Once Dead Round 5- Versus Amy Tolson Part 3

-Found, Although Not Without a Fair Share of Losing, Too Part 3-

Amy grunted as she managed to block another blow from Lydia, returning the favor with a tough left jab that left a deep cut on the girl’s face. She shrieked, stumbling back and grasping at her cheek, earning Amy the chance to tear off the bottom of her pant leg and tie a very painful knot around the chunk that Lydia had torn out of her leg. She winced, wondering if it was actually possible to recover from an injury like that. Nearby, Lydia’s legs were spread far apart and the rest of her body was falling towards the ground, her back arched and head angled toward the floor. She was breathing heavily, clearing starting to run out of juice. Amy wasn’t surprised- the damn girl had been running on full blast ever since she ran into her. It was a curse on her part that she hadn’t started wearing down sooner, what with all the speed she was mustering.

But, at this point, the fact that she was wearing down at all was nothing short of a blessing. Amy, grunting in pain, started dragging herself across the floor in and attempt to reach her gun.

Lydia, taking much longer to recover from her blow that Amy thought was necessary, finally looked up at the woman through the curtain of blood-clumped hair that was cascading over her down-turned face. Red liquid dripped down from the corners of her open mouth and stained her teeth in gore. Lazily, as if every movement was less of her muscles working and more of her limbs being dragged through the air by someone else, Lydia drew out her knife and slammed it with all her might into the floor, shattering the lobby tile and pinning down the very end of Amy’s tattered pant leg to the ground. Amy glanced at it, then up at Lydia’s horrific, blood-drenched face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she growled breathlessly. Her voice was not as it should be, but rather low and gravely and dark and beastly and reminiscent less of a teenager and more of something demonic and desperate that somehow was able to crawl its way out of the fiery depths of hell.

Amy didn’t reply. She simply tugged her leg up and kept moving forward, ignoring the girl’s threat. Lydia seemed like she was having trouble finding the strength to stop her.

++++++++++

Lewis just stood there, watching the whole thing unfold, leaning against the counter for support and offering no reaction to what was happening.

He felt very… distant. A while ago, something like this might have actually scared him, even sent him screaming down the hall in horrific terror as the sight of someone trying to eat someone was seared permanently into his brain and would most likely haunt his nightmares for days to come.

But that was the old Lewis. The new Lewis, the creator’s Lewis, had seen things, a few very awful things, and had become very numb to their atrocities with time. He was tired, very tired, and found it difficult to find the capacity in himself to care anymore. He viewed what was happening in front of him like a movie- there were characters, there was actions, there was drama and gore and tragedy. But in the end, none of it felt real to him. Lydia and Amy were just actors in some grander scheme, their lives no more important to him than those of two strangers living halfway around the world.

Of course, he supposed that didn’t really count, seeing as the hotel and surrounding area seemed to be its own self-contained little setting… but that was making things complicated. And the new Lewis didn’t want complicated. The new Lewis just wanted to watch. And so watch he did.

He glanced at the clock. Two minutes to go.

It was then that an idea popped into his mind. He straightened a little bit, shifting to look back to Veronica who also seemed to be viewing the battle between Amy and Lydia, though with a bored and uninterested stare as she did so. Lewis opened his mouth to say something, hesitant at first, which drew the attention of the manager enough for her to scoff at him.

“What?” she snapped. “You got something to say? Spit it out!”

Lewis narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth curling into an unpleasant scowl. “I was going to ask if you had anything in the lost-and-found that belonged to Lewis Drade,” he said, swallowing back any possible sarcasm.  

Veronica eyed him for a moment, her cranky default expression giving away nothing. “As a matter of fact,” she said, drawing out the words slowly and skewing her face with the deliberate sense that things were going to turn very sour very quickly, “I do.”

Lewis tried to force his eyes not to open any wider, but he guessed that Veronica could see past his bottled excitement either way. “Well?” he said. “Can I have them?”

“It,” Veronica corrected bitingly. “And no. You can’t.”

Lewis looked indignant. “Why not?” he demanded, making a move to shift more towards her but wincing in pain when he remembered that there was still a hole blasted through his leg.

Veronica laughed. “Gee, maybe it’s because you need to ask for things by name!” she squealed, giving Lewis some extremely disgustingly sugar-coated mockery that was very reminiscent of Illi.

Lewis glared over at her for a beat, mentally shuffling through his options. “Give me the damn item,” he said flatly. Veronica smirked, finding his display anything but intimidating.

“Keep that up and even if you do name it, you’re getting jack shit,” Veronica spat. “Now, are you actually gonna guess? Or do you wanna keep acting like a little shit for another five min-”

Veronica’s mouth shut as her view quickly changed from looking at Lewis to looking at Lewis holding a gun to her face.

“I said,” he breathed, voice dropping to a very dangerous low, “give me item.”

