[Slade]

Ok, this requires some backstory. Last night I was hanging out on the computer, lurking on the Internet, and a random and unprovoked wave of dispair assaulted me. Rather then mope about or try to stomp it down, on a whim I instead waged the scene that will follow within my imagination. Every word is true, although you can thank JM helping me edit it and provide a few good phrases here and there, and for having me post it, though I didn't tell him to do any of this. I just wrote it after the event as my mind descended (unbeknownst to me) into the murky depths of the sleep deprived. Of course, I could see right away when I looked at it this afternoon that I had been half asleep when I wrote it, and fixed it up with some of JM's suggestions. Without more ado, here is a bizarre piece of what went on in my mind last night. Oh, and the book mentioned won't be written by me for quite a while, although I would indeed take my moniker from the character construct that's in my head regarding it. And Dale is my first name, if you didn't already know.

A Battle in the Mind
A surrealistic, true account of one man's inner turmoil.

by Slade

I sighed, breathing in the scent of salt that drifted lazily upward with the sound of the sea from the shore hundreds of feet below. I closed my eyes and allowed the waves lapping upon the jutting rocks below as I took a seat upon the gravel and allowed all of my tension to dissipate. High above the world, I cast my mind over the grey ripples of the ocean, peering through the mist in the distance with distaste at smoke from the hovels I'd willingly left.

Here, I was at peace. The cool wind toyed with my hair. The occasional seagull cried out at the triumph of procuring another meal. The sky was a flat slate grey that seemed to blend perfectly into the sea on the horizon, a pleasant color. I closed my eyes and let my soul seep into the earth around me.

Minutes, hours, or eons may have passed, I can not tell, but suddenly I heard soft footsteps in the sandy gravel behind me. I was on my feet and whirled around in an instant. A man as sharp and thin as the rapier at his side stood before me.

For a moment, we just looked at one another. I was puzzled. This was a private spot; not even God himself could find me here. So how did this man discover me?

My eyes took him in and I knew the truth. His face belonged to me, except for the short, coal black hair and thin, straight mustache he wore. His garb was darkness himself, save for a shaggy, light grey doublet with the word "DISPAIR," stitched as poorly as it was spelled. It ran diagonally across his torso in patchwork gold lettering. His skin was dark, as if he was Italian, an odd contrast to my perpetual pale tone. I laughed bitterly.

"What state my mind is in, when my imagination can't even personify my despair without making light of it. Your costume looks like it was sewn together by a ten year old."

"Don't be trite, Dale, we both know that my appearance is unimportant. It is my sword that you should be concerned with." My despair replied, contemptuously.

"I have no wish to shed blood on this ground. If you have quarrel with me, please address me during my normal business hours. I'm busy being at peace right now."

"I'm afraid I can not do that. Surely you must know that I do not simply leave when asked." He drew his rapier from his sheathe. I noticed with distaste that he was right handed.

"So this is how it will be, eh? A duel to the death? It would be a pity to soil this place with foul murder, but you have dogged my step long enough." I drew my own foil, my emerald eyes burning coldly. I placed my right hand on my hip in the proper fashion and readied myself. "Have at thee, then." I said.

We circled one another, neither being fooled by the other's feints. He swung high and I parried and riposted, but he managed to push me away. He attempted to slash my ankle and I dropped back, coming in from the side at his thigh, but this blow was turned away as well.

"Are we two school children playing with sticks, or are we two masters of an art in a contest of mortal peril?" I sneered at my despair. He took the bait and made a foolish lunge. I used his own momentum against him and knocked him off balance. I readied a mortal blow, but he surprised me with a parry and we locked swords. With his face next to mine, I stared hard into his deep brown eyes. "I am aware of your concerns, but attacking me will do nothing but leave you dead and I wounded. Why do you persist so?" The smell of aftershave assaulted me.

"I live while you feel you do not." He gritted his teeth and pushed me away. We began circling and he continued. "Until you are truly at peace, no place will be safe, not even this 'sanctuary' you've constructed. The falsities you've created can not hide you from me. I will find you where ever you are and I will destroy you. You can not stop me." He swung his rapier in an obviously mocking fashion at my face, twice in succession. The first I simply dodged, the second I batted away with no effort.

