Well, here we are. Be ye warned, this one is a bit gorier, but if you're squeamish about that sort of thing... well, so is Dennis.
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The swords clashed together. Dennis couldn’t explain how he had survived this far. Maybe his opponent was toying with him. Yeah, that must be it. Just like Green, he had been given a chance. Soon, Pixel would tire of this game. He could change gears any moment now. The sword was heavy, but he must hold it. He just had to watch and wait.
He watched his dancelike, fluid movements. He watched his calculated, powerful thrusts; thrusts that Dennis would’ve succumbed to had it not been for his hyperactive, adrenaline-induced paranoia. He noticed every dangerous motion with glaring precision. Everything else was a blur.
An opportunity flashed before him. A gap in his opponent’s defense. A chance to be on the offensive. He took it.
Pixel’s menacing grin faltered. Dennis smiled. Well, this was new.
He wanted to look back at his friends and yell, “Look what I did!” but that would certainly cause him to lose the advantage. It wasn’t worth it. Maybe they saw him, anyway. Maybe they were proud of him.
Another weak spot jumped out at him. If only he could divert his opponent’s attention. Only… he totally could. He feigned an attack. Pixel took the bait. Dennis thrust forward. He threw his entire weight and strength into the thrust. It landed.
Piercing, heavy, and cold; the peculiar resistance of flesh gave him goosebumps. Dennis’s hands went numb. He closed his eyes. The sword tore its way through. All the way through.
Dennis wanted to drop the sword in horror. The limp form of his aggressor was silent. Blood gushed from the stab wound. There was blood on his hands. Literally and metaphorically.
Dennis started panicking. The guilt welled up inside of him, tearing its own hole through his heart. Dennis felt numb to all his surroundings. He had literally killed someone.
“No! No! You’re fine! You’re okay!” Dennis said, trying to staunch the bleeding.
There was no reply.
He had actually done it. He had actually killed someone. Self-defense. So what? This guy was a stick, just as he was. What right did Dennis have to take his life? None! This guy could’ve had a family! A wife! Children! Those children were now fatherless. That wife was now a widow. Why? So Dennis could save his own life. He had slain a man. He was guilty of the worstest of sins. He was a murderer.
The hot tears rolled down his face. Dennis didn’t care to stop them. He choked on his sobs. He heard voices, talking to him, but didn’t hear a word.
“Dennis! Are you okay? Dennis! Wake up, dude!” Orange’s voice penetrated his foggy, panicked thoughts.
His lips moved, but nothing came out. He was not okay. He was very not okay.
“Dennis! He’s not dead. Or at least, he won’t die.” Orange said, firmly.
Dennis looked up at his friend, his words still barely more than a whisper. “I– are– how do you know?”
“Trust me,” Orange said, soft yet commanding.
Orange’s words had a profound effect. Dennis didn’t understand. How could he not be dead? The wound was so deep. Why had he thrown his entire body into the motion? He was so caught up in it all that he… no. There was no escaping it, yet… Orange said to trust him.
Dennis looked into Orange’s eyes. He was telling the truth. But… how?
“Adobe tech is extraordinary,” Orange said, “I think I saw a Photoshop Heal tool back at the lab.”
The weight on Dennis’s heart began to release. “I– Um– Will that– work?”
“Sure it will!” Orange said, with a confident grin.
Orange pulled Dennis away from the ghastly body. The sound of squelching flesh burned in his ears. His face was hot with guilt. Even if Pixel did survive, he was still an attempted murderer. It really didn’t excuse his actions in the slightest. He was still a monster.
“Orange… I’m a murderer. I’ve killed a guy.”
Orange looked him in the eye and saw his terror. “But you also saved our lives. Dennis, you’re not a murderer. You’re a hero. He’s going to recover. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Dennis looked. The last two mercenaries were nowhere to be seen. Red was sitting with Green, smiling and triumphant, poking fun at the paused form of Smith. Green was laughing hoarsely. It did look rather serene, even amidst the horrific circ*mstances.
“They left, Dennis. Probably to regroup and return stronger than before, but hey, let’s count it as a win for now.” Orange said.
“Yeah, I guess so!” Dennis said, forcing a laugh. He was still shaken, but… Orange was confident. Pixel would make a full recovery. Orange had been through these sorts of circ*mstances, time and time again. He knew what he was doing.
Movement caught his eye, and he looked up. On the catwalks, a hollow-headed silhouette stood, watching in silence.
Dennis squinted. Chosen? Could it be, that he escaped on his own and had seen the whole fight? His heart sang. Their mission was saved! Maybe they could leave before their attackers returned. Maybe they could leave soon and get home before long. He would feel a lot better in the comfort of his own home.
Dennis motioned for Chosen to come. He made no response. Dennis didn’t understand. Was something wrong? Did Chosen not see him? It was a bit dark, after all. Maybe he blended in with the shadows.
Dennis climbed up a nearby ladder, fully expecting him to be greeted with a friendly face once he reached the top. What he did not expect was that the friendly face would know his name.
“Dennis?” A calm, well-mannered voice said. Dennis recognized it, and his heart sank. All the anxiety of the last few minutes came rushing back to him. He couldn’t say a word.
It was not Chosen. It was his boss.
