselves to save everyone else and/or the world. They give themselves up to the bad guy(s), like Lord Vyce or some crazy cult, on the promise that once they're dead the bad guy(s) will leave everyone else alone. (And the villains agree to this deal, and intend to keep their promise.) I don't mind if they're actually murdered/executed or saved at the last minute, but emphasis on the surrender and helplessness of the whole situation is a must.
A/N: Well, I posted this before in the Treehouse on Livejournal, but I decided to post it here too. And it would have come much sooner, but people like to break into my house, so I had to start over. Thanks to one of my best friends, Jade Nighthawk for being my beta and not murdering me for writing this! (Go read her story, it is fantastic!) And I think that's about it. Enjoy and all reviews are appreciated!
It was like a nightmare. Suffocating blackness. A heavy chain tethering her to the cold stone wall, rubbing her wrists raw. The moans and the screams and the whimpers of her friends that kept sleep at bay. Marzgurl admitted to lending her own voice to the cacophony of fear once or twice... Or maybe a few more times than that, but who could blame her? Who could blame anyone in this situation? None of them knew where they were or what was happening.
She had been one of the first brought here, along with Chick, Phelous, Lupa, and Snob. Back then, they had been defiant. They had struggled against the shackles and screamed curses at their captors, whoever they were.
Days passed-or at least it felt like days, nobody could tell in the darkness-before they stopped fighting. New prisoners arrived. JesuOtaku, Sage, Paw, Roses, and Todd.
The dark was starting to get to her, along with the rattling of chains as Snob paced his cell to her right. To her left, she could hear Lupa and Phelous whispering to each other through the bars, trying in vain to give the other some semblance of hope. She didn't speak, because she knew that if she did, the others would realize that she was slowly being driven into madness.
So every once and awhile, more reviewers would be brought in; kicking, screaming, not yet realizing that it was hopeless. As awful as it sounded, Marz secretly longed for those times; just so she could catch a glimpse of the wondrous, fleeting light beyond the door.
This continued for a long time. Maybe it was weeks, or months. Until one night she counted them all, as she often did and realized that they were all there. The whole of Channel Awesome. Well, all except one.
Linkara.
By then, the pieces had connected in her mind, but she didn't want to say aloud what she was thinking. It would only cause panic among the other reviewers. She didn't dare answer the question they had all been asking since they had been taken from their homes and shut up in these dark, cold cells. She knew why they were here.
But she wasn't the only one to figure it all out.
Of course, he had to call her to him when she had actually managed to doze off, that's just how Snob's timing was, but she crawled as far as her shackles would allow without grumbling. Comforting words, though meaningless, were still a treasure in this prison of theirs.
Unfortunately, what Snob gave her was not a comfort; it only served to give her thoughts voice. Snob knew she wasn't stupid and had no doubt that she, too, understood that they weren't the ones who were truly in grave danger.
"You know that some crazy fucker is always after Linkara. They've all failed miserably; he's always found a way to defeat them. But now, someone's realized that the only way to get to him is to attack his heart." It seemed almost as if Snob was just talking to himself. Verifying the facts.
Marz was silent for a moment, to check if anyone nearby was eavesdropping and when she was satisfied, she nodded, even though she knew Snob couldn't see. "We're being used for ransom."
"His life for ours."
Marz shuddered involuntarily at the words. It was horrifying to know that Linkara wouldn't allow them to be harmed; he would play the hero as always and be killed in the process.
Unless, of course, Linkara didn't come. Marz had begun to notice some things; things that were popping up more and more frequently in a way that gave her enough doubt to scare her.
She'd always known that Linkara had a bit of an ego, but lately it had been swelling to monstrous proportions. Spoony had told her about how Linkara had threatened him with his spaceship just because Spoony had teased him about his music preferences. And Nash had told her about how Linkara had kidnapped him because Nash was always riffing on his favorite Doctor Who. Sure, Film Brain had joined Linkara in the "torture," but he was kind of an idiot. The thing that scared her most was what she had heard about Linkara's most recent threat to Dr. Insano. Heroes aren't ones to threaten to beat their nemesis' head in with a useless magic gun. That wasn't the Linkara she knew. Something had begun to change.
What if Linkara didn't care about them anymore? Or worse, what if he was growing tired of playing the hero? Sure, he had come to the rescue when Zodd and Turrell were attacking, but how could she know that wasn't just him seeking revenge against Mechakara? She tried to push the thoughts away, but they seemed to settle like a stone in her stomach.
"Are they going to just keep us here until he returns?" Snob's voice shook Marz out of her thoughts. "How can they know where he is, anyway? He's been gone for months and hell knows where he is!"
Well, there was that, too. That would definitely be something to complicate things.
Marz hesitated a moment before answering, "I guess we'll just have to find out when it happens." The words were heavy on her tongue.
They didn't say anything after that; Marz figured that Snob had fallen asleep. After that grim conversation, Marz thought it would be difficult to find sleep. She was unconscious within seconds.
