Games.
Most people liked playing games, but this was not your ordinary game. This wasn't Go Fish or Backgammon. No, this was a game most people chose to avoid. Dangerous. Destructive. And this game had far higher stakes than just pride. Both players put their very life and liberty on the line when they entered this little contest of theirs.
And, yet, both found such glee in it.
Kristo circled to the right, forever keeping his eyes upon his opponent as the other combatant fiercely studied him. They locked in that unusual, piercing gaze for a moment, just the merest of breaths in time. These were true warriors. Kristo held his katana up, giving his due regard to the assassin before him, raising his own guard. He pooled the shadows, dark and infinite, in and around his muscular form.
This would be fun.
Kristo lunged, turning suddenly, and slashing out with his katana, cutting through the night. The man threw his hand with it, his bloodied, left hand. A splash of crimson, well timed and well aimed, splattered over those dark glasses, temporarily blinding his foe as Kristo's blade drew up to the assassin. However, this foe was more cunning and quick than Kristo had quite anticipated, jumping back on nimble feet and wiping the blood harshly from those lenses. The swordsman hadn't figured out the assassin being as good as he, but the man also knew never to make any assumptions.
The assassin danced with the night, with each and every tendril of dark and depths of black. For every slight and subtle attack of Kristo's, driving back at this attacker, the assassin just stepped out of the way, mocking the shadow walker. It was growing more than mildly annoying to the swordsman.
Kristo lunged, darting around the assassin and cutting fiercely, aiming to slice open his opponent's back, aching for a spray of scarlet and the splash of viscera upon the ground. It never came. At least, not to the extent that Kristo desired. The stranger was able to just leap out of the way, but not quite far enough. The swordsman's katana found purchase on fabric and flesh, tearing through the skin of his attacker and spilling crimson blood upon the ground. The assassin hissed slightly, an involuntary exhale, really, but kept moving, without a second thought.
The attacker in black cut around behind Kristo, ignoring the wound on his back as if it had never happened. The shadow walker slipped slightly, easing with the inky black of night, allowing it to carry his body easily and gracefully out of the way of his opponent's flying fists.
This attacker of his was unused to the feeling of a fight, to the swift actions required.
And, yet, he seemed to forever keep Kristo close, forever striking at him.
Kristo was too good. This assassin was good, but Kristo was better. He had been trained by years in the military. No, forget that. He had trained himself. The man had chosen this lifestyle, forever honing his instincts, his fighting skills. Kristo was a warrior, born, bred, and blessed by time and infinity. The shadow walker would always be a warrior, forever walking the earth, forever protecting his family and friends. This one was an imposter, a copy trying to battle the real thing.
Kristo refused to allow whatever skill the assassin had to be held over him.
He opened a pocket of the night with his right hand, dropped his katana into it, as his left hand pulled into the darkness, drawing forth but one of his twin pistols and firing off a quick round. The assassin just made a sprite like dart back, scrambling just out of the way of the bullet at the last moment.
At the same time, this creature gave a slight tumble, grabbing and ripping at his soft, leather-soled shoe, tearing a boot knife from its place. Kristo's opponent landed in but a soft plop, crouching before the shadow walker like a cat. This assassin seemed primed and ready to lunge at Kristo, rip out of his throat, and possibly pause just long enough to toy with the witch's entrails before continuing on.
The shadow walker gave a slight salute with his pistol, bringing the barrel up to gently to tap his forehead in a gesture of mock respect. The witch was growing tired of this game. He no longer cared to entertain this assassin that dared attack him.
The shadows grew alive and very hungry.
xxxx
No.
Not this time.
Robin couldn't take it anymore.
They just kept letting people run off and get into trouble. They just kept sacrificing their own, again and again. These witches weren't people at all if they kept allowing their own kith and kin to fall in battle for some idealized dream of what they had to do.
The girl planted her feet. "Not anymore."
Brett whirled around, his eyes flashing a fierce yellow as soon as he turned. Nycole gave a little gasp. That was a bad sign. A terrible sign. She had only ever seen Brett's eyes meld into that blazing, sulfuric color but once or twice in the entire time she'd known the fire elemental. And each time, it had meant that the fires of his heart burned much hotter than the flames of his gift ever could.
"Keep moving, Robin," he ordered, growling harshly.
The girl stood her ground, giving a tiny shake of her head. "No."
Fire licked up from Brett's palm, racing up his arm and shoulder menacingly. "You don't have any choice, Robin. We have to keep moving."
"Then leave me behind," she snarled back as embers popped and flashed behind her emerald eyes; the air grew hot as her anger rose.
"We don't leave people behind," Brett argued harshly.
Robin's lips pursed into a disapproving frown. "You didn't seem to have any problem with leaving Kristo back there."
