One Final Fight
To pay my way out off the darkness
Hey Iron Fist, I muttered in an unusually low raspy voice, let me be myself for a change. I know it's a little late with this katana of yours stroking my neck ever so gently, ever so threateningly; but still, I'd like to take a chance on being the person I really am. The person I am when I lie all alone in my bed trying to get some sleep. I'd like to be honest for once.
Iron Fist was unimpressed. His knuckles had seen many faces and undoubtedly hit home in many places. There was really no need for me to say it, but this probably wasn't a man we would later come to remember as softhearted. Still, I had to try. I had to try to appeal to his goodness, if only for my own egoistic purpose of making my life a little bit more whole.
Knowing that I only had seconds left before my throat was slit, I now had to somehow combine the best words I knew to form a convincing sentence that could even convince a true warrior like Iron Fist that there is such a thing as compassion. With a feel for drama I spoke the following collection of words: during my life I have been involved in a number of horrible confrontations. Too many to count and often I was the aggressor. Surely I don't have to tell you how that makes a person numb. It's hard to come to terms with it, but even to someone else's pain u get used. So I'm not asking for your sympathy, I truly am not, but I'm merely telling you that I have come to discover that the light in my life hasn't completely vanished. You see, the doors of death are reflecting. They show you what you are, what you have been and yes, even what you could become. And now being right in front of those eternal doors, I can see that there's still just a little sprinkle of light at the very place where my heart is. Do you think you'd be able to say the same thing?
Iron Fist as a response pushed his sharp silver harder against my throat and immediately I lost all my ability of speech. My fate was sealed, I thought. To my surprise that thought felt awfully light. Surely I had expected my mind to be in a darker place with my predicament being the way it was. But maybe there was still a little faith hiding somewhere in that ol' vessel of mine. Maybe close to that little dot of light.
Iron Fist meanwhile still showed a steady grip on his katana. Not the kind of grip that would crush a rabbit's skull, but more the kind of grip that would be able to hold a fresh batch of air safely to be consumed at a later time. I surely admired Iron Fist. If I had to die at someones hand than I couldn't have had a better executioner than the man towering over my horizontally positioned body. I might even go as far as saying that it would truly be an honor to have my body cut in pieces by the threat called an Iron Fist.
The wind begged for attention, and was soon granted it. Because even Iron Fist flinched for a short moment when a sudden gust of invisible force entered the scene. Don't think I saw this as an opportunity that I would later come to owe my life to; my brain could in no way rationalize an escape and had already made its peace with dying the honorable death. Still, sometimes the heart wishes upon the instinct to ignite body into a fiery fierce frenzy, and sometimes, only sometimes, that body obliges.
Someone was playing 8-bit-style music on a dusty old keyboard. It sounded not unlike the soundtrack of Super Ghouls and Ghosts.
Like a little bird being released into the air for the first time, an almost animalistic power took hold of me. The smell of food, garbage and urine all became mighty intense, and even in the slumbering darkness I could easily distinguish every brick that formed the two big walls that confined us. I doubted not for a second and grabbed the blade with my bare left hand; red fluids left my body.
The legendary Iron Fist never stood a chance. Not when a second gust followed the first gust and Iron Fist now not only flinched, but for a second loosened his grip on his katana. And could we blame the guy? Of course not. Nature's power combined with the survival instinct of a man on the verge of dying was a force to be reckoned with.
With no regard to the health of my hand I managed to remove the katana from its deadly position and was now able to level the playing field. Iron Fist was surprised. Surprised in a way as if he had just found an object in his room that he could have never imagined to possess. And to the attentive reader I don't have to explain that this room was one of the four existing in his heart. His body surrendered and feelings of peace populated his expression.
I took over his katana and a with a few effective slashes the great warrior called Iron Fist had stopped existing; his life ready to be included on the pages of mighty thick history books. I was sad. Sad that it had to come to this. Sad that by killing an enemy I had also killed a friend. It was sheer randomness that had brought us on opposing sides. Still, I would kill Iron Fist a thousand times over if a thousand times over we would have to face each other again.
You see, when someone gives you a chance you grab it.
With the sun now almost completely removed from the scene I quickly had to pay my respects to the now deceased Iron Fist. It had been my custom to settle the bill for any man or woman who had died at my hands and now had to cross to the other side. Many 10 dollar bills had left my pocket over the years to make sure that no foe of mine would stand penniless at the crossing. This time would be no exception.
Going through the deep pocket of my dark grey track pants I noticed that emptiness was now its main occupant. Tucked away very deeply, as if to hide from my reach, a lonesome 10 dollar bill did however reside. It was my very last. And in grabbing it out of my pocket I realized that I had known this all along. Iron Fist was always meant to be my omega.
So with my very last money attached to his dead body I wished Iron Fist blessed travels. I pondered about all the emotions that he had triggered during our many confrontations and was left wondering whether an enemy was secretly a friend that was somehow forced to live under different circumstances.
Darkness had now completely taken over. I turned around to leave the deep alley and slowly become part of the eternal crowds of this restless city. Artificial light showed the pain on my face, but not even the brightest of neon could show what horror had been inflicted on my heart. My eternal travels had been postponed for the moment, but I wondered what that had bought me. Maybe a chance, a chance to finally be myself now I had lost all of that wretched bloodstained money.
