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There is Nothing to Change

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It was terrible.

The way they fought each other was absolutely brutal.

But Dead Master relished every single moment of it.

She existed for the swish of her scythe as it sliced through the air to cut pale skin. It filled her with uncontrollable joy to hear the crash of her skulls against the shots of a rock cannon. If there were a way, she would trade her scythe and skulls for the feeling of her enemy’s warm heart in her clawed hands. She could not comprehend an existence without the cacophony of steel and bone that rang throughout their cathedral battleground.

That was why she waited patiently, sitting on top of her throne with her legs crossed and her skulls hovering behind her in anticipation of the battle to come. Excitement brimmed inside her as the double doors groaned open to reveal Black Rock Shooter. She caressed her scythe with claw-tipped fingers, as she listened to the clip, clop, clip, clop of Black Rock Shooter’s shoes as she walked closer and closer.

She stared down at her prey, because only lambs were naïve enough to venture into a wolves’ den. Black Rock Shooter held her hand out with a defiant gaze that Dead Master wanted to crush under the heel of her shoes. It was Black Rock Shooter’s silent plea, one that she had heard many times before, but it was not she who took the girls. The girls always came willingly to her first. They were merely bait on a lure, because she had no intention of keeping them when what she wanted was right in front of her.

With a swing of her scythe her skulls sped towards Black Rock Shooter, who leapt out of the way but never fast enough to avoid the skull above her. Black Rock Shooter stood up from where she lay on the cratered chequered floor. Dead Master’s mouth twisted into a manic smirk as she watched the blue flames erupt from Black Rock Shooter’s left eye. Their dance had finally begun.

The onslaught of shots forced Dead Master to jump away and onto a column. She crouched low and pushed off the balls of her feet, hurtling head on towards Black Rock Shooter with her scythe ready to sever and slice. They met halfway and she thrust her scythe to her right, parrying a blow aimed for her head and blocked a kick to her stomach with a skull. She sidestepped and skipped out of range as shot after shot rained down upon her, but Black Rock Shooter never disappointed. The fiery heat of a burning blue shell whizzed past her cheek and exploded behind her, showering her with debris and stone and rubble.

Dust clouded the air and she twirled her scythe to dispel the choking fog. The shot had almost hit home, but this was her domain and no one knew it better that she did. She swung her scythe down and cracked the chequered floor, sending Black Rock Shooter falling down into the depths of the cathedral. Their dance was almost half over, but there was no rush for it to end as they clashed in mid-air. This was only a game. It was the thrill of the chase that she sought, because what kind of hunter did not play with their food?

Dead Master ran down the stone steps, not fast enough to lose Black Rock Shooter, but not slow enough for her to catch up either. She sent link after link of chains at Black Rock Shooter who deftly dodged and ducked away from them, as they battled their way up into the cathedral’s dome. She grinned with bared teeth when she took out Black Rock Shooter’s footing, but at the expense of her scythe.

Black Rock Shooter’s triumphant expression at having destroyed her scythe infuriated her, but she could not stop the smirk that appeared on her face when that victorious look disappeared. She licked her lips and grinned manically, as her chains latched themselves around Black Rock Shooter’s wrists and dragged her against a wall.

Black Rock Shooter never failed to look delicious tied in up, especially when she struggled to break free from the chains that snaked their way up her legs and around her waist and down her arms.

She knelt down on the worn stone floor, so that they were eye-to-eye. She gripped Black Rock Shooter’s chin and ran a claw-tipped finger along that pale jaw-line of hers. They were unbearably close with their noses almost touching and if they could breath, she was sure that she would feel Black Rock Shooter’s warm and shuddering breaths against her lips.

Dead Master narrowed her green eyes at Black Rock Shooter’s stare. She always hated this part of their dance. It was the part where Black Rock Shooter longed for something between them that could not exist. She never tired of their repeated encounters. In fact, she looked forward to them. The scars that she inflicted upon Black Rock Shooter’s body were the things she longed for. She remembered every single battle they had fought in the past and lusted after every single battle set in their future. But she saw the wish for something different in those blue eyes and it angered her. They were two souls trapped in the space between two worlds, destined to fight each other for eternity.

There was no saving either of them and she wanted to wipe that hope from Black Rock Shooter’s pretty face.

But they were out of time.

The chains rattled and clinked with every tug and pull before finally crumbling away. Dead Master stepped backwards and scowled at how it always had to end like this. Falling was never an appropriate way to go in the battlefield.

Black Rock Shooter held her hand out again.

Dead Master ignored the outstretched hand and stepped backwards with a sneer on her lips.

Her heel gave way to air, but Black Rock Shooter caught her before she could fall completely.

This odd embrace was the one thing that Dead Master allowed her only enemy. It was the hope that fuelled Black Rock Shooter to fight and kept her returning to their cathedral.

So she held onto the back of Black Rock Shooter’s jacket and pretended, because there was nothing that gave her more joy in this world than to see the pain in Black Rock Shooter’s face when their battles ended.