"That's different!" Nycole piped up.
Robin shook her head. "How is it any different?"
The fire starter had snapped. She couldn't, she wouldn't take this anymore. Robin was no longer just a little girl, a child in the grand scheme of things. She was the Devil's Child, bearer of the Arcanum of the Craft. Robin refused to allow herself to be bullied, or to be walked across by these strange witches. Not even Amon.
"Robin…" her former partner's voice met her ears, crooning in that deep, bass tone.
She swatted his hand away sharply. "No, Amon. Not this time."
Amon stepped back. He was taken by surprise by Robin's sudden anger, but, when Amon shot out a hand to grab her, the girl turned and ran into the night.
"Robin!"
xxxx
This world is a world crafted of reality and atoms. Light reflects off of atoms to create the true existence, or, at least, the appearance of existence in the eyes of humans. It is human perception that makes thing supposedly real. And that perception is based upon light.
In a world without light, what is true?
Kristo licked his lips with anticipation as the dark came alive, a writhing, crawling, slithering thing. The assassin just stepped back, away from him and into the darkness of the abyss. There was no shock or concern from the shadow walker's opponent as the two slipped out of reality and into the abyss, into Kristo's pocket realm of night and black. The assassin just welcomed it, as if he knew all about this.
This assassin was more than met the eye. Kristo had to take this into account. It was smart, unwavering. This attacker knew exactly where and how to move, exactly how Kristo would react, and exactly what came next in their little dance. A formidably opponent or ally any day.
"Who are you?" Kristo demanded from deep within the concealing black of his shadow realm, asking of the assassin.
His opponent gave no answer, no response at all.
Kristo fired into the bleak darkness of his shadow realm, but the assassin tucked and twisted just out of the way, dodging each and every bullet with little to no effort. Kristo bowed his head, trying to aim ahead of the assassin, but each shot was easily evaded without any problem.
This assassin was good.
But, still, this attacker's style was sloppy, Kristo noted. His motions were ungainly and awkward. Although his reactions were faster than lightning, this character still moved with the same grace and cunning action as the shadow walker. This was not a trained warrior, nor a warrior by birth, as in the case of Kristo.
The shadow walker could use this to his advantage, but more so in the real world.
"Let's play more."
They fell from the shadow realm, plummeting back and into reality.
xxxx
Robin ran.
She felt her heart beating, slamming in her chest with fear.
Kristo had never done anything but keep them safe, protect them. He had even offered up his life for Robin's and the witches' several times. The Craft user could not longer allow these debts to go unpaid. And, more than that, she could no longer allow herself to just watch Kristo go off to his death so many times for them.
"Kristo…."
The teenager breathed the name as she bolted, dodging this way and that through the cherry trees and deeper into the park. Kristo had vanished into the dark of the night somewhere back there, but, with his shadow melding, the man could have been anywhere. All Robin could do was pray and hope that she could find the man in time. She just poured her heart into running, leaping.
"Please…"
xxxx
Kristo grinned madly.
He had dropped them in the very best of places, right into the water of the reflecting pool. Kristo grabbed at the loose strands of dark night, using them to his advantage, hauling his body sharply over. He landed with a gentle splash. His opponent, meanwhile, had been only able to flop into the water with a tremendous wave of water.
The shadow walker slipped into the water, and into the dark of the depths.
He had to see this assassin's face before Kristo ended his life. The shadow walker turned through the night and the darkness of the void, Kristo swirled around the assassin and ripped at the hood and glasses perched upon his opponent's face. They dropped into the water, slipping into the dark depths and vanishing into the darkness, like Kristo into the shadows.
He swirled around the form, looking to this attacker's face.
"What…?"
xxxx
A commotion!
Somewhere, there was splashing water, as if someone slogged through a stream, a lake… or maybe even a pool of some sort.
Robin blinked, remembering the Reflecting Pool. For years, it spanned between the Washington and Lincoln Monuments, shimmering under the sky as the tale spire stabbed into the shallow waters. She was close to it, very close. And Kristo probably was, too. The girl turned sharply, wheeling and barreling around the trees, her skirt catching slightly about her legs as the girl bolted.
The Craft user ran,
Her flames fell behind her, trailing with Robin as she ran. Her fear for Kristo swelled, fueling those flames of terror. And somewhere within, Robin wondered where this strange loyalty came from.
And, then, she stopped dead, coming to a slamming halt and almost tipping right over.
There, in the water, there stood two forms. One trudging through the water, lunging and stabbing at Kristo with what seemed like a knife of some form. And Kristo just seemed to hold a look of shock and surprise at the assassin that attacked him. And Robin could see precisely why.
The assassin was none other than Kathain.
"KRISO!"
xxxx
Mmm…. You were right, EmoFairyPrincess. Kathain it is.