The War's End

The breath of The Captain was quiet, while he stood at the middle of the battle field, unflinching amidst the pandemonium around him.

His body thrummed with the energy of the soul, his focus sharper than it had been in minutes.

The two Soul Clones flanked him, his every movement mirrored in them, extensions of his will, extensions of his strength.

One clone to his left, the other to his right — they were sentinels, poised to battle with awareness as deadly as his own.

They made a perfect triangle, the yin to his yang, offense to his defense, pulling the thread taut between him and Ken.

Ken, who stood across from them, tilted his head as he assessed their expressions. His face was impassive, but there was a twinkle of merriment in his eyes, something that leapt as if he was increasingly in on the joke.