Modern Mythology Part 7

March 22, 1:37 AM

Sara grunted as she tossed the last of them into the concrete wall. The man struck headfirst with a loud crack, and then slumped silently to the floor.

She looked about the corridor. Over a dozen men lay sprawled about her, none of them moving. She felt her legs shake as she looked at them, knowing that at least a few of them would never be getting up again. She hated them for what they had done, and they most assuredly would have killed her given the chance, but she was not a violent person. Still, her Uncle Samuel was all she had left in the world, and her anger had been difficult to control.

The Gold had gotten her through the ordeal. Whatever properties it possessed, they seemed numerous. She was not at all tired and seemed just as strong as any of the gunmen had been. That, along with the speed and agility that the Gold granted her, had made her unbeatable to her opponents.

She chuckled at the thought. “Being bulletproof didn’t hurt, either,” she said aloud.

She raised her eyes from the men on the floor to the door at the end of the corridor. She had fought her way out of the first room and down this hallway. The men seemed to be intent on guarding that door. She had a strong sense that her uncle was within. She only hoped she was in time.

She planted her left foot and kicked the floor with her right, sending her forward like an ice skater. She slid gracefully around her fallen opponents and reached the door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and pushed it open.

It was dimly lit within; one overhead lamp hung from the ceiling toward the back of the room. It was enough light to see a slumped form tied to a chair a few feet beyond the lamp. She recognized him immediately.

“Uncle Samuel!” she cried and slid into the room.

Beware, the Gold warned her urgently, but she paid no heed.

The door slammed behind her and something struck her in the small of the back. The impact was so great, it sent her tumbling forward. She slid some distance before managing to scramble to her feet. She spun to face her attacker.

It was tall man with chiseled features. He smiled at her, almost warmly. He was dressed in loose fitting robes that were the color of sand. “Greetings,” he said. “I am Errikos.”

“Good for you,” she said, her hands shifting into blades as she readied herself.

He did not make any aggressive moves, he simply nodded. “It means ‘guardian’ in my Master’s tongue.” He turned and walked to the right, circling around the outskirts of the room, just barely visible in the shadows. “Normally, it is my honor to serve as my Master’s protector, but not today. Today he wanted to make sure that his prisoner was kept safe. He knew you would try to free him.”

She gestured threateningly with her blades. “If you’ve hurt him, I swear to God I will kill you.”

Errikos looked hurt. “Please…I would not hurt a defenseless old man. On the contrary, I kept him safe from several of my Master’s lackeys. They were not very fond of his…lineage. They wanted to kill him once he proved of no use to us, but my Master thinks that whatever secret knowledge your uncle has is still obtainable, and so he still lives.”

She moved away from him slowly, edging her way toward her uncle. “Just let me take him and leave. I just went through dozens of men to get here…one more won’t pose a problem.”

He smiled again. “You are bold! I like that…most women in this modern era are so…passive. You remind me of the warrior women of old that my Master speaks about.” He stopped his pacing and turned to face her. “It will be an honor to do battle with you.”

“Listen, buddy…” was all she managed to get out in return as he lunged for her. She readied herself to meet his attack, but just as they were about to collide, he vanished.

Sara found herself off balance, and was then sent sprawling again as another blow struck her in the lower back. It sent her careening into the wall, and the wind was nearly knocked from her. She spun, leaning against the wall, to find Errikos standing right behind where she had been moments before.

What the hell? she thought.

Again he smiled, only this smile held no warmth. “By now you know that you and your friends are not the only ones with special abilities. My Master told me when he found me that I was the strongest person Of the Blood that he had seen in centuries. He took me in and explained to me my divine heritage.”

Sara’s mind raced, trying to think of a way she could face this opponent. She tried to delay him by talking. “So you buy into that whole Blood of the Gods nonsense, huh?” She kept her back to the wall and slowly started making her way to the corner.

“Surely with all you must have seen, you know by now that it is the truth,” he replied. “Why try to deny it?”

“Because I only believe in one God.” She was only a few feet from the corner. She figured her best chance at fighting him would be to face him in a spot where he could only come at her from one direction.

