“Agh! More gentle, idiot…”
Fell cursed himself in a bad habit of talking to the air as he dabbed a piece of tissue paper at the side of his face. He was stationed in a men’s bathroom that was one floor up from the ground level and two staircases away from his most recent fight; it probably wasn’t such a great idea to stop for a breather, but Fell was only human. He could handle only a certain amount before his body began to shut down.
The gashes on the side of his face still stung with a magical intensity. Kio had swiped the broken arm of a statue across the skin there, and he wondered if it would ever go away, and just how bad the scar would be…
A loud flushing sound to the immediate left broke Fell from his thoughts and caused him to thump against the porcelain sink in a surprised jerk, eyes scanning the urinals. One had water slowly circling down the pipe now, as if someone had just pulled the handle, but he was the only body standing inside the large room.
“Damn,” he grumbled, throwing down the bloody tissue. His paranoia was at an all time high. The man gripped his shirt and stumbled back out of the room in a limping trot; he felt every bruise now, and had a terrible searing burn in the center of his chest. It was time for a little recon.
Fell didn’t go into the room he had at first set his things down it. It really didn’t matter anymore by now. What was a place where he could access some information? Naturally, a library was the first thought that popped into existence. It only took two tries to find a small one; the first room was a game arcade, and the second, a small place with high bookshelves and two computer stations.
“Morstends,” the roofer muttered, leaning over the keyboard. He had slow and clunky typing, with inexperienced fingers and rough, calloused palms. The new opponents seemed to be an odd family, consisting of father, son, and… Florence? Where did she fit in? As he tried to click farther into the database, his advances were interrupted by a sudden power surge. The screen fizzled angrily with black and blue lines until the monitor eventually blipped out with a final hiss. How wonderful. Fell stood up from the chair again, the soft hair on the back of his neck standing straight, empty hands clenching and unclenching. Was this it? He had a feeling they would find him first. At least he had a secret weapon…
“Ah, hell!” He suddenly exclaimed, looking around the floor for an emerald gleam. No! He must have left it in the bathroom after the spooky flush. Panic stricken and feeling very naked and unprotected, Fell pushed back through the library door and into the hallway, trying to remember which bathroom that he had been visiting along with the basement weapon.
A soft blinking caught his attention from across the hallway. Underneath the soft red carpeting, there was a slight green light showing through, a benign aura around the jingle that came with every flash. He had barely though about taking a step closer when, suddenly, the world was a shower of wood splinters and flames.
Fell’s mind was in a whir as his body buckled over and was blown backwards through a doorway, splinters following after in the shockwave wake. The nondescript sneakers he was wearing left the floor for maybe a second before his backside came crashing down onto what felt like cold concrete. A hollow thunk resounded through the room and then all fell quiet while the dust settled, and one halfway transparent figure drifted into the room.
Fell looked up with bleary eyes and tried to scramble backwards as the figure approached. It looked like a girl that could have been a few years younger than himself; her hair was just a shade more silver than his own, and if not for the fact that he could see rows of arcade games lined up behind this girl, her appearance would have been completely ordinary. She looked tired and sort of apathetically annoyed before leaning one way in the air and addressing his name.
“Fell Lennox. We, the Morstends, would like to politely request your surrender.” He blinked.
“Who are you?” It was all he could think of in reply. Dust and fragments of wood settled in the gashes on his cheek, making tears flow freely from just his left eye.
“Florence,” was her curt, matter-of-fact answer. He watched in fascination as her form flickered in between transparencies and she almost seemed to sway a little, like gravity had absolutely no effect. Fell thought back to childhood stories of ghosts and poltergeists…
“Are you a ghost?” The words just blurted out in very childlike curiosity, with the green and gold eyes held open wide. She looked almost shocked for a second before curling one side of her mouth up to one side in an entertained grin, and then she spread her hands out to either side in an almost-stretch.
“That’s not really important, Mr. Lennox.” He could see her eyes scanning the area rapidly as they talked; what was she looking for? A weapon? Something to kill him with? How would one such as her use any of the solid objects in this room?
“Where is it?” A voice suddenly blurted out from the hallway. They both leaned around to look at the disturbance; a very tall blond boy leaned in through the doorway, his lips puckered unhappily and his eyes glazed in a fashion that reminded Fell of someone slightly buzzed under a bottle of beer. His attire was something resembling a fisherman, with a khaki colored vest on top of a dark green T-shirt and a pair of multi-pocketed light green shorts.
“Not here,” Florence hissed in a warning. The boy in the hallway pressed two fingers into his ear and muttered quietly for a moment; Fell assumed the arrival to be the one named Michael. Where was the third member of their party? His skin prickled up again in an instinctual warning.