Veronica blinked at the revolver barrel being held to her face, looking extremely composed all things considered but still caught off guard nonetheless. Her eyes shifted to Lewis, then the gun, then back to Lewis again, until she let out a weak, biting chuckle.

“You know,” she said, reaching down behind the counter again, “I could summon a hoard of spiders right now to come devour your sorry ass, but I don’t think I will. The irony in this is just too great.”

Veronica slid the item across the desk with a careless flourish, Lewis catching it in his free hand just as it was about to go over the side. He glanced down at it, not taking his weapon off of the manager, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Excuse me?” he said, more a harsh statement than a genuine question. “What is this?”

Lewis brought the object back up and set it on the counter. The cloudy liquid sloshed around in its jar as he did, threatening to spill over were it not for the lid. “This isn’t mine,” he said. The corner of Veronica’s mouth slipped higher up on her face.

“Oh yes it is,” she reassured him, folding her arms across her chest. “Trust me.”

Lewis looked again at the glass container and the milky liquid that it held inside. “I don’t even know what this stuff is,” he argued. Veronica shifted, prompting Lewis to retrain his slowly relaxing gun on her again

“Think Little Miss Muffet,” Veronica suggested, leering over at him. Lewis glowered in response, snatching up the jar and inspecting it absently.

“’Little Miss Muffet?’” he repeated, stirring the words over in his mouth and trying to make sense of them. “What- wait….” He turned his attention back to Veronica. “Whey?”

The manager bolted up, straightening her back and throwing her arms merrily in the air. “And we have a winner!” she yelled.

Lewis shook his hand uncomprehendingly at her. “Whey?” he repeated, sounding much more incredulous this time around. “I’ve never even seen this stuff before!”

Veronica shrugged. “Well too bad, it’s still yours.”

“No it’s not!” Lewis’s arm surged forward, pressing the barrel of the gun right up to the manager’s forehead. “This isn’t mine! Give me my real item, now, or I will shoot you.”

Veronica seemed relatively unfazed by this action. She simply kept staring on ahead at Lewis, eyes bored and only partially open. The red hair framed her calm features nicely but quietly, adding to her general feeling of composure.

“Look on the bottom,” she muttered emotionlessly.

Lewis hesitated, not wanting to let his guard down but curious just the same to see if there really was anything on the bottom, like there had been for Lydia. He stole just a quick glance and saw, written in neat black pen that looked exactly like his own handwriting, “Lewis’s” in big, clean lettering.

“See?” Veronica said. “I told you. It’s yours.”

Lewis squinted down at the jar for a moment turning it over in his head. True, it had his name on it, but what the hell did it mean? Was it an abstract concept like Lydia’s? Had he just gotten really drunk one night and gone out to purchase some slurry milk water? Why in god’s name did he have an entire jar of whey with him? Whey… Lewis’s whey…

Way…

Lewis blinked, and looked down at the gun he was holding to Veronica’s face as though he were just noticing it for the first time. He looked at his patched up hand, the still-flowing blood blooming red fireworks onto the dirty fabric. He looked over at his two risen ghosts, Eli standing obediently next to him and Illi still on the floor, trying to get up but unable to with her decimated leg. He looked at Veronica, with her stone-cold gaze and rude, offhanded mannerism. Finally, he looked down at the whey in his hand, the cool glass sending shivers through his glove and racing up his arm. And he understood.

Whey. Way.

Lewis had lost his way.

The gun seemed to slip out of his hand so easily, like it had been weighing down his tired arm and finally letting go of it meant nothing sort of relief. It clattered on the desk, making a hollow metal-on-wood sound before it settled, unmoving. Lewis brought the jar closer to himself and held it against his chest, suddenly feeling as though it were very warm. He slid down the desk until he was seated on the ground, gazing blankly into floor and trying to remember why he had done everything that he had done.

He had killed Rapiax. He had used multiple ghosts without asking their permission. He had stood idly by while two woman were murdered for not falling in line the way Legs them wanted to. He had shot Amy Tolson, twice, and commanded others to follow his lead and do the same. He had threatened to kill Veronica for god’s sake, all because he was too impatient and cold to try and even guess what it might have been that he lost.

Eli and Illi were right. He was a terrible person, wasn’t he? And all for what? Himself? The plan?

No. The creator.

Everything he did, he did for the creator. For her to gain more power, to secure control over more and more people and things. She had taken both guilty and innocent lives to give Lewis more ghosts to talk to, and in turn to give herself more authority over these countless characters whose existence held no meaning to her besides a simple monetary value. She always went on and on about the power of words, about the ability of simple sentences to completely change someone’s point of view or pull at their delicate heartstrings, and about her noble quest to get her word out there and to make it matter. But it wasn’t noble. It wasn’t noble at all. It was cheap and dirty and cruel and sick. And not only had he just stood by and let it happen, he actively contributed to her rule.

He had killed someone, stood by while two more were killed, and attempted to kill another all on his own. The last one had featured him without even and ounce of remorse.

