35(S3E9)- Z v S

35

(Season 3, Episode 9)

Z v S

There is a thin line between friends and enemies.  It only takes a small twist of someone's emotions, a slight shift in outlook and something beautiful can turn ugly.  While, as a friendship ages and changes over years and decades, this becomes more and more true because the friends have more and more information about each other, their situations and their mistakes.  No one can really hurt you like a friend can.

Scott and Zachariah were two friends standing on the brink of the abyss known as hatred.  They stood in a clearing of grey dust and dark, dead trees that seemed to mimic the evil of it all, though long dead.

"You are your stupid dreams."  Zachariah began to snare as he circled.  "Constantly trying to convince me we are more than just a couple of assholes...  It's pathetic."

Scott's face was hard and ferocious.  "It's better than just quitting, giving up and then whining about it later."

"Self-righteous bastard!"  Zachariah yelled and charged.

"Self-centered dirt bag!"  Scott yelled back and moved.

They collided a second later, both of them launching punches which passed each other’s hands by mere centimeters, before connecting with each other’s faces, seemingly at the same time.  They both staggered, but the seasoned father and martial artist was more adept at taking blows and shook off the punch first, pressing his advantage.  He moved in and grabbed the back of Zachariah's head, bringing it downward into his raising knee.

Zachariah took the blow and grunted.  Scott tried to maintain the grapple and bring his other knee up but Zachariah hook-punched the inside of Scott's left thigh with a knuckle extended.  Scott's leg cramped and he yowled slightly.  Zachariah brought the back of his head straight up into the underside of Scott's chin.

Scott's teeth rattled and he saw stars as he stumbled.  He was still trying to figure out how Zachariah had hit him when Zachariah rushed forward, leaping into the air with a skill he had never shown before.   He planted a double dropkick to Scott's chest, sending him backward through the air, again into the dust.

Scott was still coughing out dust when he saw Zachariah had kicked-up to his feet.  Scott shook his head, Zachariah had never been a fighter.  The guy could hold his own, but technique like this was beyond his skill.  Yet, here he was, pulling out high level moves.

Zachariah's face turned to a wicked grin as he saw the confusion in Scott's face.  "What?  Did you think you were just going to steam roll me with all that training?  Big surprise, you think you are better than everybody."

Scott brought himself to his feet, the pain and Zachariah's aggression had broken down his filters.  "You know what?  Maybe I think I'm better because I am.  You have been a dishwasher for ten years and you spent five of those in a relationship with someone else's girl."

Zachariah's smile faded and the anger returned.  Scott grinned, this time without joy.  "Sorry, buddy.  Facts are facts."

Zachariah screamed and charged, this time, Scott was ready.  Zachariah threw a hard and fast high-hooking punch at Scott's head.  Scott ducked it and landed three quick, hooking punches to Zachariah's exposed right side ribs.  Zachariah made a groan as the air was forced out of his lungs.  The blows forced Zachariah off balance and he stepped, cock-eyed to the left, exposing his back.

Scott could have finished it right there with a hard kick to the base of Zachariah's spine but that would have ended more than the fight.  Though filled with anger, Scott was not willing to resort to such a final solution.  Instead, he stepped in and roundhouse-kicked Zachariah to the left temple.

The blow sent him to the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust.  "You caught me by surprise Zach, true.  But I have not even begun to kick your ass."

Zachariah roared and scrambled to his feet.  Scott only had a second to notice that, between the knee and the kick, no real damage had been done to his face.  Scott had not pulled his moves. Logic seemed to cut through the testosterone and rage.  Something wasn't right here.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?"  He asked, trying to calm the situation.

"This!" Zachariah was not hearing it and brought his right-hook into the side of Scott's head.  The blow caught him hard and Scott's knees buckled.  He had no time to get his hands up when the left struck him in the same manner.  He felt a tooth come loose and saw it go skipping into the dirt as he crashed to the earth.

"You are a quitter."  Zachariah said as he stepped toward Scott, who desperately tried to get his bearings.  "You checked out of life and got yourself a wife and a kid and a nine to five job so that you no longer had to think."

Zachariah grabbed Scott's throat and lifted him, with one hand, into the air with a strength that he had never had before.  "You killed yourself too... You just took the scenic route."

Scott gurgled for air as his oldest and best friend squeezed the life out of him.  He felt his wind pipe constricting and, for a second, he could swear he could taste the color blue.  He closed his eyes and felt his will to live begin to fade.

Scott found himself in front of a white, formless light floating there.  Slowly, a figure materialized out of the void.  It was his son, three years old with curly blonde hair and blue eyes.

