Chapter 7:
The Duel Commandments
San Francisco,
It was around midday in San Francisco, evident as the fog had begun to roll in. The sun had been masked by the enigmatic return of the dark grey mist, however it did no damage to anyone in comparison to areas in Tamriel. They were all still at the library, conducting research, reading, and theorizing on Sombra. Doctor Jones did receive the message, even though it was just through a simple text message instead of a raven delivering a message or simply through mail. But those six hours did feel long, and dragged on through the mid hours of the day.
The desk that the group had claimed began to pile on with books and books. Books of knowledge, books of history, books of forbidden knowledge; the pile kept on growing with every hour that passed in the library. Even useless books checked out by Reinhardt were of some use, despite it being a manual about armor and how to maintain and customize it.
Snake wasn't there however, he was at city hall observing. Earlier, he just bluntly left the library much to the shock of Steve and Sly. They expected he was leaving for a smoke but, as the hours dragged on he didn't return even if Captain America could pinpoint his location on his trackers. But Snake's intentions were far less sinister. He was only there to observe as he heard that the controversial senator from Colorado, Armstrong was making an appearance at a Zorin Industries meeting at the San Francisco city hall.
"How long are we going to be here anyways? I mean, it's been at least six hours since six."
"Sly be patient. We only need a few more hours here and we'll be back at the hideout."
The Captain responded.
"Has Stark checked in with you?"
"No, he last texted me that his flight had just arrived in Paris. Chen's already over there so there shouldn't be any problem for the next few days."
Nathan Drake suddenly emerged from an elevator and began to sprint towards the table.
"Doctor Jones is back. He's on his way any moment, he's taking an Asura gate here! Boy, do you know how fast I ran over here, felt like a mile…"
"You should see how fast I run when I do my miles, anyways a little more help is always good."
Steve Rogers said, picking up the books he dropped on the way.
"So, what's next? I heard that the Zorin Industries zeppelin is being launched later on today."
"Aha! I knew it! Zhat's where Sombra would most likely strike next!"
Reinhardt boomed, walking into the area.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Well Elena, this "Sombra" does have a knack for technology, and the Zorin zeppelin is supposed to be the most advanced in years!"
"Well Reinhardt, we can't interfere unless we directly are interfered. But we're working on it. Send a text to Pliskin if he needs to come."
"Got it Captain!"
"And I hope he does know what he's doing…"
The Plains of Ashford: Human's Lament,
Early in the morning…
"Pliskin… remember all that you need to know about the duel. Do not attempt to waste your shot if you truly intend to save Rytlock."
Natasha consoled.
It was at dawn, the fifth rule of the duel. The sun shone blood red, the smog of the Black Citadel blurring the sky. Bangar Ruinbringer had already arrived at the dueling ground before Rytlock and Pliskin. His second was a Night Elf, a tall and slender male like most others of his kind. Natasha held the pistols, Bangar's choice for dueling; they were made of hard ebony wood, dark, black, and soulless; engravings on each side of the guns.
This ground was famous nearly two hundred years ago; only fifty for earthen years; many humans during the charr-human war of Ascalon lost their lives in a futile battle to prevent the charr from capturing their glorified capital city. Today, it is a dueling ground, far from any citizens of Ascalon. Many people come from all over Tyria and the Eastern Kingdoms to settle matters here through one of the only sanctioned pistol duel areas in Azeroth, aside from the multitude of lawless areas in Southern Kalimdor.
"Ahh, Tribune Brimstone, or simply just Rytlock Brimstone now, you've brought your duelist I suppose?"
Ruinbringer said.
"Right here."
Rytlock responded, pointing at the boy wearing a dragoon's navy blue greatcoat.
"This, this is your duelist? I'd expected someone much older, and a better shot…"
The Charr imperator questioned, staring blankly at Pliskin.
"And once again Ms. Romanoff, our paths meet again. I trust that you're the boy's second in this duel?"
"He is no boy; he's actually a great shot if you've worked with him in Overwatch."
Natasha said, looking blankly in response to the impeator's expression.
"Very well. Make your preparations. Nyalorn, negotiate with my friend over here."
The imperator hastily returned to his quarter; he removed his pauldrons, spiked and pained blood red and slipped on his greatcoat, a grey coat emblazoned with the symbols of the Blood Legion in blood red on the back. He'd brush his tufts of fur on his head, making himself look presentable before the challenger announced the paces and time of fire.
"The challenger demands exactly ten paces, and he'd wish to fire immediately after the ten paces had been reached."
Natasha announced, Rytlock and Pliskin on her right side.
Rytlock sighed deeply,
"I hope you know what you're doin'."
"Relax, I have a plan."
"I believe a brief respite is required before we commence the duel; and Rytlock, your terms for release are already negotiated, you will be released and information regarding this "Sombra" will be disclosed to you, if you draw blood and you're satisfied that is."
The two conflicting parties returned to their respective sides, the sun still a bleeding red, hazy with smog and smoke as it approached seven in the morning. Pliskin felt tension, this was his first duel and hell, they didn't teach this subject in Overwatch training. Natasha continued to negotiate with the Night Elf, trying to find a way to release Rytlock out without anyone getting harmed, alas it was to no avail, for Nyalorn requested that Rytlock be tried for desertation again despite the hung jury the previous day; a trial that he'd most certainly lose even without the help of Phoenix Wright. There was no other way, Rytlock needed his freedom and desperately required the information to combat what Bangnar blindly refuses.
