CHAPTER 12: Dust and Guns

Clashing metal. Gunshots. Quick footsteps pounded through the earth, kicking up any loose soil into clouds of swirling dust. Two bodies locking for only a second before diverging in what would be a blur of color to the normal eye, only to strike again in a different way. One moment, there was nothing, another, a body was flailing about, bouncing and rolling across the ground. Midnight slid across the floor, quickly and effortlessly regaining his footing, a sneer plastered on his face. Alwin and LeRoy stood together, back to back, Alwin holding a miniature automatic rifle and LeRoy simply holding a training spear, not even bothering to use the pistol secured around his waist. Midnight himself held a heavier version of the rifle Alwin was using.

"One rubber bullet out of one hundred rounds. You're improving, Midnight. You gotta let go of your old fighting style, Midnight, it won't work as well on GMH's." LeRoy said, a calm confidence in his voice, contrasting strongly with his earlier cowardice. Midnight scoffed while readjusting his bayonet.

"I spent months perfecting it, of course it's going to be hard for me to let it go." Midnight said in a rough, joking voice.

"Fine, have it your way. Again." LeRoy said, pulling his mountainous figure and spear into a defendable stance. His eyes locked onto Midnight's, and Midnight stepped back, fighting the urge to flee. He stood his ground, and sprang into a full run encircling them, dodging Alwin's bullet line as Alwin himself burst off running, trying to get into Midnight's blind spots. As soon as Midnight turned to face his approaching attacker, a giant spear lunged towards him, causing him to take a quick grounded step before twisting his body to swirl above the long rod of metal. He grasped onto it, using it as a post to support a sweeping kick. LeRoy simply ducked backwards and reached his arm around the leg, locking it in place beside his chest. He then used his superior strength to move the staff, despite Midnight's best efforts, to block an extending kick from Midnight's other foot. LeRoy then smashed the suspended Midnight into the ground, creating a loud, unpleasant thud that everyone watching couldn't help but feel inside their own chest. Midnight gasped for air, coughing and wheezing, struggling up to his knees and arms. LeRoy walked up to him and offered a hand. Midnight took it and grinned slightly.

"I was experimenting that time." Midnight said.

"Yeah, sure. That was still a sad excuse for a counter. You have relied on that X enigma of yours too much. That's why you're like an infant when it comes to fighting without it."

"Still can kick your ass." Midnight said half-jokingly.

"Oho, is that a challenge? You pleaded for your life when you fought the Chair of Strength. You really are a glutton for punishment." LeRoy reciprocated, getting into a more serious stance.

"Alwin, stay out of this" LeRoy raised his voice as he launched himself back into the starting circle before accelerating towards Midnight. Midnight shot a few rounds precisely at LeRoy as he effortlessly deflected them with a metal brace extending up and outwards of his forearm. It acted as a shield of sorts, and a good one at that. LeRoy may have been fast because of his extremely tall, thinnish body, but Midnight was far faster. Their difference in speed was so contrasting that Midnight was practically running circles around LeRoy. But he was afraid, Midnight was, because the moment that he would get too close, LeRoy would use his real talent: his lightning-fast and precise handwork. LeRoy could've run through Midnight many times over had his spear not been a training duplicate. Every impact from what was just a metal stick with cloth on its end would send a shockwave throughout Midnight's bones, muscles, and even organs, sending him flying in the process. Midnight had only been able to dodge it a few times, enough times to count on one hand, out of hundreds of successful hits. His body was bruised all over, which was aggravating to a very extreme extent. But Midnight knew that this would toughen his body for the upcoming fight, so he was not going to complain. The very fact that he had the opportunity to spar with someone more skilled than him was a blessing indeed, as he wouldn't be able to finish his job if the TA had not graciously accepted him, though he could only loan them off. The men and women of the TA weren't bad to him and treated him and each other like equals. He had remembered a time where he had to fight armies alone and afraid. Oh, how he had imagined a day where he could talk and laugh with others again. He had thought that he would never see another day where he could do so. The war, the fighting, and the surviving were nothing compared to the icy grip of solitude that pulled him down into a slow death trap of grotesque depression and self-belittlement. Midnight vowed that he would never experience something like that again, as it was his worst fear. And so he smiled, as hard as he could, towards the people in front of him. He didn't care whether they were assassins or mercenaries, murderers or thieves. They stood by his side, and that's all that mattered. And so he gave his all, to his saviors, to his protectors, so that they could win this war and save what was dear to him. Midnight charged at LeRoy, his true effort bared. With a massive, swooping swing, LeRoy's spear collided with Midnight, pushing him back and making him plow the earth with his feet. But he stood his ground. With his forearm, he had blocked the dreaded instant kill swing that LeRoy was despised for! Both LeRoy and Midnight pulled up their guns upwards with blurring speed and went all out. Both doubled over and laughed, releasing all of their pain through their breath.

