The wait is over! The final battle of the Disney Games is finally here! No, this isn't the last chapter, just the final battle, whoo! I'm pumped, how about you guys? Well, I just have to write review replies, and then you can read the chapter.
Dirtkid123: No promises... *laughs nervously*
Susz: You're absolutely right, there isn't much of a story without a narrator, which makes this story a bit predictable, but I still think I managed to throw in a few twists. Read on and see!
EmeraldTulip: Yeah, devastating circumstances. I thought the narrator's being upset would be really fitting for the situation. Yes, you are correct in your guess for Good Luck Charlie. He was the name I reaped from that show. Thanks for reviewing! Enjoy the chapter!
Guest: Well, I wanted to leave readers in suspense so you'd be sure to come back for more. Read on to find out! Most of your questions should be answered.
MrMuddyPaws: I haven't gotten all the way to the end of the story yet, but four is about where my current trajectory is headed. We'll see. I can promise you that the fight will be worth the wait, no matter the outcome. I should be studying for midterms right now also, they start in 3 days, but instead I'm here. Oh well, a little break to write fanfiction never hurt anybody.
TheImpalaLover: I love cliffhangers too! Well, I love writing them. Reading cliffhangers and I don't get along very well, I usually end up screaming and crying for days on end. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! I love your name, by the way, impalas are awesome!
On with the show!
Chapter 19: The Final Battle
The final battle had begun. Not the way Disney wanted it to, not even close, but it had definitely started. The boy and I just circled each other, both refusing to advance. I didn't know what Disney would do if we didn't attack soon, but for now, we just stared each other down, wordlessly daring the other person to make a move.
"I don't want to do this any more than you do," I stated. "Go ahead and kill me, I won't stop you."
"I can't kill you any more easily than you could kill me," he replied shakily.
"Then what are we supposed to do? Tell Disney we surrender and that he can pick a winner himself?"
"I don't think he'd like that very much."
"You're right, he prefers to have his playthings put on the show for him."
"But if we don't do anything, he will figure out some way to make us attack each other."
"I guess we'll just have to wait for that to happen," I said, dreading whatever that way would be. Whatever Disney had in store to make us fight each other was guaranteed to be unpleasant.
"Whatever happens after Disney intervenes, just know, I apologize. Whatever horrible things he'll force me to do, it's not me. If you end up having to kill me because Disney's turned me into some kind of monster, I hope you'll do it knowing that you're putting me out of my misery."
The pain in his voice sounded so beyond his years, I wondered what sort of horrible hardships Disney had put him through during these Games that could make him so wise. He was too young to have suffered so much, I was too young to have endured the things I'd seen in these two weeks. My innocence had been stripped away, until nothing was left but a hollow shell of a person too miserable and depressed to want to continue. I almost wished that the Mickey Mutts had gotten me too, so at least I could have followed Davenport and know that he was okay.
If I ended up winning this thing, that was the one thing I knew would haunt me for life. Davenport. I knew that he would appear in my dreams every night as long as I lived, begging me to save him from the poison inside so that he could return to his children. If I survived to tomorrow, I would make it my life's purpose to find Adam, Bree, Chase, and Leo and tell them how their father felt about them. Let them know that he was thinking about them in his last moments on Earth.
"What if I told you that the boy from 6 was responsible for those Mickey Mutts?" a voice whispered in my ear. Panicked, I slapped the side of my head to shoo away whatever was talking to me, only to find there was nothing there. Someone must be speaking directly into my head, telling me what really happened. The voice continued, "Those Mutts were sent to attack the boy, but he outsmarted them and sent them in the other direction, towards you and Davenport. If it weren't for his trickery, they never would have attacked you, and Davenport would still be here."
"Really? This boy is responsible for Davenport's death?" I thought.
"Yes," the voice hissed in response. "It's all his fault, his fault, yes."
I looked at the boy again, burning with rage and hatred. He killed Davenport, he would pay for his crimes. Without thinking, I grabbed the small axe from my backpack and charged him, blinded by anger and a desire to avenge Davenport. He looked at me with equal hatred and withdrew a knife, running forwards to meet me in the middle. Close-range fighting techniques I'd practiced in training piloted me through the tussle. I slashed, stabbed, and struck at him time and time again, but he dodged every single one of my strikes, reciprocating with attacks of his own, which I parried with the handle of the axe. This continued until we were fatigued enough to let a blow slip through, and I managed to rip a cut across his collarbone, unfortunately missing any vital blood vessels.
