NOTE: This is a story snippet that I've drawn a TON of inspiration from Dragon Ball Z/Super and a bit from the Sonic universe in order to fully realize and create. So for those of you that keep up with the ever-training Super Saiyans, this will either seem innately cringe-inducing, or as some fresh take on introduced concepts. Just a pre-script warning.
Another clash. How many times had they done this? How many more times were they going to do this? It never ended for either of them.
He blocked a quick jab coming to his right, and countered with a quick kick to his assailant's face. We've been going at this for years, over and over again, he thought. Another quick jab slammed into his ribcage, winding him. A swift knee to the jaw met him face-to-face with the dirtied concrete beneath him. He stood up, groggy, and readjusted his glasses. Huh, he thought, Never noticed how durable these things were. Not even a scratch. A voice not far off from his own laughed.
"Oh, had enough? The whole 'hero of light' thing finally taking its toll on your ego?"
He scoffed, and turned to the source of the unpleasant noise. A being with his face looked down at him from above, a sick grin twisted across his face. His opponent's hair stood on end, a royal purple, rigidly opposing his own: two bangs on the right, thick and gleaming, three on the left, accompanied by one loose strand above; the hair above, staggered to a peak, was angled to the right, opposing his, which stuck to the left. The eyes boring into his own, sheathed behind a pair of glasses, were completely black, save for the irises, which pulsated a blood red, seeming to derive life from death itself. His body was draped in a large, dark brown trench coat, possessing a large collar that spanned nearly halfway down the girth of it and divided in tow on each side, highlighted a dying purple at the shoulder seams and collar edges. The coat itself spanned with a long trim halfway down the calves, flowing widely like a reaper's cloak in the wind. A grey turtleneck shirt affixed itself harrowingly to his body before disappearing into the beltline, only loosened just above it to the right, leaving a sect of grey flowing lifelessly as he moved. A pair of darkened, worn jeans entombed his legs, cut off at the kneecaps by a pair of large boots-- varying degrees of brown, with a dark orange, plastic gem-like obstruction affixed at the knob of the ankles. Straps appeared to keep the boots in place, trapping the leather against cloth with no resistance. A black ring latched itself to his index finger, bearing the insignia of a broken infinity symbol across the visible half of its structure.
As unsettling as it was to see himself-- well, a version of himself-- in such a spunky getup, that wasn't what disturbed him altogether.
There was a streak of nauseating magenta-purple that tore up this other-self's skin, originating under the sleeve at the neck, and piercing into his left eye. Before, he couldn't even begin to understand what it was. Now, he knew very well what made him so sick of this entity.
It had eaten away at this self's mind and soul, distorting his perception and driving him insane-- enough to view genocide as an act of art, and of justice. That it was even possible...
He shook his head, refocusing on the combat, and took a stance. His darker half only grinned wider, seeming to twist the flesh on his face to do so.
"I'm almost alright with being your opposite," he taunted. "You're a much better punching bag than all of those oh-so-innocent civilians who couldn't even throw a punch. Then again... I vaporized them all before they could even try, so it's not much of a comparison, is it?" His cackling echoed throughout the barren city they were in, reverberating through the dead streets and skeletal structures that remained.
"You attack defenseless people? Men, women, and children who had no way to escape and laugh at the very concept? You're a spineless coward," he retorted, taking a bit too much enjoyment in saying the last bit.
The opposite closes his eyes, his grin receding to an arrogant smirk. "This world is polluted with the evil of humanity," he declares. "Every human being on this planet holds responsibility for the chaos and madness that ensues, no matter who they are." His arms rise ghoulishly, stretching out to his sides, and his head tilts upward.
"You're just as human as everyone else-- that means, by your rationale, you're just as responsible!" he retorts, pointing accusingly at his opposite. "You're no exception to that rule-- you're a hypocrite by your own standards!"
