"When you are near, my heart is at peace. Hurry home."
"Yes! He's killed the princess! I'll see you beheaded for this, Finn!"
Black dotted eyes shot open in the darkness, and a cracked, prepubescent scream reverberated off the cold damp stone walls of the dungeon. A rat fancied to nibble at his toe before he shooed it away with a slight waggle of his foot. He stared down at his shackles: cold and iron bracelets connected by chain. They were too tight, as always.
He was naked, save his trademark white hat, which was covered in dirt, and a ratty pair of gray trousers that he was issued to wear upon his incarceration. His head swam with thoughts and memories. Princess Bubblegum had been murdered a few weeks ago, and Finn had been in prison since then, accused of being her killer, a title unfitting of him to say the least. He'd been Her Majesty's loyal bodyguard for what seemed like ages (but in actuality was probably just a year or so), and suddenly the blame for her murder was shifted upon him. His head exploded with the thought: He'd been framed. He'd been framed. He'd been framed, and no one cared to hear his side of the story. Of course, his pureness of heart was one piece of evidence to bring into consideration; Finn had never done anything wrong if he could help it. Even that trip to the City of Thieves had ended in a thorough cleansing by way of soap and water, thereby absolving him of his misdeeds. Then his loyalty to the princess had to be accounted for. Of course, his affections for her could have been used as a reason to slay her: she had rejected him on occasion, and maybe the rage built up to a point where he finally snapped and murdered her in cold blood. That was the evidence brought forth by the Candy Court, anyway.
Still, as he wasted away behind his cage, he couldn't help but feel sorry for himself and the late Princess Bubblegum as well. So young she was, killed in cold blood. Of course Finn knew what happened, but that didn't matter when no one else did. Of course, the very moment he needed Jake and his camera, his best friend had been off with his lady. He wouldn't begrudge his companion though: Troubles had plagued him and Lady Rainicorn lately, what with the child on the way. Finn exhaled, his eyes quivering with that unavoidable saddening sensation one felt just before the tears began to spill. Then the levee broke, and the river came cascading down, washing down his face and dribbling into his mouth.
Salty and sweet, mixed with the dirt on his face. It was an oddly satisfying taste, like a last meal before being executed. Then reality came back to him, and he realized that that is exactly what might be happening, and it only made him weep more. He covered his eyes with his grimy hands, the chains holding him to the floor rattling in insult to his captivity. He sighed one last time, before the sound of a voice frightened his attention ahead of him.
"My dear Finn," the voice said, smoothly. It was a calm, and somehow wicked voice. Finn felt like he recognized it, but couldn't quite place it. It belonged to a well-dressed stranger standing in front of his cell. Finn gazed in a stupor as the man spoke, unsure of how to respond to his sudden appearance. "What a sad hand fate has dealt you," the stranger continued, "The beloved princess dead, and everyone thinks you're the killer. But we know what really happened, don't we?" The man began to move to the left as he spoke, and Finn realized he hadn't blinked in quite some time, and his eyes burned. In the very instant it took Finn to blink, the stranger had disappeared from in front of his cell. . .
"You don't want to end your life to the sound of idiots cheering as your head hits the muck, do you?" the stranger said, standing directly to the left of Finn now. Had he phased through the gate? Or was Finn imagining his existence in the first place? He shook off his jumpiness and confusion, and looked at this stranger in the face as best he could, given that the shadows enclosed around this place like a snug blanket. "Let's see.....if we can do......better," he said slowly, "And to make things more interesting..." He faded off, and Finn winced in pain as the flesh on the back of his left hand seared, burning an intricate, almost compass-looking symbol into his skin. It the cooled and looked like ink, like a tattoo. "My mark," the stranger's voice drifted through the dungeon like a ghost.
"Consider it....a gift."
Some Time Later....
The streets of the once-glorious Candy Kingdom were littered with the bodies of the plague-ridden corpses that so many unlucky citizens had encountered. Below him, Finn could see the people, all of them: the sick and dying, the poor and starving. Then, coming down the road on a newly established candy-cane railway, was a gingerbread car, housing a vile and despicable player in the coup that changed the face of Ooo and corrupted this once-beautiful land into a wasteland of cruelty and deceit. From the rooftops, Finn scoured the world below him, watching the car as it passed with its wicked cargo. Up ahead, he witnessed as a group of civilians were destroyed by the explosive marshmallow arrows of the stilt-walking guards who watched over the electrified checkpoints that were placed every hundred feet or so on the railway, to keep the plague-riddled populace out of certain areas of the city. Their bodies burned, their cries pierced the night air, and one of them, crazed that they were aflame while still living, ran into one of the checkpoints, becoming completely obliterated as the electricity surged through him and caused his body to erupt into millions of little pieces. Finn's anger boiled within, and he took his mask in his hands and stared at it for a moment.