He vanished again, appearing in between her and the corner. The Gold sensed his movement, and warned her. He threw a vicious punch, but she tucked and rolled, avoiding the blow by leaving the relative safety of the wall. She tumbled and then sprang back to her feet, facing him in his new position.

He didn’t even pause. He was taking her measure, she realized, determining what she was capable of. “What is a God other than a higher being?” he asked, stepping toward her once again. “Surely you realize that you are beyond mankind at this point.”

He vanished, and she was struck from the side, his fist connecting with the side of her head. She fell at that point, slightly dazed despite the protection the Gold provided her. He pulled his leg back and delivered a brutal kick to her stomach. The Gold shifted to try and deflect the blow, but the breath was still knocked from her.

Be ready,, the Gold said within her mind, and she tried to focus.

Errikos stood above her and raised his booted foot. He brought it down with all his might onto her midsection. Again, the impact was strong enough for her to feel it beneath her protective sheath. It was Errikos, however, that cried out.

He vanished and appeared several yards back, his hands cradling the foot that he had kicked her with. She looked down at her stomach and saw the Gold had shifted into a four inch spike that was now covered in blood. She watched as it slowly resumed its normal form and the blood pooled on her stomach.

A picture entered her mind at that moment, brief but intense. It was a memory of when her Uncle had brought her to see a baseball game soon after they had arrived in America. She saw the pitcher hurling the baseball in at the batters, and realized that the Gold was trying to communicate with her. The Coating of her right hand was forming into a round shape within her palm. There was so much, that it actually left some of her skin exposed; that had not yet happened whenever the Gold formed into different shapes, her skin had always remained covered.

She didn’t give it much thought, though. She simply rose up and did what the Gold was obviously telling her to do. She reached back and then brought her hand forward with all her strength, releasing the golden orb. It streaked across the room and struck Errikos in the face, splattering as it connected and coating his skin. Shocked, he reached up and tried to remove the substance, but he could get no grip on it.

He vanished a moment later, reappearing toward the far end of the room. Now, the Gold urged her, while he is blinded.

She slid along the floor at full speed, her left hand shifting into its bladed form. She slashed out, cutting along his abdomen. The blade bit deep, and blood poured freely from the wound. She heard his muffled cries coming from beneath the golden mask that covered his face and he fell to his knees.

He remained there long enough for her to follow through; his ability to disappear and reappear obviously required some degree of concentration. She raised her left hand again and brought it forward, piercing his chest.

He cried out once more and then slumped to the floor. Her blade slid out of his chest easily. She watched as his body stilled and the golden fluid that coated his face slid free, flowing back to her foot like mercury freed from a thermometer. It moved right into her foot, merging with the Gold once more. It shifted, and she watched in awe, waving her fingers before her face as the coating on her right hand slowly returned.

“See?” she said to the corpse. “You’re just a man after all.”

“Sara?” a weak voice said behind her.

She spun, all thoughts of Errikos vanishing. Her Uncle had raised his head and was watching her from the chair.

She slid right over to him. The Gold flowed from her face so that he could see her clearly. She kneeled and cut his bonds with her blade. Tears welled in her eyes. “Uncle Sam!” she cried. “I thought I’d lost you!”

His voice was weak, but he smiled at her. “Not yet, child,” he said. His hand came to rest on her hair, and he stroked the golden coating. “I see you found my lab.”

She smiled, tears still flowing freely. “Oh, Uncle Sam, you have no idea what I’ve been through these last few days.” She wiped her tears away and rose to her feet. “But it’ll have to wait. We’ve got to get you out of here so I can go help the others.”

“What others?” he asked, letting her help him to his feet.

“Champion is here,” she explained. “And other friends who want to help. But they might need me.”

“Champion?” Uncle Samuel asked, surprised. “You mean Joseph?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to tell you about it all later, for now we have to get you to safety.”

He nodded, his eyes scanning her golden skin in amazement, but not in shock. “Then we mustn’t dawdle, my dear.”

She nodded and lifted him up. She sped out of the room, sliding along the floor the way she had come, her Uncle tucked safely in her arms.

*****

“Do you know what a Pantheon is?”

I look up from my seat on the lush grass of the courtyard. It is a bright day, and the sun shines off of the spires of the city, making it hard for me to see. I raise my hand to shield my eyes so that I can look at my teacher.