The opposite chuckles, seeming to derive a fair degree of amusement from the accusation. "A futile gesture. I've seen the faults of humanity, and I have set in motion events that will soon erase it from existence. I know the truth. Everything within me, everything I am, is simply..." he reaches to the sky above, as if proclaiming himself to the heavens, "... superior."
"Oh, I have had it with your self-absorbed, brainless, genocide-promoting bullshit!" he exclaims, dashing at his opposite with incredible speed, channeling a light-blue aura as he does so. His opposite sense this, and quickly channels his own aura-- black, highlighted by magenta at the rim, and dashes just the same, his eyes screaming with glee. The two meet halfway with their right fists, sending a shockwave for miles around the city, toppling already decrepit buildings and unsettling clouds of dust in the process. Suddenly, they are a flurry of punches, kicks, blocks, and dodges-- neither outdoing the other, always only on par with each other.
The energy produced from the clash only intensifies each second, causing waves of concrete and asphalt to rip up from the area around them a float upward. Electricity streaks from the meeting points of their hits, amplified by the power they channel, eventually crashing against the ground and displacing chunks of earth in the process. Their auras expand, growing in size within seconds, until they are two flames: one light and calm, the other dark and dangerous, two flames that can be seen from the heavens, consuming everything around them. Their voices echo throughout the wasteland, one full of hope and justice, the other of despair and destruction. Two hearts battling, one full of light and brilliance, the other consumed by hatred and malice.
The stalemate breaks only when he manages to slam a tricky uppercut on his other half, then sends him spiraling to the ground with a hefty kick to the face. Now we're even, he thinks.
He sits up amidst the dust and debris kicked up from the impact. Lucky shot, parasite, he thinks sourly to himself. To think this abstract waste of talent could even begin to compare to himself... He looks up at his lighter half as the clouds dissipate, standing in the process. The entity looked down at him, his face seeming devoid of anything but nonchalant expectancy. His spiked light blue hair gleamed brilliantly against his aura, and his blue eyes, protected by his glasses, seemed to pick him apart piece by piece, analyzing their target. His buttoned-up brown shirt flowed seamlessly with his power, the ends lingering easily above his thighs. The white undershirt, visible next to the open collar of the button-up, was stained with a splotch of red. Blood had leaked there from his bleeding lip. His jeans were neat and refined, suffering cuts and tears from their battle, and gave way to his casual tennis shoes, black highlighted with white, blue, and green in a gentle pattern. His exposed arms were a fair pale shade, contradicted by the wide watch nestled on his right wrist, its screen a bright green with the time 1:15 showing prominently in black text.
He hated the lighter half of himself for being so weak in the face of so much evil. The world was drowning in the malevolence perpetrated by humanity, and all he could do was spout dribble about "peace" and "acceptance" and "helping others." It sickened him. His stomach twisted with disgust, wrenching against his muscles with a tight conviction. What a worthless, causeless waste of life.
Humans needed to be eradicated to create a beautiful world. They only ever killed, maimed, warred, and violated each other with unparalleled viscosity. The Earth itself suffered from their blight, her animals tainted and dying because of the pollution of manmade machines: spewing grey smog into their air, sending legions of bulldozers to plow their homes, and sending pillagers in platoons to murder them, capture them, or string them up in some glassed confinement chamber for the amusement of their disgusting offspring. These beings literally suffocated the world around them, down to the aquatic level, and would eventually go deeper. He knew this truth, and only he could know this truth. He wouldn't allow such a heartless species to continue its destructive path across a world with such beauty.
He faced his other half, and thought of the countless lives he's rightfully eradicated. A grin twisted across his face.
It was justice.
Every single life he'd taken was justified. He deeply enjoyed watching them all panic and squabble, unaware of their bleak fates. It gave him a sense of euphoria, them receiving the justice they so rightfully deserved by his hand. He was the justice of the planet, and he would not be stopped by someone simply too naïve to see.
He looked up at the personification of what he despised, and channeled his dark aura, floating to the same level in midair as him.
