War’s gauntleted fist smashed down onto the concrete beside my head, sending my heart into overdrive as I rolled to the side. He pulled his clenched hand out of the small impact crater and lashed out with a kick, connecting with my stomach and sending me flying through the air until I crashed into one of the pillars that was holding up the bridge. High above us, cars drove past on the motorway, completely oblivious to my beatings and the significance of what was going on. If War was here, the rest of the bunch were too – and that meant I was running out of time.
“Give it up, Wimp” War growled, slowly walking over to where I lay crumpled in a heap at the foot of the pillar. I couldn’t help but think about how familiar this kind of scene was from all the films I had seen, and also how, of all the ways the hero had escaped from a similar predicament. None of them would work here.
“How about I not, and you go home and take another truck load of steroids – I mean, I’m sure the muscles of your muscles would like some muscles to go on them too.” I spat blood out of my mouth, and tried to push myself up. Before I could, War swept away my arms with his leg and I collapsed to the floor again. He reached down and lifted me up to his eye level, my feet dangling off the ground and my back pressed against the concrete pillar.
“Idiot. There’s nothing you can do now – everyone who could have stopped us is dead. This is the end. So taste defeat and beg for your life.”
War reached up behind his head and drew his sword – his six foot long, two foot wide sword that burst into blue flame as soon as it was clear of its scabbard – and held it above his head, ready to bring it crashing down for the killer blow. He had me by the front of my shirt, and I was battered, bloody and helpless. He had me and he knew it.
And for once, I had no tricks up my sleeve.
War smiled as the sky grew dark, thunder boomed, lightning clashed, and tremors shook the ground beneath our feet. He lowered his sword and shifted aside so I could see out across the city as the skyscrapers began to fall.
“You failed. You followed us, harassing us through several millennia, doing nothing but getting under our feet. And after all that, the outcome is the same as I told you – so long ago and so far ahead. You can’t win.”
He drew his sword back, and drove it forward as I saw something in the corner of my eye. A fire, the same blue as War’s sword, had sparked into existence in the air behind him. It burnt as a solitary tongue of flame then started to spread. War was right. The flames had reached us, burning back through time itself from the distant future to bring about the end of the world.
Ok, so maybe this stuff is a bit too heavy. Bad place to start telling you this story. My bad. Please, let me start over.
My name is Fixer. And right now, I’m in deep shit.