For the great Karen The Cure

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"Anthony, will I escape this fate?" Nevaeh, pressing firmly against her slashed leg, asked with fright.  

Looking into her captivating eyes, Anthony couldn't bear to tell her his true thoughts on the situation that wrapped tightly around them as if they were the prey of an unrelenting serpent; he knew that she desperately needed encouragement to even attempt to persist on. So, for a moment, as if he were that same deceitful serpent, he responded with the only thing he could.  

"You will remain that pure creature that God designed you as..." Anthony replied with such clarity, in spite of the apparent sadness in his voice. 

Sometimes, a lie can be hidden well. Sometimes, we wish for this ability to do such a thing. This was Anthony's sole desire as he cherished his last moments holding the one he had come to love so defensively. Since the moment he discovered her unparalleled beauty, it had come to be the only thing that he found was worth holding onto since the infestation began. He knew she was about to die; with that, the soul crushing feeling of helplessness was sinking into his very being, a feeling that grew to linger by his side since his earliest memory.  

"Stupid girl shouldn't have betrayed her own kind. If she dies, she dies! And boy, don't think that your special ability will save you this time, nor will Priam and his weak sentimental bullshit!" Razor proclaimed with a sudden roar.  

In spite of his tone of choice, there was a cold, insensitive effect to his remarks. Standing at nearly seven feet tall, Razor was never one to be underestimated. With iceberg like eyes, combined with a rugged, lean composure, completed by a master-like ability for hand to hand combat and one large newly implanted blade on his left forearm, he commanded fear among many of his peers, as well as what he considered his prey. Only one sign of any previous weakness was visible. A small slash-like scar below his left eye, its origins only known to very few.  

Slowly gaining the strength to take his gaze from Neveah, Anthony turned his attention, which had a tint of anger, toward Razor. The dark night that surrounded Razor was fitting, for it was a concrete visualization of how absent of compassion that Razor's soul had become over the years ... dark as night, where it once was said to have been bright as day.  

Anthony had only one emotion to associate with the lack of light that engulfed him ... fear. He had always been petrified by the darkness that had always accompanied him. However, on this night, the night of what was to be an assured death of the only friend he had ever known, Anthony decided to face that fear head on. Too much, as he thought, had been taken from him.  

"Razor, I know that to kill you is impossible. You are faster, stronger, much more skillful in combat," Anthony said as he pointed at what would normally reflect the light, had there been any, "not to mention your new friend that you love to slice off heads with. But I will not cower from you any longer. This ends tonight!" Anthony, standing firm with such convictions, he pulls out what was now the ancient sword from what now felt like Razor's distant past to prepare for what might be his last combat. 

In spite of a heavy rain surrounding them, Anthony fought against more than the water that crashed against him repeatedly. Similiar to how the water blurred his vision, his emotions were in a blurred state. Desperation, a depleting sense of hope, and a growing frustration was intensifying both his anger for Razor and his devotion to his beloved Neveah. Razor, with his finger running across his trusty blade, portrayed a smile. Perhaps it was because he knew that he finally had Anthony where he wanted him. Perhaps it was that he felt that Anthony, who many of the remaining humans placed their remaining hopes in, would soon be a promising kill that would invoke what Razor wished to instill in all that opposed him: unremarkable terror. 

Razor, with the same condescending grin on his face, spoke with arrogance, "Are you ready to die, boy? Are you ready to meet the abyss? I'll be sure to make your death slow and excruciating with pain that you dare not dream of! My blade shall hold the trophy that is your blood!" He finished as he extended his arm, making sure that all, no matter if it were zombies or humans who might be around in the nearby shadows would undoubtedly see his blade and tremble.  

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 18, 2012 ⏰

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