Well, not if I throw you in that grave. Make it easy on us both. Jump.
by Kevin McKain {-StrikeZone General Manager-}
Darkness...
The cold, shallow grave had become a temporary prison. Pinned beneath the corpse of the Dark One, Kevin McKain moaned in pain, attempting to shove his fallen foe from atop of himself. Drained of energy, but struggling for life, the General Manager manages to shove the Dark Requiem to the side of the grave, and slowly claw his way up the side of the wall, pulling himself to his own two feet.
Candice has rushed to the side of the grave to observe the battle. It appears that the fall has temporarily knocked His Royal Darkness unconscious. A straight landing on the head of any man would do the same..
Kevin McKain pulled himself upwards, digging in with his feet, clawing at grass, screaming in fury. Candice and her officials could do nothing more than stand by and watch, waiting for some kind of ending here. McKain finally pulls himself, and in one last heave, he comes down on ground, breathing heavily now, even more so than before. It literally takes every bit of concentration to make a breathe come into his lungs, and all his power to try holding it in, to savor it, before it shoots back out, his chest pulsing with pain.
Free of the hell that this demon had attempted to cast upon him- he reaches forth, grasping handfuls of dirt, and begins shoving and throwing it into the hole, desperate to bury his enemy. The handfuls turn to arm-fulls, as he scoops the dirt in now, shoving it with all his might. He spots another fallen shovel beside the dirt mound, and begins crawling to it. He grasps the wooden handle tight, drives the spade into the dirt, and once more, pushes the dirt in, heaving breathes in and out of his body...
THIS IS-----WH-----WHAT YOU-----WANTED?!??!!
McKain uses his fury, his confusion, his will to survive---his killer instinct--- to drive the dirt, more and more, into the grave. But even with all his effort, it seems useless. He hasnt once looked into the hole, nor has anyone else watching this gruesome scene, but the pile of dirt seems just too large for the wounded man to handle. Finally, his arms give out, and after using the shovel to hold himself upright on his knees, he collapses over, the shovel clanging against the cold grassy hill...
Candice wearily approaches the grave- as do her other backing officials. McKain lies, looking up at the moon, his mind trailing. Will this be enough? Will the Dark Requiem be sealed away for the time being? Can he even survive against such an opponent in this state? His mind races, although his energy is fading faster than he can think. Hes slowly losing consciousness now, and the only thing keeping him awake is Candices deliberate steps towards himself and the Requiem in the grave below.
She peers over
"I...I think..."
He won?!
What?!
McKain is helped to his feet by both men, and all three look to their president.
She stared down, and then turned to McKain. The four of them looked around, and no one spoke...
"We need to get him to some medical help. Lets go."
Candice stopped, and looked at McKain as if he were insane. Standing in front of them all, she opened her mouth to speak, but the words never quite made it from her mouth. Her eyes widened, and McKain himself froze, arms around the two referees that had come with Ms. Fairchild. His feet dangling, he managed to plant them both, as an icy cold realization came over him.
The terror in his heart prevented any words from coming out, yet he knew what was happening.
He knew who those cold footsteps behind him had belonged to..