So boom!! Ralph out here swinging like he's in a Fast & Furious spin-off nobody asked for. Dude's all hyped, muscles flexin', probably thinking he's the main character or something. Like seriously. What is wrong with this dude? Like he didn't just get his ass roasted by Michelle.
Then—bam—Michelle just appears.
Straight-up Shinobu vibes. Graceful. Giggle-loaded. Dangerous. That's what I'm talking bout! Murder his ass!!!
She taps his shoulder, all gentle-like. Real soft. The type of touch that says, "I'm about to ruin your entire ego and moisturize after."
And then she drops it.
"That boner you got?"
cue the slow head turn
"That's what got you cancelled."
And then—Yohohohoho.
Bruh, that giggle wasn't cute. That was a certified war crime.
"Have a nice nap, perv."
BOOM.
Face. Floor. Friendship—deleted.
Bro landed like a crashed update. System failure. Logged out.
Man, I was just enjoying my imaginary slurpee in Lyra's head.
"Daaaamn. Man got Shinobu'd. One giggle and he's out like bad Wi-Fi."
No music. No dramatic tension. Just Michelle committing first-degree vibe homicide with a smile. I live for this soap opera, I ain't even tripping man.
***
The air trembled.
Not from the gunfire. Not from the smoke curling through the battlefield like dying prayers.
But from him.
Spencer stepped forward to Levi, slow and deliberate, like a knight dragging the weight of a battle he never got to fight. His gun lowered. His jaw locked tight. And when he finally spoke, the words came out quiet. Too quiet.
"…So that's it."
No thunder. No screaming. Just the sound of something breaking beneath the surface, like ice cracking beneath a frozen lake.
"You gave me a clone."
He paused.
"A fucking clone."
He stared at the body on the ground, his own bullet still lodged in its skull. Still warm. Still fake. His fingers trembled around the grip of his guns, but he didn't drop it. He couldn't.
"I wasted everything on a ghost." The laugh that slipped past his lips was hollow. Lifeless. Like it had been dead long before it ever left his mouth.
"You know what cuts the deepest?" he asked the silence. "It's not that you tricked me. Or outplayed me like some damn god with better things to do."
He looked up. Eyes locking onto Levi like a curse, like a question, like a mirror he'd been forced to look into for far too long.
"It's that I thought this meant something."
"I thought I meant something."
His voice wavered, just once. Barely enough to notice. But it was there. A fracture in the cold. A crack in the steel.
"I thought… I was finally close. That I was pushing you. That maybe, just maybe, I was more than the guy chasing you from behind."
Another step. His shadow stretched, long and sharp, across the bloodstained earth.
"But you weren't even here." His voice dropped, rough now. Bitter. Raw.
"You didn't even think I was worth showing up for." The gun slipped from his hand. Not thrown. Not dropped. Just… let go. Like even it didn't matter anymore.
"I've been clawing my way up to stand next to you. Every goddamn day. I thought I earned that."
He shook his head slowly.
"But all I got… was a FUCKING stand-in. Oh you crafty motherfucker"
Silence swallowed the field. And in that silence, something twisted. Something final.
"You could've at least pretended I mattered."
And then… Spencer turned away. One step. Another. Each footfall heavier than the last, like the weight of everything unsaid had finally anchored to his spine.
His breaths came jagged, cracked like splintered wood. The fire in his eyes dimmed, not from surrender, but from sheer, merciless exhaustion. He had poured himself dry… for nothing.
And just as silence threatened to claim the field, his knees buckled.
The warrior collapsed, folding under the strain of battle and heartbreak. His body hit the earth with a thud, a man fallen not in defeat, but in disbelief.
But even then, even broken, even spent, Spencer was still a tactician.
From the thicket of dust and fading tension, two figures emerged. Silent. Identical. Clones... shadows of the same fury that had dragged Spencer across the battlefield.
No commands needed. They knew. One sprinted north. The other, south. Twin grenades were thrown through the air like metal omens. They landed with surgical cruelty.
BOOM.
The ground trembled as fire and smoke danced skyward in violent unison, swallowing the last known trace of Levi.
Spencer… even in collapse, had written his final line.