The kid looked down at Scott and then frowned.  "Really?  You can't even picture him at twenty?  I have to come to you as a fucking three-year-old?"

Scott muttered the name of his son, confused.  The child shook his head.  "No, not really.  I'm actually a physical representation of the process of life.  I just appear as your son because, in a weird way, you worship him."

"What is going on?"  Scott asked the being.

"Well, you are about to have your throat crushed by your best friend."  The child explained.  "Also, side-note; really?  That guy?  Of all the people you could have made your best friend, you picked him?"

The words were strange coming out of his son, so articulately, since his boy had barley began to understand how to poop on a toilet.  "He can be... difficult sometimes."

The kid raised his eyebrows.  "Difficult?  He is currently choking you to death."

Scott shrugged.  He had no argument there. "So, is that it?  Am I dead?"

The entity shook his small head, an act meant to be serious, but failed thanks to the golden curls.  "No, you have a choice.  You can die here or fight for your family.  But, if you do fight, you will lose your friend.  Not that I see much of a downside there."

Scott frowned.  "No... There has to be a way to do both."

The entity narrowed his eyes at Scott.  "Do you understand how a choice works?  It’s one or the other."

Scott shook his head.  "I refuse to believe that.  I refuse to quit on him."

The child shook his head.  "When are you going to grow up and realize that you can't have your cake and eat it, too."

"Never," Scott said.  "I'm going to keep my family and I'm going to save Zachariah, or I will have neither.  I like cake too much."

The entity looked skeptical.  "You can't fight fate."

Scott grinned.  "Watch me."

By sheer will, Scott brought himself back into the world.  Pain was everywhere.  His head felt like it was going to pop and his lungs ached for oxygen.  He brought up his hands, putting them together in one giant fist and brought them down on the crux of Zachariah's elbow.  The move forced the arm to fold and released Scott from the death grip.

Scott threw off a leg, kicking Zachariah in center mass, just to get some distance.  He rubbed his throat and spoke with a groggy voice.  "Where are you, Zach?"

Zachariah was advancing but stopped, confused by the phrase.  "What?"

Scott stood.  "Where is my best friend?  The guy who hates authority?"

Zachariah scowled and charged forward with another fast-sweeping punch.  Scott, however, was only focusing on dodging now and slid out of the way.  "The Zachariah who dropped out of high school because he didn't like people telling him what to do?"

Zachariah took another swing but Scott slid past it again.  "The guy who walked away from his parents because they thought they knew better about his life than he did?"

"Shut up!" Zachariah said and  threw another barrage at Scott, but Scott was convinced the blows were coming slower.

"The guy who knew that figuring it out on his own, better or worse was the way he had to go."  Scott continued.  "I want to know where he is, because that guy would never let whatever is in you, making you do this, control him.  That guy does not let this world tell him what to do.  He does not let this world tell him he is better off dead.  Zachariah makes his own decisions!"

Zachariah missed again but his punches had slowed, as if the need to attack was subsiding inside of him.

Scott pushed the advantage, stepping in and open-palm slapping Zachariah across his face, before grabbing his shirt and pulling him close.  "That Zachariah tries to find a way to prove everyone wrong and live."

Scott could see Zach in his eyes, replacing the hate.  The moment was broken by a scream and an explosion.  Zachariah and Scott were thrown in opposite directions.  Zachariah landed, unconscious. Scott pulled himself to his elbows and saw the pale woman with tears of blood.  She turned to him and stepped forward, power coursing through her.

She bent over, as if sizing up Scott, and smiled.  "You are going to be interesting."

The Horseman of War stood and then walked calmly into the forest.  Scott pulled himself together and scrambled to Zachariah.  He grabbed him, pulling him up slightly, trying to wake him.  "Zach?!  Are you okay?!"

Zachariah groaned.  "No... You slapped me."

The friendship has survived this fight but can they now find a way to save Zachariah and what seems to be the whole of time and space?!

Find out on the next episode!

Stranger Things; Zachariah's death

33(S3E8)-Personal

34

(Season 3, Episode 8)

Personal

Bevan had been born the youngest in druid family royalty.  His father had been on the council of three since his father had passed the honor onto him.  Seamus, his eldest brother, was the next in line for that honor and had become a powerful druid warrior.  Cathleen, the middle child, had become an accomplished swords woman in addition to her magic abilities.  She had been chosen to escort the Rognaithe to Zersch.