Pliskin fiddled with the trigger, the mechanism was vaguely familiar to pistols he'd shot before on Earth. He'd aim the gun through the covers of the tent, trying to hit the Impeator's shoulder without the need for a sight. As Natasha returned from the center of the ground, she'd notice him aiming, Pliskin hastily putting down the pistol.
"Look, I know you're feeling a variety of feelings right now, excitement, fear, the thrill of your first duel, but you need to know this rule to the duel. Do not absolutely throw away your shot, no matter how far or wide you'll miss."
Natasha said, sitting down next to him inside the tent.
"Yeah, I've some of those feelings right now…"
Pliskin muttered to her, fiddling with the flintlock mechanism.
"I know, but, now we'd have to load your weapon now. Hand it over."
He'd turn over the pistol, grabbing it by the barrel and gesturing to Natasha. She'd take the pistol and walk over to the grounds. She'd take powder from the table in the center, letting it slip into the barrel and flintlock mechanism. The round was engraved, specialized and commissioned by Bangnar himself for the duel, a simple crown imprinted on the bullet. The Widow covered it with paper and rammed it down the barrel, Nyalorn performing the same action.
The two parties exited their tents, the sun almost signaling the early morning as it rose over the precipice. Their two respective doctors, a Blood Elf and a Sylvari, for Bangnar and Pliskin respectively gave the two duelists final words of consolation, rapid ones for Bangnar and slow, slurred ones for Pliskin.
"You're smaller than him. Take advantage of that while you're shooting at him."
The sylvari spoke to him, his words coming out slowly as he spoke.
"I know that. And I intend to shoot Bangnar in the shoulder to prevent an interplanetary incident."
Pliskin responded, leaning to his left while observing the charr.
The two duelists walked towards each other, Bangnar's imposing stance blotting out the sun from Pliskin's view. The boy had one disadvantage; he would be facing the sun once the two had counted their paces and fired their rounds at each other. This could throw the boy off aim, the sun's blood red aura shining on the dueling ground. Bangnar however had to aim down to hit the boy, his taller frame as opposed to Pliskin's shorter and leaner frame made it more complicated for the imperator to shoot. He only intended to kill. He would shoot for his heart, providing a swift end to the duel.
Pliskin and Bangnar faced one another, their shadows perfectly covering an extent to their bodies.
"Last chance to negotiate!"
The night elf said, calling out from Bangnar's quarters.
The two of them blankly stared at their faces, Pliskin at Bangnar's; Bangnar at Pliskin.
"You will release Tribune Rytlock Brimstone without harm, and you will hand over the files regarding Sombra. I will not settle for less."
"Try me kid. This man you call a Tribune has deserted his post dishonorably. I suggest if you don't your honor to be tarnished, we'd continue this right now."
The charr responded.
"Hang on, dishonorably? Bangnar, let me ask you this, where were you when the Jungle Dragon attacked and we sent a million soldiers to their potential deaths? Where were you during the Omnic Crisis? Where were you during all of these events and you call a deserter, "dishonorable?"
"I had no part in your, "events." It would cause no gain nor loss to my personal honor, and why would I support Earth, Stormwind, Westeros, or Draenor? What they have done for you but cause only death for cowards who don't want to fight?"
"It had to be done Bangnar! Would you watch as the Jungle Dragon steamrolled over your lands or the Legion rained hell from the skies again? Would you?!"
Pliskin yelled at him, irritated for his lack of true honor.
"Bah, enough of this! Carry on with the duel then! I wish to put this one out of his misery!"
Pliskin only let out a scowl, he couldn't misfire his shot or Bangnar would have the second shot, likely a fatal one.
"Very well then. Prepare for the duel then. Any last advice for the duelists give it to them now at this moment only."
Nyalorn announced, tipping his musketeer hat.
Rytlock ran over, he discarded his blindfold, leaving it in the dust as he sprinted to Pliskin.
"Look, I know you're angry, scared, and intimidated, but you can't throw away your shot. Do not raise your pistol at the sky or fire it at the ground. Let your bullet hit straight and true."
He'd whisper to the boy.
"Alright, but if I die, remember that it ain't my fault for walking into this."
Pliskin remarked, smirking at him.
Rytlock smirked back as he walked back to his corner, observing the duel with Natasha.
"You sure he's gonna win for you?"
"Wait and see Natasha."
The duelists stood back to back, Bangnar facing the sun this time instead of Pliskin. The ground was wet, the sun was hazing blood red, and the leaves blew out one single strong gust.
"The challenger demands ten paces; the challenger also demands that the two parties fire once they reach their tenth pace."
"Now on the count of three, I will signal for the two of you to begin walking."
Nyalorn said, shouting from the opposite tent.
"One,"
"Two,"
"Three. Begin."
Pliskin began walking as so Bnagnar. He'd began to recite the rules or "commandments" to the duel in his head, mention by Laurens at Stark Tower as he walked, perhaps to his death.
"The challenge… demand satisfaction…"
"Pick a place where it's high and dry…"
"Face the moment of adrenaline…"
"Look him in the eye and aim no higher, summon all the courage you require and count…"
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
"Six."
"Seven."
"Eight."
"Nine."
"Ten. Fire!"
Two pistols shots were heard echoing through the precipice, one had survived, while the other had not. The birds fluttered away, dust had spread all throughout the canyon; a sight you'd only see in a western. The dust blew and it settled. A human and charr had both attempted to spill blood on this ancient ground. And all was calm.
