Here is the Civil War battle between Kyra's Rykosar and Boomerangreturns's Sirius Nightshade. They have the luck of being in an oldage home called "Sunnydale Home". Enjoy, may the best writer win.
Sirius Nightshade:
What the hell am I doing here?
That was one of the first things that came to Sirius’ mind. He had somehow been dragged along with the elderly of Stickpage and ended up surrounded by aging, graying individuals. He was just outside of the retirement home that they all lived in. The elderly that couldn’t necessarily take care of themselves. The grass was green and lush, and many of the old hags were sitting in the grass or in the lawn chairs spread about, sipping sun tea and talking about their past. Guards were making their rounds to be sure that one of them didn’t run off. Sirius sat in one of the vacant lawn chairs, resting as he looked up into the great blue sky. The sun bore down on his face. He wanted to leave, but something told him not to. He hated being surrounded by them. Their wrinkled skin, their glossy eyes and their constant stories of the Olde War made him grimace and sigh in his head.
When I was a young boy…
Don’t you remember the Battle At The Gates?
God, I still have the scars.
His face was burdened with a heavy frown, his mind burdened with the murderous thoughts and the superiority complex that had chipped away at his mental state over the passing years.
This was exactly why he had murdered his family. They were all aging, gradually losing their youth with each passing breath. It was a horrible sight for him to see. Sirius was young. He was agile, strong. His face was unsullied, his body frail but strong. These old hags that surrounded him were just sculptures of dust made into human beings. They did not have the youth he had any longer. Only memories. Memories of people who had died before them. Memories of life when they were in their prime.
It sickened him to the very core.
He looked around at all of them, his jet black bangs partially covering his face so that the elderly would not notice his eyes or scars. No reason to needlessly scare them. They’d probably have a heart attack just by looking into his soulless hues. He continued to contemplate it. They wouldn’t even be able to resist it. He would murder them all in a heartbeat. He was having a bad day as it was, like always. It was only amplified by the loss of his flash bangs. It would be great to take out his anger on these old hags that did not need to live anyway. His knife sliding across the jugular veins of each and every one of them. The elder humans gasping for air, grabbing at their throats as hot, crimson blood spurted out of it and onto the ground. Their eyes becoming glassy, the life leaving their face.
Sirius closed his eyes, flexing his shoulders as chills ran up and down his spine, a small smile curling on his lips. The very thought excited him as if he was reaching a pleasurable climax. Oh, the very thought of the pools of blood around him, surrounded by their bodies.
His hand moved down to rest on the sheath of his knife, grasping it in anticipation.
All of those bodies…
Destroyed by his sullied blade…
It would be an amazing sensation.
“You have such wonderful hair.”
The shaky voice of an elderly woman entered his ear drums, destroying his day dream. His eyes fluttered open, although still vastly concealed by his bangs. He glared at her with malevolent intent. She was in a pair of tan khaki pants and a T-shirt. She seemed particularly old. As if she would die at any moment. Hell, veins were shown protruding from her skin all over. Her body was filled with wrinkles and moles. Her skin looked fragile enough for one poke to break it. The murderous intent in his eyes were evident. However, he gritted his teeth.
“Thank you…”
“Oh, you’re very welcome, honey.” A hand rested on his shoulder, patting it a few times before the old woman walked away. To another group of elders.
He had all he could do to not stab her through the head just then. Inconsiderate. Ill mannered. What business did they even have on this already dying planet? They only make it worse than it already is.
Somehow, Sirius was once again dragged along the wave of elderly hags, ending up just in front of the door to the retirement home. No. There was absolutely no way he would be caught dead going inside of that place. He already hated the few that were outside. Going inside, being surrounded by them. It would turn into a massacre of blood and death.
Knowing this, Sirius turned to leave. But then he stopped in his tracks. His path was once again stopped, but not by elderly hags this time. His pitch black eyes examined him. A massive man with scars running all over his body, as if he had been consistently operated upon. Next to him was a homeless looking man, peering at Sirius.
A low growl escaped from his lips. Enough was enough. This day had started horrendously with his loss of flash bangs. He ended up with all of these elders the whole day, and now he was being stopped by a scarred older man and a bum. His pitch black eyes sparked with anger.
It only took a split second. The flap covering the hilt of Massacre flipped open, his right hand grasping it tightly and pulling it out swiftly. In the same motion that it was pulled from it’s place the tip of his unsullied blade aimed to slash at the jugular vein of the other male. All of his anger would be taken out on him, and maybe Sirius would feel a little bit better.