Bevan had summarily not been honored in any such way, mostly due to the fact that, for some reason, he could not type into the magic Celtic tattoos.  On Bevan, they were nothing more than body art.  The suspicion was that somewhere along the way, Bevan’s father had a fling with a normal, and that Bevan was the offspring of the bastard union.  These facts contributed to Bevan being an outsider within the walls of Avalon and so, on his eighteenth birthday, he packed up his things and left.

Bevan had wandered through the strange and wonderful world of the humans for years.  He found it truly splendid and soon he was happy away from the judgments of Avalon.

It did not last.

One day, Mel appeared on his doorstep with a seemingly endless amount of bad news.  His sister was killed during her Rognaithe mission, then his father was killed by a side stepping Rognaithe a year ago and his brother was seriously wounded during the same instance.  The Druids were directionless and leaderless and it was Bevan’s time.

Although Bevan had no interest in his time, he was unable to quiet the do-gooder voices in his head and after Mel crafted the Rune gun for him, allowing him to conduct the Rune magic into the weapon, how could he refuse?

Of course now, being in a subterranean dead forest watching a ninja get his face bitten off by the one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, Famine, he had to question his choices.  He had volunteered for this rather dangerous mission because he felt compelled to meet in person, the man who had brought so much death and destruction upon his family.

He had, of course, been expecting more.  Zachariah was not the crafty and dangerous human that his reputation made him out to be, but instead, a whining, silly, drunken idiot.  Bevan was one of the few in the party agreeing with the man’s suicidal wonderments.  Why were we trying to save this guy?

As the horsemen, a gaunt bone-white specter that Bevan could only describe as a creature made of sentient  teeth, tossed the faceless Ninja away and turned towards Bevan. The druid realized that now might not be the best time for introspection.

He raised the long wooden gun and one of his tattoo’s began to glow as he simultaneously called upon the power of the tattoo and aimed down the sight at the creature.  It squealed, as if sensing the impending attack, and charged, looking to get to its assailant before the attack could come.

Bevan had only a second to consider if he had used the correct Rune or not, centered the gun and pulled the trigger.  The gun leapt in his hand and barked as the power of the magic ink imbedded in Bevan’s skin transferred its power into the bullet leaving the chamber in a split second.  The bullet struck true and the visage of evil was kicked back a few feet.  It screamed again in rage, looking to resume its attack when ice began to grow from the wound as if the air around the beast began to flash-freeze.

Famine screamed, this time out of hatful desperation, as it struggled against the growing ice.  The  horseman was powerless to stop the hyperactive cancer like cold and within the next couple of seconds, the ice had consumed it.  It stood there like a frozen statue of someone’s worst nightmare made real.

The remaining ninja warrior stepped up to shatter the ice with his sword but Bevan called out to stop him.

The ninja held and turned, confused.  Bevan explained, “That will only break the ice.  That thing is too strong to be killed like that or held like that for very long.  I would leave him.”

The ninja was clearly unhappy to leave the beast, but he relented and moved back toward his master.

Bevan took a deep breath as he saw that Mel had come to and raised the shield again.  Although, he could tell by the look on his face that he was dragging, he would be able to keep this up forever and then the Dahaka would come and this would be all for not.

"Mother fucker!"  The anger filled yell from Zachariah called all attention back to him as he all but exploded to his feet.

"This shit is fucking ridiculous!"  He began as his once tired and fatigued muscles now tightened and flexed under his white tee.  "I have had enough of this cunt-punching, bullshit!  Every time you mother fuckers show up, this damn crap has to happen.  None of you could ever be fucking bothered to come over and have some god damn tea, or say hello.  It’s always life –threatening, world-ending, God-fucking shit!"

The group stared for a second in disbelief as Zachariah. now out of breath from his rant, began to huff and puff after the loud and long rant.  Bevan broke the silence.  "I can't believe I'm about to say this... but maybe, tone down the language."

"Fuck you, Haggis!"  Zachariah replied, as he pointed at the Celtic warrior.

Bevan gave him a confused look.  "Did you just call me Haggis?  I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"How about you put that stupid looking metaphor for your dick," Zachariah pointed at his gun, "up your ass and do everyone a favor."

Bevan's confusion turned to anger.  "How about I put it in your-"

Mel's hand grabbed the Druid's wrist to cut him off.  "It's the horseman.  They are coming faster and the next one is war."

Bevan now understood.  Zachariah had gotten extremely itchy before the horsemen of Plague had appeared.  Then, before this last demon, he had become weak and hungry.  Now, the obvious rage coursing through his body was the effect of the third horseman,  War.

"You don't know me, Tiny Tim!"  Zachariah snorted at the little mage before continuing.  "You know what?  None of this would have happened if you bastards had given me thirty more minutes to finish the job I set out to do."

