Chapter 7: Finale (Pt.4)

Michael immediately felt a menacing, tremendous power directly in front of him. He locked up. He heard Mickey snickering. "It's him. Ya sure you're gonna fight him blindfolded? Admirable; but idiotic! Aha-haha!"

Michael pressed his free hand against his eyes. "Fine. When I finally end this, I'll go back to this ever-present darkness. It's where I belong." Michael ripped the blindfold off. He opened his eyes wide. Eight was a few meters before him. The Marker was absolutely rippling with a desire to kill. Michael flew forward to meet him, stopping to land a safe distance from him.

"Eight." Michael pointed the rusty sword at him. "Killing you will send those damned Markers back, right?"

Eight chuckled. "Of course. Nine - that weakling of a brother - has already fled. Right now, I can hear the dying screams from my sister Two. I believe your little girlfriend is taking care of her right now. I never realized you were a pedophile, Michael."

Michael growled. "Macie? I didn't know she was in trouble. Damn it; there's no time for this!" Michael stepped forward with a swing of the sword. It cut across Eight's chest. The Marker casually stepped backward with a smile on his face.

"That would have hurt a lot more if it was your own spirit weapon. Does that belong to that runt of a Marker hiding inside of you?" Eight smirked. "You've gotten a little stronger. I guess I should use full power, then." Eight curled his hands into fists. He let out a deafening shout as his body tensed. His muscles were thick and sinewy as he crouched low to focus his power.

Michael charged at him. He aimed at Eight's head. When the sword came near, though, it broke into a thousand pieces. Time seemed to slow as Michael fell forward into Eight. The Marker smiled devilishly. "N-no..." Michael muttered.

Eight struck Michael in his chest with an open hand. A thunderous shock wave exploded from where his hand was. Michael was launched high into the air with blood seeping from the wound. Eight followed after him with a sweep of his bat wings. On their way up, Eight delivered a multitude of blows to Michael. He didn't react at all - his face was devoid of any emotion as the barrage of attacks forced more black blood to escape him.

Michael began to fall back to the ground. Eight laughed as Michael crashed. "Weak! You're too weak! How do you expect to beat Daniel with that kind of strength?" Eight plummeted to the ground, landing hard on Michael's body. Michael grunted. He coughed up a few drops of blood.

Eight knelt down next to his head. "Is that all? Really, Michael? I expected more of you. Simply rushing in with a weapon that is not even yours, hoping to cut me down with it, won't get the job done. I hope you'll know better next time. Next time? Oh, I confuse myself. There won't be a next time." Eight seized Michael's neck and held him in front of him as he rose to a stand. Eight tightened his grasp. Michael wheezed. Eight stared hard into his eyes.

"Would you like to know my name, Michael? And you too, Marker. You'll both be dead in a few minutes so it won't even matter. My name is Greg." Michael's eyes widened. Eight snickered.

"Oh, confused, are you? I assume the angel named Greg is still alive. Well, I'll tell you a little secret." Eight threw Michael to the ground. He stomped on his chest, holding him down. Michael grabbed his ankle in a futile attempt to throw him off. Eight laughed. "The Greg you know isn't the angel he poses to be. He's the one with the appearance of a Soul Angel but is actually a Heart Angel, right? Well here's a big spoiler. I'm the real Greg. I'm the real Heart Angel named Greg. He's just acting like me. Give me that impostor, Michael! I want that traitorous brother of mine dead!" Greg pushed down with his foot on Michael's chest. Michael's strength fell away - Greg's foot broke through his chest, hitting cold ground. Michael inhaled sharply.

Greg pulled his foot free. "I don't give a damn if he is my little brother - I want him dead. That's the only reason I came here, actually. Killing you was just to provide me with a bit of amusement. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to end your life now so I can kill 'Greg.' If there's an afterlife, make sure I find you at the entrance so we can have a nice little lunch at the quaint little cafe down the street. Good-bye, now." Greg cocked his arm back. He swung down fast enough to make the air whistle around his arm. A crater formed underneath his fist. Greg chuckled.