Lewis wrought off his mask and threw it on the ground angrily. Ensign Phantom? Yeah right. He wasn’t a hero. That man, if he ever even existed to begin with, had been abandoned the moment he left Diesel City. Lewis sighed, raising a hand to his face only to discover that there were tears flowing down from his eyes. He turned to look up at Veronica, who was in turn gazing down at him with an unreadable expression. He opened his mouth to say something, not quite sure what it was he wanted to convey, or how to do it with nothing but words. It took him a moment, but finally he was able to choke something out.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis muttered hollowly. “I am so, so sorry.”

Veronica merely blinked in response. And that was when Lydia got shot.

++++++++++

“Oh, excuse me? Little lady?”

Aidyl turned around as an older man came trotting up to her clutching a piece of paper. “Hm?” she said, glancing at a clock in a store window. One minute left. “Yes?”

“I believe you dropped this,” the man said, holding the sheet out the her. Aidyl smiled kindly at the man.

“Thank you,” she said. “You can keep it, though. I’m trying to pass these out to as many people as possible.”

The man blinked at her. “Oh. Well alright then. Say, aren’t you a little young to be out here all alone? Where are your parents?”

Aidyl smiled knowingly. “Trust me sir, I’m older than I look,” she replied. “I have to be on my way now. Have a good day.” She took off, leaving the man behind to read the paper he had so graciously been gifted. He looked up, catching the girl right before she rounded a corner.

“By the way!” he called, making Aidyl swing around again just for another moment. “This is a lovely little poem! Good job!”

Aidyl laughed quietly. “Thank you,” she hollered back. “But it’s not mine.”

She smiled, then hurried on her way. Like Legs said; don’t be late.

++++++++++

There wasn’t a moment to lose. Amy sprang to her feet and half ran, half hobbled her way toward the front desk, as fast as she could with one of her legs missing an extremely vital chunk. Behind her, Lydia lay writhing on the ground, screaming in pain, as she clutched at her aching, bleeding side. Amy was still amazed at how long it had taken her to finally get a hit, but boy, was it worth it. That annoy little girl’s shrieks were like music to her ears.

She had been expecting an onslaught of bullets the moment she was able to tear away from Lydia, but no such thing came. Instead, all she saw was the man in the mask (who was no longer wearing his mask) huddled on the ground, watching as she came over with paralyzed eyes, neither of his assistants making any move to take action. Not that she was complaining, of course. This was way more than she could have hoped for, and given that there were roughly forty five second left until Veronica torched her stuff, she was taking whatever she could get.

The moment she reached the desk, she shoved the unmasked man aside, thankful that he seemed too stunned to even react. She dropped down so that she was at his eye level, chocking him back into enough cognition for him to try to scoot away, but not nearly fast enough. Amy drove a very hard, very angry fist straight into his stomach and he coughed, doubling over in pain. Still, the two other woman gave no reaction. Good- that would make it easier to kill them and everyone else who had fought her this round. Just as soon as she got her final item.

Amy pulled the unmasked man closer to her and elbowed upside the head this time, knocking him back and digging into his pockets to retrieve her stolen hairbands. She withdrew both of them, almost worried about how easily this was all happening, but deciding it better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The unmasked man, the same one who had shot her earlier, was putting up no semblance of a fight.

Amy grasped the edge of the counter and hefted herself up so that she was standing, although shakily. She slammed her hands down on the desk, staring at Veronica with a gaze that was comprised of both anger and pleading.

“Items. Now,” she gasped, probably sounding more desperate than intimidating. Veronica groaned in response.

“Son of a bitch, can’t any of you people listen?!” she ranted, completely ignoring the urgency in Amy’s voice. “I can’t give you anything until you ask for it by name. Do you understand that? N-A-M-E. It’s not that difficult of a fucking concept, so get it through your fucking thick skulls, dammit!”

“Listen to me!” Amy yelled, grabbing Veronica’s collar and pulling her up so that their noses were mere centimeters away for one another’s. “I have less than thirty seconds to win this stupid round, so either you give me my god damn items, or I’m gonna shoot you in the head!” Amy raised her gun to the manager’s temple. “We clear on that?”

Veronica scoffed, smirking. “Go for it, Red,” she taunted. “Remember what happened last time? I’ll just come right back and you’ll lose either way.”

Amy grit her teeth together. What was she going to do? The clock was counting down and she only had two of her items. What else did she lose? Come on, think Amy, think! She’d come so far- four whole rounds! There was no way she was going to let herself lose here! Not after everything she had done. Not after she had killed Caroline, tricked Strauss, murdered Whaverd, tagged Ba-

The whole world stopped then, and Amy Tolson blinked.

Whaverd. She had murdered Whaverd.

…Oh god, what was she thinking?

She was just a kid! Just a little kid who got thrown into this mess the same as her. Sure, she might have attacked first, but did that really give her the right to murder her? She was so young, she probably didn’t even understand what was happening. Hell, Amy was almost thirty and she still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in this crazy hotel. And yet she went along with it anyway, leaving countless innocent bodies and shattered minds in her wake.

