Hello, King Spike Rules here and this is the next chapter in Lonely War. We learn more about Kite's past and how he has to defeat Whooly Swamp with their end goal in sight with California just over the mountains.

Desert of Doom Part 2.

Kite was, in the words of his father, "destined for greatness." Born into wealth, a thriving business, and high expectations, he was always told he had no right to be dissatisfied. His father had worked hard to get them to this point, and his children would reap the benefits for generations. That was the gilded future laid out for Kite from the day he was born.

Kite hated that future. It isolated him, haunted him. Controlled him. Until the day he was sent to college, to keep him from being drafted in the war. Finally seizing his independence, he dropped out of college. With the money he had and the vague hope for something better, he set out alone into Chicago's streets.

After a few days, he came upon a rundown studio. The building was selling for cheap, and feeling that it was a sign, he bought the place. With the same eye for detail that could've made him a successful businessman, he worked to fix the place up. It was a difficult process, but made easier by the discovery of a strange energy about him. He was never quite sure where it came from, but decided to call it Renegades, for the new life he was building.

He would spend hours writing stage directions, dreaming of what could be. Of course, his only actors were himself and the echoes off the walls. Until he wandered upon a stray, and then another, and another. People who had nowhere else to go, who were desperate for purpose and family and love. Kinda like him.

He didn't ask many questions; he didn't want to. It was enough for him to have their company, and his dreams, and the place that became known as the Rabbit Hole. That was all he needed, and he would do anything to keep it safe.


Kite knelt in the sand, staring wordlessly at John's injured leg. His eyes moved down to his hands, which were shaking and clenched into fists. 'Am I...afraid?' He exhaled shakily, then rose to his feet. He had only taken a few steps towards the old man when he was forced to stop, feeling the ground start to soften underneath his feet.

"Careful, your friend is right," the old man said. He smirked at Kite, showing off a lone pair of cracked yellow teeth before he continued. "Too close and you'll suffer a fate straight from hell itself."

"We're not really friends. I'm escorting them to California, and then I'm heading home. That...that was the plan, right from the start," John cut in. Kite looked at him, taken aback by the cold words, but John turned to look at him with a small smile. "Guess I couldn't make it to the finish line, huh? I hope I did a good job."

"Oh, I see. You want to give yourself up so your pals can get past me." The old man seemed to find the thought almost amusing, from the way his lips curled into a smirk. "But you're just going to die here. And then the rest of you will-" The old man was cut short when an air bullet hit him square in the chest and he was knocked back a few feet with a groan.

"Kite, I have him. Get going NOW!" John screamed. Kite gazed at the scene for a final time before he turned to run down the sloping dune. As the armor at his feet became skis, he zoomed towards the road in the direction of the others.

With his departure, John winced in pain and fell to his knee. His bad foot had finally given out, and there was nobody left to be strong for.

"Such a brave boy you are," the old man noted, standing his balance and looking at John with an annoyed look on his face, "But it's useless in the end. Reaching him won't even take two minutes, and killing you will take even less."

Suddenly the sand and earth around him began to move until suddenly the whole area around him sank in with the sand forming a funnel. "W-w-what the hell?" John yelled, eyes widening as he realized that he was slowly sinking into the funnel. Freaking out, John used his Lonesome Dove to try grabbing hold of the wall, only for it to give way under its fist.

"Have you ever heard of an antlion?" the old man asked, looking down at John's efforts to get a handhold. He failed every time. "It's a bug that makes these little traps to find food. The foolish prey falls in, then they're eaten alive. The antlion leaves only a husk." John's eyes widened with horror, struggling helplessly as he started to sink deeper into the sand.

'Crap, I'm not sure if i can get out of this one.' John thought, sweat dripping down his face. His legs had disappeared into the bottom of the funnel, and he knew the rest of him would soon follow it.

"JOHN!" Kite's voice screamed. They both looked up to see Kite standing atop the van. Covered in his Stand, he placed his hands upon the vehicle, sending the metal shooting towards John. It wrapped around his wrist, and with a grunt of exertion, Kite pulled him out of the pit. John flew through the air, landing on the roof with a thud. Kite asked, "You okay?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" John asked wonderingly, ignoring Kite's question. His wince of pain as he touched his ankle was the only response necessary.

"I never run from a fight, idiot. It's not my style," Kite said, turning from him to the old man, who seemed undisturbed at the sudden intrusion. The reason why soon became clear, as the trap slowly grew towards the van. "That...that's different. You're allowed to run from that," Kite said, moving away from the roof's edge. He looked at John to help him, only to have John pull away from him with an annoyed look on his face.

