Chapter Two:
Overflow
The searing heat of the buildings attacked him as he came into the midst of the flames. He felt the sting of it through every inch of his skin that was not covered. It burned his face and charred the tops of his hands. Breathing became difficult as the scalding warmth surrounded his neck and chest. Past the smoke, he saw quick movements below. There were survivors.
He dove down closer to the ground. The heat was almost unbearable there. Any survivors there were would be dead in minutes if he didn't get them out. He didn't even know how long he could stand the fire and smoke. He scanned over the debris and saw a tiny silhouette within the flames. He had to hurry. This was obviously a child and would not be able to withstand this heat. He went to the child, a small girl, and she looked up at him with such abject fear it pained him.
"Who are you?" She whispered.
"A friend." Zero said, lifting her and trying to shield her. She placed her head against his shoulder, and he ran with her out of the flaming building.
"I want my mommy." he heard her cry.
"Where did you last see her?" he asked. If the child's mother was still in the building he had to act fast.
"Back there." She pointed over his shoulder. "She was running with me. The roof started to fall, and I couldn't see her anymore."
He looked back to the crumbling structure he had just escaped. The roof had collapsed, indeed, and now it looked like nothing more than a pile of lumber in a winter fireplace. The fire would have consumed everything in a few minutes, and all hope left my heart.
"Please." She said. "Please help me find my mommy."
"I'm sorry little one." he whispered. "I can't find your mother."
He could understand her pain; he could feel her tears against his neck as. His thoughts wandered back to his girlfriend. He had not even heard what she called to him as he ran from the house. He imagined it must have simply been something such as, "Be careful" or possibly even "I love you." He had heard her say these things so many times before. In these dark times, he had no one else in the world, and he had not even heard her words as he left.
A searing pain erupted down his back and knocked him from the sky. He clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut at the impact, and he tightened his hold on the little girl as he fell. Managing to open his eyes before striking the ground, he turned in the air so he would not crush the innocent child. Instead, he landed square on his back, already throbbing, and smashed the back of his head against the cold pavement. The force of the landing threw the girl from his arms and she landed several feet away.
He was able to turn his head to the sky, his neck and skull aching from the collision, and saw what he already knew was there. Yes, there they were, smiling malicious smiles down unto their destruction. They loved this pain they caused. He picked himself from the ground; there was nothing else he could do, and prepared for attack.
"Why am I doing this?" his mind asked him. "I can't possibly defeat them as I am."
This was a sad truth of which both his opponents and he knew well. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the child lifted herself from the ground. She ran from the area as quickly as her small legs could carry her and he wondered where she would go. Perhaps she was merely another poor person he would not be able to save, another soul he had failed. He silenced the nagging thoughts, silenced all outside distractions, focused once more on his task, gave up all hopes of survival, and dove into the sky and into battle.
He flew straight for the dark one, number 17, knowing he was the stronger of the two. Zero felt no need to avoid his power, as he had no choice but to fight them both at once. He grinned with cruel pleasure and captured Zero's fist in one quick movement. In indiscernible speed, he brought his knee up into Zero's stomach, and all the air left his body. He was paralyzed in mid air, helpless and breathless, as a mercilessly savage blow struck his shoulders like thunder. It must have been the girl, number 18, because the dark haired boy had never stopped smiling sadistically at Zero.
He tumbled from the sky and came crashing down into the wreckage that he had just escaped. That same building from which he had pulled the child was falling all around him, and he pushed himself from the heated floor with tired arms. He coughed and wheezed in that inferno, his empty lungs pulling desperately for the dirty air, and he felt his strength steadily flowing out of his body.
"No," he thought, "I have to get up. I have to get out of here."
His vision blurred and his head started spinning. Every moment he spent with only the smoke to breathe was taking its toll on his body. In a dizzy stupor, his arms slipped out from under him and he fell clumsily onto the ground. He was too weak to even stand; he had no means of defending himself. The smoke that was killing him was his only shield. He would have surely died if he did not think of something.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, coughing between his words. "I am so sorry, Trunks. I couldn't do it."
Bitter tears found their way to his eyes and he could no longer hold them back. They flowed down his eyes in salty streams, and each tear held a different memory. Memories of the rare moments of happiness, quiet moments at the dinner table, training with Trunks, the calm stillness of his girlfriend's eyes, and every night he fell asleep thanking whoever could hear that he had lived through the day and his family had remained untouched.