Amy lowered her gun, a sad, glazed-over stare aimed at Veronica as she let go of her collar. The manager pulled away, brushing off the bottom of her shirt as if Amy’s hands had somehow dirtied it, but in a way that was far beyond the blood stains that she had smeared across the top. Amy inhaled, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“It’s sympathy, isn’t it?” she muttered. “My sympathy.”

There was a beat of absolute silence around Amy as her question hung there, looming over her like a guillotine destined the drop.

When the noise returned, the world started moving again.

“Actually,” Veronica said, reaching down one last time into the magical pit, “I had it labeled as ‘humanity,’ but I guess your version works, too.”

The manager tossed the item across the counter and Amy caught it, a featureless cloth doll now resting in her filthy hands. She stared down at the little beige toy, turning it over a few times, and inspecting the loose threads and lack of a face. There was a white tag attached the one of the arms- it had her name on it.  

A buzzer rang out. Time was up. The round was over. Amy glanced over at the still-standing, blank-faced Eli, who was holding in her hand what looked like a remote control. Then she looked over at Lydia, lying on the floor in a growing pool of her own blood, finally still, her only movement being the slow, haggard rise and fall of her chest. She had retrieved none of her lost items.

Veronica cleared her throat. “Well, that was unexpected,” she muttered. “Looks like Lydia lost. Not that I’m complaining.”

Silence enveloped the room. Amy Tolson won the round.

++++++++++

Aidyl stumbled to the ground, having been dropped off a few inches higher than she figured the creator intended. She stole a fast glance at her tote bag- it was empty now, save the staple gun. All of the papers had been passed out.

“Well?” Aidyl looked up, noticing Legs sitting, as she usually did, within the circle of monitors. “Did you finish?”

The girl got to her feet, briefly brushing herself off. “Yes,” she replied. “I did. Just barely, but all of the poems have been passed out. How did things go with Lydia and Amy?”

“Lydia lost,” Legs said casually, shrugging. Aidyl froze.

“What?” she whispered. “What- but- how-”

“Lewis wasn’t paying proper attention,” she explained nonchalantly, sounding not the least bit worried that her connection to the tournament was about to be sent back to the Black Box. “He was doing pretty well up until the last minute or so, actually. Oh well.”

Aidyl was about to say something when she realized why the creator was so calm, then mentally reprimanded herself for being so clueless. “Oh, of course,” she muttered. “I forgot, the round was just a distraction. The poem…”

Legs turned to face her creation and smiled. “It’s like I always say; never underestimate the power of words, Aidyl. They can do amazing things.”

She swiveled back to the monitors, where each screen was shifting to display an image of the town outside. All around, people were approaching streetlamps, telephone poles, anywhere Aidyl had placed the fliers, and scanning over the words.

“And,” Legs announced, beaming with satisfaction, “so can I.”

++++++++++

Lewis was too stunned to speak. His command for Eli had been too specific- “Go give this to Lydia once she’s killed Amy.” Except Lydia hadn’t killed Amy. She’d been shot, straight through the torso, and was now crumpled on the ground in top of a puddle of her blood.

Lydia had lost. And Amy had won.

He glanced up at the woman, who didn’t even seem to really register what had happened. There was no victory dance, no celebratory cheering, not even a relieved sigh. She just stared down at doll that Veronica had handed to her and blinked, uncomprehending and yet at the same time understanding far too well what she had lost and why.

Lewis wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Amy had won… and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. A sad smile crossed his face- after all, he no longer agreed with the creator’s methods. Not entirely, at least. It would have been nice if Lydia could have won, but whatever happens, happens, right? No use dwelling on it.

Lewis closed his eyes, making up his mind. Now that this whole thing was over, he would have a talk with Legs, try to get her to see his point of view and get her to understand why everything they had been doing was wrong and unjustified. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get her to abandon her grand plans. Maybe.

But then again, maybe it didn’t matter. Because Amy had won. And that meant that it was over.

Finally, it was done.

++++++++++

The townsfolk approached the papers, peering curiously up at the words that were printed on them. They felt… drawn to them, somehow. Like the papers were somehow calling out to the people of the city. It started off as just one or two, most passers far too busy with their own activities to bother reading up on someone else’s. After all, poetry wasn’t for everyone, right?

It was when the black ink of the words started glowing a brilliant gold that more people were attracted to it. They came, few at first, but then in droves, as the papers lit brighter and brighter all across the city. The more people that gathered, the more they radiated their beautiful, blinding light.

The paper lit for them, and only them. Because it was their notice, their priceless, invaluable attention, that gave them power.

++++++++++

“Congratulations.”

Amy started, knocking herself out of the daze she had been in and peering down at the floor. The unmasked man looked up at her, a sad smile on his face and muttered “congratulations” smeared across his lips. A gloved hand reached out to her.

