075

 

75.  Severance

 

"Well, I'll be damned!" Trunculo shouted, as he stared up in awe at the mass of metal that Winslow had drawn together. "Winslow's really lost his patience with his opponent, and it looks as if he'll stop at nothing to defeat him – even if it means disassembling our arena! Unfortunately for Vance, there is no rule against killing your foe with pieces of the tournament complex!"

 

Winslow’s eyes glowed with tawny psynergy, drowning out his pupils. Gritting his teeth, he continued to sculpt the orb of metal and æsotech, which had already grown so large that its shadow darkened most of the arena platform. The conglomeration of metal crackled, and Winslow raised his arms. With a roar, he poured his psynergy outwards, stripping the walls of the tournament complex bare so that the orb would be unavoidable.

 

"It looks like Winslow's lost his marbles, everyone!" Trunculo continued. "Does he really plan to drop that thing on Vance?! Why, it's large enough to crush the entire platform!"

 

The ball moved slightly at first, like a roller coaster reaching the top of a hill. Then, it came sailing down toward Vance, drowning him in its dark shadow. Vance said nothing, closed his eyes, and concentrated his psynergy as the metallic meteorite drew near.

 

The crowd watched in horror as the cluster hit the ground like a crashing spaceship. Sharp metal chunks flew off the sides and ricocheted around the arena. Some of the crowd rushed to Winslow's end of the arena, fearing that sooner or later one of those enormous clumps would smash through the barrier and decapitate someone.

 

Winslow watched the mass sink into the ground and come to a stop. A sick grin spread on his face as he admired the mountain of scrap, still over the grave of his enemy.

 

Trunculo's voice crept through the silence. "It looks...like...Vance has been canned!"

 

Eden kept her eyes firm on the center of the pile.

 

"Let's start the count, ladies and gentlemen! One...two..."

 

Nathan and Tao leaned closer, trying to notice any signs of life.

 

"Three...four..."

 

Averyl grinned.

 

"Five...six...."

 

Edward and Frank sat still, frozen in horror.

 

"Seven...eight..."

 

Winslow cackled as a small piece of metal fell from the top of the pile, clanging down quietly to the ground. "He's dead! And if he isn’t, there's no way he'll get up in time!"

 

"Nine..." Trunculo sounded surprised as he finished his count. "Ten."

 

"Vance is dead! Vance is dead!" Winslow shouted, exploding with joy. "I killed him! I killed that little piece of shit!"

 

"He's not dead," Edward murmured. "He can't be...he can't be dead!"

 

"Not that it matters at this point," Phileas said with a smirk. "The count's been finished. He's lost!"

 

"Well then..." Trunculo coughed. "It looks as if the winner of this match is–"

 

A thin ray of purple psynergy shot out from a gap between the chunks of metal. That single ray was followed by another, and another, until Vance's dark purple psynergy poked its way through every possible orifice in the jumbled hunk. Next came a flash, followed by a thundering explosion as Vance unleashed his psynergy across the stage and vaporized the trash that surrounded him. As the smoke cleared, Vance could be seen standing tall. The crowd cheered instantly, re-energized by Vance's late comeback.

 

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Winslow scoffed. "But it's too late! You couldn't do it in time!"

 

A wry, Averyl-esque smirk crept onto Vance's face. "Hey, announcer guy!"

 

Trunculo scrambled to snap out his awe. "Uhh, yes?"

 

"That count you just did," Vance inquired, "it was to see if I would get up before you counted to ten, right?"

 

"Uh, yeah, that's correct," Trunculo answered. "Sorry, buddy, but rules are rules."

 

Vance nodded. "So then, since I've been standing the entire time, that count shouldn't mean anything, right?"

 

Trunculo blinked, stupefied. "But...that's impossible. You were just hit with a...with a..."

 

Vance lifted his legs from the arena floor. Pieces of smashed concrete clattered down as he pulled his lower legs out from the holes they’d been implanted in. He yawned, deactivated his psynergy barrier, pulled his knees up to his chest and gave his bruised legs a good stretch. Lacerations covered his arms, his jacket and jeans were in tatters from all the flying metal, blood dripped from his forehead, but a calm smile still adorned his face.