"I'm sorry, Pan." he said and tasted the tears on his lips. "I guess I won't be coming home today. I am sorry for all the hurt you are going to feel because of that, and I am sorry I won't be able to protect you anymore."
Only a few short feet from his face, a thin blast of energy broke through the smoke and shattered the concrete. His enemies were impatient. Several more followed, sometimes far away, sometimes close enough to stop one's heart, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything at then; he didn't care if he died, didn't care if he lived, didn't care if the entire world shattered beneath him. But he would not give them what they wanted. All he knew was that he wouldn't make it so easy for them. His death would be by his own terms.
He focused the energy that remained; he had so little, but enough to do what he needed. In a rapid series of blasts, he shot the last supporting beams of the structure down and brought wood, plaster, and stone down on top of him. He clenched his teeth and waited for the impact.
He realized he had not died by the aching throughout his body. His head, neck, back, and legs all felt the sting of the debris and seemed to mock his troubles. Humiliated in battle and unable to die, he cursed his fate. He had never asked to be the one to take this on. He never asked to be the last. He never asked for any of his strengths. It wouldn't end; the world was intent on torturing him. It just wouldn't end.
"Just let me go!" he tried to scream, yet even his voice was weak. "I never wanted any of this! Why must I be the one to take all this on? I'm not strong enough! I can't do it! I can't do it alone!"
He fell on his face, his breath sending up a small cloud of dust. When the building collapsed, it had extinguished the fire around him, and a small crack allowed a sliver of light to enter, as well as air. No doubt the two thought he was dead, yet he would not die that day after all.
"I am not strong enough." he said. "I can't do it."
He looked at the sliver of light; it was falling across his hand revealing a dirty cut. Even he was easily breakable.
"I wish I were not the last." he whispered. "I wish I did not have to be the one. I wish I could forget this world, so that I would never have to feel this pain again."
His head began to swim again, the smoke built up in his throat once more, and his hurting body took control over all his senses. With one last cough, the darkness claimed him and he knew no more.
Overflow
The searing heat of the buildings attacked him as he came into the midst of the flames. He felt the sting of it through every inch of his skin that was not covered. It burned his face and charred the tops of his hands. Breathing became difficult as the scalding warmth surrounded his neck and chest. Past the smoke, he saw quick movements below. There were survivors.
He dove down closer to the ground. The heat was almost unbearable there. Any survivors there were would be dead in minutes if he didn't get them out. He didn't even know how long he could stand the fire and smoke. He scanned over the debris and saw a tiny silhouette within the flames. He had to hurry. This was obviously a child and would not be able to withstand this heat. He went to the child, a small girl, and she looked up at him with such abject fear it pained him.
"Who are you?" She whispered.
"A friend." Zero said, lifting her and trying to shield her. She placed her head against his shoulder, and he ran with her out of the flaming building.
"I want my mommy." he heard her cry.
"Where did you last see her?" he asked. If the child's mother was still in the building he had to act fast.
"Back there." She pointed over his shoulder. "She was running with me. The roof started to fall, and I couldn't see her anymore."
He looked back to the crumbling structure he had just escaped. The roof had collapsed, indeed, and now it looked like nothing more than a pile of lumber in a winter fireplace. The fire would have consumed everything in a few minutes, and all hope left my heart.
"Please." She said. "Please help me find my mommy."
"I'm sorry little one." he whispered. "I can't find your mother."
He could understand her pain; he could feel her tears against his neck as. His thoughts wandered back to his girlfriend. He had not even heard what she called to him as he ran from the house. He imagined it must have simply been something such as, "Be careful" or possibly even "I love you." He had heard her say these things so many times before. In these dark times, he had no one else in the world, and he had not even heard her words as he left.
A searing pain erupted down his back and knocked him from the sky. He clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut at the impact, and he tightened his hold on the little girl as he fell. Managing to open his eyes before striking the ground, he turned in the air so he would not crush the innocent child. Instead, he landed square on his back, already throbbing, and smashed the back of his head against the cold pavement. The force of the landing threw the girl from his arms and she landed several feet away.