"I did it!" Midnight proclaimed, "two-hundred and fifty-seven loses, one tie!"

"I'll give you that one, that was impressive! Next time deflect it, though." LeRoy chuckled.

Midnight looked at his throbbing arm. It was probably broken! But with the new armor coming in, there shouldn't be anything that could stand in Midnight's way, besides the big guns. He was confident in his ability to survive and win. He was now on par with LeRoy's Chair of Wisdom, without even using any terrain tactics or his enigma. He had already bested half of the plagues, with only Alwin, Julia, and LeRoy's Chairs of Strength and Fidelity to go. Five days left until deployment. That should give Midnight a chance to best all of the Plagues, and then rest and recover the last day. He had his work cut out for him.

"Yo, Midnight. I'm not done with you, yet. C'mon, get up!" Alwin's voice remarked enthusiastically as he tossed Midnight a huge jug of water. He gulped it down and told Alwin of his arm. Midnight sat there, looking around the training center and all of its different sections. There were combat areas that mimicked open fields, buildings, and even small houses. The entire place was huge and awe-inspiring. Midnight couldn't believe that this was just one floor of their massive skyscraper, and an underground one at that. Midnight heard an elevator door open behind the walls of the massive place, but no footsteps. Suddenly, the door to the training area swung open, and the second deadliest of plagues herself walked in. Her black hair accented her bright silver eyes as she strolled through to the center of the circle where LeRoy was standing. She was ready for combat, her signature light and flexible uniform sealed around all of her body. It offered satisfactory defense, despite its non-armored appearance. As she walked, silence filled the room, and breathing could be heard over the minuscule noise that her steps were making. She was short, and rather underwhelming when one did not engage her directly, but her true ferocity showed when one met her face to face. Her expression was dead calm, but gave whomever looked into her eyes a sense of submission, followed by a desire to be on guard of her rabbit-like size and dexterity. Her intimidation factor made up for her lack in size, and men and women large and small feared her presence. She spoke in a confident, mocking voice to her superior.

"Alright LeRoy, it's time to stop slacking off with the cubs and do some actual work for once in your life. Come at me, Chair of Strength."

LeRoy's expression went from an average smile to a wide, grotesque grin with long, straight teeth. His eyes glared of savage desire and odd contentment as his brows and face furled menacingly. Another atmosphere entered the room, not one of subtle fear, but a more direct, towering pressure. A feeling of hopelessness and depression swept across the faces of even the most resilient of assassins and mercenaries as they froze before running and fleeing desperately to put as much distance as possible between them and LeRoy. Midnight could only stare in awe and amazement as he was nailed to the ground by the great presence of a king of terrors. Alwin sat down to watch the show, examining the two beasts with a somewhat morbid curiosity.

LeRoy's body pulsed, large veins running through the skin on his arm, popping out as he clenched his spear and took his stance. Julia sprung off into a series of acrobatic stunts, changing her momentum and trajectory constantly. The speed of her movements was only increased when she dug her claw-like fingers into the ground to launch herself, and never truly came to the air and accepted its vulnerabilities. When one could be stronger than any animal, they could use strength-based fighting styles such as this one to gain a massive edge and weight to their attacks. The colors of their training uniforms and bodies danced as if drawn by the hand of an expert painter: seemingly chaotic yet ever so precise. Midnight now knew the true meaning of the term "martial art". It was beautiful, flowing consistently when they who have devoted their lives to the practice create it. Midnight desired to have such grace, but he knew the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that went into such a talent, so he respected it as just that. Though he was terrified beyond his wits, and frozen in fear, a love for the craft planted itself deep inside his being. He wanted so badly to make a style of his own in which he could paint on his very own canvas. Tension built up inside him, as he could not wait a moment longer. He stood up, hungry for battle. Alwin noticed this and was surprised.

"Oh, Midnight, you can stand? Last time you saw this, you nearly wet yourself! I guess seeing them fight does give one a bit of a craving, doesn't it? I'm somewhat impatient myself!" He said, hopping up to his feet, revealing an expression of drunken excitement. Midnight accepted the challenge, this time not holding anything back. The opaque black liquid slowly slithered out of the vents in his glossy, navy-colored training suit with fluid-like movement until suddenly becoming jagged and sharp as the liquid transformed into thin, thorn-like needles. Both of the speedsters launched off into a blurring sprint that was beyond words. The entities clanged together in a whirlwind of sparks and ringing vibrations, echoing throughout the walls and earth itself.