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Said the child as he approached the group of men who were robbing him at knife point.

The men laughed, not knowing what would be worse than death. The child, only armed with a school pencil, lunged forward at his assailants- it did little, as the men easily pushed three small prepubescent boy to the ground and took his wallet.

As the men prepared to deliver the final killing blow, a faint song can be heard in the distance.

“Some body once told me….”

It sounded like… Smash Mouth, all stars.

Suddenly, one of the three robbers imploded, as Shrek emerged from his chest cavity. Covered in gore and completely naked, Shrek grabbed the other two robbers, crumpled them into a ball that resembled an onion, and stuck them between his big, smelly toes.

The boy looked on in horror, to which the Ogre Lord addressed him:

“Ah laddie. Better in than out I always say…”

The boy, knowing he failed Shrek by being defeated in combat, was powerless against him and his mighty Shrek energy. Shrek grabbed the boy, placed him in his mouth, and swallowed him whole- the boy’s screamed drowned out the by deafening sound of Smash Mouth- All Stars playing loudly from the background.

That's when I noticed his parents behind him. His mother was extremely supportive and had nothing but good intentions but might be overdoing it. His father looks very uninterested and is holding up a newspaper while facing anywhere other than his son. A cruel double-edged sword, much like the one he's holding. He doesn't want to disappoint either, both meaning a lot to him for different reasons.

He stepped forward, and said "Look man, I know you're mugging me right now, but can you let me win for a bit? I'll give you my money, it's been a bad day and I don't know how much more my self-esteem I can take.

I mock a swing of my knife that he picks up on and blocks. The mother applauds, the father grunts and mutters something about his stance. He hits me gently using the flat face of the sword and I pretend to fall down and run away. He turns back towards his parents and starts walking away, and he mouths "thank you" at me before I disappear.

I didn't take anything from that encounter. The last thing he needed was insult to injury.

[deleted]

“Oh? And what might those consequences be?” The man asked, sneering. It was was clear that this was his first time here. What a shame…

“You wouldn’t want to find out…” The boy lunged at him, pinning him to the ground in mere seconds.

“I surrender! I surrender!” the man exclaimed. The boy sighed, and got off of him.

“I’m sorry about this… But at least you’ll find the answer to your question.” He turned his head, ready for what was about to happen, but still couldn’t help but flinch as the man was engulfed in some kind of flames and was teleported away limb by limb. No matter how many times he had witnessed this scene play out, he couldn’t grow accustomed to the agonizing screams of his opponent. However, there was no one to blame but himself. After all, he signed the contract and now he was bound by it.

😀

[removed]

Ciaphas Cain, hero of the imperium.

Mel didn't know what to say. Bruce had never been so forthcoming around him, in all the many years he'd served with him on the ship. Hell, he was sure, half the time, that the man barely tolerated him. "What do you mean?" he almost slapped himself at this lackluster response. Look at him, already squandering a rare chance to get to know Bruce better.

But Bruce didn't grunt a "never mind" like he typically would. He sat down heavily, practically rocking the entire ship with the heft of his massive, muscled body. Mel was no small cookie, but he was practically a twig around this man. "I don't have anyone or anything outside this ship, Squirt," he let out a patient sigh. "I have only my name, and every day I march closer to the day where I'm more myth than man."

"You're not that old."

Bruce, miraculously, actually chuckled, a surprisingly pleasant sound from the brutish man. "Old enough that these knees are creakin' and my back makes sounds it ought not to."

Mel grimaced. "That sounds painful."

"That's cause it is."

They sat there. Mel couldn't help but spiral. Why would Bruce share this with him of all people? In their crew, he was always closer to the veterans, like One-Eyed Jack and Russel the Menace. Mel hadn't even managed to get an official nickname before Bruce's humiliating - and strangely enthralling - pet name became his standard ship name.

Bruce leaned back with a grunt, his hands resting on his stomach. His sharp, bearded face was a mask of deep thought, and Mel was scared to even breath wrong an disturb him. He'd seen men get thrown off the ship for less. Other than Captain Oz, Bruce was the ultimate authority.