Bevan frowned, unable to let that go.  "Your buddy was the one that saved you, though I can't figure out why.  We came after."

Zachariah seemed to realize something in his anger filled stupor.  "You're right, Bagpipes…  That mother-fucker!"

With that, Zachariah turned in the direction in which Scott had led the Dahaka away and took off sprinting.  "Scott!"  He yelled as he ran.  "Scott, you son of a bitch.  I am coming to get you!"

"Follow him!"  Mel yelled, running after him trying to keep up.  "If he gets outside my spell it will all be for nothing!"

Kahn barked something in Japanese and her and her two remaining ninja followers vanished into thin air.  Bevan swore under his breath and then sprinted after him as well, catching up to Mel in only a few strides.

"Don't take this the wrong way, buddy."  Bevan yelled to Mel.

Mel frowned back.  "Don't you do it!"

Bevan had no choice.  Mel's pride paled in comparison to the mission at hand, and with a mild effort and a stutter step, Bevan scooped up the dwarf, mage and placed him on his shoulders.

Mel's face dropped.  "How embarrassing."

****

Zachariah was lost.

The rage had so completely filled him, he could only see his target and only the negatives.  How dare Scott?  The perfect, never-wrong Scott.  How dare he take Zachariah's death away from him?  He had no right, after starting a family and leaving Zachariah on his own.  Their entire friendship had been a sham, a joke, a perpetual before and after picture.

Zachariah had always been the before.

Scott had been stronger, smarter and more successful.  Zachariah had struggled just to keep up, spending his entire life just pretending to know what he was doing while Scott put forth the absolute smallest amount of effort and became a master at anything and everything.

Now, the selfish bastard had robbed from Zachariah the only thing he had left that he could make his own.  Suicide.

Zachariah had enough.  He was going to make Scott pay.  He was going to make everyone pay for this stupid situation and this ridiculous life he had lived.

"Scott!"  He screamed Scott's name again and again.

"Zach?"  He heard Scott yell back, in confusion.

Zachariah slid to a stop, his mouth opening in a sadistically toothy grin, waiting for Scott to call out again.

"Zach?"  Scott yelled again, sounding lost.

Zachariah charged into the direction of the yell.  A second later, he broke through the dead trees into the small clearing where his befuddled friend stood confused.

Zachariah did not hesitate.  He charged, full-speed, toward his long-time compatriot.  "Scott, it's time to pay!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"  Scott asked, finding himself back-peddling, as his friend charged forward.

Zachariah let his fists do the talking.  This time, his first blow was an uppercut to Scott's mid-section.  Scott was not expecting his best friend and the man he was trying to save, to attack him, so he took the blow to his stomach.

Scott had sparred with his friend when they were younger men and Zachariah had never punched as hard.  The blow was like a shotgun going off in his abdomen.  Scott staggered and lost his footing from the blow, rolling backward through the grey dirt.  He came to a stop on his hands and knees, coughing and trying to catch his breath.  "What the fuck are you doing?"

Zachariah laughed loudly.  "You just think you are so God damned perfect, don't you?"

"What?!"  Scott looked up, even more confused than before.

"You, with your fucking martial arts and your stupid kid and your dumb wife who I have to hear about all the damn time.  Okay, I get it, you’re happy.  Good for fucking you.  Then, you have the fucking balls to show up and try to save me?!  You son of a bitch, you had no right!"  Zachariah finished his rant and charged.

 

Had Scott been with the group, he would have had the benefit of understanding that Zachariah's rage was the product of the horsemen inside him.  Scott did not get this information because he was too busy risking his life and family, leading the time eating monster away from the very friend that attacked him and spewed words of hate about Scott's loves.

Scott snapped.  He had been through enough and heard enough whining.  As Zachariah charged, Scott came up in a fluid motion, planting his left foot and spinning into a kick to Zachariah's chest.  The blow caught Zachariah in the solar-plexus and launched him backward into the air as if Zachariah had been propelled by a rocket.

Zachariah hit the ground and slid backward.  It was his turn to cough.  Scott stood and a darkness not born of any creature came over him.  "You know what?  Maybe I did make a mistake in saving you... allow me to rectify it."

Zachariah roared and clawed desperately back to his feet and into a charge as the two best friends met for the first time as enemies.

Scott just dropped the mic!  The fight none of you have been waiting for is here.  Will Scott come to his senses before putting Zachariah down?  Will Zachariah give in to the rage filled Horsemen inside him and kill his friend?

 

Find out next time...

 

Stranger Things; Zachariah's Death.

 

TO BE CONTINUED....