The Lime
an excerpt

Inside the city, Gerrard discovered that the enormous gate was not an anomaly; the entire city was made in gigantic proportions. Giant walls, sometimes broken and shattered, stretched to the sky and blocked out the sun. Faded grays and whites covered the sides of the buildings; sometimes papers would drift down the street, supported by the echo of a wind. The entire city seemed to be in monochrome. Streets branched off in all directions into claustrophobic alleyways; the city seemed to be supported at one point by a complex infrastructure of roads, which had now collapsed upon itself. The buildings themselves seemed to be at points blurred, vaguely transparent, and distorted, as if they were only partially there. Sometimes, large sections of rock or metal blocked his way, but Gerrard continued on.

Gerrard reached what appeared to be the center of Augustine: a silent circular courtyard. Gray grass grew in the center of the yard, and paths crisscrossed to various sections of the city.

"Is anyone here?" he asked hopefully, but his voice died into a distant echo of itself, joined the lost echoes of the forgotten.

"Guess not." Gerrard continued walking through the blurred courtyard, stepping lightly over a fallen, blurry brick. Something broke the silence of the atmosphere like a rock thrown across a pond. A soft whistle of something approaching. Gerrard looked up in time to see a distorted shape in front of the courtyard sharpen into a silhouette.

"Ah," said the silhouette. "I didn't think the note could possibly fool an idiot into believing that Mariano would really be showing up here, but apparently I overestimated how smart idiots really are. Well, I hope you like your surroundings, because they're the last things you're going to see. Man, do I love cliché dialog." Features rushed through the previously dark shape. Sharp green eyes. Dark gray shirt, lighter gray pants, white tie. Boyish face, but he looked like he was still pretty smart. Gerrard noticed that he fit with the monochrome motif of of the city, all save for his eyes. His green, piercing eyes.

"Why are you wearing a tie?" Gerrard asked.

"What? Umm.. oh, this? It's just standard business attire," the man said, shifting from a confused look to a more confident one. "Why do you ask?"

"It totally clashes with the rest of your outfit. You should do something about that.. How is anyone supposed to respect you if your attire looks so bad?"

"Wow, you have a good point," said the guy, impressed. He concentrated for a second, then started speaking into thin air. "Hey, boss."

A disembodied voice floated from no where and everywhere. "What?"

"This fellow here says our work outfit sucks."

"Oh really," boomed the voice. "Well, I'll just have to..." Pause. "Hey, wait a minute. Who is that guy anyways?"

"Oh, just the guy that you wanted me to..." Another pause. "Wanted me to... ahem. Dispose of."

"Hmmm... something doesn't make sense here," said the voice. "Maybe you should just kill him. We can discuss fashion at the next meeting." The voice somehow directed itself at me. "But thank you for bringing the issue up, even though we are going to kill you. Your patronage is very appreciated by Mariano Incorporated."

"Hey," said the guy. "How come you named the corporation after yourself?"

"Oh, just shut up and kill him already," said the voice, before going silent.

"Fine," said the guy. "Okay, back to my menacing speech. You're going to die... right now."

Gerrard just sighed. "Kay then. I'm looking forward to my death."

The guy just concentrated. He appeared to be tossing something at Gerrard with his hand, although at first Gerrard didn't notice anything. Then a lance of fire blurred into existence. Gerrard, reflexes trained since he was a boy, nimbly dodged out of the way. The lance did not disappear, but grew sharper and swung around to meet him. Gerrard jumped straight over it.

"How the heck did you jump over that??" asked the mage. "You're wearing a freaking suit of armor!!"

"Oh, shut up," said Gerrard. He used his momentum to dash towards the mage, sword extended. However, the mage reacted with uncanny reflexes, blurring out of existence before the sword could even nick him.

"Ok, where'd he go..." muttered Gerrard. His voice echoed out of existence, and Gerrard noticed that only the magic of the mage let sound sustain itself at all. He heard another sound, the sound of someone approaching, and he spun around immediately.

The mage fired off a bolt of ice, whistling a chilly tune as it bore in on the foot soldier, and Gerrard ducked. He dashed toward the mage, and this time he went himself with uncanny speed, using his talent, his almost unimaginable speed. Dust and rocks flew in the wind he let up behind him, his feet making soft pats on the ground, a soft trail of light seeping out behind him. This time the mage wasn't fast enough. Although he sidestepped slightly, he simply wasn't as fast as Gerrard, and he sword cut him across his arm. The mage concentrated, and then frowned.

“Mariano, something's wro-” he started, and then Gerrard smacked him across the head with the blunt side of his sword, knocking him out. The loud smacking sound echoed around for a little bit and then dissipated.

“And THATS why this is my favorite sword,” said Gerrard. “Anti-magic swords win against mages... every time.” But he felt a little wiped out. The running tired him out, as it always did.