Cerin Cornine
Cerin had a feeling he knew what yield meant, but he knew that he was going to not be able to do it. He rolled his eyes and hadn't been paying attention and that would be his downfall. It was kind of funny that his downfall would be his ego, but it was fitting. He wondered if he got his sociopathic nature from his mother, but you know, it didn't matter if he was a fool.
The bullet had collided with the ice gauntlet and he quickly realized what he had missed just a minute too late. Just a second too late. It was funny that timing was everything when it came to things like this. It was like a business deal in some ways. You never knew what you were going to get after the deal was made. You never knew who your ally was and who your foe was also. Of course, Cerin had exhausted all of his tricks. There was nothing left for him to do, there was no way around this was his final curtain call. Water and thunder together made things go for better to worse. It was funny that things were going to end in a song of electric and water as there was one thing he knew about his birth. He had been born during one of the worst lightning storms ever seen.
He should have been more cautious in his strategy, he should have been more careful in everything that he did. He knew that he had a ton of bullets to use, but he shouldn't have used so many of them at once. You know, he had to laugh, he had lost his first match and even through the fact that he was about to become toast, he couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he got nothing from his all powerful mother. You would think for a woman who took over 3,001 years to kill ( the reason to this day, still unknown to him on how she lived that long) would pass some powers down to her son, but he hadn't gotten a single one. Not one. He knew that she was supposed to be some sort of daughter of a god, but whoever his grandfather was didn't seem to care about him enough to even get a sampling of what his powers could be. Not even a small sampling.
Cerin didn't have a witty comeback to that one. He didn't have one once he realized his suit was drenched and that he had nothing to dry himself with. Yes, he could burn himself up, but that would most likely kill him. Well, at least he knew one thing about where he was going. At least he knew that when he lost he was going to Hades. There had never been a doubt in his head that his mother was either Greek or Roman. After all, his father had made him memorize the entire Greek and Roman mythology like the back of his hand before he had died of his own magical ignorance. He hadn't even had time to get a teacher to learn his elements, he had to learn on his own. For all he knew, he was a grandson of Aphrodite, the son of a man who could control the four base elements and someone with Greek/Roman roots. It was impossible to tell which since the Romans stole most of what the Greeks made and changed it to their liking. He had never figured out which side he was from, nor did he know what pantheon his brothers were from. Had the Greek mythology been for when he met his brothers or for himself? Where did that leave the Roman roots? And lastly, but mostly important, why the fuck had his father shown the history of a separate branch of angels more hidden, dark angels was what he had called him.
It was funny that his final thoughts were on the mysteries left in his life instead of what was happening right in front of him. Well, at least he wasn't... wait, a minute. How did he know someone else had died? That was weird. He had been fighting Cole since the start, so he hadn't exactly been paying to the other matches. How the fuck could have he had known that someone had died? He hadn't even listened for screams. Huh- maybe it was just a fluke that he knew that, but there was something off about it. He looked down at his suit and sighed, knowing that he was dead. Well, it wasn't like he could argue with that. Unbeknownst to Cerin, anyone who could detect aura would notice Cerin's aura was changing to seem to be a mix of that a god, an angel and a mortal. What a strange combination to say the least.
" I... don't yield," he said, before it looked like he would fall over, but ti would be impossible to tell if he had, since there was a bright light surrounding where he had been standing. A light so goddamn bright that it filled the whole stadium. Mason would be able to recognize it as an.... aura change? Meanwhile Cerin was very confused. He should have been dead, literally, he should have been dead, but he wasn't. It was almost like someone dying had triggered something. When the light finally died, Cerin Cornine stood there... alive.
" ….." Cerin stared and looked around to see a P with a line under it with a small appendix that wrote Grandson. Oh and he had dark wings come out of his suit. Cerin Cornine was a grandson of Pluto.... and a dark angel. And he was not dead. " Well then....." he said, staring at Cole. " That was unexpected."