He was able to turn his head to the sky, his neck and skull aching from the collision, and saw what he already knew was there. Yes, there they were, smiling malicious smiles down unto their destruction. They loved this pain they caused. He picked himself from the ground; there was nothing else he could do, and prepared for attack.
"Why am I doing this?" his mind asked him. "I can't possibly defeat them as I am."
This was a sad truth of which both his opponents and he knew well. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the child lifted herself from the ground. She ran from the area as quickly as her small legs could carry her and he wondered where she would go. Perhaps she was merely another poor person he would not be able to save, another soul he had failed. He silenced the nagging thoughts, silenced all outside distractions, focused once more on his task, gave up all hopes of survival, and dove into the sky and into battle.
He flew straight for the dark one, number 17, knowing he was the stronger of the two. Zero felt no need to avoid his power, as he had no choice but to fight them both at once. He grinned with cruel pleasure and captured Zero's fist in one quick movement. In indiscernible speed, he brought his knee up into Zero's stomach, and all the air left his body. He was paralyzed in mid air, helpless and breathless, as a mercilessly savage blow struck his shoulders like thunder. It must have been the girl, number 18, because the dark haired boy had never stopped smiling sadistically at Zero.
He tumbled from the sky and came crashing down into the wreckage that he had just escaped. That same building from which he had pulled the child was falling all around him, and he pushed himself from the heated floor with tired arms. He coughed and wheezed in that inferno, his empty lungs pulling desperately for the dirty air, and he felt his strength steadily flowing out of his body.
"No," he thought, "I have to get up. I have to get out of here."
His vision blurred and his head started spinning. Every moment he spent with only the smoke to breathe was taking its toll on his body. In a dizzy stupor, his arms slipped out from under him and he fell clumsily onto the ground. He was too weak to even stand; he had no means of defending himself. The smoke that was killing him was his only shield. He would have surely died if he did not think of something.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, coughing between his words. "I am so sorry, Trunks. I couldn't do it."
Bitter tears found their way to his eyes and he could no longer hold them back. They flowed down his eyes in salty streams, and each tear held a different memory. Memories of the rare moments of happiness, quiet moments at the dinner table, training with Trunks, the calm stillness of his girlfriend's eyes, and every night he fell asleep thanking whoever could hear that he had lived through the day and his family had remained untouched.
"I'm sorry, Pan." he said and tasted the tears on his lips. "I guess I won't be coming home today. I am sorry for all the hurt you are going to feel because of that, and I am sorry I won't be able to protect you anymore."
Only a few short feet from his face, a thin blast of energy broke through the smoke and shattered the concrete. His enemies were impatient. Several more followed, sometimes far away, sometimes close enough to stop one's heart, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything at then; he didn't care if he died, didn't care if he lived, didn't care if the entire world shattered beneath him. But he would not give them what they wanted. All he knew was that he wouldn't make it so easy for them. His death would be by his own terms.
He focused the energy that remained; he had so little, but enough to do what he needed. In a rapid series of blasts, he shot the last supporting beams of the structure down and brought wood, plaster, and stone down on top of him. He clenched his teeth and waited for the impact.
He realized he had not died by the aching throughout his body. His head, neck, back, and legs all felt the sting of the debris and seemed to mock his troubles. Humiliated in battle and unable to die, he cursed his fate. He had never asked to be the one to take this on. He never asked to be the last. He never asked for any of his strengths. It wouldn't end; the world was intent on torturing him. It just wouldn't end.
"Just let me go!" he tried to scream, yet even his voice was weak. "I never wanted any of this! Why must I be the one to take all this on? I'm not strong enough! I can't do it! I can't do it alone!"
He fell on his face, his breath sending up a small cloud of dust. When the building collapsed, it had extinguished the fire around him, and a small crack allowed a sliver of light to enter, as well as air. No doubt the two thought he was dead, yet he would not die that day after all.
"I am not strong enough." he said. "I can't do it."
He looked at the sliver of light; it was falling across his hand revealing a dirty cut. Even he was easily breakable.
"I wish I were not the last." he whispered. "I wish I did not have to be the one. I wish I could forget this world, so that I would never have to feel this pain again."
His head began to swim again, the smoke built up in his throat once more, and his hurting body took control over all his senses. With one last cough, the darkness claimed him and he knew no more.