That's why she screamed when she was suddenly being dragged to her feet by rough hands. Her attacker slapped her. Hard. "Silence!" A voice hissed in her ear.
She could hear other panicked screams and curses, the pounding of flesh against flesh and the jangling of manacles. All Marz could think during this was that they had managed to find Linkara and how she somehow wasn't surprised.
They were all taken outside and Marz relished her quick glimpse of the stars in the cold night sky before being thrown unceremoniously into a nondescript van with Roses, Snob, and Film Brain.
Film Brain curled, trembling uncontrollably into his seat, wrapping his arms about his knees. Marz felt bad for him; he had been so brave aboard the Exit Strategy, but now, with no Critic to look to for hope and no path out, all of that was taken away.
She also felt a stab of pity for Roses, who hadn't dealt with the dangers the rest of them had. Marz admired the way she handled all this, though. Roses only stared out the dark window of the back of the van at the line of headlights behind them and absently hummed a song by The Monkees under her breath.
Snob only glanced at Marz grimly before turning to try and calm Film Brain. For his efforts, he was given a split lip by the thuggish man that had been assigned to guard them.
They rode for hours, until the sun was high in the sky and they reached a small, neglected dirt road that wasn't even marked by a sign. Marz had no clue where they were.
Marz wasn't ready for this. She wanted to go back to her cell, if only to give Linkara a little more time. Her swollen, still-stinging cheek kept her from struggling. Shame welled up in her throat at this. She couldn't even take another slap when her friend might give his life for hers.
When they had all been herded onto the road like sheep, Marz saw a cloud of dust rising from the direction they had just come from. It was a motorcycle, the kind that roared and spewed smoke like an evil dragon.
The rider was clad in a pure white that was so bright against the brown background that Marz had to squint to even glance at him. He was huge. Marz had no doubt that he could snap her neck without even trying, if he felt like it. And when he tugged off his helmet and tossed it to the nearest lackey, Marz got a glance at his cold steel-gray eyes and knew immediately that this was the type of man that could break a hero.
"I'm assuming you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today." His voice was one of a man with a silver tongue. A poisonous snake that could guile you into stepping a little too close.
"Cliché!" Marz heard Luke groan from somewhere behind her and she flinched; he had been the one to step too close.
The man smirked for a moment, because this was what he had been hoping for. He snapped his fingers and two thugs pushed into their midst, snatching Luke and pulling him to their leader.
Luke struggled and squirmed in their grip, realizing his mistake too late. He only stopped when the man's fist shot out and caught him in the throat. The thugs let him crumple to the ground, gasping for air. A ripple of terror tore through the huddled group of prisoners.
"Would I be so cliché if I crushed your trachea, Luke? Maybe then I could flay the skin from your bones; would you scoff at me then?" The man's voice was a slow and amused drawl as he watched Luke clutch at his throat on the ground at his feet. "I am Scarper, and let this insolent boy be an example," Scarper addressed them all, "I do not tolerate back-talk." He raised his hand, ready to strike again.
Luke flinched, but before another blow could be dealt out, Scarper was interrupted by a shout behind him.
"Hey!"
Marz's heart could have leaped with joy right then, but instead it froze when cruel reality slapped her in the face: Linkara had just walked into the trap.
He stood there, aiming his gun at Scarper's head, "What's going on here?" Linkara demanded.
Scarper shot Linkara a smug grin that made Marz's blood freeze in her veins. "To put it simply, we're here for an execution. Your execution."
Linkara pulled the hammer back on the gun. "I don't think I like that plan very much," He growled.
Scarper picked Luke up by the collar and flung him back into the group almost nonchalantly. Not even missing a beat, he took a single menacing stride forward. "I figured you wouldn't. Why do you think I invited all your friends?"
For the first time, Linkara seemed to notice all of them, beaten up and ragged looking, and his eyes widened in horror. "Why?" He whispered.
"It's quite simple; you aren't going to start throwing punches if we're holding knives to the throats of the people you love."
"I know that!" Linkara snapped, "I want to know why you're doing this!"
Scarper's amused expression turned dark at this and Marz was terrified that he might just go ahead and off one of them right then and there. But amazingly, he didn't and his face returned to its previous air of smugness. She much preferred that to the alternative. Marz just prayed that Linkara wouldn't piss him off any more.
"We're doing this because you," Scarper stuck an accusing finger out toward Linkara, "Are evil."
Linkara flinched as if he had been struck in the face. "I'm not!" But his protest was a rasping whisper that would hardly convince anyone otherwise. He sounded almost like a terrified child. Marz had to wonder what was going on inside his head.
Scarper continued. "Do not deny it. All magic users are evil! We've hunted down sorcerers and wizards and mages all over the globe. They are all abominations that need to be destroyed." He shot a glare at Linkara, "You need to be destroyed."
Marz could see the gun trembling in Linkara's hand now. She had never seen him like this before; unprepared and losing hope fast. It hurt to see a hero like this.