“I’m Lewis,” he said. “Nice to meet you. Sorry I shot you. Twice.”

Amy blinked down at him, unable to decide if this was some sort of sneaky trick. Then again, what could he do now? Lydia had lost, hadn’t she? What more could he do?

Maybe it was because she was tired from the fight with Lydia, or maybe it was because her moral compass had just recently be readjusted, or maybe it was because of something else entirely, but Amy extended her arm and took Lewis’s palm in hers, shaking it gently but firmly.

“I’m Amy,” she replied, her voice sounding to her as if it were coming through a very thick haze of fog. “Amy Tolson.”

++++++++++

More and more people began huddling around the papers, gazing at the golden glow. A few started muttering to each other, talking about how this must just be some cheap magic trick or something else undeserving of their time. One or two started to leave.

Look

A few people jolted back, gasping as the words on the paper roared to life above them. The deserted whirled around, once more captivated by the events unfolding before them. A voice rained down, reading off the poem to the masses as they stared up, completely awestruck at what was happening. Around them, the air grew warm.

++++++++++

“I know who you are,” Lewis replied. Amy took a step back, forgetting her injured leg, before tripping and nearly falling over. She caught the counter, still looking over at the man on the ground.

“I heard it over the loudspeakers,” he explained quickly, a weak laugh escaping his throat. Amy smiled in reply, not quite sure why she suddenly had no problem chatting with a man who had very recently attempted to kill her, and vice versa. She had to laugh to herself- what an odd situation.

++++++++++

Look here, the voice said. Look at these words. These fiery, dancing sparks

The people in the crowd had fallen silent, all in mutual agreement not to interrupt the strange, heavenly voice that was speaking to them.

They float, Still smoldering, To the cold ground around you.

A few people started shifting, unzipping their sweatshirts or maybe fanning themselves with their shirts. Was it getting hotter? On the papers, the words continued to glow.

Let them come, Let them warm you…

Yes, it most definitely getting hotter. The crowd started muttering to one another, but the voice read on, ignoring their discomfort.

These words, My words…

My power

All across the town, the papers went up in flames.

++++++++++

Amy cocked her head to the side, a question flashing across her mind.

“Why were you helping Lydia?” she asked, looking down at Lewis. “And why don’t you care about it anymore?”

Lewis blinked at her, then shrugged. “Well, I was helping her because our creator wanted me to,” he explained. Amy tensed. Again with the creator thing. “And I don’t care anymore because… well, because I don’t have to.”

He smiled, a strange, very innocent smile, with contrasting eyes that looked like they had seen more than enough of the world for one lifetime. “You won,” he went on. “Lydia’s out of the tournament. And, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure that’s it’s in my best interest to listen to our creator anymore…”

Amy was silent. She wanted to hear this.

++++++++++

The ashes of the papers floated down around the people like black snow. They looked on, quietly chaotic, as the remnants flitted easily to the ground. As soon as they touched down, though, they roared back to life, sending the people scattering in fear as fire sprang up all around them.

These words can burn you, Inspire or hurt you, Sear into you, Like the power, Of a thousand angry fires…

The beauty of the ordeal had left them, leaving the gathered people to flee in terror as the world around them erupted into flames.

My writing will rock the world, Shatter your minds, And char into your essence, The word of my spirit.

All around, the town had been set ablaze.

++++++++++

Lewis shifted just the slightest bit, as if he were still trying to get used to the ideas that he was spouting out to Amy. “I mean, you don’t know this, but I like to think that I used to be at least a decent kind of person… But, ever since I got to this hotel, I’ve been blindly following my creator’s orders…”

Amy stood there, listening, as a man she hardly knew started pouring his heart out to her. She didn’t entirely mind, though- it was comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one who had been changed during this tournament. Misery loves company, right?

Lewis looked up at her then, gazing into her eyes with a heartfelt sense of remorse. “But now it’s over,” he said. “Now my creator… well, she lost. And I don’t have to listen to her anymore.”

++++++++++

People barreled through the streets screaming, panicking, trying to put out the flames that were swallowing their homes. But the fires would not die. They only grew larger and larger, consuming everything in their path with a speed and fervor unnatural to something that wasn’t supposed to be alive.

Listen now, and read, Let your eyes dig through my letters, Let them absorb my message, My creed, And become one with them

But maybe the fire was alive. Its spits and crackles sounded almost like triumphant laughter as it blazed through the town, stretching its burning tendrils over everything unfortunate enough to be too close to it. Trees, building, cars- everything was wrapped in unrelenting flames.

++++++++++

Lewis breathed out, looking very at peace with himself as he gazed off into the distance of the hotel. Amy shifted, wanting to say something but not sure how to phrase it.

“I’m sorry, too, you know,” she muttered unsatisfactorily. Lewis blinked up at her.

“I didn’t want to crawl all over other people to make my way to the top,” she said. “If I had it my way, everyone here would’ve gotten out alive and gone back to wherever they came from. But…” she trailed off, her eyes lifting into the air without anything to focus on.

