Mohammed's Head

Written by Matthew Shute

The Shadow Warrior breathed slowly and steadily. He stood on the wide cliff, his black robes flowing in the wind. His hooded face was concealed in shadow. Only the white fires of his eyes could be seen, burning in their sockets with the cold intensity of concentrated bitterness. He was ready.

Ahead of him stood his two enemies.

On the left was Christ, the Nazarene, looking awesomely powerful in his pure white garments. Christ's eyes blazed with every colour of the rainbow, sometimes seeming like emeralds, other times like rubies or sapphires. His feet were like burnished bronze. His whole body shone. In his right hand, he held a sword which had come out of his mouth. This weapon appeared to be composed of purifying flames. The Nazarene was an intimidating opponent indeed.

On the right stood Mohammed, The Prophet, founder of Islam. He, too, shone with the glory of his Lord. The Prophet radiated an aura of vivid power. His eyes were like liquid droplets of onyx, shining with silky purity. He held a brilliant sword of his own, which shimmered constantly as if with the desire to cleanse all immorality.

Jesus was the first to speak. He said, "It is time for your existence to end, pathetic Child of Satan."

The Wanderer in the dark robes did not reply. He did not bother to point out that he had never had an agreement with Satan or any of his minions. In fact, he had personally defeated the so-called Antichrist decades before. The Shadow Warrior was not a child of Satan. He'd never even met Satan, though he was sure he would probably come up against Lucifer in time. He did not say any of this, because this was not a time for words. The time for words had passed, and now was the time for a physical struggle between opposing wills. The time had come for direct conflict. Yes. He was ready.

Instead of speaking, he slowly pulled back his hood to reveal his face. In doing so, he seemed to unsettle his adversaries slightly. The reaction was only a very subtle one, but undeniable. The two knights of holiness glanced at each other for less than a second. Then their eyes were fixed back upon the dark figure, and would remain so for the rest of the confrontation.

Mohammed now spoke. "Surely you must realise that you cannot win, evil one. One of us alone could take you with ease. Against both of us, you are like a cockroach under our feet."

The Dark Warrior waited. The threats and intimidation tactics were pointless. Why didn't these wise teachers realise this?

Just as the thought registered, his opponents DID seem to realise it. With a look of determination on each of their faces, they started to step slowly forward.

The Dark One materialised his own weapon of pure energy. The battle was now imminent. The two holy men took a few more cautious steps, closing in, while the dark figure stood his ground.

Remaining mindful of all forces in the universe, the Warrior in the black robes felt the galactic pressures of light pushing against darkness and of darkness pushing against light. Good and evil, he knew, did not exist. They were just ephemeral values, invented by humans. This confrontation was a fight between adverse wills, nothing more. The following struggle would be like a chess game, played out on a galactic scale, and played out millisecond by millisecond. Ordinarily, against such odds, this would be like a handful of chess pieces against two entire chess armies. However, for such an adept as himself, for one with such mastery over the flowing, rippling contours of reality, the odds would not be so great. Huge, yes, but not impossible.

A human would not have been able to even register how the battle began.

With the speed of stillness, the two holy warriors were upon him, Jesus leading the assault by only a fraction. Christ's sword bore down, threatening to slice the Dark One's face in half, horizontally. He blocked the move with his weapon, at the same time sweeping it down towards the Prophet, intending to cut off Mohammed's legs. Mohammed jumped out of the way, spun in the air, and threw a swirling kick. The Dark One ducked, at the same time blocking a diagonal slash from Christ's swift sword of fiery wrath. Mohammed brought down his own sword as he came back down from his jump, but the Shadow Warrior blocked it with a progression of the same motion that had blocked the Nazarene's blade. The Dark One then pushed forward, sending Mohammed staggering backwards.

The energy weapons hummed and buzzed as they cut pathways through the air.

The Wanderer swiped at Christ's neck, but Jesus effortlessly blocked the move and performed a light-speed parry that repelled the Dark Warrior's blade. Mohammed came in with a spectacular parry of his own, his sword of infinite sharpness splitting atoms in two as it curved and looped, so that nuclear energy was released. The Dark One met this attack head-on with a series of his own unique blocks and slashes, roughly a million per second. His astounding display ended with diagonal whirl that repelled Christ's weapon and Mohammed's lethal blade at once.

