FicWad

"My dear Wicked why must you fight against us so," Ringo asked with a truly puzzled look on his face, "all that I and the other members of the Circus has wished you is well, so why do you fight us." Wicked remained silent for a time as the sea breeze ripped through his hair and clothes. A storm was coming from across the sea and from where he stood, precariously on the edge of a cliff; he could feel the spray of the waves as they crashed violently against the cliff wall. When suddenly the wind changed direction and revealed his hate filled eyes he spoke. "Come at me," he said, crouching in a battle ready stance his scythe in hand, "and die." Ringo face was a mask of despair, "surely friend you don't wish to fight us, your family." Wicked did not answer, for his peace was spoken. As he spoke Ringo wore a new mask one of anger and hatred, "you'd turn against us, your family, in the name of that bitch," he whispered harshly, yet again he got no answer which angered him even more, "then go join here, and die," he howled.

That is when they came at him, the demented denizens of the Dark Circus. He spoke no word as they came at him, didn't flinch when the first one reached him and raised its clawed hand to rend him a sunder, and did not bat a eye as he drove his scythe deep into the mans gut driving him down to the ground. With his right hand he grab the scythe at the base of the blade and yanked it free while with the other he back hand an oncoming assailant, breaking his neck. Swinging his arm forward he slid his hand down the scythe's shaft and caught it at the base and used the momentum to cleave off the head of three oncoming enemies. Once it was again properly in a double handed grasp he faced down his next victim. He wielded two swords that he used with deadly efficiency, but to no avail for Wicked blocked each stroke with the shaft. He ended the little scuffle with a swing from the butt of the shaft and a deadly over head slash that left the man in two. Making his way threw the oncoming throng was a creature the size of a house with a fanged maw and clewed hands. Spotting him Wicked let louse his scythe which spun end over end; then suddenly the upper portion of the scythe which appeared to be the upper skeletal torso of a human came to life. The hands which were fused with the blade began to pull away taking with them the now liquid like silver, the head from which the blade sprouted also began pulling back and taking the metal, and as the silver shifted away it bean to form into a set of silver claws and fangs. The transformation ended with the skeletal creature growing into a giant human snake hybrid which grabbed the giant by its throat, slam it into the ground, and began to pummel it with its fist. With out his scythe many of the monsters began to foolishly rush Wicked believing him an easier target. Many of them foolishly died at his hands.

"Enough," Ringo called as he began to advance upon his friend turned enemy; at a few feet away he stopped removed his top hat and bowed and calmly said, "it is now plain to me that your mind is set, and since it was me who brought you into the fold I shall bee the one to release you." With that he righted himself, sat his hat back atop his head, and drew forth his weapon, a whip made of a golden vertebra. By snapping his fingers Wicked summoned his weapon as well; it came back to him, once again normal size, and began wrapping around his frame. "So tell me did you encourage him to this endeavor, serpent," Ringo asked. "No need he truly hates you for what you did, so much so that I didn’t have to say a thing to motivate him," Azreal hissed and laughed; then more soberly said, "you better be careful he may kill you if you don’t give it your all." "No need to worry, because though he may have the raw power to rival my own he doesn’t have the skill to use it properly," with that said he struck.

His whip whistled through the air faster than the eye could see never once striking anything, but there was no need for the slashes it left threw the air became streaks of flames which sped greedily toward their target. With the same speed Wicked snatched up his scythe, once again a weapon, and began using the same attack save for that he summoned forth wind to challenge the flame. The two attacks struck, canceling each other out, and created a cloud of white smoke which engulfed the two opposing forces. When the smoke cleared the two were in the midst of pitched combat, and both combatants were determined to win or die trying. This battle was of strength, skill, and their weapons versatility. One minute their weapons were whip like, next ridged, and always shifting in length creating a battle that was unlike any other. The battle seemed nearly over when Ringo was captured in Azreal's coils, blade at his throat. Silently the two watched each other, captor and captured, the silence was broken by one whispered word, "die," he said and pulled. But all his blade tasted was the velvet of Ringo's top hat. "As I said, no skill," Ringo said from behind Wicked as he wrapped his whip around his neck and pulled it taunt choking him. "If you hadn't gone and did this shit I might have taught that move to you someday, oh well," Ringo said to Wicked as he spun him around so that he was once again with his back to the cliff. "Go to hell," Wicked croaked and summoned back Azreal and used him to sever the whip. But even severed it continued to crush his windpipe; with his free hand he tried to pry it from his neck. "I should have mentioned that it would do that would have saved you the fruitless effort," Ringo said turning his back on him. With effort Wicked tried to summon the strength to lift his arm and kill the fool before him who would turn his back on a still living opponent. "oh, I forgot to tell you it’s explosive," said as if a after thought, and at that moment when Wicked wielded enough strength to raise his scythe and deliver the finishing blow it exploded. The explosion demolished a part of the cliff sending it to the waves below.

"Good bye for now old friend," Ringo said as he joined his troop. As he walked away his fellow members of the Circus began to fallow. "Ringo," one of the performers called sheepishly. "Yes, my boy," he answered giving the performer his full attention. "He is dead right," he finally asked after a moment's hesitation. After a moments thought Ringo answered truthfully, "he should be but, I know him and even death wont stop his pursuit of vengeance," as he continued all the tension that filled his body when he answered left, "but if he does come back we'll be ready for him wont we guys." He was answered by his troops fevered reply.