“But that wasn’t how it worked, right?”

Amy looked back down at Lewis and smiled. “Yeah,” she replied. “I… I killed a little girl, in Round Two. Whaverd. She was my opponent. She couldn’t have been more than ten, I…” Her hands balled into tight fists as she struggled to finish her thought. “I killed her. But I wish I hadn’t.”

Amy moved her eyes to stare down at the counter. She almost felt like crying, but nothing would come out. No tears. Not now. It was too late for more tears.

“I know the feeling,” Lewis said. “And… and I like to think that maybe there’s something we can do to make it better, you know? Because if there isn’t, well, then what do we do?”

Amy nodded in agreement.

++++++++++

The town was just a mix of reds and black, some things being burned, and others already having been too charred to even continue letting a fire use them of fuel. The people cowered in fear, trying desperately to run away, to protect their friends and family, to get them to a safe place where the fire couldn’t touch them. But no such place existed. The entire world was going to burn.

Feel my words… Live my words…
Die my words

A final collective shriek of terror poured out from the throats of the townspeople. The fire flared intensely around them one last time, covering every last inch in a powerful, deathly flame that licked up towards the sky. Everything was a bright, violent red and orange, completely overtaken by what had begun as nothing but words on a sheet of paper. The people cried and prayed as they all burned, their bodies going up in flames as the voice’s words rang down around them, narrating their terrible fates with the same words that had caused them in the first place.  

Then, just like that, the fire died. The red flames flickered out in an instant, making way for a thick cloud of smoke to overlay the city. Through the dusty grey, not a single soul could be seen still standing. The town had been burned, the people killed in the fire’s angry rampage.

Above, the heavenly voice finished its last verse.

Let your being turn to ashes, it said.

Swallowed by the heat of my gospel,

And burned by the might of my truth

Below, all that remained were ashes.

++++++++++

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Amy replied. “I think… I think I’m going to try and make up for what I’ve done, too. If I can.”

Lewis smiled up at Amy. Even if they had been trying to kill each other not a few minutes earlier, he liked her. She was nice. And she understood.

He grabbed onto Veronica’s desk and started getting up. “You know Amy,” he said, smiling over at her. “I’m glad you won this. I’m glad Lydia’s out of the tournament. Because I don’t think that my creator should get all of the power she wants. It wouldn’t end well for anybody. I- AGH!”

“Lewis? What’s wrong?”

Lewis collapsed back onto the ground, gasping for breath and raising both hands to his throbbing head. It felt like his skull was about to split open. The voices… oh god, the voices. They were all screaming at him at once, all writhing and shrieking and praying and crying in his head at the same time. Each and every one was vying for attention, desperately trying to get him to listen, tugging at his mind for his undivided focus, all while every single spirit was trying to make sense of what was happening around them. He shut his eyes, knowing that it wasn’t their fault they were so loud, knowing that they were just scared and confused and had no idea that it was him they were yelling, but hearing all of them at the same time nonetheless. He tried to focus on the individual voices, attempting to make some sense of what was going on.  

“Where’s my dad? Dad?! Dad!”

“So much fire…”

“What happened?! What’s going on?! Where am I? What happened to my sister?!”

“Help! Somebody help me, I’m burning!”

Through all the noise, Lewis could just barely hear Amy’s cutting in. “Lewis, what… oh my god…” She trailed off, her sentence dropping off into what sounded like dazed horror.

Lewis pried his eyes open long enough to peer over at what Amy was looking at, and he swore he felt his heart stop. Outside, just visible over the hill that divided the Hotel de las Arañas from the rest of the city, the entire town was in ruins. A grey smog had enveloped what was left of the area- nothing but a pile of dust and ashes, the whole town looking as though it had been swallowed in flames. Amongst the wreckage, Lewis, and Lewis only, could see countless dead people wandering around aimlessly, each and every one of them with terror in their eyes.

Lewis’s mouth hung open in horrific disbelief. In his head, the ghosts still screamed for attention.

++++++++++

Aidyl watched as Legs stood up from her chair, the monitors around her all displaying the same, ruined cityscape. She stood with her feet apart and her hands rolled into fists at her side, a triumphant, wicked smile playing across her smug face. She inhaled slowly, and held it before turning to face Aidyl.

“Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That went well.”

Aidyl smiled back, not sure how else to react.

++++++++++

For once, even Veronica seemed stunned.

“What the fuck…” she stuttered, involuntarily taking a step back. “What happened to… to the…”

“City?”

Veronica, Amy, and Lewis all turned to face the direction of the speaker, each of their eyes locking onto the same person with a similar level of shock. There, standing in the middle of the lobby with her arms crossed in front of her and a victorious smirk plastered onto her face, was someone with heels and a miniskirt wearing a turtle shell on her back. Next to her stood a young girl, with floppy blonde pigtails and a face like stone.