"But if you can not be killed, what is that look of fear in your eyes?" I asked, thrusting rapidly and forcing him to stay on his toes to ward off my attacks.

"You are a much greater fool than I thought if you think false courage will assist you. You know everything I do; you know I can't be defeated." He counterattacked with a ferocity I'd never seen before, though this battle, this banter, was not new. It took all of my effort to prevent him from puncturing my vital organs. After a moment, my despair let me retreat a few paces and catch my breath for a moment, insulting me.

"Damn you, this is no bloody game! Stop toying with me and fight!" I said through teeth clenched in rage and frustration. He chuckled softly and returned to his fighting stance. "I am in no hurry, we have all eternity." He bowed, as if we were just beginning our fight. "Whenever you are ready." My despair said patiently.

I took his moment to think. There had to be some way to destroy this cursed fiend. Just being near him for a few moments caused my soul to wretch in anguish. I could see and feel the toll this endless chase had taken on me. My eyes were sunken in, my jeans tattered, shirt faded. Without the adrenaline of mortal peril, I could barely support myself. I had hoped that my demon would not be able to follow me here, but perhaps...

He cocked his head to listen and suddenly his eyes widened in fear as he heard my thoughts. A vision flashed in our minds as only thought can, and I grinned lopsidedly and maliciously.

He was on the edge of the cliff with nowhere to go. He attempted to attack, panic stricken, but with a powerful swing, I clove his rapier in two with my broadsword. He dropped to his knees with a cry of his own despair and I ran my sword through his chest. I grimaced as I removed his body from my sword with my foot. It slid sickeningly slowly, the blade grinding against his ruined ribcage. Finally, he was off and I sent him plummeting silently onto the rocky crags below. I turned my back to the cliff-side.

Suddenly, I was no longer Dale. I was Slade, master swordsman in a book not written yet but from which I take my internet handle. The cool touch of my ebony mail cuirass against my chest and familiar feel of the perfectly balanced, elegant broadsword in my hand gave me renewed strength. This was my territory, and my territory only. My despair did not stand a chance.

I slipped effortlessly into an aggressive stance designed to keep the opponent too busy deflecting attacks to worry making his own. My skill with a blade was unmatched by any who lived, and my adversary was driven back, now struggling to ward off my blows with his mismatched weapon.

"What about an honorable fight?" He cried as my weapon narrowly missed removing his sword arm.

"You forfeited that privilege the moment you stepped foot into this place." I said grimly. I pushed him further back toward the cliff's edge, the mass of my sword overpowering his flimsy rapier. He backed out of sword range, but I never changed my exp​ression or my pace as I stalked slowly toward him, the wind parting around my sword blade. He lost his footing as the ground beneath him threatened to give way, but he regained his balance.

He was on the edge of the cliff with nowhere to go.

"It ends now." I said, raising my sword to strike. He attempted a few panicked attacks, but I swatted them away without even being aware of them. He took a final swing and I clove his pitiful weapon in two. He cried out and I poised to deliver the killing blow. After a moment, he looked up, puzzled that I had not destroyed his meager excuse for an existence, question in his eyes.

I looked away and with the wave of a gauntleted hand cast him away into the nether regions. I dropped my sword on the ground with a hollow clank and was Dale once more. I chuckled mirthlessly. Even in the depths of my own mind I could not strike down an unarmed opponent, even one that had stalked and battered me until I was nearly shattered, one that had taken every opportunity to kill me, one that had defiled every last safe haven I possessed. I shook my head and turned away from the cliff. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance out on the ocean. I turned away as the first few droplets of rain fell upon me. Down the mountain side were softly rolling green hills. Perhaps I would find solace there.

[SimeSublime]

An interesting take on the evening. Strange way to think, i would say.

[Slade]

It happened in literally in my imagination only.

[Lord Aquaman]

That's good stuff. Very dar, very... heavy.