Broken

"Your emotions make you weak," Trinan spat. "They will be your downfall."

Brenan stood up shakingly, his knees weak, but his demeanor calm. "Don't give me that shit," he muttered back, wiping the blood from his mouth. That last blow had been a powerful one, and were he a lesser man, he would easily be dead. But he was not. "Do you expect me to tell you you're wrong? That love is my strength, and that it is your hate that makes you weak? How cliche do you think I am?"

Trinan glared at him, standing tall. He discarded the hammer he had been previously wielding, and it clattered to the ground with a loud crack as it broke the pavement. Trinan stretched his shoulders, only slightly tired from carrying and swinging the weapon. It had been forged from ancient metals, ones long since abandoned by the planet. There were very few who could wield it. Even fewer who could withstand a blow from it. "Do you think you can defeat me as you stand now?" he demanded.

Brenan grinned at him. "No, not particularly," he replied calmly. "But does it really matter?" Carefully, he removed his shirt, and used it to wipe at the blood gathering on his face. The skin beneath his clothing was deeply bruised, and showed signs of broken bones and internal bleeding. "The better question is whether you can defeat me."

"Do not be cocky, fool. You are the one on the edge of death, not I."

Brenan chuckled and discarded the bloodied shirt. Despite the wounds, far more than he should be able to withstand, he began to stretch his muscles. "These?" he asked. "These are nothing. I have withstood pains far more than you have given me. Why don't you see if you can truly hurt me? But it will take far more than that hammer of yours."

"I don't need any weapons other than my fists to finish this battle now," Trinan spit vehemently. "Let's see you withstand my power when it is backed by speed and accuracy the likes of which can only be reached with my fists." Slowly he lowered himself into a fighting stance. Brenan only laughed.

"Fine," he said. "Fight me however you wish. But I won't fall to your blows. You will find me much more resistant than I appear."

Trinan launched forward in an instant, fists swinging at full speed and power. Brenan took the blows without resistance, blood spurting from his mouth and open wounds, the loud crack of bones breaking filling the air. Trinan didn't stop the onslaught until Brenan dropped to the ground, every bone in his body broken.

Trinan breathed hard, every ounce of energy he had having gone into the attack. And then, without difficulty, Brenan once more lifted himself back onto his feet, limbs shaky and improperly connected. Trinan stepped back and shock and disgust. "What the hell are you?" he breathed.

"More than you can handle," Brenan answered, swinging his broken arm up to brush the hair out of his face. "If that's all you've got, I'll be on my way now."

Trinan could do nothing but watch as the broken, bleeding man walked away as if it were nothing.