Wild Card is a middle aged man of average height, but from where I am sitting, he seems to tower over me. His long gray hair whips about him as the light breeze becomes a true wind. He wears the same loose-fitting gray robes as always. The smell of salt in the air reminds me of how close we are to the ocean.

“Well, boy?” He plants his long battle staff into the ground in front of me, and leans on it as he bends down to look me in the eye.

I shrug. I’ve never been very good at the history lessons; I’ve always been much more interested in learning to use my gifts. It’s strange for him to ask me this as Wild Card has always been my combat trainer and not one of my academic instructors. “I dunno,” I say, my voice younger than I ever remember being, “a group of people of the Blood?”

His staff is a blur as it whips up from the ground and then down onto the back of my right hand. I manage to fight the urge to cry out in pain. That would only bring further punishment.

“When I ask you a question, boy,” he says, his tone displaying no anger, or indeed any emotion at all, “you give me an answer, not a question of your own. Now…do you know what a Pantheon is?”

“A group of people of the Blood,” I repeat without the doubtful tone.

His staff plants itself back in the ground. “You don’t pay any attention to your other instructors, do you?” He squats down to look me directly in the eyes. For the first time, I see a kindness there. As my combat instructor, Wild Card has never been anything but a cold and distant person, tasked with making me formidable in the use of my powers. Seeing sympathy in his eyes is so strange. There is something different about this training session…something important.

One corner of his mouth turns upward in a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “I was never much interested in most of that stuff myself, and I was around for some of it.”

“What is it, sir?” I ask him.

He nods appreciatively. “You may not be book smart, but you’ve got amazing instincts. You stick to those and you should do all right. Remember that.”

I nod, but say nothing.

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “You are to be made one of the Chosen.”

My eyes go wide with surprise. I can not have heard him correctly. “What?” is all I manage to say in reply.

“Tomorrow at sunset, you are to be raised to the rank of Chosen. They have high expectations of you, it seems, boy.”

“But I’m only seventeen,” I say. “No one’s ever been made Chosen at that age. It’s…”

“Impossible?” Wild Card says and his smile widens. “You should know better than that by now, boy. What have we been working on for these past few years?”

He has a point, I realize. But still…“Do you think I am ready?”

His smile falters for a moment, then returns as he stands back up. “A Pantheon,” he says, ignoring my question, “is much more than a group of people of the Blood. Much more. It is a group bound together by the same purpose…the same destiny. And that destiny…whatever it may be…gives the members of the Pantheon greater power than they otherwise would have. It is a group that is greater than the sum of its parts. Do you scan that?”

I nod.

“The Chosen is such a group. They have been tasked with the defense of all of Atlantis, and the lands that we rule. They are perhaps the greatest Pantheon the world has ever seen.”

Still nervous, I repeat my earlier question. “Do you think I am ready?”

He answers this time, after only a brief pause to consider. “We’ve trained for some time now. I was made your teacher because of the nature of my abilities and how they are similar in ways to your own. I was a Chosen for seven years.”

I look up at him, surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

He laughs, a hearty sound. I realize how little I know of him despite spending hours with him each day. “Perhaps if you weren’t so lax in your studies, you would’ve known. I was a Chosen until I was injured in combat and had to step down.

“But, my ability to manipulate luck in my favor is but a trifle next to the gifts that you have been given. If I was able to serve as Chosen, then I have no doubt you will be able to, as well. Remember what we discussed about your abilities…how you need to let your instincts guide you.”

Some of my anxiety dissolved with that. Some, but not nearly all.

“You will do me proud, boy,” he says, once more crouching to look me straight in the face. “There is only one thing left now…”

“What’s that?”

He laughs once more and shakes his head. “Well, have you ever heard of a Chosen called ‘Boy’? You have to take a name.”

I nod slowly, all of this seeming to sink in for the first time. “Something that sums up your gifts,“ Wild Card says, “something that says who you are. A title that you claim as your own…”

I think of it for only a moment before I tell him.

“Paradox.”

*****

March 22, 1:41 AM

“You are nothing compared to me,” Hilles’ deep voice echoed about the high ceiling. “The Blood is all but vanished from the world.” Hilles turned and looked down at his fallen foes. “None of you even know how to embrace your gifts…to harness your full potential.”

