Chadpocalypse - 2:9 Ballroom Blitz

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2:9 Ballroom Blitz

By the time they arrived at the lobby, it looked as though the fight had mostly ended, and The Order wasn’t anywhere near winning. The ornate wooden tables now sat like flipped turtles with their legs jutting out in odd directions. Between them, a few small fires were burning, charring the remnants of the rug beneath. Bodies were strewn around the lobby like ragdolls, soaking everything from floor to ceiling in their blood. The woman who had been polishing her axe lay impaled on it at the far end of the room, an expression of sheer terror on her face.

     Standing next to the entrance chutes and blocking their exit was Death. A black and white aura surrounded him as the color was sucked out of the room. The snooty waiter who had held them up at first was standing in front of the horseman with a military-style shotgun. Even at a distance, Chad could see the man’s arms trembling. “It is my duty to protect this entrance, and you will not be getting past me. I have survived worse.”

     Death chuckled, that same horrible sound. Fire glowed in the empty sockets of his eyes and his jaw hung slack in what might have been a grin. “You’re a brave one, but don’t think you’ve outlived your friends on your own merit.” In one hand, he raised a scythe, trailing ghostly fire behind it as it moved through the air. “I was saving you as a demonstration.”    

     “Fuck you,” spat the waiter and pulled the trigger. There was a crash as the shotgun went off, but Death didn’t even flinch. The pellets ripped through his cloak and sent splinters of wood exploding from the wall behind him.

     “Enjoy damnation.” Death brought the scythe down in an arc with blinding speed. There was no sound as it passed through the snooty man, but his hands dropped to his waist. He turned slowly, as if thinking now was the time for running. A confused look crossed his face as the top half of his body tipped over, leaving his legs behind. The man coughed a gob of blood onto the floor and went silent.

     Chad’s eyes were fixed on the scene before him, wide with fear. When he had faced the last horseman, he had at least been high as a kite on LSD. Facing Death with complete sobriety had never been his intention. Fear washed over him in cold waves, bringing a horrible prickling sensation across his skin.

     “Hey, nitwits,” whispered a firm voice from beside them.

     Chad turned, distracted from his terror. Behind the bar was Madeline, pulling bottles out and stuffing cleaning rags in them. “Get over here and help me with these!” She made sure to keep her voice quiet, avoiding the watchful eyes of Death.

     James didn’t have to be told twice and nimbly slid behind the bar where he started following suit. Joe took another look at Death, still presiding over his last kill, whispered something to the cross in his hand and shuffled over to them. Chad was about to follow when a clear voice cut across the room, freezing him in its commanding presence.

     “I can see you over there, Chad.” Death’s tone was conversational, indicating that he wanted to play with his food a bit before eating it. “There’s no use in hiding behind the bar with your friends, your fate will be the same either way.” He reached a bony hand up and pushed his jaw to the side, popping it with an ear-splitting crack. “Ah, that’s better.” He sighed. “You wouldn’t believe what a good fight does to these old bones.”

     On feet that weren’t his own, Chad stepped away from the bar, much to the protestation of his companions. Each heartbeat was a bass drum, threatening to snap his ribcage in half. Sweat ran down his back and across his palms. What the hell are you doing, Chad? He didn’t quite know, but even in his fear, one foot was moving in front of the other. Divine inspiration is going to get me killed.  

     Chad walked to the center of the room until he was straight across the lobby from Death, nothing between them but a long strip of smoldering carpet. The axe was heavy in his hand, yearning to be swung, itching for a fight. As he stood there, quaking in fear, a plan emerged. He kept his eyes trained on Death, but his thoughts wandered to the chandeliers above him. The axe grew in weight, dragging his hand toward the floor.

“So, have you thought of my offer?” Death’s sockets burned bright.

     Chad had thought about almost everything else in the time since their last meeting. “I gave it a once over, but I’ll be honest, it’s not that appealing.” A smarter man would have tried to stall, but what Chad had gained in bravery, he had still failed to find in wits.

     The fire in Death’s eyes grew brighter and the colorless swath around him expanded. “It’s not often I have people refuse me,” he admitted. “I was only half prepared for this outcome.” He twirled the scythe in his right hand, leaving a bright, circular afterimage.

     Chad tried a similar move with the axe, but nearly dropped it. Well that doesn’t inspire confidence. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Pestilence.” Chad artificially lowered his voice, trying to make it sound more manly. “Get on with it, I’ve got places to be.” The line sounded cool, but even as he finished the last word, Death was advancing.

     The skeletal figure did not need his horse for speed. Giant, bony wings spread out from his shoulder blades and he glided across the space with silent alacrity. The scythe spun almost idlily at his side as he shot forward.

     For Chad, time passed in slow motion. He saw the twitch as Death lunged forward, and a force beyond him pulled the hand with the axe backward. Death was nearly halfway across the room by the time the axe was in throwing position, but Chad’s arm continued on its own schedule. With a strength he didn’t think he possessed, Chad hurled the axe upward.

     Death’s gaze left him momentarily, following the spinning arc of the weapon. It went straight for him at first, but took a bend and curved toward the ceiling. Death laughed, thinking Chad had intended to hit him. The axe continued to spin and by some divine miracle hit the support chain for one of the chandeliers.

     There was a loud clank as the chain broke cleanly in two and the chandelier fell. Ornamental blades crashed down followed by shards of broken glass and twisted metal. Death had time to look up, but the chandelier fell quick, and unlike the bullets, found its mark. A horrible clanking, crashing sound filled the room as the chandelier hit the floor, pinning Death beneath it. Crystalline daggers flew out from the site of impact, burying themselves in the floor.  

     Chad looked at Death, stunned. He couldn’t believe it had worked. He ran a hand over his body, making sure he hadn’t been pierced by a last-minute scythe throw, but miraculously, he was unharmed. “Guys?” he asked to the room.

     Joe, James, and Madeline peaked out from behind the bar. Madeline held a lit Molotov cocktail in her hand and looked out at the room. Chad stood, triumphantly, with a crumpled Death, crushed by a mass of metal and glass behind him. With the bloodied corpses spread out on either side of him, Chad resembled an ancient conqueror.  

     The image was shattered when he spoke. “Two down?” He gave a lopsided grin, facing Madeline. There was no joy in her face, instead, he watched as her eyes narrowed and her mouth moved silently. The words were difficult to make out, but the warning in her expression was not. Chad started to spin around when a voice cut him off.  

     “I’ll give you this, that was a beautiful throw.” There was a cacophony of debris as Death stood and brushed himself off. “But that’s just not going to be enough.”