Illusions and Lies (A Super Smash Brothers fan fiction)

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE: THE LEADER'S LIES.

Warning: This chapter contains mild descriptions of blood. Read at your own risk.

"Go, Marth! I've got your back!" Caeda yelled over the noise of clashing swords and gunfire. Really, it was an odd combination, one that Marth still hadn't quite gotten used to. There was something so inherently wrong with it. 

But he was a soldier, so he wasn't getting paid to think about stuff like that. Well, of course, there was the fact that he was responsible for quite a few lives thanks to his father's decision to put him in a leadership position. Even then, he wasn't getting paid to think about the logistics of using a combination of swords, bows, and guns to fight their enemies, who were apparently doing the same thing instead of just using guns.

Come to think of it, that was only one of the strange things about this war. But-

Marth's thoughts were cut off as he had to stop abruptly to avoid getting split in half by a government soldier's claymore. With a single thought, he used his Gift to choke the air out of the soldier's lungs. They collapsed without so much as a groan, blood leaking out of their mouth. 

His destination was ahead of him. It wasn't far now. All he had to do was reach the little hill where the commander of this battalion was waiting. They were standing with their back to the battlefield, oddly enough, but their distinctive crested helmet was all Marth needed to see. He charged forward, tripping the soldiers who tried to come at him and leaving them for the others behind him to finish off. No more distractions.

Time to finish the mission and get everybody out of here before things went wrong. He had already seen several members of his squad cutting it too close for his liking.

Marth ran up the hill and readied Falchion. Blood slipped down the handle and made his grip on the sword a little perilous, but that didn't matter. He could kill the commander with a single thought by using his Gift, his own lungs be damned. Sure, he might have already been feeling the effects of using it too much, but that didn't matter. What was one more time?

"You're finished, Commander Radcliffe!" Marth shouted. Was it overdramatic? Yeah. Did he care? Not really. He kind of found it hard to care about a lot of things now. Why did it matter when anybody could be lying to him at any point in time?

The commander turned around and Marth could've sworn his heart stopped. 

It wasn't the face of Radcliffe that he was looking at.

Nope, it was Roy. Wearing Radcliffe's crested helmet.

"Oh, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever actually going to show up." Roy sighed and rolled his shoulders out. He cast the helmet aside, a breeze catching his perpetually messy red hair and blowing it about his head.

Marth honestly had no words. Faced with the guy who he blamed for almost everything that had, quite literally, wrecked both his life and his mental health (though the two were inextricably linked, as always) and he had no idea what to say. He'd thought about this moment for a long time, but every single fancy speech deserted him in this moment.

"What's the matter?" Roy sneered. "Surprised to see me?"

"I- what are you-" Marth stuttered, lowering Falchion to the ground. Bad idea, but he was too shocked to care.

"Come on, did Samus or Zelda not tell you about me?" Roy rolled his eyes. "I'm hurt. Really, I am. I should have gone after one of them instead of you."

"Hurt? Like you're actually capable of feeling?" Marth laughed harshly. "Shut the fuck up, Roy."

Roy's eyes narrowed, a dangerous light flashing behind them. His blue eyes, which had once been so captivating to Marth, were nothing more than dull chips of ice now. "Don't try and get cute with me. I'd hate to have to make your death quick instead of excruciatingly painful."