I don't normally delve into Shakespeare much, but this is probably one of my better ideas. Hope you enjoy it!

As with my other writing I dedicate each story/poem to someone. This is slightly different as I'm dedicating it to a group of people this time. I dedicate this story to my friends at the wall, they've taught me many of life's practical lessons.

The Battle of Brutus and Antony

a fic by Steve Sullivan

The sun began to peek over the horizon; its rays beginning to dissipate the morning mist. The ground was soft from the previous night's rain and the birds were out, hunting for their morning meal. The hills, quiet and ever seeing as they are, could not fathom the bloodshed to be seen this day.

The armies of Brutus and Antony were coming. Brutus, coming from the north, marched upon the city of Philippi. He hoped to find a fortified position somewhere outside the city, yet he would find none. He would face him now, before Antony had the chance to strengthen his numbers any further. Who was Cassius to believe that nobody hated them? Since had been allowed to speak, nothing good had happened to Brutus and the conspirators. "That will change today," Brutus mused to himself, "Antony will face we he will fall."

Antony rode astride his horse, pondering how best to attack his foe, the adversary that had been a thorn in his side for far too long. His army was getting larger by the second and Brutus would pay for his wrongs. They were approaching Philippi now. Antony had heard reports that Brutus was here, waiting in silence. "We shall see who is the victor today Brutus. You may have taken Caesar, but you shall not take me."

The armies of Brutus and Antony stopped within seeing distance of each other, on a field just out side Philippi. The leaders began their initial pep talks to their soldiers. "Friends," Antony called out to his troops, still firmly seated upon his horse, "we come here today to not to avenge the man known as Caesar, but to avenge Rome herself. The men you see before you are nothing but…"

"…sniveling cowards," Brutus' voice rang across the field as he encouraged his troops. "We come here today to prove that we did it all for the good of Rome. Though she has forsaken us, we shall prove ourselves worthy and loyal to her! Someday, you men shall die, but I do not believe…"

"…it to be this day!" Antony, whose voice always seemed to bear the truth in it, began to light his men with overwhelming confidence. "One day, Rome herself shall fall, but it is not this day. One day, the entirety of civilization as we know it may fall, but…"

"…it is not this day." Brutus the sole voice of reason among so many false hopes, showed men what courage truly meant, calm in the face of fear. "Men I only have one final thing to say to you. If we should die today, then today is a good day to die indeed. Now men…"

"CHARGE!" both Brutus and Antony seemed to yell this command as one. Both armies rushed at each other, fear dashed aside by their leaders words. Brutus and Antony joined the fight, both determined to fight the other and strike him down.

Trumpets sounded and steel clashed as the two armies fought each other. Blood began to flow freely as the slaughter started. It seemed as if no man cared for himself, only for how many came down with him.

Brutus and Antony eventually found each other. Antony, now on foot, his horse forgotten by the wayside, raced toward his foe. Brutus, seeing Antony, braced himself. Sparks flew as the steel and hatred merged as one. For all Brutus was worth, it took all he had to keep Antony at bay. Antony's thrust was met by a parry by Brutus' sword. Time and time again, Antony never laid a blow upon his foe. Brutus simply waited for Antony to make a mistake, to tire, but the fire in Antony's eyes was only matched by his pure strength and determination.

Antony eventually saw that Brutus was indeed beginning to tire, his parries becoming steadily more sluggish. Antony then went in for the kill. Slashing to Brutus' sword hand, Brutus expectedly parried. Antony then thrusted diagonally upward toward Brutus' head and connecting. The final look on Brutus' fate was one of fatal surprise as Antony's sword went through his neck, thereby decapitating him. Antony smiled as his foe's headless body merely slumped to the ground. He had won. "It is finished," Antony breathed, the fire finally dissipating from his eyes.

The army of Brutus, now seeing their leader's headless corpse before them, fled the battle in panic. Antony's army let out a resounding cheer as their foes fled, thanking the gods of Rome that it was finally over.

Though the river does run swiftly,
Though the birds do sing sweetly.
The hills shall remember,
All remember that fateful day
When blood was pointlessly shed
At their base in Philippi.

Well, I hoped you enjoyed it. Please R and R! I truly appreciate any and all constructive reviews, even if they aren't all sweet and sugary.