The course of true love never did run smooth.
Evil, Maybe
Angus Everton stalked through the dark alleyway as the briefcase that held the end of the world thumped ominously against his leg. Just as planned, Marco Arsonette stood just a few feet away.
“You came,” Angus hoarsely growled.
“You thought I wouldn’t.”
“You’re not to be trusted.“
“And why again do I have a reason to trust you?”
“Well? Are you going to hand over the ENDER?”
Angus shifted. The briefcase seemed to have gained ten pounds in his hand. The silence was deafening. Marco glared coolly at the man before him.
“Hand it over, Everton. We had a deal,” he hissed, his voice remarkably calm and yet somehow booming at the same time.
“Marco,” Angus murmured warily, “Quieter. I’m not so sure I should give this to you. Only EVIL could possibly fathom to control the power of this-this-thing.” He grimaced.
Marco chuckled mirthlessly. “You really think I’m enough of an imbecile to leave this in your hands- the hands of a villain?”
Angus grimaced. “We know what we’re doing. We’re not as childish as you make us out to be. We have facilities. Machines. Workers who’ll stop at nothing to ensure its safety. It’s best if it remains in our hands.” He said carefully.
Marco scoffed. “Stop stalling. We cannot trust you. Not after... you know. Just hand it over and no one gets hurt.”
“I’m not so sure I can do that.” Angus’s gold tooth shone like a candle flame in the dark.
“Give me the ENDER!” Marco repeated, malice and anger steadily mounting in his voice, and with that, he charged at the man who held the end of the world.
“No!” Angus cried.
Marco’s hands gripped Angus’s shoulders fiercely and forced him to the ground with a thud. Angus seized the other man’s shoulders with equal vigor and attempted to switch their positions. The sounds of thuds and muttered curses were audible from the street, but not even in the big city were there people out roaming at four in the morning. There would be no one to come to their aid. For a while they grappled desperately for the doomed case, but strength prevailed. Angus was aging and Marco was his opposite, quiet and quick on his feet. With a final slam to the ground, the THINK leader staggered up. Angus could only watch as Marco held the briefcase.
Angus forced himself up. A thin stream of blood trickled from his nose.
“You can’t handle the power. You’ll be evaporated in days.” He coughed, clutching his chest. His eyes were slits and his vision was narrowing quickly.
“If you can handle it, so can I.” Marco pulled the end of the world out of the briefcase.
As the blinding blue light of the silver-edged, writhing cube reflected off the THINK founder’s placid smile terrifyingly, Angus collapsed on the alley floor.
He would never hear the ambulance sirens or see the beacon of blue light as the ENDER activated.
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