 

"So I'm still in?"

 

Trunculo scratched his head. "Well, yeah. I don't believe it, but...rules are rules."

 

"Good." A violet aura blazed around Vance's body. "Now we can get on with this."

 

Winslow watched Vance steadily approach, then fired out a blast of pure psynergy.

 

"Weak." Vance raised his hand, deflected the attack and sent it flying toward the arena's wall. "Your attacks are weak because there's nothing behind them. There's nothing you're actually fighting for!"

 

"Sure there is!" Winslow growled and threw forward a few more blasts. "You just wouldn't understand!"

 

"Try me." Vance dodged past the attacks and came to a stop right in front of Winslow's face. "Try and explain it to me. What are you fighting for? To protect your own reputation? To stroke your ego?"

 

"To beat...you!" Winslow shrieked, then curled his hand into a fist and punched outward.

 

Vance caught his opponent's wrist between his thumb and forefinger. "You can't fool me, Winslow. All your attacks have been the same. They're filled with nothing but meaningless anger!"

 

Vance threw Winslow's hand down, then reached out and gripped the collar of his uniform. The Rooster struggled against Vance's strength, but it was no use. Although the two of them weren't much different in height, all of a sudden, Vance seemed a whole lot taller.

 

Vance looked deep into Winslow's eyes. "My uncle taught me to channel my anger into something else. Can't you sense the difference in my psynergy between now and then? I'm not fighting for my pride anymore. I'm fighting to accomplish what I promised I'd do."

 

Then, Vance slammed a blazing uppercut into the Zodiac's chin. Winslow staggered back, his face twisted into a symbol of pain.

 

"Fuck you!" Winslow screamed.

 

The Rooster's eyes reeled back into his head and he leapt out like a wild animal. As he attempted to pummel Vance, his magnetic aura went haywire, lifting his body off the ground along with the other metal scraps around the arena. All at once, the pieces went flying toward Vance, proof that Winslow was focused on nothing but murder.

 

The Albavitrean blocked Winslow's punches with little effort and let his thick psynergy barrier deflect the sharp projectiles. Growing tired of Winslow's rampage, Vance aimed his right foot toward Winslow's head.

 

"Enough, Winslow!" Vance shouted. "You've lost!"

 

An ear-shattering crackle erupted through the arena as Vance's foot slammed down onto his opponent. Winslow barely had enough time to raise his arms to defend himself, and with his psynergy sapped, his defenses were nothing against Vance's power. The psynergy fell off the platform and went crashing onto the ground, downed for the count.

 

Vance hopped onto the grass and took hold of Winslow's body once more. "Now do you get it?"

 

Winslow's eyes looked tired and worn-out, and the psychotic smile was gone from his face. After a while, he spoke. "You’re right. I have nothing to fight for. I have absolutely nothing."

 

Vance knelt down next to him and looked into his eyes. "That's not true. If you really had nothing, you wouldn't get up in the morning."

 

"Shut up," Winslow muttered, and moved his eyes away.

 

"Talk to me, unless you want me to smack you again. Now...what do you live for? Why are you so motivated by jealousy?"

 

"It's not jealousy," Winslow retorted quickly, then faltered. "It's...it's..."

 

"I'm not trying to trap you, Winslow," Vance said. "I just want to know what you're really feeling."

 

Winslow snorted. "Fine. If you must know...I'm running."

 

"Running?" Vance asked.

 

"From life," Winslow sighed. "I can't take the pressure. You have good intentions, so you wouldn't understand. The only thing that motivates me is jealousy. I can't stand feeling like I'm below someone...knowing that someone's done something better than me. Why is that? Is it fear? Fear that I'm not special? Whatever it is, it eats me alive."

 

"I know exactly what you mean," Vance sighed. "Let me guess, your parents pressured you a lot?"

