Mike strode through the gardens, feet sending gravel spraying as he went. He yawned, stretching his tired arms as he went. Man, I slept like a rock last night, he realized, scratching the stubble that had cropped up on his chin. Even with everything going on, I still love sleeping.
He brushed some errant sunflowers out of the path, their seeds crinkling as they swayed. The fragrance hit him, and he slowed. A breeze whipped past him.
He looked over, the outline of the gym could faintly be seen, the massive room sticking slightly out of the roof of the classroom complex it was included in. Hayley and the others would probably be finishing the last of the preparations.
Hayley… he started off again, subdued. Hmm, she said that her life hadn't really been bad compared to Winnie's, and at least it hadn't been as gruesome. But, Mike thought, it was just as cruel, just as unfair.
People here… aren't fighting because they're afraid of being reincarnated, he pondered to himself. No one here is afraid of becoming a barnacle. They're all fighting, because they want to strike back at God, to find some justice in the hateful lives they were given. He rubbed his temples, very confused.
Mike squinted up at the morning sun, its blinding glow filling the brilliant blue sky.
God… he thought cautiously, shuffling his foot. I don't have the history that my friends do. I don't know what to make of all this. But, are you out there? Do you listen? And, well…. He swallowed. Please, why do let all this happen, if you have all your power, if you could stop it?
A swallow chirruped a ways off, and the bed of dew-dusted daises beside him swayed in the wind. There was no other sound.
Mike frowned, and quickly strode off again, kicking a stone. Well, that was ridiculous, he harangued himself. A waste of time, and now my toe hurts-"
"You don't frighten me!" a voice rang out, from just a ways down the garden path. Mike, recognizing it quickly, started, and ran towards it.
He stumbled across the vegetable section. Richie the fifth stood off the path, among a rich plot of glowing red tomatoes.
Feet away from him, eying the hefty fellow, Angel stood.
"I have a right to healthy, organic eating!" Richie defended dramatically, gesturing profusely with his arms full of produce.
Angel took a step closer. "The gardens are not meant for student consumption. You are trampling on the vines."
Richie eyed Angel, and bravely took a massive bite of tomato.
Mike blinked, and when he opened his eyes, Angel had disappeared.
But Richie the fifth was ready. As Angel flew forward, he dove to the side, exhibiting incredible agility for someone of his girth. He spun, and came at Angel; body arrayed in a curious way that Mike supposed must be the judo that he was called a master of.
"Guardskill: Delay"
Richie the fifth closed around Angel like a vise, body swinging expertly to pin her.
But something fell through, and Richie crumbled to the ground, grasping at air. As Mike watched, Angel became visible, jumping up in the air right above the fighter's neck. The blade at her wrist glistened, as she swung.
An object flew, and bounced across the path to Mike's feet. Gagging, he backed away from Richie's severed head.
What about an afterlife that's just an empty plain, he thought, his eyes glazed. Nothing to do but just sit and watch the grass grow. That would be nice. I could really get into that.
Angel stepped over her fallen foe, and started towards him.
She tilted her head, the sun glinting off her ice-white skin. "What are you doing out here? It is time for period 2. You should be in class."
Oh snap-oh snap-oh snap, Mike panicked. His mind tried to race, but only managed to trip over its laces.
"Oh, uh, I, I was just, I mean, it looked like a nice day for a walk, and I love gardens…"
Angel stopped. Though she continued to stare at him, something in her gaze shifted. "You like gardens?" she asked quietly, blood dripping from her blade.
Mike backed away, feeling an impenetrable wall of rosebushes loom up behind him. "Well yeah, but… but what are you doing out here? Why aren't you in class?"
"I am the Student Body President," she replied steadily. "It is my job to maintain discipline. And, we haven't had rain for several days now. I had to water the begonias." For the first time, he noticed a small pink water can held in her hand. He hadn't noticed it, due to the object sprouting from her other hand.
Then he saw her jaw set. "This is not the time for going on a walk. You are supposed to be in class."
There's no other way out of this, he realized. I'm going to have to try and fight.
"All right, listen!" he called out, making a game attempt at bravado. "I don't have to listen to you! You can't dictate my actions! I have liberty!" He brought up his pistol with shaking hands, and pointed it unsteadily at the girl before him. "I'm not afraid of you," he promised, and he thought it was the most convincing lie he'd told all day.
But Angel didn't show the slightest inch of fear at being under the gun. "You shouldn't be out of class," she repeated, walking closer to him.
All right, now!
"Guardskill:Delay" he heard her utter, as he pulled the trigger.
As his hands flew back, stung from the kick, he saw the image of Angel he'd shot at shimmer, and then disperse as the bullet through full it, slowing everything down around it. But as the first faded, the second Angel suddenly appeared beside it, and plucked the slowed bullet out of the air as one might pluck a butterfly.
She stared at it, and cupped it in her hands. "Guardskill: Return" she muttered to it.
I can't give her time for this, he thought, and fired again.
In the moments that followed, he saw several things. As he fired, a vibrant green glow spread from Angel's cupped hands, obscuring the bullet within. The shot he had fired flew towards her, and he saw it strike her face-
And break apart against her forehead, as if it were no more than damp soil. As he watched, she emptied her palms, and a stream of dirt fell from them. Then, she started towards him.
Fevered, he shot at Angel again, and again, trying to stop her advance. But each bullet dissolved, with each successive shot disintegrating even faster. Finally, he felt the gun in his hands suddenly grow unbearably hot.
With a cry, he dropped it, and watched the weapon return to the dirt from whence it had been formed.
Mike tried to run backwards, as his vision filled up with avenging Angel in front of him. Well, this sucks, were his final thoughts, as his foot caught a root. He tumbled to the ground; a blade flew to his throat.