Chapter Text
his sword weighed so heavily in his hand. steps faltering, speed wavering — each parry sucked more energy out of him than the previous one. it was so, so tempting to lay his sword down. maybe then his entire body would stop aching so uncontrollably; a bone-deep sense of weariness that’s been building up all these months, unnoticed.
clown chuckles, eyes alight. he delights in this dance with death. once, minute would have gladly taken his hand, become his partner in this tango they’ve grown to love. sparring with clown had always been enjoyable.
until his scythe slides in between a chink in his armor, and minute’s helmet is hooked on his blade, tossed aside crudely. clown’s scythe digs into the vulnerable skin of his neck, almost lovingly, and minute forces himself still.
there’s a moment of hesitation when they meet each other’s eyes. “farewell, old friend,” minute offers, baring his neck. granting him easier access.
clown’s gaze darkens. “goodbye, minutetech.”
in the distance, pentar is screaming his name, desperation driving his voice a pitch higher than it should be. jumper is sobbing, chest heaving as she struggles to breathe, valiantly blinking away her tears. they’re both still fighting their way over to him, hopelessly outnumbered but still so foolishly loyal.
minute smiles — a slow, sad one. the sweep of clown’s scythe pulls his vision away, lulling him into the deep slumber he craved, at last.
—
alternatively???
clown pulls his lips back into a snarl, more beast than man, “get up and face me.” his grip on the scythe tightens, seizing up minute’s wounds and weighing the odds.
minute shakes his head, unable to muster his strength any longer. his reserves were completely depleted, and he was now utterly at the mercy of clown. perhaps it was never meant to be.
he leans on his sword, half-kneeling in the dirt. the glare clown shoots him borders on disgust and contempt, but minute can’t find it within his heart to hate him for it. it was clown’s pride, after all. there’s no glory to be had in striking down an unarmed foe.
“c’mon, minute. where’s the fight in you? i know you still have it; you wouldn’t have joined the pmc otherwise.”