"That was a bullshit answer," John said, looking him straight in the eye before he continued. "You said it yourself; I'm not one of you. So why should you come back for me?"

Kite winced as he heard the words coming from John; Mary must have told him the night after they were attacked in the cabin. Kite was still silent when the van began to move.

"Get out of here and return to your friends already!" John said, grabbing Kite and throwing him off of the van. Of course, doing this aggravated his already injured ankle, and with a yelp of pain, he fell from the van. Right back into the sand trap.

John struggled with the sand collecting around him and making him sink with him not able to move right. Kite saw this, quickly rising back to his feet and running towards where John fell. He stopped short when he saw the van teetering on the edge of the pit. 'No time!' He looked back to see John nearly buried from the chest down.

"You really should have listened to him and gotten out of here," the old man said, suddenly expanding the trap. Kite slipped off of his feet, and realizing what was happening, he turned around to try to grab hold of something. But it was futile; sand couldn't stop him from falling into the trap.

He forced himself up and soon saw that his Stand's weight was making him sink even faster than John. Kite struggled in the trap, inching forward with each of his hands. He reached out to pull himself up, only to fall deeper into the trap as the edge's widened. Sweat poured down his face as he struggled on with his hands digging into the moving sand. But his energy was quickly running out.

"It was nice to meet you two, honest," the old man drawled while stepping up the wall of the trap like it was a straight surface. He walked past Kite and turned to address them from the top. "But I have to go and take out the rest of your group. At least you'll have a decent burial."

The man walked off out of sight. Kite's mind raced over what he could do. Yet nothing came to him. He turned to watch John, who was almost entirely buried. Only his hand stuck out from the sand.

"J-John. Come on, John. You n-need to snap out of it." Kite reached out desperately to the hand, watching it sink just out of his reach. He could barely process that it was John; couldn't it just be some random hand in the sand?

It was then that an idea came to him. Kite looked at his hand, still surrounded by Renegades, and thought to himself, 'So my reach isn't long enough to get us to safety, huh?' His eyes narrowed, and he clenched the hand tight. He had only one option.

The old man stood a few feet from the trap, humming and ready to find his next targets. He just had to wait until the sounds of labored breathing behind him stopped. Except...the sounds were growing closer. His eyes widened in shock, and he turned to see Kite standing just outside the pit. John was held tightly in his arms, hacking up sand and barely conscious, but very much alive.

"H-how the hell did you get out of..." the old man started to ask, only to trail off when he saw blood pouring from Kite's arm. His eyes moved down, to a pale, severed hand lying amidst a pool of blood. The blood trailed from the pit to the van. Only then did the man realize what had happened. "Y-you cut off your own hand, just so you could use the iron in your blood?! That's insane!"

"He...he said to return to my friends. Well, I'm here, and I'm not about to lose him when I could've done something," Kite said, releasing his hold on John before turning his full attention to the old man. He sprinted across the sand towards his panicking target, who summoned Whooly Swamp to defend himself.

Kite slammed a fist into the Stand, which became sand around his remaining hand. The man laughed nervously. "H-Hah! You still can't defeat my-" His sentence was cut short as metal pressed against his throat. Renegades had transformed inside Whooly Swamp, pushing aside the sand to attack the man directly.

The two locked eyes with each other, each panting heavily. Then, with finality, Kite swung his arm.

As the head fell from the man's body, Kite crashed to the ground with a weary sigh. 'I had no idea if that would work. Thank God for freshman biology.' He quickly used Renegades to harden the blood around his wound, stemming the blood loss. He turned to John, who was now kneeling near the edge of the pit. Kite looked at him with weak eyes and smiled, giving him a thumbs up before leaning against the van and falling out cold.

John stared at him in shock for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he spoke. "So we are friends. I knew it." He smirked at Kite's unconscious form, crawling towards him until their shoulders touched. John leaned against the van and closed his eyes. "I'll just...rest awhile."

They laid there in the sun, a cloud passing to bring them shade every few minutes. Eventually, John fell unconscious as well, still smiling with the knowledge of their newfound respect and friendship.

TBC.


Here is the second chapter to the Whooly Swamp fight and I hope you enjoyed it. There is one more single episode where we learn more about the Major before the final battle edges closer. I have to put this on hiatus until I get a new computer, which could be a while because of things to the dreaded real world.