We were sitting on the remains of Mombassa. A city. A hundred million people and all the apartments and restaurants and offices they’d worked in, reduced to rubble.
“You started it,” Jan said.
“Bull,” I called.
“No seriously. You started it.”
“But we were kids. It was a game.”
Jan looked at me, his face covered by the ballistic faceplate, and shrugged in the oversize armour. Neither had guns pointed at each other. For now. But they were close.
“You said, I am Tom Tidler, and this is my ground. And we had to rush you. Those were the rules,” Jan said.
“And as I remember, I was still standing on top when the bells rang.”
“With a broken arm.”
“You didn’t fare much better. Or Shinju,” I said.
“Her mother was furious.”
“But I fail to see how this,” I said, waving my arms over the landscape, “follows on from that.”
“That’s the problem with you,” he said. “You stand on the top of the hill, shouting for the world to bring you down, and never notice the chaos that it invites.”
He pushed off, letting the wings of his battlesuit extend and catch the air. I watched him dip, rise, and come level. Both cannons were primed.
“Game on,” I said.
Prompt originally posted by SirFluffyTheTerrible on reddit and received 3 upvotes.