But instead of a satisfying sound of skin breaking, blood spurting and the satisfying noise of screams, all he heard was a clank of two metals meeting.
The massive male had guarded his companion with his hand. At first glance, it seemed like a normal hand. But it must have been metallic in some form to make a clanking sound like that. Sirius’ glance darted up to the scarred man, where they shared an intense stare. His pitch black hues bore into the other male who was surprised by such a sudden attack. With his other hand, he shoved Sirius backwards. He didn’t expect it, since he was staring so intently at the opponent. A rookie mistake that should not have been made at such a crucial point.
Despite being aged, the male was rather strong. His shove sent Sirius flying, through the open door and into the home that he did not want to enter in the first place. He was immediately attacked by the stale air and the smell of death and waste. All around him, the elderly that resided in the lobby of the home made a circle around him and the scarred man that was walking towards him. Sirius, who was surprised and stunned for a moment at his strength, was now angry once again. He jumped to his feet, standing erect within moments. His knife was still gripped tightly in his hand. The bum he had tried to murder was hiding in the crowd of old men and women.
I haven’t seen any good fight since the Olde War.
Don’t kill each other boys!
My bet is on the emo kid
Nah, I bet on the guy with the scars.
Sirius tried his best to block out the voices of these annoyances, and focus on the male in front of him. The anger in Sirius’ eyes intermingled with excitement, at another opponent to destroy. A crooked smile followed.
“Come on old man, let’s see what the hell you got left in the tank”
The heavy fist of his opponent came first. Even with such a heavy hand due to the clanks of metal, he was rather fast. However, he wasn’t fast enough. Sirius craned his neck to the left, grasping the metal fist in his palm as his free hand came flying to his ribs. An oof came from his opponent, however, Sirius’ hand took a deal of pain. Based on the quiet clunk, it seemed his bones was another place that was replaced with metal parts. He winced and pulled his hand back, resulting in the humanoid hand to hook Sirius in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, before grasping at the collar of his jacket and rebounding forward, jumping on Rykosar and hitting him with a flurry of punches in unorthodox fashion, sending them both to the ground with Sirius on top.
That boy looks like he needs an evaluation.
A straightjacket, more like.
It’s working though, the big guy’s on the ground!
Once his enemy hit the ground, Sirius rolled backwards until he was standing erect. The large, scarred enemy grunted as he stood up, and was already attacked by the horizontal swipe of Sirius’ knife. He craned his neck just in time to only have the tip of the unsullied blade graze his cheek, drawing small amounts of blood. In response, Rykosar’s metallic hand flung into his sternum shocking Sirius and shoving him backwards, forcing him to fall into the crowd of elderly, who pushed him forward to make him stand up again. However, he stood there, woozy for a few moments.
He stopped for a moment, cracking his neck as his eyes gave light to his growing instability. His tongue ran along his lips. He took a good, long look at his reflection in the red tipped blade of Massacre. Without warning, he thrust forward, slashing his blade once more, only to be met by the metallic hand of his opponent. However his opposite hand closed into a fist, flinging to the right cheek. The punch was stronger than one would think from a frail man such as Sirius, and giving him just the opening he had hoped for by stunning his enemy. His knife tilted to the side and swung once more for his face, but not at a fatal area. He swung it with grace and accuracy, slicing open one of the larger scars on his face. Unlike the small graze on his right cheek, this one opened up a rather deep incision, making puddles of crimson red blood to pour down his face.
He’s drawn blood!
Gah, the janitor isn’t going to particularly like this.
Can’t we all just get along?
Shush! I’m loving this!
Rykosar stood for a moment, glancing at the blood oozing from his face. He then glanced back to Sirius, whose knife was growing with the multitude of blood cells being absorbed into the enhanced knife. Sirius jumped up and spun like a top, the arm where his knife was held extended. The dizzying spinning action ceased when Sirius’ free hand grasped onto the male’s trench coat, and he swung over his back in an aim to slice his jugular vein and end the battle here. However, Rykosar had other ideas. He grasped Sirius’ knife hand, and, using his brute strength, flipped him over his body on the hard ground, on his back. He attempted to stomp on the grounded man’s sternum, but Sirius rolled out of the way and stood back up. He could already feel the bruises forming around his torso and head.
The two were so focused on the battle at hand, they barely took notice to Marat, who was within the crowd of the elderly, cheering his partner on. Sirius, who had just taken notice of him, snarled in defiance of the encouraging cheers. The homeless bum would have the privilege to see his partner die in cold blood.