Cole felt the smoke part before his burnt body, the collateral from their recent encounter blown away by the beating of two majestic wings. It watching a man become an angel was a surreal experience. He had always heard talk of angels and gods- it was the complementary side dish that came with every southern meal- yet he had never willed himself to taste it. It wasn't for a lack of trying. His parents. His grandparents. They were always so traditional. Too traditional for their own good. They came from the 'Sunday school and sin' school of thought; everything that wasn't good was evil, and everything that was good came from God. If they could see him now... frying his fellow man to settle a score. Would they have been ashamed of his methods? Or proud of how hard he had fought for what he had believed in? No, he was only kidding himself; if his parents were proud of him, maybe they'd call every once in a while, instead of spreading stories of the son they wished they had raised. He was a doctor one week and a teacher the next, but no matter which lied they told, it would always come with an excuse for his absence:
We're sorry Cole isn't here for Thanksgiving. He's in Africa, you see. He's helping blind children to see again
That year he had spent his holidays with Zeke in Empire City jumping cars.
Cole's always busy this time of year. He can't leave his students you see. He's so willing to sacrifice his time to give extra tutorials... you're right, he is a real saint
That year he had spent his Christmas in bed, sleeping off the burns of his last encounter with Kessler
Cole? Oh, yes, he's in back at the lab. He's close to a breakthrough he says. He could save hundreds of lives, you know. We're so proud.
He remembered that year all too well. He had spent Christmas Eve waiting by the phone.
Why was he thinking of his parents now? What would achieve? He was wasting precious seconds grieving over the living; if he didn't get back in the game soon, then they would be the ones grieving him. Or not grieving him, for that matter. He forced the thoughts from his mind with clenched eyelids and a tense brow, shaking them from his system like water from wet hands. He needed a game plan and fast, for with every passing second Cerin seemed to grow more comfortable with his new form, and Cole lost his confusion advantage... and more charge. Having unleashed every last scrap of power in a last-ditch effort to turn the tables, Cole's body had truly been shattered, and with it, his will. He had exhausted every last option. He didn't have a watt left in him. His body temperature had evened out. His skin was almost lost under a layer of ash and dust. His clothes were charred and burned. Even his Amp had been fried into oblivion. Now he was little more than an angry, slightly more durable man. No powers. No degree. Nothing. Not so much as a contingency plan.
"This supposed to make be repent or something?" Cole wheezed, swallowing the latest wave in an unstoppable flood of pain
"Or just feel guilty about killing ya? Just don't expect a long-winded apology" His amp had become a crutch- it was all it was worth now. It simply a shiny yet broken down cattleprod. A means to help his dead legs regains some semblance of life.
"I gave it my all though, right? Put on a good show" A tried to walk forward, but even with the added support, his legs crumbled, unable to withstand the hour's assault. A quivering hand did all it could to support a ruined body. The least he could do was die on his feet. He sure as hell wasn't about to kneel. With every struggle and every primal claw at life he made, it was as if a burned was released from his soul. They always said it got easier just before the end.
Somehow he felt naked without his charge. For the past 3 years, it had always been there for him, watching over him like his very own guardian angel. The light had been his armor- his sword and shield- and it had given him sight even in his darkest days. It had blessed him with the clarity he lusted for so greatly as he struggled to rise again. No matter how strong he had become, without the lighting, he couldn't part the smog of battle clouding his thoughts.
He was upright again, standing not on his legs, but on his sheer force of will alone. A weak smile parted his lips, wet with blood, sweat, and maybe a secret tear or two. Now all that was left was to stand and wait for Cerin to strike him down, the demon's power restored and amplified into the realm of the gods. He life was at Cerin's leisure. The silence seemed to last a lifetime.
"Are you truly about to give up, boy?" A wispy voice crowed in his mind, engulfed in the chains of years of turmoil. Every word seemed to pain the speaker greatly, stirring up feelings long since repressed. He spoke with pain and hatred enough for one hundred men, the kind of loathing one could only feel for themselves. The voice stirred and equal force within Cole. It was familiar. Too familiar. A name surfaced in the storm of his heart.
"Kessler..."
"Yes, Cole" He sung in response. Cole could practically see the old man's lips curling at the thought of his terror. He revealed in it. He bathed in it. "Don't act so surprised. We were always going to meet again. Only I anticipated it to happen later down the line. The next time you looked in the mirror, perhaps?"
Cole's mouth simply hung agape, his words lost in a sea of thoughts. It was as if Kessler could sense his disturbances. He gave him time to think. To fear. When he spoke again, he spoke with words he knew Cole has whispered to himself once too often.