He was dressed in a hooded grey coat and trousers, with black boots. He was very intricately dressed to be doing what he was about to do. Donning his mask; a metallic visage that resembled a skull, he set off. He ran across the rooftops, jumping gaps and keeping steady pace behind the car. He jumped onto a slanted roof and slid a bit of the way down before regaining his footing and jumping onto the rafter. He paused, behind a column briefly, noticing a guard below, who let the car pass. The guard, feeling uneasy, looked up to where Finn was. However, the stalking former hero had disappeared, already upon other rooftops.
The boy followed the car back to a grand and ornately constructed mansion, made of pearly-white sugar with caramel-golden detail. Finn noticed a guard standing on the balcony he was facing, and recognized the cretin at once: Cinnamon Bun. His eyes narrowed, and the telescopic lens on the right eye of the mask zoomed in, getting a good look at the nervous newly-established guard. Then, Finn jumped, making over to the mansion's rooftop, silently poaching from the roof. Before long, he was standing above the balcony, looking straight down at the black-hearted pastry. From his belt, Finn produced an evil-looking short sword that served as his primary assassination tool. It folded into three pieces, and Finn unleashed all three segments, holding the blade, flipping it in his hand so the blade faced downward.
Then he jumped, plummeting down, down, down.
The blade connected with the center of Cinnamon Bun's head, splitting the soft skull of the gooey man open, spilling out the very essence that this goofy guard was composed of. He slumped, fell over on his side, sweet cinnamon dough pouring onto the balcony. Finn retrieved his blade and turned, going into the establishment. There was a door to the right down the hallway from which Finn heard voices. Stopping for a moment, he put his eye to the keyhole of the chocolate door. Inside was his target: Peppermint Butler. He was dressed in a regal blue coat and black loafers. He stood in front of a fireplace, holding a chalice of grape juice, talking to a gingerbread guard whose elbow was propped against the mantle. The despicable candy was talking of the plague, and how it was under control, so long as it only remained in the poor districts. The guards smiled and nodded, turning his head toward the door.
Peppermint Butler did as well, and in noticing that Finn was outside the door, shouted in alarm, blowing Finn's cover. The mark on his left hand glowed a wondrous blue, and tapping into his new-found power, Finn caused a shockwave that sent the candy door flying in splinters of sweetness. The guard he had seen through the keyhole lunged with a candy cane sword. Finn easily deflected the strike, slamming the cookie against the wall and cutting his throat open, causing the guard to bleed a sweet white icing, down onto his chest. Turning around, there was another guard who tried attacking Finn as well, as Peppermint Butler fled through a door on the left side of the room, calling for the guards. Finn ran the second guard through, sprinting to the door and shoving the contraption open.
He found himself in a bedroom, with a large king sized bed in the center, the crimson carpet beneath his feet soft. The butler moved to a window at the back-left of the room, as a door to the left burst open with three gingerbread guards coming into view. "Shoot that bastard," Peppermint Butler demanded, "Kill him!" Two of the guards held candy cane pistols, while another held a sword identical to the previous guards in the room behind Finn. The pistol-armed guards stood to the left and right of the one with the sword, who gave a command to fire. Holding his hand up, the mark on Finn's hand lit up again, slowing time itself. This feeling was always strange to Finn, as the unreal and sickening feeling of being the only mobile thing in a time frame that stood still washed over him. However, he was wasting this time that refused to move by standing here and thinking about its strange nature. He produced a crossbow, moved to the right, and fired three bolts at his immobile targets.
Time returned to its normal flow, and two bullets shattered their way into the back wall, and three crossbow bolts slammed and buried their way into the bodies of three guards, killing them on impact. Now there was only the Butler. Finn rushed forward, grabbing the bastard candy piece by the coat. "Listen to me!" the Butler begged. It was pathetic, and Finn was done with words at this point. Now, he just wanted to exact the vengeance he so rightfully deserved. With the trembling candy in his grasp, he stared behind his cold metal mask with hatred. "Killing me won't solve anything!" the Butler cried. Of course, he was wrong. Killing him would solve quite a lot. For Finn had come to learn a lesson he would not soon forget, one that had been taught to him while he wasted away within the dungeon of the Candy Kingdom:
Revenge Solves Everything.
Without missing a beat, Finn brought his blade to the Butler's throat, and pulled. He bled a sugary red liquid as he was pushed onto his back, gurgling his last breaths in a desperate attempt to be heard. His vengeance partially exacted, Finn's anger subsided, for a moment. There were still others that needed to be dealt with.
A door to his right bust open, and guards filled the threshold by the dozens it seemed. Turning left, Finn saw a glass candy window. It was his only chance before he was killed by gunfire. He raised his hand once more, the same glorious blue light emanated from his hand, and he suddenly found himself rushing through the window at blazing speeds. The sound of shattering glass erupted in his ears, and the street below came closer, closer. He rolled to soften the impact, and his vision danced in his eyes, fuzzy and unclear. Finally, his composure came back to him, and he managed to stand....
Coming to face a duo of the Tall Guards, their stalky stilt legs giving them the ability to tower over Finn. They drew back the strings on their bows, aiming explosive marshmallows down at their target. Finn held up his left hand a final time, ready for retaliation, expecting anything, ready to give back tenfold. The world stopped, and Finn found solace in one thing in that moment: he was in his element.
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