And for a moment, the two just stood opposite of each other, staring into one another’s menacing irises. Everybody wondered; Who would come out of this battle conscious, or even alive? Sirius showed disdain in his expression. He wanted to be the man standing tall. The size did not matter here, for Sirius had the speed. That was what he had used this whole time to stay on top of the battle at hand.
Death was going to be in the air by the time Sirius was finished.
However, unlike before, Rykosar was the first to strike. He lunged forward, thrusting his human hand towards Sirius’ face. Out of pure instinct, he lifted his knife to connect with the fist, drawing more blood from yet another open wound. The metallic fist came flying at Sirius’ left, connecting with his jaw and sending him stumbling back. Unlike the previous hit, it was known fully that his jaw was broken. In response, Sirius swung his knife to the other side of the male’s face, opening yet another scar, and drawing more blood from previously closed wounds. It seemed as though Sirius was winning. The stench and sight of blood caused him to lose his tactical precision. He didn’t think he needed his shadow manipulation. Nor did he feel the need for the demon Bane. He felt that he could kill him right now.
As Rykosar stumbled from Sirius’ slight of hand, he lunged forward again, his knife turned short sword aimed for the enemy’s throat. He was not paying attention to how he was playing possum. Rykosar craned his neck to the side once more, and intertwined his hands as Sirius was still moving forward. Both the human and metallic hand came down as one, crashing against the back of Sirius’ skull. His lips contorted into a deep frown, as he could feel himself falling. He fell forward, the corners of his vision blackening.
Did you see that?!
Oh my god, he’s unconscious!
I won! Give me my money, suckers!
Dammit, I thought emo kid would take this one.
One last snarl emitted from Sirius’ mouth as he heard the voices of the elderly surrounding his presence. He fell face first on the rug of the retirement home, his vision closing around him as he went into a deep slumber.
Rykosar:
Rykosar’s expression sparked with
panic and concern, his bearded homeless companion following into the retirement building as the elder limped inside. Marat peeked over the ancient man’s shoulder to the younger man and the green eyes piercing like daggers into Rykosar’s own.
“Iz tis, ehm, hwon uf hyour behttul men?” He would ask with a sheepishness that didn’t seem normal for a man of his girth.
“No.” Rykosar responded, startling Marat with his bluntness. The old gladiator’s eyes trace over the forming crowd of elderly before snapping back to the young assaulter, addressing Marat still. “Get these people out of here. I’ll take care of this.”
“Whill du, eld sobaka.” Marat followed this by giving a rather light hearted pat on Rykosar’s shoulder, likely to keep himself from falling into panic. He started left and began trying to move some of the residents back, if to give Rykosar some space before leading some outside.
With old man’s gaze diverted, the younger gladiator pulled up his blade and pushed out in a charge towards Rykosar. The blade was brought up as he neared, dragging up across the old man’s left arm as Rykosar pulled the arm up to shield his face from the weapon. It slid cleanly through the leather of his coat and into his skin, biting through and drawing blood. Or something like blood.
The black and red mixture sat along the edge of the weapon. The younger man looked to it expectantly, expression twisting as nothing happened.
Rykosar took quick advantage of this pause and aimed a punch, his left fist contacting man’s jaw. It stuck true, but didn’t carry as much force had he used his metal one instead. “Can I have your name and reason, young man?” He’d speak, watching the young man stumble back before plopping into a lounge chair.
With a heavy scowl bearing teeth, the younger gladiator quickly jumped back to his feet and brought his hands to chest height. As he twisted his open palm, black tendrils formed from the ground, peering out from the shadows of a coffee table. The shadows slipped through the obstacle course of people, even passing under Marat’s boots which caused a start and a “Der'mo!” from the bearded man, his pace quickening but his words unable to keep up with his haste.
As the swirls of black reached the young gladiator, they clawed up his legs and slithered down his arm, gathering in the hand wielding his blade then began to reach out. They began extending and shaping into what appeared to be a bat from the handle of his blade. He grinned, feeding off of Rykosar’s expression of shock when witnessing his power. “Sirius. Lord of the Night.” He announced, fingers clenched the handle of his blunt shadow weapon as two sides formed near the front, allowing it to take on the shape of a hammer.
“As for purpose-” He stole the distance between them with his weapon, swinging out and bringing a side of the head to the old man’s temple. A cold pain flashed down the old man’s spine, b