"Do you..." Mel started, but he choked. God, he was such a coward. If Bruce is a coward, Mel must be a true wimp.

"Say what you gotta say."

That was about as patient of an answer he'd ever get. "Do you ever wonder what life would have been like on a different path? Somewhere on shore? Maybe a different job, a... a family?"

He didn't have enough time to start overthinking again before Bruce replied. "Every day."

Mel sat with that, waiting, twiddling his thumbs.

"But not away from water, nah. I wonder about being in the waters as a nobody. Free as a damn bird, going this place and that with no crew. Just Bruce, no Bruce the Great." He looked at Mel's reddened face and laughed a booming laugh that made Mel's chest squeeze. "Ya think I don't know what they say out there? I hear it all."

Mel shuddered to imagine what Bruce would think if he really heard it all. Especially what he'd gotten around to with one of the low level crewmates, thinking about Bruce's massive hands so desperately he always worried he'd accidentally shout it. He was never sure if his obsession with the co-captain was just his perpetually horny brain, hero worship, or maybe both. He couldn't help but shudder in both fear and excitement every time Bruce commanded a room, or appeared back on deck after a long meeting with the captain. No wonder the crew always whispered he must have multiple lovers at every port.

"You're thinking mighty loud, Squirt."

Mel felt the blush completely swamping him in a rush. "No no, just, thinking about it."

"About what?" Bruce's voice was obviously amused. How much did he know?

"About another life," he finally found the words.

Bruce's face went solemn. "And what about it?"

Mel pulled his knees up and circled his arms around them, hugging them to his body protectively. "It's stupid."

"Ain't stupid if I asked."

Mel looked at him then, finding those stunning dark eyes trained on him. He was so potent up close, he couldn't help but tell him anything he'd ask. "I think I would have liked to have a little fishing boat and a little house, maybe. Nothing... nothing big. I just like the waters, is all. But I don't have that kind of money, so this is home, I think."

Bruce hummed in understanding, and the sound sent a thrill south that made Mel flush again.

"That didn't sound too stupid to me."

Mel had never heard his voice so soft before, so gentle. By Bruce's standards, this was the verbal equivalent of a caress. "Thanks."

They sat there silently, each deep in thought, sneaking looks at each other here and there. The deck was empty, since the crew was downstairs celebrating a successful mission with some wine and meat. Mel had snuck out early, taking the opportunity to have a moment alone with the dark waves. The ocean had always been his home.

"Mel."

Mel's whole body was wracked. He hadn't heard a single soul speak his name in many years. He'd always been an underling, a crewmate, a cog in the water-bound machines he always found his way back to. And here this man, this mighty, brave man - despite his own denial, that is - brought it back from the dead. It was like a seeing a ghost, but more thrilling than terrifying.

"Yes?"

Bruce leaned over and slowly but firmly pried Mel's arms away from his knees. With an assessing look, he used his hold on Mel's wrists to drag him into his lap. He wasn't sure who the stuttered breaths were coming from, but he was too busy absorbing the sudden heat all around him.

"I'm going to kiss you."

"Okay."

"And then I'm going to get you very naked."

"Okay."

Mel's heart was nearly bursting by the time Bruce's massive hand gently moved some of his hair behind his ear. He'd never imagined Bruce could even move like this, like stroking a butterfly.

Bruce smiled. "Okay."

Mel thought, in that moment, that he'd never been more okay in his life.

The demonic knight laughed when I spoke those words. “So your telling me that you’ve won all your fights because your too much of a coward!?” He spoke as if I had insulted his honor when he first challenged me, I merely shrugged and stood from where I sat, “pretty much, look I’m not going to argue with you, I can tell that your a pretty serious guy, but if you fight me.” I pause before grabbing my sword, “I won’t back down.” The air grew colder as our eyes met, his gaze of burning fury met my gaze of frigid fear.

I’ve always been a coward, but after entering the knight academy because I was too scared to turn them down I began to fail upwards, from stuttering my way through passing exams and tests, to beating even the toughest of teachers and senior knights, all because I was scared of what would happen if I lost. I may appear as if I have everything under control but underneath I’m a mess of thoughts and actions.