Scarper could see it too. "Go ahead, shoot me." He smiled, raising his hands over his head mockingly, "As soon as you do, my men will kill your friends without a second thought."
Terrible resignation glittered in Linkara's eyes as he lowered his arm, the gun now useless at his side. "Do it." He whispered shakily.
The smile on Scarper's face grew even colder. Linkara wasn't the evil one here; Scarper was. "Give me the gun." Scarper commanded, obviously enjoying himself.
Linkara tightened his fingers around the handle of the gun in farewell before gently tossing it to him.
As soon as the gun touched Scarper's hand, a scream of agony tore itself from his throat as the girl inside the gun began to truly work her magic. Marz could see blisters bubbling up and the skin beginning to char and smoke. It was Linkara's turn for a smug grin to cross his face at the gun's defiance of its partner's death, but the grin was wiped away when Scarper hurled the gun to the ground. "You'll pay for that," He snarled.
Faster than Linkara could react, Scarper darted forward and drove his uninjured fist once, twice, three times into the hero's midsection, so that Linkara was doubled over and desperately gasping for air when Scarper pulled him back up by the collar only to give him a backhand across the cheekbone that sent him spinning to his knees and his glasses flying into the dead weeds along the side of the road.
Bile rose in Marz's throat while watching the brutal scene unfold before her. Linkara was just taking it; a punching bag for this man's pleasure. It was only made worse by the fact that Scarper was laughing, harsh and guttural and terrifyingly happy as he twisted Linkara's wrist back until it finally gave with a sickening snap and a barely muted scream of pain from the younger man. He was trying so very hard to be brave for them, but it was horribly clear at this point that Linkara was breaking and Scarper loved every single second of it. He wasn't concerned with killing Linkara because of his magic; he only loved the fact that he could do this to someone so much stronger than he and not have them fight back. The beating continued for what felt like hours before Linkara crumpled to the ground and couldn't find the strength to push himself back up for more.
Bright crimson blood was leaking from Linkara's lips as he lay in a shivering heap on the hard dirt. His figure was blurred by indignant tears that Marz reluctantly scrubbed away. How dare the man that was raising his boot for yet another savage jab at Linkara's splintered ribs? How dare he do this to one who had already surrendered and endured enough undeserved torture?
Without even thinking about what she was doing, Marz threw herself forward, shielding her friend and taking the kick in her side. She gasped as the felt her own ribs crack, but bit her lip to keep herself from crying out. She wanted Scarper to know that she didn't regret her actions for a second. She turned to see a pair of cultists step forward to drag her back, but Scarper waved them away with a curious gleam in his cruel gray eyes.
"Marz…What are you…?" Linkara's voice was a weak rattle through the blood in his mouth. She could tell that he was trying to look her in the eyes, but his own seemed to be having a hard time focusing through the pain. She had never noticed how beautiful they were before.
"You love this…thing?" Scarper asked her. She whipped her head around to glare at him, "He's not a 'thing!'" The word felt like acid in her mouth.
"But do you love him?" Pressed Scarper, and for a moment, it sounded like he might actually be touched by this.
Marz looked back down at Linkara, who seemed to be trying to say something, his mouth was opening and closing, but the only sound that came out was a soft moan.
"Yes." She turned back to Scarper, "Yes I do." She might have been surprised by her answer, but she knew that this was no hasty lie told in search for a mad scramble for that thread of what might have been pity. It was the truth.
"Interesting," Scarper murmured as he waved his hand again. All hope died when the two same thugs that he had sent away before grabbed Marz roughly by the arms, but Marz found a new and powerful strength that she never knew she had possessed. I love him. The words echoed in her head as she thrashed and struggled to stay by Linkara's side.
But it wasn't enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marz could see an older woman stepping up to her leader with an ornate black box resting in her outstretched hands. Scarper opened it with a great air of ceremony and took out a shining silver dagger that flashed in the sunlight.
No! No no no! It can't end here!
Scarper clutched the blade gingerly in his injured hand and used the other to get a savage grip in Linkara's hair. He hauled the younger man up to his knees and set the tip of the blade against Linkara's exposed throat.
Marz finally sagged in the arms of the cultists, the lump in her throat making it difficult to raise her voice.
"I love you, Linkara."
She was grateful for the veil of tears that blurred her vision, but even so, she could still see the swift jerk of the blade and the blood pouring down. She had nothing to shield her ears against his choked gurgle.
Finally, Scarper let Linkara's body slump to the ground and waved his hand one more time. "Our work here is done," He declared in a satisfied tone.
Marz was dropped in the growing puddle of blood, but she didn't scramble away. She was immobilized by Scarper's parting words. "The creature deserved it."
The cult wasted no time in loading into the vans and skidding back down the road. By the time the roaring of the motorcycle had faded into the distance, Marz found the
strength to look up.
The reviewers were still huddled together, numb from the slaughter they had just witnessed.
They were alone with the corpse of a hero.