They seemed to mirror each other as they performed the same motion: poising their hands together at their right, keeping them together and forming an energy sphere. Blue radiated vibrantly against a light purple, only intensifying as they built their energy into the spheres. Debris fluctuated wildly as it was tossed about in the air, and the streaks of light seemed to bend and twist as the energy was condensed further, until the two shoved forward, releasing the energies into massive beams while letting out a resounding yell. The beams met, and struggled against one another as the two halves channeled their energy. At the epicenter, electricity sparked wildly, striking dangerously to anything and everything around it, while the ground beneath evaporates against the building pressure.
Each half seems to gain an advantage as the epicenter edges closer to their opponent, only to lose it as the energy is met with ample force and the stalemate continues. The dark half seemed to draw power from his growing hate, defied for far too long by the weakling that chose fruitlessly to impede him. His lighter counterpart drew on the hopes of himself and those around him, channeling the light into his blast, fighting for those across the world that he knew deserved a chance to make the world a better place. Their powers increase as they release more and more energy, yelling against one another until everything is consumed in a blinding flash of light, followed by a definitive explosion, engulfing the city and the land beyond it.
"That's going to leave a bruise... very... large... bruise," he coughs to himself, sitting up. His body was racked with pain, as he had pushed himself as far as he could during the struggle. His muscles ached, and his bones were wrought with pain. First time for everything, he thinks, well... first time for the same thing, amplified tenfold.
He stands up, almost toppling over from exhaustion as he does so. Blue is still holding up well... I must be getting used to it, he notices, then observes his hand, clenching it into a fist. Good. His thoughts are interrupted by a wail so agonized it was seemingly inhuman. Startled, he squints through the dust at a sight that chilled him to his core.
He slammed into the ground, shaking with rage, and sat himself up. This arrogant fool would dare to interfere and bring his crusade of justice to a halt? He huffed, and a vein bulged above his right brow. A glimmer of light shone against his eye, and he located the source-- a mirror shard. He looked closer, and what he saw horrified him.
The right side of his face had become a sickly lavender, and the brow was gone. Through his glasses, cracked but intact he could see his eye was enlarged disproportionately, its sclera now a nauseating shade of orange. His iris had shrunken and become a grimmer red. Veins were visible, clawing at the center like rotted tree roots.
He stood up, crushing the shard underfoot. He screamed in agony, releasing a pillar of black energy to the sky from himself, and his right arm flailed lifelessly. It had broken, and blood poured from several large gashes in the skin. In the midst of the explosion, the energy wave had imploded then detonated, scarring him and shattering his arm into pieces, leaving it barely intact.
He lurched forward, sickened, and vomited. It's all his fault. All that demented, childish little psychopath's fault, he thought. His sanity slowly deteriorated and cracked the more the pain overrode every other sense in his body.
He screamed, and channeled his energy into the broken limb. It expanded and mutated to the same lavender as his face, ripping out of his trench coat's hold and becoming several times larger in size. The gashes molded and sewed themselves together, leaving ugly scars on the skin, and he swiped with the arm, dispersing the aura. He stood there, huffing, deformed. His hair was disheveled, with several loose strands sticking out of its bent shape. The left eye seemed much darker as opposed to its counterpart now, consuming life within its black void. Hatred bleed across his very being, and he trembled with a rage unlike any other.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His other half had mutated into... something grimly monstrous. But it was visible now... what truly created this monster.
The corrupted growth along his skin seemed to pulsate with hate, feeding his rage. It was clearly visible now, as his shirt was torn open across the left side of his chest. A thick, spanning growth had covered his darker half's heart, reaching out from just below the skin and bleeding outward. It looked like a set of dark roots as it starred out, as one vein traveled precariously up his neck and to the eye. It made sense now. That growth didn't bleed too his heart-- it started at his heart and consumed it completely, wiping away his humanity. He looked at the mutated half of his other self in shock. That... thing regenerated it for him, but... deformed him into that in the process, he realized.
But this was him. A version of himself that existed, and existed for a reason. He and himself were part of the balance.
A perilous dichotomy.