Bittersweet

Chapter 10: It All Ends Here

"That's it...that's it...!" Angel's voice, suddenly maniacal, sounded loud and clear throughout the room despite the chaos.

A twisted expression took form on her face as she watched Rogue with dangerous, glistening eyes, irises shining like amethysts in a dark cave. Her hands clasped together tightly, as if in triumph, and Sting turned to her, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

"What's it?" he asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

She turned to him with careful eyes, hiding something behind the swirls of purple. "Nothing you need to worry about," she remarked, meticulously rubbing her hands together.

Sting's mild expression morphed into a frown. He ignored her strange behavior and followed her gaze back to the thing in front of them. "What are we supposed to do now? He's...changed," he said, watching as Rogue's appearance transformed completely. It was difficult to even make out the shape of his body; all Sting could see was a huge black cloud of shadows and darkness with a pair of glowing red eyes protruding from within.

"Not we, my dear Sting," Angel whispered, taking a lock of his hair and twisting it between her fingers. "You will stay here and keep him under control while I make the preparations. Try not to get killed, but hey, if you do, it doesn't really matter."

"Wait...what?" Sting faltered a bit, as if his ears had deceived him. He turned to face her, but she was already gone; a silvery piece of her dress disappeared out the door and out of sight.

Sting tried to go after her, his mind rapidly flooding with questions. However, before he could do so, he was greeted by a forceful attack, one so powerful and unexpected that it sent him flying against the back wall in an instant. A huge crack appeared where he landed, spiderwebbing out into fissures and nearly causing the whole room to shake.

"Gah...what the hell?!" Sting yelped with a groan, his hand immediately reaching to cover the ugly wound on his abdomen. Blood spilled out like a waterfall, staining his palm and fingers with a deep red. He stared down at the wound in horror, wondering how one attack could cause so much blood loss.

Sting hadn't even anticipated it, which was weird, considering his heightened senses. But the weirder thing was this: despite being struck in the stomach, most of the pain he felt now was rooting in his head. He didn't have much time to think of it, though, because a deep, dark voice suddenly spoke, sending chills down his spine.

"You...will...die..." the voice emanating from Rogue growled. "Traitor! Liar! Two-faced jerk!"

Sting's teeth gritted against each other, both in pain and annoyance. "The only traitor here...is—" you, because you left me, he was going to say, but was interrupted by a fit of coughs; blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth, and he realized with a jolt of panic that he had been struck in a vital spot.

"Don't speak, you insolent fool," Rogue hissed, completely ignorant of Sting's pain. "Scum like you doesn't deserve to say anything to the likes of me."

Sting spit a mouthful of red onto the floor as if in protest and wiped the dark streaks trailing from his mouth. He glanced up at Rogue with a sincere look in his eyes. "Well, aren't you a shady bastard? Attacking me out of nowhere, seriously? I don't want to be in this situation either, so cut the crap and—"

And suddenly, Rogue was in front of him; he moved so swiftly — almost as if he were invisible — that Sting didn't even see him.

Another sharp pain overtook him in a flash, and Sting cursed, unable to stand the fact that Rogue had gotten to him again— that, and in such a short amount of time. He felt like daggers were digging into his throat as Rogue wrapped his hands around his neck, squeezing so tightly that he could hardly breathe. Before he knew it, he was violently thrown onto the floor, which nearly knocked him unconscious; Sting saw stars behind his eyes, but the intensity of the blow had also knocked some sense into him.