"You failed, my boy. After all, I did for you... you were still too weak" He cooed
"Even after all you suffered. All you endured to get this far..."
"Go to hell..." Cole lacked the strength to force the thoughts from his mind. He was on the verge of collapse as it was.
"If you've come here to gloat, then go... to hell... I'll be joining you shortly"
"This isn't a call to surrender, you baffoon" Kessler snapped, his tone shifting yet again. His words were fueled not by hate, but by something more? Was it fear? Generosity? Or perhaps a hint of compassion
"I'm telling you to stand up straight"
"Fat lotta good that'll do...."
"If you can stand, you can fight"
Cole laughed again, his cry stifled by the pain of a broken rib. "I'm not getting a pep talk from the all-mighty Kessler, am I?"
"And I'm not watching the mighty Cole MacGrath give up, am I?" His words cut deep into Cole's heart, rattling him to his core. Kessler had seen it all. Every possible future. Every possible past. Once it had fueled him to destroy everything Cole loved to turn him into some Machiavellian monster. But that power had somehow led him to some new conclusion... Why was he suddenly fighting with him now? What had changed?
"No... you said so yourself. I was too weak"
"You were too weak then. As was I...Yet...As I recall, you aren't fighting the Beast anymore. You're fighting Cerin"
"What's your point, Old Man? Say your piece, or let me die in peace... You've pissed me off enough as it is"
"On your feet boy!" Kessler's peace seemed to melt away like wet paper, crumbling in Cole's hands. In its place stood cold fury, such as Cole had not seen since they had fought at Ground Zero. He was running out of time and with it, patience.
"I didn't die for this! So that you could waste the strength I gave you and throw your life away! You're the Electric Man, you idiot! We're the Electric man! Act like it! Like it or not.... we're one in the same. Two halves of the same coin, to coin a phrase. Wake up. Use your head. You surpassed me years ago. All I had become yours. Tap. Into. It. Fight your fool. Fight"
"I" He spoke on impulse, fueled by purpose alone. Maybe it wasn't over. Not until the fat lady sung...
"I'll need charge"
"No you don't. I never did. Besides... Open your eye's. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for under your nose...or above it"
The truth struck Cole like a freight train. All this time he had been focused so intently on charge and power. Electricity had been his fuel for so long that he had forgotten the roots of his strength - energy. Ionic Energy. It was a theory- a fearful, unpracticed theory- but it was all he had. Ionic Energy lied within every atom in existance. In most things infinitesimally small, but in human cells and lighting, but Wolfe had thought- his theories funded by Kessler- that he could harvest such power from almost any power source. Power. Kinetic Energy. It must have been how Kessler could fight so relentlessly, unaffected by fatigue or failure. He must have been harvesting power from his own lighting in a continuous circuit... that was the source of his White Lightning... and if he could tap into that, it should come hand in hand with a fair few new tricks.
But he didn't have any fire, or even his own charge to cycle. He needed power. He needed light... he needed...
Radiance. The light of a God hung mere feet above his head.
Cole stood tall again, standing not on his legs but on mountains. He opened up the damn one final time and drank it all in. Every excess spark Cerin had flooded the battlefield with. The lights dimmed. His strength came creeping back again, burrowing deep into his being like flees into a dogs fur. If Cerin wanted to power up again, that was fine by him, but he would have to do so knowing that Cole could always feast on the crumbs left beneath the Angel's table. He would become Prometheus, stealing the fires of the Gods... Only this time, Prometheus would rise up again. He wouldn't beg for forgiveness; He would take his flames and go to war.
"Alright, asshole" Cole snapped. He wasn't on full form. Not even close. But he didn't care. Maybe he would never be able to reach that level of power again. But it had happened just as Cerin had said. Cole was going to have to fight smart. Beyond that, Kessler had been right. Even if the odds of victory were one in one million, then there was at least one world where he won. Time to punch, kick, cry, scream and crawl. Would do everything in his power to go out like a supernova, in a flash of light that could be seen for miles around. That one world in one million worlds would become his own. He swore it "
Ready for round two yet, pretty boy? Coz I'm ready for my curtain call" His voice slipped into a whisper
"Half as long, twice as bright"
@Alex Azure @Lucky
