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Posted by Vandal Savage
on 6/18/2009, 10:44 pm
76.84.87.244
Is a hero defined by the villains that they face? And if this is true is a villain in turn defined by the people that they antagonize. For a moment I continue to let my thoughts wander. I have been alive for so long the words hero and villain have lost all meaning. In the end, no matter who you are- you die. We'll with a few notable exceptions.
"So then I decided I was going to go back to school and work my..." She continues to prattle on. Erin, a pretty name. Irish in origin it means Ireland. Judging by the way her face is composed and the color of her hair she has very little actual Irish in her. Irony, life never ceases to stop with it. Her words have no value, no worth. Her life story no matter how important she thinks it is will be nothing but a name when the pages of history are recorded. She will help give birth to a new line, a new progeny that will lead the world after the fall has occurred.
"It's over Vandal, end this now or things get even worse." He is calm although the stress from the battle is taxing his powers. The green flames that surround me have weakened since our little dance began.
"You think that this is bad? I helped in the fall of Empires...UGHHHH!!!!" He collides with me, my banter finally getting the best of the city's greatest guardian. The protector of the weak and hopeless now fueled by rage.
But like all of us he has a weakness, and one thing my time on this planet has taught me is how to exploit that very weakness. We fall to the ground locked in a tussle, none of the innocents near by want a part in. I can feel his breath; I hear the pounding ancient rhythm of his heart. He is strong, almost as strong as me. With the warm salty smell of his blood I can almost taste his flesh. Clenching my fist, I hit him. The force would be enough to shatter the jaw of an average person, but my foe is not average, he is much more then that. I watch as he sails across the makeshift arena composed of green that he has created for us.
"Green Lantern, you do not understand who you are dealing with!" My voice has timber I've used sparingly in these modern times. It most resembles a roar, the sign of an alpha male.
The candles shimmer in between us, the flame making for a romantic mood. She is wearing a white dress, it is as pale as her alabaster skin. She sits, glowing in the darkness around us. The sun setting on the city below. The windows tinting accordingly the city of St. Roach a background to our portrait.
"So tell me about yourself, I think I've rambled enough that I'm good for the next couple months." She blushes, her cheeks as rosy as the red wine that she sips from. Setting her glass down she moves one of the stray pieces of hair that fell from the bun behind her head and repositions it. She likes this game.
"Not much to say, I've lived my life alone, looking for that perfect person, that bond which is just there." I take my knife and cut into the steak that sits on my plate, in the low lighting, the blood merely looks like a crimson juice.
"Not that. I mean; I think I feel it too. I want to know where you grew up. Do you have brothers and sisters? Who are you're friends?" She gets the words out of her mouth in one breath; a part of me is impressed.
"A Savage!" His statement is declarative. Bold. Gaudy. It makes me sick, as I watch him get to his feet and wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth. He's enjoying this.
"Brains to match the brawn!" I rush towards him fists ready. The muscles in my legs pound the pavement. I feel total control over them constant give and take that contort and constrain each part of my body. I feel the ring hit my check before his fist; he feels my fist before anything.
The sweat, the passion, it invigorates me. I feel centuries or repression bubble towards the surface, primed to erupt. We go at each other again and again, neither of us willing to secede to the other.
"I..never...I....." She is enamored with the tale that I wove for her. Each time I tell it, it changes, the names and events happen differently the mist of tragedy lingers long enough that tears swell in her eyes. She takes another drink of her wine, this time gulping it down. She feels the need to comfort me. To support me. They always do. As she stands up pushing her chair back from the table, a yellow light encompasses my suite. She screams, I rise.
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