"The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up...wake up and... smell the ashes..."

-The G-Man

Amidst the fog of war, the sounds of battle echo as angels’ tears fall upon the living. Now, two souls are fiercely entangled across the field. One battles risking the soul, a man who became a slave to his own ambition. Another, a noble soul, whose courage and faith are his greatest weapons. The air is drenched humid with acrid smoke and spattered crimson; no words are spoken. None are needed. One will live, and one must die.

Fate conspired to arrange their battle. Both men are of similar build, differing only in their states of mind. One, clutching a shortsword and shield, sweats and breathes heavily, body worn by battle but filled with vim, vigor, and the will to see things through. The other, wearing a crown not earned and wielding a long sword and dirk, his face a mix of terror, spite, and sorrow for facing an old friend.

In the growing silence, one finally speaks.

"Have you ever fought against someone you would once die for...? It's a strange feeling seeing you as who you truly are, an assassin here to bring Scotland to ruin," Macbeth says dejectedly, weapons clutched desperately.

"I'd still die for you. I'd fall on my blade now if there was even a chance you'd turn back...but that is too late now, isn't it? Lay down your sword Macbeth! If you live through this battle, they'll keep you alive for as long as possible- To punish you for every unspeakable atrocity you've committed against the people of our land. Please...let me end you quickly. That is all I can do for you now!" yells Macduff, once a friend.

"Do you think I wanted this? To become a monster for the sake of the people!? No, Macduff, but someone had to make the hard choices." His eyes glistened with a strange intensity, as if a fleeting vulnerability slipped through the cracks in his resolve. "For Scotland, I became what no one else could. If not me, some hellspawn even worse. The decisions I made—only I had the strength to carry their weight. Mark my words, should I fall today... it is only a matter of time before they find another monster to hunt. You will keep looking for monsters until all that's left is the reflection staring back at you in the mirror."

Macduff’s eyes hardened as he listened to Macbeth’s twisted justifications. The battle-worn knight stepped forward, his grip tightening on his shortsword.

“Hear yourself, Macbeth! A necessary evil? You speak of monsters as if their creation is some noble task—as if by slaughtering innocence, by bathing in blood, you’ve cleansed this land! You say you carry Scotland’s weight? No, my friend, you’ve buried its dignity beneath your sins!” His voice cracked with emotion, but his stance remained firm. “You claim to shield us from some greater terror, but what is left of the man I once knew?" He murmured, voice heavy with sorrow. "I once called you brother, but the man who wears that crown... is a stranger. One who hides behind lies, blinded by madness, too far gone to recognize his own reflection.”

He shifted his stance, preparing for the inevitable clash. One will live, and one must die—but it was clear to Macduff, his old friend was already dead.

"Don't lecture me, MacDuff. I see through the lies of your clan. I do not fear the dark side as you do." MacBeth paced away from his friend. "I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new Empire."

"Your new Empire?" MacDuff said reflexively, biting the inside of his cheek and doing his best not to break character.

"is this right?"

"Don't make me kill you..." MacBeth had no such issues. After all, his lines were quite in character.

"MacBeth, my allegiance is to the Royal Family. To the MONARCHY!"

"If you're not with me, you're my enemy." Macbeth said with a dangerously low voice, before holding up is sword. "NYOOOOUUM!"

"They're doing this again?"

MacDuff shook his head.

"Only a Little Shite deals in absolutes. I will do what I must-NYUUUM!" Macduff held up is sword in a high stance...igniting it in an imaginary glow.

"That's an absolute, Dingus! NYOOOOM again."

Macduff stepped forward, his sword raised high, voice unwavering. "You were my brother, Macbeth! I loved you!" He paused again. "...NYUUUM!"

The tension snapped as Macbeth snarled, raising his sword in response. "LIAR!" He leaped forward, letting their sabers of light clashed with an electrifying crack—

PSHHHHHH- WWoowoWO-PSHHHH!

"This is...really dumb."

"This is...Amazing. I wanna see where this goes."

"NYOOOOOOOOM!" Macbeth swung his blade, adding an overly dramatic whooshing sound as he pivoted. "do♪ Do♪ DO♪ DO♪ doDO!DO Do do!"

Okay...~Now~ it's getting dumb. He's doing the Darth Maul theme, not the Anakin versus Obi-wan theme.

"NNYYUUUM! HWUUUUAHHHH!" Macduff mirrored the action, both men now making lightsaber sounds, their faces locked in intense concentration as he finally did his best to mimic the chorus of Duel of the Fates. "♪CORN OOOOON♪~A COOOOOOOB♪... CORN ONNNNN♪... A KA BOOOOOOB♪

"King Lear never told you what happened to your father!" Macbeth bellowed in mock seriousness, his sword shaking as he pointed it accusingly at Macduff. "Duff...I am your father, Macduff!"

"But... But you're my brother!"

"I KNOW!!!" He broke out into a manic laugh.

"No...No that's not true!" Macduff shot back, voice quivering with exaggerated distress. "That's impossible! LITERALLY! We're both the same age!"

Suddenly, a voice from the shadows shattered the intensity.

"St-STOP, STOP! For the love of everything, CUT!" echoed from somewhere in the back of the room.

The grand battlefield disappeared as the dimly lit set blinked into the harsh light of reality. Wooden platforms, paint-splattered props, and half-assembled backdrops took the place of the war-torn field.

Edgar's P.O.V, First Person
Maples, Minnesota

It was 2:00 pm at Oakwater High School in Maples, Minnesota. Unless it was a half day and I was home playing computer games, I was usually in the last class of the day, Theatre.

My name is Edgar Jorgensen, a senior student in high school soon to graduate in a couple of days. I'm average in everything except math—I suck at math, but am strangely good at Economics. I have a few decent friends at school, but I'll admit that it took a while to figure out how to make the right friends.

In fact, when I first came to the school in my freshman year, I tried making friends with some dank gangster dudes.

*** flashback***

"You guys seen that new Miley Cyrus twerk vid? Holy shit, brah, that was ratchet as fuuuuuuuck."

There they were, the senior section, the hippest, most gangsta group of all the seniors.

'Ok. This is it, Eddy. Don't mess this up.' As I approached the table, the seniors looked more and more menacing.

I don't know if I can do this. What if I get bullied?

You know how when you need to pump yourself up, you hear a song in your head?

his palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy...

Well, that kind of happened, and it inspired me to walk up there in the most civilized way possible.

"What's up, mah niggas? What's shaking? What's the word on the street, homie-gee?" I spoke, giving the most gangsta hand movements I could. "Get the lyrics I be rappin?"

...

end flashback

Needless to say, they weren't impressed. Did you know you can't say 'nigga' if you aren't black? I didn't , and because of this, they kicked my ass. Nobody else liked me the first year either because apparently if you're a freshmen, it is the law of high school that people really fucking hate you. I didn't understand it until I became a sophomore. Just know that if you are a freshmen, I probably hate you too when I first meet you.

Anyway, after my parents found out I got my ass thoroughly handed to me, they enrolled me in a martial arts class of my choosing. The closest dojo was an Aikido dojo, so I went with that. I'm not that far into it, and frankly it just feels like the Weenie Hut Jr. of Jujitsu or Judo. That being said, the people who are good at it and don't go all Steven Seagal with it ain't really anything to scoff at. My tiny-as-fuck five foot sensei could kick my ass any day of the week with his finger holds and wrist holds.

By senior year, I got pretty good too. I'm like a belt before brown, so I know how to break something if someone messes with me. Just not sure I could. However, its more focused on non-violence, so I've been encouraged to use the French martial art of "S'échapper et fuir" as well if all things go wrong. More than anything, I had to learn how to be decent under pressure and how to resolve situations before fighting, improving my people skills.

Anyway, enough of sniffing my own farts.

I was a very bored thespian at my high school's drama club taking the last theatre class of the day. Only taken two semesters though. I needed the extra credits, and I got to dick-around all day playing pretend. It was nice, and the improve games we played were fun. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do at the club; otherwise, I wouldn't apply for any part I could. I could be anyone but "Edgar", so it was a nice break from life. Besides, it was the last three days of school anyway, and I'm already passing with an A(as was literally everyone else in the class because theatre is really freakin easy), so no point in really taking it seriously. So...I improvised, and luckily for me, the first rule of improv is that "you can't say no".

If you're a secret service agent protecting the president's poodle, you better sweep that room for bugs and avocados. Someone says you are Celine Dion with smoker's cough, well you should honestly quit but it's your life, I guess. If you decide that Shakespeare's Macbeth needed to be reimagined for a modern audience and decided you needed to rip off a space opera, you may as well have fun with it so long as your other actors can't say no.

In case you were wondering, that was me playing Macbeth, but now I'm playing someone who finally got to tick-off Mr. Akers for the day.

Mr. Akers was pretty cool for an old guy. He’s the high school drama teacher, and he loves to inspire us to get creative and push boundaries. He’s the kind of teacher who always says things like, “There’s no wrong way to tell a story,” and he really believes it. He encourages us to experiment, take risks, and make bold choices in our performances. However, he doesn't like my bold choices.

"Eddy, what was that?" he asked, deadpan, in an almost disbelieving tone. Honestly, I don't see how he didn't expect this. "You had it down so perfectly, and then you just had to go and mess it up."

"Well, Mr. Akers, we only have like three days of school left until graduation. I figured I am allowed to goof off a little, since you got no more tests and our grades are high enough to pass anyway. Last time I'm gonna be able to mess around like this in school, so why not? I got plenty of time to play games, get a job, read a single book, yada-yada, but this is the last time I'm can be here, no?" I exclaimed with a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye. Really, I was stalling for time until the bel-

*Brrr-ing*

And there it was.

As I got ready to pack up and leave, I was stopped. The bell had saved me this time, but Akers wasn’t going to let me go that easy.

"Ed, I need you to stay for a bit," Mr. Akers called out, crossing his arms like some wise sage about to hand down life lessons.

Great. Here we go.

I slumped back into my chair, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline from our ridiculous, but completely necessary, lightsaber duel. "Yeah, sure thing."

As the last of my classmates filtered out, chatting about graduation plans and summer jobs, I tapped my foot. I knew what was coming, and frankly, I didn’t care. Not really. Akers was cool but man, he had a tendency to try and get real deep on you when you least needed it. Like that one teacher that thinks they are Robin Williams from Dead Poets Society.

"Edgar," he began, sliding into that calm, teacher voice, "You know I like you, right?"

"Are...Are you coming on to me?" I ask, hoping to fluster him.

No such flustering happened though. He was used to my antics at this point, and reciprocated with a middle finger. He made sure his hand showed his wedding band.

Was it okay or even professional for a teacher to do this? Probably not, but Mr. Akers and I go waaaay back. Well, as much as you can in a few short years. I love the fact that I can talk and joke around him like I normally would with anyone else.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That’s part of the problem, Ed. You don’t take anything seriously."

"You enable me." I shrugged, not even bothering to hide the smirk. "What’s there to take seriously, Mr. Akers? There are no plays or grades or anything anymore. Were just having fun messing around playing improve games like freezeframe or quiet bench while we wait for the year to end. It’s fun."

"Fun’s good," he admitted, pacing in front of the "chalkboard", of which the class had none but had to pretend there was one anyway. It was more hands on than that. "But there’s more to life than just messing around."

I nodded along, but my mind had already started drifting. I knew what he was saying. Hell, maybe part of me even agreed with him. Still, it wasn’t like I needed to worry about that now. Graduation was in a few days, and my whole summer was mapped out with gaming marathons and chilling with my buddies. Akers was acting like life was gonna hit me like a truck the second I got my diploma. I wasn’t planning on getting run over anytime soon.

As Mr. Akers droned on, my brain had long since checked out, coasting through his lecture on autopilot. Sure, I knew he was talking about something important—"the real world" and "responsibility"—but...he's done this a few times already, and when you hear like twelve, you hear them all. Really, I just spent time getting hyped up for a few shows. Game of Thrones, that other horse show that is coming on Netflix. Something "Bobo the Jacked horse", and the start of Season five of My Little Pony getting teased.

Ok, I know, it's a show to sell toys for little girls. Laugh it up...

...You done?

...How about now?

...

Quit calling me a neckbeard!

...Ok, to be fair, it is better than you'd think. The same chick that did Foster's home for imaginary friends and a few other shows worked on it. It's got fantastic humor, and the characters are so hilarious that I end up borrowing a lot of jokes and lines from the show in my improv and "totally original characters". If only the rest of the glass new where I was getting my material.

"Edgar, stop acting retarded."

Wait, what? I snapped back to attention, head jerking up like a puppet. Did he really just say that? Akers, Mr. Theater is for Everyone Akers, just drop that in our conversation?

I shot him a confused look. "Did you really just-"

Akers looked at me, not missing a beat, arms crossed, expression deadpan. "Oh? Oh ~now~ you're listening after I've already been talking for a few minutes." His tone shifted from casual to sharp, like he knew exactly how to hit a nerve. "And since I finally have your attention, you're right. You’re graduating in a few days, and I’m telling you, you can't go through life thinking everything’s a joke. Got any plans?" I nodded my head.

"Plans for the future? As in living and working and buying a house?"

...

I shook my head.

"You're about to step out into the real world, and it’s not gonna go easy on you just because you can crack a few jokes or improvise your way through a scene. Maybe if you wanted to be a stuntman or something like that with those flips and rolls that you do, but you haven't even thought that far ahead, have you?

I try not to roll my eyes. Typical Mr. Akers—always talking about how life isn’t some big play where you can ad-lib your way through. But I lean back in my seat, deciding to humor him. “Okay, but… ‘the r-word,’ though? Really?”

“That’s what you’re getting out of this?” Akers doesn’t miss a beat. "Gawh-lee, I'm glad could retire if I wanted to. Your generation gets more and more sensitive by the year." He sighs, shaking his head. He rubs his temples, then looks me dead in the eye. Look, Edgar, you’ve got potential. Real potential. But you don't have the attitude to make the best of it. You gotta fix that or you'll be stuck just sitting on the computer day in and day out looking at your cat videos"

I wonder what he would think if I told him it was actually pony videos...

"You're excused, Edgar. I just needed to remind you that you need to grow up eventually."

"Thanks, Mr. Akers. I'll, uh, think about it," I mumbled, heading for the door without another word.

"...later" I thought to myself.

As I drove through the woods on my way home, still mulling over Mr. Akers' speech, my mind wandered to the last four years. What had I even done? Yeah, I was "moderately active," but that mostly meant sitting on the computer, watching YouTube or that pony show I’d never admit to liking in public. I never really did anything. Prom? Never went. Girlfriends? Never lasted more than a month, and to be fair that was on me. Sweeping the dojo was about as close to a job as I’d gotten, but it felt more like an unpaid intern. It’s not like I wasn’t aware that I was skating through life. It's just…reality checks suck.

My thoughts fizzled when the sky outside darkened out of nowhere. One second, I was cruising down the empty road, and the next, it was like someone flipped a switch. I squinted at the dashboard clock—2:45 PM. No way it should be this dark.

Instinctively, I flipped on the headlights. That’s when I saw it.

The familiar Minnesota woods had turned into something completely different. Darker. More...alive somehow. The trees were all wrong and not the tall pine trees or deciduous trees that I've grown accustom to. Instead, they appeared to be replaced by trees with vines hanging off some of them that weren't native to Minnesota. The road wasn’t straight anymore, either...in fact it was less of a asphalt road and more like a muddy trail twisting through some creepy forest that definitely hadn’t been there five minutes ago. But that wasn’t even the freakiest part.

Dead center in the road, there was a beat-up caravan or wagon. The colorful and bombastic kind you’d expect in a traveling circus or something. It was charred and smoking like it had just survived a barbecue gone wrong. I blinked, my grip tightening on the wheel. What the hell?

Then I saw her.

No fucking way...

A cerulean-blue unicorn, complete with a starry wizard hat and cape, was standing on the side of the caravan. She looked exactly like...no, she was Trixie.

THE Great and Powerful Trixie!!!

The funny-talking magician from MLP! This was impossible. It had to be a hallucination or some kind of messed-up dream. I felt my heart racing, and my brain couldn’t process it. Did I pass out from car emissions on the road!?! God I hope not!

But before I could even try to wrap my head around that, I noticed what she was doing. Her horn was glowing bright, and flames—actual flames—were shooting out of it, slamming into...another beam of fire.

My eyes darted to the other side of the caravan, and I nearly choked.

A dragon. An actual, full-sized, 8-foot-tall, red-scaled dragon. The kind you see in fantasy movies, only way more terrifying in real life. It was spewing fire right back at Trixie, who was in the middle of some Dragon Ball Z style beam struggle.

I could barely breathe. This was...wrong. None of this should be happening, right? Trixie and dragons weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. Yet, here they were, battling it out like it was no big deal.

Okay, calm down. Just brake. Just...

But before I could think straight, I realized something worse. The road wasn’t asphalt anymore—it was mud. And I wasn’t cruising along at fifty. I was still going fast, but the forest floor had turned to muck, and as I slammed on the brakes, the Mustang’s tires skidded and slipped like I was driving on ice. My tires weren't made for this!

I had to be going at least Forty miles an hour...thirty five...thirty...

Oh shit.

I yanked the wheel, but it was too late. The car lurched forward, and my heart plummeted into my stomach. I couldn’t stop. I was going to hit the dragon straight into its side.

I-I’d like to go home now...

*CRASH*

Author's Note

Update 12/23/2023: for newer viewers. My writing style has changed quiet a bit since I started this story back up, and I am looking back at my older style and cringing. As such, I will be working on rewrites off and on just to clean it up for inconsistencies and so that you'd have a better idea of what the story would be like soon. Just know that it does change for the better if it seems cringy right now.

Update 10/11/2024: Finished a rewrite of my first chapter while doing my best to keep what I was going for in line with my prior thoughts. If you are reading this and I haven't edited the next two chapters yet, be warned it will be a bit jarring.