Despite this, he kept on fighting me with renewed energy, even with blood coursing down his chest. As I moved to dodge a blow from his knife, he surprised me by grabbing another, smaller one from his back pocket and throwing it at me. Luckily, my reflexes saved me from taking a knife to the eye, but the blade stung badly as it ripped a shallow scrape above my brow.
"You killed Lexi!" he shouted furiously, lunging at me with his knife, which I fortunately missed me.
"What are you talking about?" I screamed back, slashing at his knife arm. "You killed Davenport!"
The attack missed, but he had moved too quickly to dodge it and tripped over a root of the maple tree. I used the moment of stumbling to get in another blow to his left arm. It wouldn't prevent him from attacking me, but it was better than nothing.
"It's all your fault!" he cried, recklessly throwing his knife at me with enough force to send it straight into my skull. I dove behind the maple tree just as it hit, burying itself three inches into the bark. Weaponless, but fueled by a blind fury, he charged me again, reaching for my neck with his bare hands. He tackled me, hands around my throat, prepared to strangle the life out of me. I collapsed under his weight, futilely attempting to wrestle out of his grip, but he was too strong for me. For a fleeting moment, all hope was lost, and I succumbed to the notion that this is how it would end. As I desperately gasped for breath, I realized that this was how I had originally predicted it would end. Me giving myself up to him so that he could win, because I knew deep in my heart that I could never murder an innocent person. Wait a minute, I could never murder an innocent person. Then why was I trying so hard to kill him, when I told myself I wouldn't?
I looked up into his eyes and saw that they were glaring at me with a burning hatred.
"He's not innocent," the voice in my head returned. "Remember? He killed Davenport."
"Dav-Davenport," I choked out through my constricted throat. The memory of him rejuvenated me, and I brought my legs up and kicked the boy in the back of the head with all the strength I could muster. I hit him so hard, his head flew forward and he conked his nose on my forehead. Pain shot through my head as his face made contact with the knife wound. I rolled over, frantically running out of reach of the wrath he was sure to conjure up. When I turned to look, he was chasing after me, a mix of my blood and his own dripping down his face.
I was weaponless, at this point my only hope was to outrun him, as he had drawn yet another knife from his pocket. At any moment, he could throw it at me, ending this fight once and for all. Time seemed to slow down, and the moment froze itself into my memory forever. I was running away, my head turned to look back at him. His right arm came up to launch the knife straight at the back of my neck: a kill shot. He had hunted down his quarry, tired it out, and was prepared to finish the job. The knife left his hand, arcing towards me. Without even thinking about it, my hand came up, reaching for the weapon poised to murder me on the spot. The orientation of the handle was just right, and my fingers closed around the bloodstained grip.
Now I had the upper hand. I stopped running and turned to face the boy, who didn't have the agility to halt before he slammed into me. And slammed right into the blade of the knife.
His eyes widened in shock and pain, and he glanced down at his chest, where the knife was now embedded. His own momentum had been his demise.
"He killed Davenport," the voice in my head whispered murderously.
"For Davenport," I growled evilly, my face just inches from his. With a quick twist of my wrist, he fell to the ground, dead. The bugle call sounded, this one longer and louder than any I'd heard before. I glanced down at the corpse below me, his face and chest drenched in blood, obscuring the logo of his sector. If one were to look at him now, they'd never know where he came from, or who he had killed.
Who he had killed.
I looked at his arms, where the badges would be, and the memory struck me harder than his face had when I kicked him in the head. He didn't have any badges: he hadn't killed anyone. Even if it was indirectly, a person in the Games got a badge when they killed someone. I got one for the boy from Sector 5, so if this boy had been responsible for Davenport's death, he'd certainly have a badge. Which means he didn't kill Davenport. The voice lied.
Of course, how had I not seen it? The boy and I refused to fight each other, so Disney had to make sure we did. He had done so by convincing us the other person was responsible for our greatest woe. He had told me that the boy killed Davenport, and he'd told the boy that I killed Lexi, who must have been his ally.
His ally. If the boy had been on this side of the mountain the whole time, his ally would probably be over here too. And they would certainly have a camp if they'd been here for an extended period of time. The camp that Davenport and I had borrowed, the one we'd deduced had previously belonged to a suicide victim, must have belonged to this girl. And somehow Disney convinced the boy that I was responsible for her death.
Each of these thoughts rushed through my fuzzy brain in the time it took for Disney's voice to announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the victor of the first annual Disney Games!"
Whoo-hoo! That was so much fun to write! Even though it was a bit short, I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thoughts? Questions? Complaints? I always love reading what fans have to say about my stories, so feel free to leave a review! See you next chapter!