George Dean’s suit was at the end of its rope, but he had just enough power for one final attack. With all his strength, he flew back at David Johnson and tackled him. And a huge explosion followed.
When smoke cleared, both of their bodies were falling out of the sky like dead weight. It was only a matter of time before they crashed to the ground. George Dean was next to David and was unconscious.
David grabbed Dean with a hand and tried to use his orange energy to float, just enough to cushion the fall. But nothing came out. David tried it again. Nothing. He was too tired. He tried and tried and tried and tried. And just when it seemed like in was too late, a small burst of energy poured through his hands and it softened the rough landing.
They tumbled onto the sidewalk. There was a circle of citizens surrounding them. They were too afraid too help them, but not enough to leave. There were cameramen zooming in on their bruised and battered faces, streaming the live video feeds back to their news stations.
David Johnson and George Dean were both beginning to pick themselves up. Dean got to his feet first. He smiled as he looked around and saw the people. There were cuts and bruises all over his tender body.
“Yes,” George said as he nursed his arm and limped toward David. “Now they’ll all get to see my victory.”
David Johnson began to panic as he was getting to his feet. There was nothing left in his arsenal. No more moves. No more energy. No nothing. His body throbbed with agony. He could barely stand. It was all over. George Dean was going to win.
And just when David was about to cry, he thought about the people he had saved from the giant sphere of energy. He looked around and saw the people of Union Cross. He saw the care and concern in their faces. And David Johnson smiled with satisfaction.
“Fight me!” George Dean yelled as he approached him. “Fight me so that I can beat you, David! Fight me so I can win! You hear what I said? Stop smiling! What‘s so funny, eh?”
“This battle...is already won.” David strained with the words.
Dean threw a fist into David’s stomach, then another across his face.
“The battle is not over until I win,” Dean said with heavy breathes. “Now fight! Fight me so I can win.”
David stood up straight and looked Dean in straight in the eyes.
“I’m done fighting you, George,” David said. “It’s over. I forgive you.”
“No!” Dean began swinging his fists at David. “I won’t stop! Have to win! Have to win! If you don’t fight, I’ll tear you apart!”
David dodged each punch and didn’t fight back.
“The Lord is my helper,” David said. “I will not fear what man will do to me.”
“Shut up,” David said as he futilely attack David. “I hate you! I hate you David Johnson!”
“Hate is for the wicked, George,” David said. “Hate is for the weak.”
“Shut up!” Dean screamed.
Then David observed his face. George Dean had begun to cry. The tears welled up like a thunderstorm.
“Please!” Dean pleaded as he continued attacking him. “Please fight me! Please! That’s the only way...it’s the only way I can make things right. My father hates me. I failed him because I couldn’t beat you. I’m useless, now! Useless! Unless I can beat you, David Johnson.”