"Clark..."
Guy Cecil was, at heart, a lover.
No matter how much he would have liked to be the romantic type, the circumstances he'd always found himself in landed him in such situations that forced his blade. In essence, he wanted to be a lover, not a fighter. He was a man of simple pleasures. He loved to look at beautiful women. He loved to spend precious time with his friends. He loved to carelessly sit under a tree and eat of its apples. He loved to love.
And yet, he found himself to be far more adept at fighting.
He was one of the most skilled warriors of his world. He was pure of heart, noble in spirit, and yet, fearsome in battle, with little equal. And more than that, he had the gall to match his skill. He had spilled more than his fair share of blood; his own and that of others that he was forced to put down with his sword. It was all in the service to protect what was precious to him. He was just a mere human who wanted to protect the world and have it remain as it was, and here he was, against a god who intended to change the world. For the second time, at least. Some could call it stupidity. Some could call it thoughtlessness. Some could call it courage.
But
it called it something worthy of its power.
The will of a man to stand against a god. The will of a man to forge his own destiny, his own outcomes, his own desires with his own two hands. That was what separated man from god. The imperfect image fighting to create the perfect kind of world, even if that fight only led him to nothing at the end of the road. Because he knew there was more than just himself. Because he believed in more than just himself.
"Clark..."
As Guy skidded back, forced to his knees, he could only watch helplessly as everyone else was pushed off; even poor Asher had been put down by the raging lunatic. At the gruesome sight, something snapped within Guy. No, "snapped" was the incorrect word. More like "surged." And not quite "within," as such a surge could be seen from outside. His arm twitched violently as though he were mildly struck by a number of volts, a fleeing trace of blue zapping across.
Like with before, said blue spark sizzled in his eye, more intense and visible this time, before running down his body again. He rose to his feet again, facing the god. He was but a man, and this god had slain many men before.
There was no worldly weapon Guy could conceive of that could harm Clark. No weapon of man that could ire this god. Guy couldn't even hope for a weapon to slay this god. He could only pray for such a paradoxical concept; an otherworldly item, created in the realm of gods to slay gods.
But with all his might, he wanted it. He needed it.
He had to visualize it. Something he needed. Something to defeat Clark.
"Claaaark..."
He continued growling, stepping forward, burning with determination as the strange sizzling power flowed around him. And then...
it came. As though the gods answered Guy's prayer.
WHOOSH!
Thor Odinson's hammer, mighty Mjolnir, had been destroyed a year and two weeks ago, lost in time and space. However, that very hammer lived on, like an enduring spirit. And in that year, it willed itself back into existence and transcended beyond space -- where its master was -- looking, searching, carried by the sheer will of its owner, even when the God of Thunder had been rendered inactive, before he was finally slain.
However, it kept looking.
It kept searching, flying far and wide, over and over and over and over and over, across different realms. Between the nine realms and every next-door realm, it was no trifle. But with Thor gone, who was it to go to now? Who would call its attention?
One who was pure of heart. Noble of spirit. Fearsome in battle. Righteous of a man. The one who wished for it the most. The one who
needed it, here and now.
And it was the only thing that heard Guy's call, and deemed such a need of its power worthy.
Mjolnir, the hammer of Thor Odinson, was called into Guy Cecil's grasp. The young man's eyes, once upon a time collected and relaxed, burned with unrelenting power, the pupils practically disappearing in his eyes until there was nothing but white. His entire body surged violently with the thunderous power, before he called out once again.
"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!"
At godspeed, Guy zoomed forward in just under a second right back to Clark's location, empowered by the weapon that had heard his cries. With such momentum, he violently bashed Mjolnir straight into Clark's steel jaw, sending him staggering back. But this was not the end. With an almost animalistic, beastial barrage of growls, Guy kept on swinging the hammer that felt as natural to him as a sword, bashing it against Clark's armor, breaking through it, dislodging it, everything.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
The swings were endless, Guy's pure fighting spirit given an appropriate catalyst to be let out. He just kept swinging, the most violent swings being the ones aimed at Clark's durable face until it was bruised, until it finally began to bleed. Every impact was like a minor quake, sending ripples in the air from the sheer power he was granted. Guy himself was gripping Mjolnir so tight that his hands had practically gone completely white under his gloves; any tighter and he might have started bleeding, but his own pain was not important here.
He was fighting here not for revenge, but for justice. Justice for everyone Clark had killed. All the misdeeds and sins he'd ever committed. Here and in his own universe.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Guy put an end to his barrage, landing a powerful blow from below right into Clark's chest, propelling him several feet into the air before his body unceremoniously crashed into the ground with a thud.
Looking down at Clark, "Guy Cecil," or whatever he was now, clicked his tongue distastefully.
"Making heroism great again?! What a joke! Titles like heroes and villains have never mattered. A hero is just as capable of committing atrocities as a villain can save others. Who are you to decide the absolute state of heroes, what they're "supposed to be?!" The destiny of a code of olde that you blindly follow?! Prophecies and constitutions, they mean nothing at the end of the day."
"Everyone has the right to craft their own destiny; even you could have broken free of such a destiny that you were bound to and become something else, but instead, you chose to succumb to this thing you call fate! And if fate is something that would make monsters out of men like you, then I have no need for it!"
@Josh
@Lucky @Gummi Bunnies @Kaykay @Atomic Knight @CrunchyCHEEZIT @York @Yun Lee @MelodyMeister @Siege @ClarkFight