Dirk’s gut was constantly urging to him,

“Why the hell did I sign myself up for this?” it whimpered. “I honestly wish I was back at home right now, how ironic.  Yet once again, that same sickly aura.”

However, his mind spoke to him differently by relaying that this is necessary and that returning like a quitter was not an option.  As he trudged (or hiked, his stupefied psyche made it unclear of the terrain’s elevation) through the landscape, he held in his hands two circles, one in each.  They occasionally dragged along the ground, something heavily advised not to be done by his higher-ups.  They were like saws that made siren sounds because of the many small semi-circle or crescent-like blades on its edges.  But also not like saws because there was nothing within its circumference.  They were hula hoops, at least that’s what Dirk told himself constantly throughout his tiring, anxious walk.  The weapons were circular and their combat was circular, as in it was perfect and without flaw, but only when the skill was honed correctly.

…

Dirk saw him in the distance; a slender, dark haired, teenage madman with a hood.  Dirk liked to think that they were both homologous in skill to boost his confidence.  The moment he saw him, he forced his formerly flimsy senses so intact that it was like a switched was activated within him.  He moved and rotated his legs in way that his body rotated 360 degrees like a circle quickly and repeatedly.  The hoops spun around in circles around his wrists, building up enough momentum to…

… RELEASE!  With immense strength, they flew and spun around towards the teen’s direction. It curved on its journey like a poorly thrown frisbee.  Then, before he could see the result of his attack…

Ding!  He fell unconscious. Unconscious after a striking blow to the head.

In his unconscious state, visions of gold and brass shining circles spinning played out.  A young boy was seen starting to go along the circle as it was spinning.  He was holding on to the blade for dear life.  Of course there was blood.  When it got close to completing one full rotation, it spinned faster for a quick moment whilst showing a bright, ivory glimmer of light that was blinding.  The boy had died.  He came out of the rotation with the blade pierced in his belly.  He and many other boys moved along the still rotating circle, most being pierced.  Then, Dirk looked to the center to lay his eyes on an upside down brass lion head floating in its center with his eyes gouged out.

He had awoken at the end of his vision or dream or hallucination.  He was in a fatigued and confused daze with his arms stretched out to the side.  To the left there was a blood stained pellet of sorts.  Suddenly, the ground spoke, and once again he attempted to force his senses intact.  However, this was requiring of much more effort.  As the ground spoke louder and louder with the moments of silence in between the noise getting shorter and shorter, he extended his body and arm rightward to grab his fallen saw.  Then,  WHACK! THUD!

…

The slender teen had dropped to the ground with the hoop wedged between his eyes and in his forehead. He grunted as he stood himself up and brushed his leg’s dust off.  He used his shirt to wipe the blood from his forehead (an act he perceived to be wholly badass).  Dirk grinned before stealing the teen’s cloak as a souvenir and walked back from whence he came, past him, away from the scene, ready to inform the face of the militia (or organization in Dirk’s eyes) that he completed his task.