Flashes of Sanity #147: Face-Off

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Face-off


Sam reached a square. His laughing pack of warriors climbed the walls.
In the middle of the square stood he. The man. The enemy. The once a friend.
“Donald!” Sam shouted. “We finally meet! I have missed you old brother.”
“I wished I could say the same.”
Beside Donald stood a group of seven. Sam only recognized one. The Reviewer. The fact that Donald stood next to the man and that they stood visible in the middle of the street was enough to raise suspicions.
They probably knew that.
Sam scanned the buildings. How many friends do you have Donald? The elves spread across the walls. They entered each house. Soon screams echoed in the empty square.
“We found them!” The elves laughed.
“Continue searching. There has to be more.”
The group around Donald flinched at every scream that followed. All except The Reviewer.
What are you planning?
“How many have you found?”
“Seven. Shall we continue searching?”
“No,” Sam said. “Pull them out. Line them up.”
Every part of the square looked exactly as one would expect. Asphalt with blood stains. Tables and benches broken into pieces. Windows smashed. A hotdog stand burned and flipped. Sam halted by the hotdog stand. He tossed a grenade into it.
“You think you are so smart. But, Donald, you always forget, I was always smarter.”
A woman threw herself out if the hotdog stand right before the grenade exploded. Sam grabbed her by the hair and held her up for all to see.
“Do you really think you can win?” He threw her to the line the elves had created. “Answer me, Donald?”
“Sam?” Donald said. “Do you have a cup of coffee?”
The smile on Donald’s lips sealed their fate.
“You always was an idiot, Donald.” Sam pushed a button on the com-radio in his ear. “Mart, show yourself. And while you are at it. Blow the whole square up.”
“Got it father.”
Mart’s troops appeared from every street. Every building fell apart as they passed. The asphalt bled under their feet.
Fear me, Sam thought.

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Copyright © David B. Johansson 2021

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