“Legs…?” Lewis whispered, his voice hardly even a squeak, as if even uttering the name was somehow forbidden.

The creator turned to Lewis and waved. “Hey, Lewis!” she sung. “Gee, you don’t look so good. Here, let me fix that.”

She snapped her fingers and a long line of words exploded out from her hand. They sped towards Lewis, ramming into him and disappearing into his torso. He gasped, a wave of gold energy rippling through him and tugging him to his feet before it dispersed into the air like smoke. He coughed once, now standing and looking over at the creator with a distinct air of confusion.

Legs smiled. “There. Feeling better?”

Lewis blinked, and looked down at his cloth-wrapped hand. He tore off the makeshift bandage and saw that the gash had been completely healed. Same with his leg. Even the fabric where the bullet had entered had been completely mended, as if it had never been torn in the first place.

Amy gaped at him. “How… what…”

“Oh, and I can’t forget about you…” Legs turned to face Lydia, still splayed on the ground and barely breathing. With a twitch of her pointer finger, the girl lifted into the air and came sailing over to her creator, limp and worn. Legs dangled her there for a moment, the girl suspended by gold energy, and forced another line of words into her body, as she had done with Lewis. Lydia jolted awake, inhaling sharply, as all of her injuries disappeared. Legs dropped her to the floor, leaving the girl to hunch over the ground and cough sporadically.

Lewis stared as Legs openly broke all canon rules and fixed both him and Lydia without any regard for the tournament regulations. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to use your powers in front of anyone but me and Aidyl!”

Legs turned to face him, eyes half-closed in a snaky gaze. “Well, it used to be like that,” she said. “But, now that I’ve got more power than Shiro and Aegy…”

Lewis’s eyes widened as realization struck him like a blade through his chest. He glanced at the destroyed world just outside the hotel, at the numerous ghosts that stood out there, crying out for some explanation to why they all had to die. He turned back to the creator, his mouth dry as he choked out a question he already knew the answer to.

“You did this?”

Legs’s smile widened, and she tapped her nose twice. “So observant. See, that kind of reaction is exactly why I needed you to help out Lydia, not Aidyl. I needed her to help me pull this off! You would never have been able to go through with it. I love you Lewis, but let’s be honest, you’re kind of squeamish.”

“Squeamish…” Lewis repeated. He felt like he was going to throw up.

“It was all just words, you know,” Legs went on. “That poem I showed you earlier? Yup, that was able to burn down an entire town and all it’s people! Amazing what a well-written piece can do, isn’t it?”

“Legs…” Lewis shook where he stood, maybe from fear, maybe from anger. He wasn’t sure. “This is wrong.”

Legs blinked at him, then burst out laughing. “Excuse me?” she snapped, smiling. “Since when is anything I’ve done ‘wrong’ to you? Need I remind you that they’re not real? Hell, they’re not even main characters! They’re just side NPCs that no ones even going to miss! At least their deaths were fairly painless. Not like Eli or Rapiax.”

Lewis tensed, knowing that that last bit was crafted specifically for him. He took a breath, mustering up as much courage as he could to choke out what he was going to say next. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “And it’s not going to work on me this time.” He took a defiant step forward, Amy and Veronica watching as the scene unfolded in front of them.

Legs’s smile dropped away. “Oh?” she said. Lewis gulped.

“I don’t care what you say this time,” Lewis went on, worried that if he stopped for even a moment that he would lose his determination. “You just murdered hundred of people, Legs. And all for what? Power? Control? Are you really so desperate to be above others that you’re willing to sacrifice that many innocent people in order to do it?!”

Legs’s reply was cold and instant. “Yes.”

Lewis tensed. “Fine,” he said. “Then I’m not working with you anymore. I quit.”

Legs nodded once, her face devoid of expression. “Do you now…”

“Yes,” Lewis spat. “I do.”

The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from Lydia’s haggard hacks and heavy breathing as she tried to focus her tired mind on getting up.

Then, Legs smiled. “Too bad,” she said.

All of the doors and windows shattered as a raging wind blasted into the lobby. Amy crouched down behind Illi, who, bless her heart, was still attempting to stand up, as shards of glass flew violently through the air. Veronica ducked behind the counter with a yelp, nearly getting speared in the process. Lewis froze at the rain of glass came rushing towards him, but all shards stopped just short of hitting him. The same happened with Aidyl and Lydia, that latter of whom was now on her feet and looking around with bewilderment.

“You think I need you anymore?” Legs shouted, her voice somehow magically carrying over the rush of the wind. “I don’t even need to obey the rules of the tournament anymore! Amy may have won the round, but none of that matters anymore! All those dead people, only I can write for them! I’m more powerful than you can even imagine!” The wind picked up, a circle of protection popping up around each of Legs’s characters. The others, though, felt themselves getting knocked back, pelted by the violent gusts.

“Amy!” Lewis shouted, running over to the woman as she braced herself against the wind.