As Mohammed stumbled backwards, reeling from the move, Jesus jumped, spinning into the air. The Messiah appeared to levitate, stationary in mid-air for several seconds, moving neither up or down. It was as if time slowed down or even stopped for a moment. Then he came at the Dark One, full speed. His sword came in front of him, moving through a staggering array of seemingly impossible combinations every second. The Dark One managed somehow to block these, and then he flipped backwards, kicking Jesus to the floor with his toes. Unfazed, Jesus rolled into a standing position as Mohammed came forward with his own attack. As the Prophet slashed and lunged, he also jumped from one foot to the other, a technique designed to confuse. He also mixed in a variety of jumps and air kicks. The effect was a display of true excellence... until one of the kicks went wrong. It was aimed poorly, leaving his right leg vulnerable for nearly a fiftieth of a second. That was more than enough time, and the Shadow Warrior managed to lacerate it badly with his cruel blade. The Prophet screamed and gambolled backwards to safety. The Dark One took a step in the direction of Mohammed, but Christ side-stepped into position, intercepting him en-route.

The Dark One performed a spinning sweep with his weapon at leg-height. Jesus jumped up and slashed downwards, but the Dark One was already flipping forwards, hands on the floor, legs in the air. Over he went in less than a hundredth of a second. The two of them were thus back-to-back for a split second. The Dark Warrior back-kicked. The blow caught Christ's hip, and sent him flying into an uncontrolled spin. It was then a simple matter for the Dark One to execute a simple reverse-twist, cutting off The Messiah's feet.

Christ cried out, more furious at his mistake than in pain or sorrow. Instinctively, he went forwards onto his hands and flipped over, his feet following his ankles on a string of blood. The Wanderer needed to act quickly. It would only take four or five seconds for Jesus to seal his feet back onto his ankles. Also, Mohammed was getting to his feet. The Wanderer could not ignore the injured Prophet to pursue the Messiah, so he rushed towards the biggest threat: Mohammed.

Mohammed was now standing. He bellowed out a cry of righteousness, flew into the air, and came down upon the Dark Warrior like a swooping eagle. The Dark One met the attack without fear, shielding himself with his blade. Mohammed landed and immediately went for an elaborate leg-swipe. The Dark Warrior jumped and kicked. The Prophet repelled the kick, sending the Dark One spinning. The Shadow Warrior used the momentum of the spin to execute another kick, in the opposite direction from the first. This one caught the Prophet's right shoulder. Mohammed was knocked sideways so that all of his weight was pushed down onto his injured leg, causing him to gasp in pain. Using the momentary positional advantage, the Dark One aimed a similar kick with his other leg, twisting his body around so that the two combatants were side-on from each other. This further worsened The Prophet's position, allowing the Dark Warrior to easily topple Mohammed onto the floor and rotate his humming blade smoothly into The Prophet's chest.

Mohammed coughed up blood, and his righteous sword skidded from his hands. Aware that Mohammed was not yet truly vanquished, and sure in the knowledge that the danger was far from over, the Dark One flipped sideways into the air, swirling his weapon downwards to decapitate the fallen Prophet. Then, the Warrior landed smoothly, and kicked the Prophet's head away from the decapitated body in one fluid, continuous motion; the kick was hard enough to send the Prophet's severed head over the edge of the cliff. NOW it was over.

One down, one to go.

The Wanderer spun around, his blade buzzing in the air. The Messiah was at the other side of the cliff, near the edge. He had fixed his feet back onto his legs, and was now standing. The Shadow Warrior sprinted over to him. It took less than a second for the two to clash once again.

Grimly determined, the Dark One swiped at Christ's head, hoping to kill the Messiah with one simple move. He was aware that, having his back at the edge of a cliff, Christ was at a disadvantage. But Christ easily blocked the lightning-speed blow, and went into a dynamic sword-parry. The Dark One side-stepped out of harm's way and kicked out at waist-height, also bringing his blade along the length of the kick. This was usually a tricky move to avoid. Jesus flipped into the air, dodging it easily, slashing out along the side of his flank with the blade of fire. The Dark One ducked out of the way, spinning his own weapon in one hand like a Catherine Wheel. Jesus swiped again, a backhanded movement, aiming a downward slash at the Shadow Warrior's head. The dark-robed Wanderer blocked this, two hands on the weapon again in a fraction of a second. He Pushed Christ away, and rotated the blade out in front of him. It hummed through the air, splitting apart molecules as it went.

