His lifeless body crashes to the floor, smoldering holes of burnt flesh, now resided where his eyes once sat inside his head, then, seconds later, his body disintegrates, until there is nothing but particles of dust left, she screams in terror, falling to her knees, as HE, strides to her side, while the remainder of the room, quickly fall silent.
“Somethings have a way of turning out,” he says, as he looks down upon her quivering form. “Daniel, unfortunately, made an unwise move, and suffered the consequences of that move, as, did the rest of your rag-tag team of misfits and rejects. You have lost Cynthia, it is time to stand down, and relinquish your flag,” he says, a smile broadly on his face.
He allows a momentary laugh to escape his lips before he crouches down by her side, “You don’t get to say that, not now, all your bravado yelled, while all your deeds whispered, my pupils have out skilled yours, this tournament, for you, is over. Accept your defeat with some pride for god sake, I didn’t teach you to be a pathetic loser, I taught you to be a winner, a winner who could accept defeat when they saw it.”
“I DON’T SEE DEFEAT!” She screams, shoving him away, he lands on his backside with a jarring thud, quickly he scrambles to his feet, and then, smiles once more.
“Then tell me, all your team is down, I still have six active players, what do you do? How do you win?”
“I-I-I-I, I don’t know, b-b-but I will, we stil…”
“YOU DON’T HAVE A FUCKING CHANCE!” He yells, before straightening his tie, clearing his throat, and looking back down at her. “You, don’t have a chance Cynthia, hand over your flag, or I’ll be forced to remove you from the field as well, is that what you want?”
She looks up at him, and then, back to the ground, her hands tightly gripping the wooden shaft of a green flag. “Th-T-This wasn’t supposed to happen, this, this wasn’t supposed to be the way it turned out, we should’ve won, we did everything right, I-I-I, I could’ve saved them, I could’ve done more.”
He places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes, “You couldn’t’ve known it was going to happen the way it did, you c….”
She looks up at him, as the tears run down her face, “DON’T! Just, don’t. It was my fault, I could’ve done something, I could’ve saved them!”
He smiles once more, “What, what could you’ve done that would’ve stopped me and my pupils? How could you beat such force? Had you not played your hand until the last round, maybe, maybe you would’ve lasted another round, maybe two, but, you came into the game three players down, four deck hands played, and only one power move left, a moved you used, or, in my opinion, wasted, in round two. So, tell me Cynthia, how could you’ve done it differently?”
They sit there in silence, for several moments, before she looks back down at the flag in her hands, and relaxes her grip, “I-I-I, I don’t know.”
“Well then,” he says, as he holds out his hand, “why don’t we find out together, and maybe, next year, when you and your team come to complete again, you will be stronger, more dominant, and, possibly, if your lucky, be able to even beat me.”