“Ah ah ah…” Legs waved a hand and Lewis felt himself being picked up by the golden energy. He struggled as Legs drew him over to herself, unable to break free. “Careful now. I can’t have you getting yourself hurt out there. Which reminds me… Can’t have my power source getting compromised, now can I?”

Lewis screamed in pain as Legs forced another string of words into his torso, this one feeling as though it were searing his skin. He dropped to the floor with a thud, twitching as residual golden energy coursed through him. Legs squatted down next to him, still smiling.

“There,” she said. “I just made you immortal. Now no one will be able to get rid of you. And if no one can get rid of you, that means that no one can get rid of me, either. Oh, and I guess the same goes for Lydia, too, huh…”

The creator whirled on her other creation, who was glaring up at her with a pained expression as she tried to sort out everything that was happening. “You remember me, right Lydia?” Legs cooed. The girl huffed in response, anger inching its way deeper and deeper into her face by the second.

Legs tsked fondly. “Ah, that’s right, you’re still completely batshit, aren’t you? Not really able to comprehend human social patterns, is that right?”

“Shut up!” Lydia shrieked. She lunged at the creator with her knife, only to be knocked to the side by some unseen force. She grunted, hitting the ground.

“Ah, so she can speak!” Legs smiled, clapping her hands together. “Here, have a little reward.”

Legs shot her with words and the girl seized up, clutching at her heart and trying desperately to scream through the choking film of golden light. The energy blasted through her, then exited just as aggressively, dropping her onto the ground as she struggled to force herself back up.

Legs marveled at her handiwork. Veronica and Amy were cowering behind the desk, or at least as much as those two were capable of cowering. Lydia and Lewis were on the ground, trying for the life of them to get up, but unable to muster the energy to do so after their recent immortalizations. Aidyl, obedient as always, stood still, awaiting her master’s orders.

“I did this,” she announced, gazing triumphantly around the lobby. “I made all of this happen. Me! Just with words! My words!”

Suddenly, the wind turned inward, abandoning all laws of physics and gathering around Legs, wrapping her in a fierce torrent of power. The entire hotel began shaking, the lights flickering as the creator laughed. Bits of black started to fade in out of thin air, willed into existence by the all-powerful Legs. They hovered briefly, before coming to circle around her and morphing into letters as they whirled around their master. Her eyes glowed gold, a dangerous shimmer that quickly flooded through the rest of her body, completely covering her in godlike shine.

Lewis took the chance to scoot his way over to the desk, turning to Veronica and Amy with a look of apologetic hopelessness. They only stared back, no one having any idea of what to do.

Legs began rising into the air, a crown of black words coming to circle her head. She chuckled, her golden body shaking with absolute joy. Then she rocketed out the door, leaving behind flecks of gold and wisps of wind as she blew into the sky. She yelled something as she left, but above the roar of the wind, no one could make out what she said.

After a moment, the lobby settled and cautiously, Amy got to her feet. She looked around, signaling to the others that it was safe to come up. Across the room, Lydia groaned, trying to get to her feet, and Aidyl walked out of the lobby, not uttering a word about the event that had just taken place.

Veronica looked around, at the destruction caused in her lobby. Then she gazed out the door, where Legs’s shining form could just barely been seen hanging in the sky. The sky had gone dark, and storm clouds flashed with lightning overhead. She turned to the others, who were at a loss for words, and huffed.

“We’re fucked,” she said, shrugging.

Amy and Lewis nodded in agreement.

++++++++++

Shiro stood pressed against the wall, not sure what was happening. Why was the hotel shaking again? Was Aegy doing something again? No, the hotel would’ve let her know, right? Right?!

And just like that, it stopped. Shiro blinked her one good eye, she cautiously peeled herself away from the wall. She looked around, hoping that a quick search might give her an explanation.

That was when she heard it. A very distinct voice, echoing around the halls. It took her a moment to register what it said, but when she did, she shuddered and hugged her arms.

Look out, Shiro. I’m coming for your hotel.

++++++++++

Above the decimated city, Legs hovered, feeling the great energy surging through her veins. She look around, and slashed an arm through the air.

The storm cloud rocketed down, moving at her command and snaking around her. She opened her hand, this time making the rubble below to shatter into a billion black particles, suspended in the air. She closed it again, forcing it back into its original form,  the charred and ruined city. Below her skin, a shimmer of gold pulsed across her fist.

She looked at her hand, turning it around and inspecting it curiously. Then she broke into a grin, gazing at the fictional setting that surrounded her.

This world. This world that Shiro thought up, crafted with her words, and brought to life with the help of other writers and artists. This world that had been used and inhabited by so many different creators, built upon layer by layer as more and more people added their own little nuances to it. This enormous world, with all its plots and characters, that was home to the stories of so many, was moving at her every petty command.

This world belonged to Legs.

She cackled madly, thunder booming through the air in time with her laughter. Oh, how she had lusted after this. How she had fought and struggled for this. Finally, it was hers.

It was good to be god.