“Now, good sir!” He heard Michael call out, a friendly smile gracing his handsome face. “Have you accepted the forfeit? Trust me, it would be in your best interests. It would be unfortunate to lose any lives here today.” Fell shook his head and looked around. The lack of action in this fight was disturbing him, and he took the threat to heart. It would begin at any moment now.
“No,” he answered simply. He didn’t feel quite up to giving a long speech to these people, as there was still a large burning sensation in the center of his chest. Perhaps it was a mistake to come here so soon after being admitted to the hospital.
“Very well then,” were the last words Fell noticed. The specter girl turned and floated/hopped away, and the blonde boy disappeared from the doorway.
“Shit,” he grumbled as the world turned into splinters again.
Fell’s back had been resting against what looked like an air hockey table, and each leg supporting the rectangular game burst outwards in a rumble of flames and plastic. Fell covered his back with his arms as he hit the floor on his knees an quickly rose up, searching for any momentary weapons. There were none. Electronic consoles lined the walls and he tried to dash along them, towards the door, using the machines as shields against whatever else might be to come.
Suddenly, there was an object flying through the air towards his face, and quickly he held up on forearm to block it. Was that a toy sword? There was no time to consider the thought as Michael jumped back farther into the dusty hallway, touching his ear again and speaking something quick and hushed. Fell turned during the opening and barreled down the hallway in the opposite direction, looking for a stairwell going upwards. He didn’t even have the slightest of ideas of what he was going to do or how he was going to win without-
“Gah!” He yelped as his foot was caught on a cord of some kind and the floor made quick contact with his face. He looked backwards and noticed a small string of beeping wires covering the floor-- what the hell were these people, demolition experts!? Fell was becoming almost used to being tossed across the rooms of this place. He rose up to his feet and leapt through the nearest doorway, but just a little too late. The blast touched his back and seared the blonde hair at the back of his neck, and suddenly, his mind was blank and quiet.
--------------------
“Ungh…”
The soft groan brought the roofer into sudden, lucid consciousness. He toppled sideways and one shoulder connected with a slick feeling wall of some sort-- how had he been standing? The surroundings, which were full of debris and impossible to see through, spun sickeningly when Fell tried to focus his sight. All of his body stung and ached with fresh burns. At a glance down, he saw that his clothes still seemed to be mostly intact, except for the fact that he hadn’t been wearing the same thing when this battle had begun.
“Hello?” He called into the silence. There was a single cough in the distance, and he stumbled forwards.
Where was this? It looked to be a normal but large room, perhaps on the second floor. His leg bumped into a steel bar, and objects started to materialize in the mist and take shape as gym machines; so, this was a work out room. Maybe. Another wet, gurgling cough caught his attention and he hurried forward.
“M-Michael?” He heard his voice rasp. At that moment. Fell realized he could kill for a bottle of water. Everything was so… dry.
Michael was sprawled across a rack of dumbbells, alive, but obviously unable to move. His eyes that had the color of blue steel looked at Fell with the fear of a small child, and there was no sign of the ghost girl. The platinum haired man took a hesitant step forward. In the nearby corner, there was a fair sized flat screen TV mounted against the wall, and the image across it’s front was flickering in and out of life. He also realized that the burn in his chest was now completely gone, and he… had never felt better. Never in his entire life. One hand had been about to reach out for the opponent when, suddenly, the video on the nearby TV screen popped into vibrant life.
A poorly colored video, with hard to define shapes. Security camera quality. The picture seemed to be obscured by smoke. There was a roar that came from the speakers of the TV, and Fell wasn’t sure if it was human or otherwise.
A body jumped by, very close to the camera, and came down on top of some unsuspecting bystander. It was a tall and lanky looking man that had donned a completely green dress suit-- Michael? No, the man was a bit too old to be his new opponent, and had a head full of vibrantly red hair, occasionally streaked with gray. Fell watched in horror as the man was picked up and thrown across the room with ease by his assailant. Then, there was an explosion nearby where the scene was being recorded, it seemed, and the picture shook violently before passing out to static. Just before the camera had gone out, there seemed to be a flash of platinum hair running, somewhere, in there-- and then the video looped over, replaying the same scene over and over again.
“What…” Fell mumbled, looking down at his hands and he turned and strode across the room. He would call medical help for Michael. There was no certain proof in his current memory, but somehow, the roofer was full of a smug sense of victory that meant he had won the round. He had no idea where the other two opponents might be, or even if they were still alive. And somehow, he couldn’t quite find enough sympathy inside to care. A soft humming even came forth as Fell exited the weight room that was now in tatters and rags, rubbing his face with both hands, perplexed by the completely clear and undamaged skin. What an interesting turn…
Fell had won the match.
But what had defeated his opponents?
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Submission Name: RND 2: Fell Lennox: Black Out Mystery 