 

"Yeah, but it didn't bug me that much," Winslow continued. "I can deal with that sort of pressure. All I needed to do was see one of my peers acting proud of himself or being applauded for something, and that would fill me with enough fury to motivate me to complete any task. I could make my parents happy...it was me that was the problem. No matter what I did, it was never enough."

 

"It felt like they were everywhere, right?" Vance cut in, as ancient memories of his own school life returned to his mind. "Those other kids, laughing at you. It seemed like they were all so much better off, like they had everything and you had nothing. I know that feeling."

 

"Those little pricks..." Winslow growled. "I never even finished killing them all!"

 

Vance cast away his own painful memories and focused on his enemy. "Winslow, it's really surprising how alike we are. I bet I know exactly how you acted in school, too. Walking through the halls, glaring at people because you just knew they were laughing at you. Declining offers for help and ostracizing other kids because you felt so bitter. We shut out everyone just because we were so afraid. We were even too afraid to care about other people. We lived in constant states of paranoia and grief, all because of that fear."

 

Winslow frowned, still refusing to look Vance in the eyes.

 

"You're so much like I was back then," Vance said. "And I wonder who I’m acting like now..."

 

"I think I somehow knew this day would come," Winslow muttered. "Ever since I joined the Dark Zodiacs, I felt like I was in too deep. Being around them only made me more scared, like I had to constantly overcompensate just to survive. In the end, all the fears I had about myself were true. I'm not as special as other people. I don't have the drive they do. No matter how many people I killed, I never felt strong...it just helped me to further realize how weak I really am."

 

Vance loosened his grip and stood up. "It's never too late to change."

 

"It is for me," Winslow argued, pulling himself up and turning his back to Vance. "They'll kill me if I leave."

 

"They won't," Vance said firmly. "Come with me and Eden. I have my own score to settle with them – we can kick their ass together, Winslow!"

 

"Why are you so insistent on helping me?!" Winslow shouted. "It's really pissing me off! You should hate me! You should want to kill me!"

 

"I’ll never let myself get that conceited, Winslow. If an asshole like me gets the chance to turn himself around, then why shouldn't you?"

 

"No! Shut up!" Winslow shouted. "You think this makes me feel better? Hearing how much of a better person you are than me? How you've managed to succeed where I've constantly failed? There's not a single good intention inside me, Vance! You may think we're similar, but you don't have blood on your hands. We're nothing alike!"

 

"Everyone's screwed up, Winslow," Vance went on. "Stop tearing yourself down!"

 

"Get out of here," Winslow demanded, shoving his hands into his coat pocket and walking to the other side of the arena. "Talking to you is only going to make me feel worse."

Vance faltered, unsure of what to say next. Soon, the crowd’s cheers converged into a single, unified command, stunning Vance even further.

 

"Well, well..." Trunculo's voice boomed over the chorus. "And I was just about to find a box of tissues and cry myself to sleep, too! It looked like Vance and Winslow were going to patch things up, buuut...apparently the crowd has other ideas!"

 

"They're saying 'kill him,'" Edward gasped from the stands. "But..."

 

"No way," Frank said confidently. "He won't do it."

 

Down below, Vance saw a psychotic grin rise on the Rooster’s face. "Winslow...what are you doing?"

 

"Listen." The Rooster brought up a switchblade to his throat. "One of us has to please them."

 

"Hold on!" Vance shouted. "Don’t be stupid, Winslow!"

 

Drops of blood trickled down Winslow's neck as he spoke. "Just like you said, I have nothing to fight for...and now you've beaten me. I’d rather just die."

 

Vance shook his head. "And you called me a coward! I guess you only know how to run after all, Winslow. Suicide is the coward's route. Overcoming your pain is how you find true strength!"

 

"Reverse psychology won't work on me, Vance," Winslow spoke flatly. "You proved your superiority over me. I am the weaker man. Now, enjoy the result." Winslow pushed the knife closer to his throat, and Vance watched as the skin began to separate, giving way to crimson blood. "See you in Hell."

Next: Her