Disclaimer: YinYangYo! and all of its characters belong to Bob Boyle.

Warnings: This story may contain something I'm unaware about that may offend others. If you don't understand me, I meant that I may have missed something here that insults you and I didn't know about it. So take caution.

This story is the replacement fic for Fighter. It is set before the episode "Stuck."

He stared at them gleefully from inside the boy's mind, razor-sharp teeth displayed for all to see as he felt his charge's frail body tossed around in that same consistent pattern. Cries for help echoed inside and out, his ears blocking the pathetic sound as he continued to gaze at the scene before him. Weaklings, the lot of them were. Didn't they know how to do it right? Punches, kicks, those weren't enough. The bruises that would mar his host's face would eventually fade along with his temporary entertainment.

No, they needed to scar him. Break him. Give him a permanent reminder of why only the strong could ever survive in this world.

Subtly, he felt the body he resided in thrown to the ground as a foot stomped down on its stomach. He looked through his host's eyes and saw those familiar faces grin at him condescendingly, hurtful words disguised as humor entering his ears like a lullaby sung to him over and over again. He felt the limb pressed to his host lift as they started to leave, bidding him farewell and laughing again and again. His host merely waved back and cracked a toothy smile.

Pathetic, weak, forgotten was what his host was and what his death would be.

He quieted down as he felt that broken presence enter, that same naive smile pasted onto his battered face.

"Hello."

A nod answered his host's greeting. He knew the other didn't expect anything more so he was glad to find his host's body stiffen as he wrapped his arms around him, healing the bruises on his body.

"T-Thanks." his host stuttered, lightly struggling out of his hold. He allowed him as his shapeless form stopped within mere inches of his host's face.

"Dave." he murmured lowly. His host straightened and returned his gaze.

"Yes?"

"Why do you this?" It was the same question as before. No matter how much he loved seeing the boy get hurt for his own amusement, he was still baffled as to why his host allowed it. After all, he could call on him whenever he wanted. Why not do it?

Dave laughed, "You're always asking that."

"Because you never give me a straight answer."

His host had the tact to look thoughtful for once, though already knew his answer. "And don't give me that friendship bullshit. This is already considered abuse."

Dave winced. He wasn't used to hearing such language, even if he often swore inside the boy's head. "W-well, I'm sure it's just their way of showing how much they app-"

A loud sound pierced the air as he slapped his host's face. He watched with mild amusement as Dave staggered back, unused to treatment like that come from him. "You're an idiot."

He continued, floating closer to Dave, "You're so weak, so pathetic. Why do you let all these fools walk all over you when you know you have enough power to rid them of their lives? They're not even important to this world. Who would miss them?"

"Me." Dave whispered.

His head snapped to the side and met his charge's eyes, "Yes, of course. You would miss your friends wouldn't you?" The smile that graced his face reached ear-to-ear, "But are they really your friends?"

There was no reply as his host shuffled his feet, refusing to meet his gaze. He shook his head and looped his tail around the other's waist. "They are."

"Would you risk your life for them?"

Dave's reply came not a second too late, "Yes."

"Would they?"

"...no."

"Then you're insane."

"I'm not!" Dave shoved him off and ran to the other side of their soul room. He didn't follow him but merely grinned.

"Why don't you just give up? Let me take the reins, I'll make them pay. They'll never leave your side. That's what you want, yes?" His eyes glimmered mischievously, "Friends forever."

"I don't want it like that!"

Words were hurled back and forth until he finally got tired. With a sharp hiss, he curled his talons around his host's neck and growled, "Why won't you just bend to my will?"

Dave gasped for breaths and scratched weakly at the hand blocking his airway. Between his gasps and coughs, he managed to form a response. "I'll never bend."

So that's how he wanted it.

He merely smirked and tightened his hold, "Then you'll break."

By all means, Chip was not a Christian. Heck, the entire concept was foreign to him until he overheard about a new game titled "Apocalypse". He heard many praises for the game, including from Dave's wimpy friends so he decided to search it up. A quick search at Foogle(1) had turned up many results, the game still at the bottom of the list. Several clicks had ended up with him learning a bit about the Catholics. Normally, he wouldn't have been interested in such things but a certain topic about the Book of Revelations had him hooked.

The topic talked about terms slightly unfamiliar to him, yet still looked interesting. After decoding a few terms (much to his chagrin) he found out that it was talking about an "end of times". John, whoever he was, had apparently written about the coming Apocalypse; the end of the world. It talked about plagues, earthquakes from the ground and flame falling from the sky. It talked of a phenomenon, of a sinister figure and its angelic facade. It spoke of an Anti-Christ, a figure of popularity and great influence that would soon lead the world into joining a final battle.

Armageddon.

The final battle between good and evil.

Though the subject was interesting enough, it certainly didn't convert Chip into a believer. It was merely an amusing little story to tell the others, entertainment.

But the scene flashing before his eyes told an entirely different story.

They always said that it was the quiet ones you should watch out for. Chip entertained this fleeting thought as he was hauled up by the scruff of his neck, forced to watch the scene below him.

"Plagues...earthquakes...flame from the sky...isn't it such an entertaining little story, bro?" Chip turned to look at his little brother's face, grotesque and scarred, his expression twisted into a sneer. But the voice that came out of his mouth wasn't his brother. And no matter how much he belittled the squirt, that fact comforted Chip somewhat.

"The Four Horsemen have arrived. Conquest..." Chip shut his eyes closed as he heard a breathy laugh come from beside his ear, "...War," The sounds of metal clashing, magic exploding and pain sang in harmony around the two, "...Famine," Cries were heard in the distance as formerly righteous people mauled others, a feral look in their eyes as they bit and clawed at each other, "...and Death."

Chip didn't need to look around him to know that Death had arrived. It could have been the stench of the rotting bodies surrounding them or the dwindling cries of the good people. He only knew that Death had indeed arrived.

"Why my brother?" he whispered as he turned to look at him, "Why him? Why the weak one?"

A deep chuckle reverberated in the chest he was pressed against, "Easy. People are so gullible. Just because their precious disciple said that 'the one' would be popular and powerful, they start to believe him and look for those persons, hurling accusations. The Pope was once accused by Luther, didn't you know? Of course, he also accused Luther back. People kept doing it, one after the other. But what they didn't count on was the quiet ones." Chip faintly heard a blade bing unsheathed as he continued, "Those seemingly frail figures in the corner, powerless and defenseless. Or so they thought. I jumped from one weakling to another, bending them to my will as I started to prepare for my masterpiece. Of course, your little brother was a bit harder to bend. But I eventually fixed that."

Chip felt the small dagger press at his throat, "You're insane."

He chuckled once more, "Aren't we all?"

Chip cracked a grin, muttering a single word as his head was hacked off.

"Touché."