Deviant Login Shop  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
×

:iconsupercomputer276: More from supercomputer276


More from deviantART



Details

Submitted on
January 4, 2010
File Size
7.3 KB
Link
Thumb

Stats

Views
170
Favourites
1 (who?)
Comments
1
Downloads
6
×
One Wore Red and One Wore Black
an AU Game Over story by supercomputer276
inspired by "Two Brothers"

"A little rivalry never hurt anyone. 'Little' being the important term."

***

He didn't know many things.

He didn't know how it started.

He didn't know how it escalated.

But most importantly, he didn't know why.

Why it had to come to this.

Two brothers on their way,
Two brothers on their way
Two brothers on their way,
One wore blue and one wore gray


The sky was brown and dark with dirt and dust. The ground, brown and upheaved, devestated by bullets, cannonfire, fireballs, explosions, and some he couldn't even identify the method of creation. Trenches, barbed wire fences, craters. Everything that made a battlefield look like a battlefield was there. Perfectly preserved.

He strode through the waste, occasionally stumbling on the small rises of earth, sometimes outright tripping and falling hard on the churned ground only to quickly get up. He had to terminate them. He had to terminate them both. They had gone completely out of control. Another thing he didn't know: why.

They were alive. They had souls. They had developed souls.

It wasn't like before. They weren't alive. They didn't have souls. They were hollow.

But they had developed souls.

And he had to terminate them.

They had gone completely out of control.

He blamed himself.

Not for creating them. Not for giving them life.

He blamed himself for letting their rivalry grow so completely out of control.

He tried not to completely blame himself. There was no way he would know it would come to this.

One wore blue and one wore gray,
As they marched along their way
A fife and drum began to play,
All on a beautiful morning


Eventually he came across something completely unexpected. It stood there, like a shrine, not fitting in with the environment around it.

A large chrome spotlight. About four feet in diameter.

In perfect condition too. Unnaturally clean.

How had that gotten there? Had someone put it here after the battle?

The cord was plugged into a somewhat small chrome cube which contained a car battery behind a glass panel. A meter on the cube was just short of full, the markings around it indicated it was a measure of the battery's power supply.

He approached the spotlight and found its power switch. It was currently switched off. No sign of rust or anything that would keep it from flipping.

He lifted the glass of the light and peered in. The bulb was fine, appearing to be completely unused. He closed the glass again.

He looked up. The clouds blocked out any direct sunlight. Thick black and brown clouds that hung there for a long time. Since the battle they had hung. Thick as peanut butter. As if the sun itself had commanded them to stay, so it would not have to dirty itself shining on the contaminated ground.

He looked at the spotlight again and made up his mind.

Light.

He set out again, a destination in mind.

One was gentle, one was kind,
One was gentle, one was kind,
One came back, one stayed behind
Cannonball don't pay no mind


It took much looking around the field to find it. To find one the others missed. Many had been taken away to the local museum, as tribute to the brave fools who had started the mess.

But no one was perfect.

There had to be one left behind.

In fact, he knew there were some left behind, left flying where they hung.

The perfect size.

He had forgotten where they had been though. It had been a long time.

Eventually he found it, flapping in the wind.

It hung from a large pole. A large black banner. In the dead center, a large Koopa shell profile, shining red on top and white on bottom.

666.

Originally, he had declared that these flags would remain as part of the preservation. But now, he had a different job in mind for them.

And so, after a short hard time climbing the pole, he ripped the flag from it.

Cannonball don't pay no mind
If you're gentle or you're kind
Won't think of the folks ya left behind
Or of a beautiful morning


After dragging the flag all the way back to the spotlight, he set out in search of the other one. He headed in exactly the opposite direction from the side of the battlefield where he found the first one. Naturally.

It didn't take as long this time. Another large pole. This time the banner was gray, the emblem in the center a large circle that was mostly blue on top while white on the bottom. It wore a large white cowboy hat with a black brim, and two pistols were angled by its lower corners.

Calcutta Joe.

After he ripped the flag down and started dragging it back, he stopped only long enough to grab a long length of rope. He would be needing that.

Two girls waiting by the railroad track,
Two girls waiting by the railroad track,
Two girls waiting by the railroad track,
One wore blue and one wore black


Thankfully, the flags were loosely weaved, making both of them partially translusent. That was good. All that effort would've been for waste if they weren't.

He started by grasphing the handle of the spotlight and pulling it down, pointing the light straight up. He would need a flat platform to work with.

Grabbing the black flag with both hands, he hefted the cloth over the spotlight, making sure the emblem was right in the center.

He then laid the gray flag over it, making sure the emblem overlapped the other one perfectly.

He then secured the flags in place over the spotlight by tying the parts of the banners around the emblems to the side of the spotlight using the rope, much like a drumskin. He tied it tight, locking the flags in place.

It was done.

One wore blue and one wore black
Waiting there by the railroad track
For their darlings to come back
All on a beautiful morning


He tilted the spotlight down, aiming it at a particularly thick cluster of clouds hanging above.

He didn't know if anyone else would see it. He didn't really care. They could see it if they wanted to, but he knew he did this for himself.

He flipped the large switch on the spotlight. With a loud sound the blub came on. A beam of colored light shot up into the sky.

The image wasn't perfect. But it was close enough.

The clouds held the image of a purple mushroom with a skull on its cap staring down at the battlefield, framed in a perfect circle filled with black.

"Right or wrong. Red or black," he whispered to the wind as a tear streamed down his furry cheek. "All were Game Over."
Inspired by "Two Brothers" after I heard it at the newly reopened "Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln" attraction at DisneyLand. A very symbolic non-canon Game Over story.

characters (C) me
:iconfeatherspiral:
FeatherSpiral Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm not so familiar with Game Over (heck, I can't even find the time and motivation to read one single fanfic in its entirety) but I've gotten a glimpse in your website.

This definitely sounds fascinating. The kind of story that's of good enough quality to be published. You'll need to modify the characters, or something... I dunno.
Reply
Add a Comment: