Thanks, Dino.
![:-]](http://animorphsforum.com/Smileys/classic/blush.gif "blushing")
Anyway, I probably will finish off this book today. I just need to wake up a bit -- tough time going to sleep last night. Might be be a short chapter, but probably not. The battle had begun.
CHAPTER NINTEEN:
Unity Obliteration
Estelore flew towards Massacre, seemingly unaware of the golden-scarlet energy that seemed to amplify her avatar's natural beauty and power, and that rolled off of her in tongues of energy, before dissipating. Unlike Massacre, who fed on terror and fear, Estelore pulsated an energy that, had anyone been around, would have increased the level of hope in their hearts -- effectively nullifying any terror or fear on which Massacre could feed.
Massacre remained in the rubble that was once RAF, sitting with crossed legs, like a pouting child. It pained Estelore to see the forum she adored reduce to ruin like that. But the forum was built due to the RAFians, the sense of community, that was found there. Without the other RAFians, even if the buildings and threads were still intact, it would be cold and lifeless. It greatly pained Estelore to realize this.
She descended and found that she was now of equal size as Massacre -- both standing as tall as the smallest Megazords. It was some time before Massacre deigned to recognize her arrival. Estelore realized Massacre was nothing more or less of a spoiled brat. But, then again, the same could have been said of both Malice and Abomination.
"Rise," Estelore said. She spooked herself a little when she heard how ethereal her voice sounded now. "Rise, you rotten, evil, little brat. Rise, and pay for your crimes!"
"Crimes?" he said, with a chuckle. "What crimes?"
"Genocide, for one?" Estelore said, voice quite cold and hard.
"Genocide? I cannot be guilty of that!" he replied with a laugh. "You cannot be genocidal when you slay insects!"
"They were sentient beings," Estelore said. "And you killed them. For what? Enjoyment? Entertainment?!"
The golden-scarlet energy stopped appearing so benign and flared into a fiery corona around Esty. But, yet, it did not damage the earth or the nearby trees or incinerate the atmosphere. It was apparently just a cosmetic change. Massacre noticed this and did not seem impressed. Yet he stood up.
"What? You want to fight me?" he said, as if the merest idea of such a thing was ludicrous and suicidal.
"No," Estelore said, now with the merest suggestion of an edge to her voice. "I want to make you atone for your sins. I want to prevent you from murdering anymore innocents. I want to make you pay your dues."
"Well, then," Massacre said, standing up at last, "have at you then! It'll be your funeral."
Then he cracked a rather childish, yet malicious, grin. "Oh, wait -- you'll have no one to attend it!"
Estelore charged forward and brought her fist into his gut. It didn't shatter the armor but it did fragment it -- like a high-impact on a windshield. Then Esty jumped up and brought her leg over in a perfect martial arts-esque kick. This shattered some of his helmet revealing copious amounts of wild, tangled, curly, dirty brown hair, but his face was a decayed, dessicated brownish-gray, and his revealed eye was blue with red sclera.
"Ah, not gonna win any beauty pageants, I see." Estelore taunted. Massacre charged, but she nimbly dodged out of the way.
"STAND STILL!" he roared.
"Um . . ." Estelore said, feigning indecision, "no."
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Yeah, you're doing a fine job of that so far," Estelore said. She knew that half of the battle was psychological, but Massacre seemed unaware of that fact -- being so used to being able to easily overpower everything he came across. Estelore continued to taunt, "Yeah, I'm so sure you'll succeed."
"SHUT UP!"
"Why? Doesn't wittle baby wassacre like big, ol' mean Estelore's taunting?"
"SHUT UP!!"
Then Estelore's tone changed from taunting to serious. "No, I don't think I will. You think of killing as a game -- something that exists simply for your pleasure. But you seem woefully --"
Estelore dodged an energy blast from Massacre easily, and then continued in her lecture.
"Seem woefully unaware that each of the people you killed had a life, had a
family --"
Estelore ducked and executed the perfect flip over Massacre as she dodged Massacre's attack. Then she whapped him upon the skull, which caused more of his helmet to flake off.
"
I wasn't done!" she scolded. "Each of the people you killed had loved ones who will now have to grieve."
Estelore thought of Pierce, Venus, Tommy, Troy . . . and Shadow. They did not know the fate of their loved ones. Estelore knew that she had to win this battle, to tell them. But it really wasn't much of a battle. Massacre clearly had no combat experience, which her life as a RAFian afforded her. He was nothing more or less than a deranged killer with the mentality of a young child -- a young, BRATTY child.
"SHUT UP! YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! I'M NOT A KID! I'M MASSACRE!!"
"Yes, you are," Estelore said, quietly. "But now . . . now it's time to end this struggle."
"YES, DIE ALREADY!!"
"You misunderstand me. You're the one that's going to ride on Charon's boat!"
"Huh?"
"Oh, never mind!" Estelore said as she flew up, pointed her right hand -- the hand that bore the Mark . . . the last Mark . . . and aimed it at Massacre, while silently thinking,
Man, I hope this works!Then Pulse energy started to collect around the Mark . . . more energy then would normally be able to. She was the last RAFian -- so she would be able to use the Unity Pulse without any others here. But she felt them. She felt the other RAFians, as if their spirits were still connected through the Mark.
"No . . . they're dead!" Massacre said fearfully, seeing an illusion of the other RAFians, standing at Estelores side, all of equal size. "I killed them. They're dead!"
When enough energy collected, Estelore said, "Unity . . . OBLITERATION!"
Then she fired a powerful beam of energy down onto Massacre -- and when the smoke cleared . . . the only thing left was a crater that eliminated the last remnants of what was once RAF. . . .
"It's done," she said, landing, and turning her back on the forum she once called home. Then she walked away. She wanted the feeling of walking rather than flying. It was gone . . . it was all gone. And she, Estelore, was the Last RAFian.