I saw that the demon wasn’t backing down so I sighed before drawing my blade from its sheath. “Alright then, let’s get this over with.” I waved a hand at him to which he responded with a manic grin before leaping at me. ‘Truly I hate today’ I thought as I began my third death battle today.

"Consequences..." The word rolling off my tongue like a flame that's burned over thousands of years. Far from death, the truth of the matter is that there truly were far greater consequences than death.
What if you never died... Your life is the same constant thing,though you made a few different choices, it still ended the same. As if time did not matter in the end, it's as if just a tree getting its next layer in life. Just for someone to cut it down and count the years of life, the tree lived. Doesn't mean it's dead, but no further growth comes.

Losing meant two options. Looking right where nothing is left but the cold, empty feeling that sits at the bottom of your gut. Or perhaps looking left where nothing is right, and you feel the blood coarsing through your veins and tighting beginning in your chest as you read yourself down a dark hole.

Maybe it is the job of an overthinker that comes to the decision that maybe death is safer; shame of defeat hiding in the corner of your mind. Gambling with one's soul. Defeat is unchanging. It is so permanent, and the thought of it seems endless as if reaching into one's mind and finding that same unending dark hole. Something you will not be able to change or turn away from. Your own shame.

So you battle to the death.

Oh that's adorable. I hope that one day they end up finding somewhere quiet they can just be together

Ok wheres the four-part Rick Riodran-meets-Sabaa Tahir bestseller? Cause this sounds like something I'd read the fuck out of!

I would watch the absolute fuck out of this

I like this. Sounds like a Video game main character that is on the verge of self awareness.

[deleted]

“Take hold of your hearts brothers and sisters! For these trenches shall be our tomb. The enemy stands in the east one hundred of them for every one of us. But our loss is not whole, for if we can keep this line steady for six hours then those of us behind our lines may yet escape massacre.”

There is silence in the ranks, Heil does not blame them. Who would want to die here? Maybe if it wasn't so cloudy it would be better. He thinks as he walks between his prefect valiant soldiers. Shen, a trusted commander, with Heil from the earliest days of his service intercepts his walk and pulls him away from the rest of the soldiers.

“Sir, take to the others fleeing from the city. Without you they do not stand a chance!”

“Shen, please gather yourself. We must be calm now and face this impending dread. How can I tell these people to refuse to yield when I would not do the same for them? There is another among their ranks who I trust, who will lead better than I ever could have.”

Distant cannons rock the earth and shells begin to rain down upon the neatly dug lines. Cries and guns break the silence between the blasts and for the smallest moment light breaks from between the clouds and kisses the rebels with its warm embrace. Shen grips at his friend's shoulder with mist in his eyes.

“Sir, please. There is no need for such a sacrifice.”

“Hold your head high Shen, it's time for us to be the bravest we have ever been. I was a coward when the God of our enemy was against us and we had to throw away brave men and women to steal another day from his cursed grasp. I was a coward when I sent you to deal and dine with criminals in the depths of the city so I might save my reputation for the rebellion. I was a coward when I sent you all to execute the lords of the land while I sat within my headquarters. Even now I paint my cowardice as bravery. I ordered children killed, families slaughtered, I sent young people to their graves in droves. I suffer endlessly under the weight of those choices. I will not live to see justice, instead I for once do what I have told others to do.”

Heil can see the enemy now as they approach the first row of trenches. Machine guns roar along with rifles while the ground soaks with blood. The dead and dying lay all throughout the battlefield. The green grasses quickly dissipate and become a mudded brown scorched by fire. For three long hours the struggle till the smoke clears and the enemy retreats to lick their wounds.

Heil can feel pain in his side, a bullet has struck him through his stomach and exertion from battle has tried him too far to tend it. Shen lay dead and gray, killed mere minutes after speaking with Heil. But three hours remain, Heil knows he will not live to see them. He finds a long rod and jams it between the trenches. His rifle barrel finds a home in the mud with the stock planted firmly in his chest. Slinging his arm over the rod he breathes, waiting for relief.

Fear not the man who fights for coin, but the man with his children behind him.