He pulled his fist back. Greg's face hardened. "Where-"

The spiked end of a mace struck the back of Greg's head. He fell down, clutching his wound. Michael held the mace in his right hand. A shield, in the shape of an upside down teardrop, was fashioned to his left hand. It had three scratches on the surface. The shield was a sterling silver that glimmered whenever the lightning above struck the sky. His mace matched the same color. It had a handle that was wider than the stem of the mace. The spiked end of the weapon was slightly glowing - the hue was red. The color died down.

"I found my spirit weapon. I think." Michael's voice was muffled. A winged helmet covered his face. On his shoulders were spiked pauldrons. Michael stared down at his feet through the visor on his helmet. He had metal greaves attached to his shins. "I like it, but I guess they ran out of a full suit of armor for me." Michael turned his attention to Greg. He had worked himself up to a kneeling position as bright, yellow blood oozed out of the wound on his head.

Michael rushed to him. He kicked him in the stomach while bringing down his mace. It smashed into Greg's backside. He ripped it free from the Marker and kicked him away. Greg rolled a few feet, then jumped to a standing position. "No! No - I can't die here, no!" Greg flexed his body. Parts of his body began to dissolve. "With every last bit of me; I'll kill every last human and angel in this town. I swear it!" Greg's body was fluctuating from solid to liquid and then to gas. He glanced at Michael, then at the town. Greg spread his wings and flew shakily towards it.

"Get back here, bastard!" Michael ran after him. He fell to one knee as another fit of coughing overtook him. Blood sprayed out from his mouth onto the ground. He rose to his feet unsteadily, unable to pursue Greg.

"What's the matter? We beat him! He'll be dead in a lil' bit. Patience is a virtue! Aha-haha!" Mickey was unusually mellow.

"Can't you see, Mickey? He's going to blow the whole town up and I can't do a single thing about it." Michael spread his wings. He immediately closed them as another coughing fit seized him. "I've... I've lost." Michael shut his eyes, already waiting to hear the thunderous explosion that would follow.

He heard it. It sounded like a thousand cannons had shot at the exact same time. Tears welled up in Michael's eyes. He began to sob violently. Mickey started to laugh. "They're all dead, you heartless bastard - why are you laughing at that!?"

"'Cause they're not!" Mickey continued to laugh. "Open your freakin' eyes!" Michael did so. He inhaled sharply.

Surno was hovering in the air. His wings were flapping slowly. He had his hand outstretched. Eight - or, Greg - was in front of him. His body was split in two and his limbs slowly deteriorated. Surno's flame on his hand died away as Eight disappeared. Surno stared grimly at Michael. He approached him, then knelt down in front of him.

"Thanks, Surno. I thought that he would of won, for sure. I was weak to even let myself think like that." Michael shut his eyes. "Thanks, Surno. I don't know what I would have done if he had... if he had killed her." Michael fought back tears.

Surno placed a hand on his head. Michael looked up. Surno ripped off his white theater mask. His face was scarred and grotesque - it was normal. However, Surno was smiling. It was infectious. Michael smiled behind his helmet. He started to laugh, and Surno did so too. Surno's eyes were sapphire blue.

Surno's eyes turned to a blazing red. He grabbed Michael quickly, then threw him to the ground. He smashed his fist into Michael's helmeted head, bringing it back to punch him again. After the fifth or sixth punch, Surno withdrew his bloody hand. Michael was unconscious. Surno's appearance died away; Nine stood in his place.

"Sorry, Eight. I didn't mean to be tardy to the battle." Nine turned to his brother. Eight was still holding the wound on the back of his head. "I saved you. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Eight slapped Nine across the face. "Idiot! I got hurt. I might as well have died by his pathetic hands. Let's withdraw. Two is dead. The drones are running out. Lord Daniel will be disappointed. Damn." Eight opened up a rift behind them. It was a vortex of black and blue. Together, they stepped through it. The portal disappeared.

Lightning flashed in the sky. Thunder boomed. And still, Michael did not stir.