Jesus backed up against another stretch of the drop-off.

The Dark One took a step forward, parrying in an unorthodox but superb manner. Jesus barely managed to repel the barrage. The Messiah kicked out at ankle-height. The Dark Warrior jumped and turned, attacking Jesus with the rearmost part of his weapon. This move was blocked. Jesus swung at the Dark One's mid-region. The Shadow Warrior's counterattack was decisive and devastating. He blocked the move and slid onto one knee, dragging his blade across the length of Christ's sword, kicking out with the other leg, snapping Christ's ankle and toppling him sideways. Then, even as Jesus was staggering, The Shadow Warrior flipped around into a standing position and executed a well-aimed Roundhouse Kick to Christ's ribs, all in one liquid movement. Jesus fell on his side with a thump, and The Shadow Warrior flashed his weapon about himself, cutting through the Messiah's ribcage and shoulder bone. Another slash sent Christ's sword spinning over the edge of the cliff.

Jesus cried out in pain, rage, and sorrow, knowing that he had been bested.

Making sure his victory was secure, The Shadow Warrior flashed his weapon around 360 degrees, bisecting the Messiah at the navel. He kicked Christ's legs over the edge of the cliff, well out of reach. Then he sliced off the arms and kicked those out of reach, too.

"I win, Son of God," he said.

"How... how can this be?" Christ murmured, blood spilling over the edge of his lips.

The Shadow Warrior thought about this for a moment. Then he said, "Well... you simply weren't good enough."

"But... But... I'm the Son of God."

"God? Hmm... Are you sure such a being even exists?"

"Of course He does. Are you some kind of Atheist now, Mr. Antichrist? Heh heh heh..."

"You seem to be mistaken, Nazarene. I'm not the Antichrist. I defeated her a while ago. She was a piss-poor fighter, as it happens. After I defeated her, I took her into my ranks and trained her up to a far higher standard. She works for me now... and so will you in time."

"She? You say that the Antichrist is a she?"

"Yes. Why are you so surprised?"

"Hmm... I don't know. I always just kind of assumed..."

"Assumption is the mother of Ignorance, my friend."

"Whatever. Erm... Well, if you are not the Antichrist, who the hell are you?"

"Me? I'm just a Wanderer."

"Well, wanderer, if you think you've got a chance of converting me, you're in for a major disappointment. I'll never turn against daddy."

"I think you are mistaken. The real Antichrist said the same thing. Now she's one of my most loyal soldiers."

"You've got an army?"

"Yes. I've been quietly enlisting support for a few centuries now. I've gathered together over a hundred and fifty ex-demons, a few ex-angels, the Antichrist and a great many mortals so far. Adding you and Mohammed (if I can find his head) to my ranks will strengthen my army immeasurably. We have ways to turn you both against your old Master. Even if you won't join us willingly, we can replace your wills with the echoing screams of countless tortured souls, leaving you as a couple of mindless, nearly-indestructible machines. But it won't come to that, because we have ways to make you join us willingly. First, we will convert you both. Then we will regenerate your physical forms."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Simple: I'm trying to gather a powerful army, ready for the Judgement Day that was Prophesied. If the Prophecy is true, Satan and God will be fighting it out for the prize of the universe, Absolute "good" versus Absolute "evil". These two so-called Absolutes will neutralise each other because they are equal opposites. Light and Darkness are two halves of a perfect sphere. It's like yin and yang. You get the idea... Even if they don't neutralise each other, you can bet it'll be a close thing. Meanwhile, my army will be waiting. When God and Satan are both weakened, their armies in tatters, we will step in at the last moment and claim the prize for ourselves! God has got his heaven. Satan has got his hell. I don't feel like I belong here on earth, so... All I want a place of my own to call my own... Is that really so much to ask?"

"I guess not..."

"Anyway, Nazarene, you're coming with me," The Wanderer said. "We've got a certain head to find..."