Paradox, still struggling to get his breath back, looked up at him. The madman seemed bathed in a faint red aura. Paradox watched as Hilles strutted triumphantly toward the prone shape of Malone. The big man scooped his gleaming red sword from the floor and twirled it skillfully. He came to a stop beside Malone, and rolled the private eye over with his foot. “And the most dangerous of you all is afraid to embrace what he has become.”

Hilles’s lip curled in disgust as he gazed down at Malone. “You have no idea what Left did to you, do you?” he asked. “Given enough time, your hands would grow back. But I will not let that happen.” He reversed his grip on the sword, holding it blade down, and raised it above his head.

Malone’s shriek was inhuman as the sword drove straight through his chest and into the floor beneath him. The private eye’s face contorted with pain, and then began to shift. His body thrashed about, blood spraying from the severed ends of his arms. His clothes split and tore as his body nearly doubled in size, his skin becoming as dark as the night sky. Long leathery wings sprouted from his back and beat madly at the marble floor. His teeth grew into long fangs and he gnashed and gnawed at Hilles, who stepped safely away. Within a moment, Malone had become Blackwing again. He beat at the hilt of the sword with the bloody stumps of his arms, trying to free himself from being pinned to the floor.

For all the rage that the creature was showing, it seemed unable to free itself.

Paradox looked around at the others. Steelhawk lay several yards away, near the double doors that led out of the office. He could faintly make out the rise and fall of the man’s chest, so it seemed he was only unconscious. Directly opposite the room from Paradox, the Fade sat, leaning up against the ruined desk that Hilles had flung him into. His right hand was a bloody mess and he held it cradled to his chest. He seemed to be in shock, totally unaware of what was happening around him.

Paradox turned back to see Champion slowly rising to his feet. The cracked marble wall behind him indicated how great the impact had been, but the soldier just grimaced as he got to his feet. He nodded down at Paradox.

“Your efforts are futile, as is your cause,” Hilles taunted Blackwing. As Paradox watched the creature struggle, he saw that his stumps were beginning to change shape. What appeared to be five small claws were growing out of the end of each. It seemed Hilles wasn’t lying about Blackwing’s hands growing back. “War is my Focus, it is where I draw my power from. War is coming, and the Germans are the root of it.”

He stepped to the shattered window and looked out over Century, rain coming in through the glass to splatter on the marble at his feet. “For decades, I have been quiet, taking part in small conflicts here and there around the globe. But the time has come again for a Great War. The last one was little more than a schoolyard brawl compared to what this one will be. With a little help from me, the Germans have learned to harness the Blood. They are creating soldiers the likes of which the world has not seen in centuries.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, turning back from the window, “none of you will be around to see it.”

He turned to find Champion facing him, struggling to stay on his feet. “I wouldn’t bet on it, Hilles.”

Hilles’s momentary surprise quickly became a smile. “So you have a little fight left in you after all.”

“A little,” Champion said, readying himself. “Enough.”

Hilles laughed out loud at that. “I doubt that, little Halfblood.” Each of Hilles’s hands glowed with red energy, and instantly he was wielding a shield in his left hand and a short, broad bladed sword in his right. “But we shall see.”

He slashed at Champion, but the blue clad soldier knocked the blade aside with his buckler. Again Hilles slashed at him, and again, he turned the attack away.

“I reckon we will,” Champion said.

Watching Champion, Paradox got his wind back. He could almost feel the strength flowing back into his body. He smiled, knowing what was happening. Turning, he saw that Steelhawk was stirring as well. And across the room, Fade was shaking his head rapidly back and forth, as if trying to fight off the shock that seemed to have gripped him. Paradox hopped to his feet.

He ran over to join the struggle as Hilles and Champion clashed in the middle of the office.

“You’re facing a Pantheon, Hilles,” Paradox said, ducking beneath a backhanded shield bash Hilles sent his way. “You know what that means.”

Hilles knocked aside a kick from Champion and stepped back away from the two. “Don’t presume to tell me of Pantheons, whelp!” he shouted. “I have been in more and broken more than you will ever know!”

“You won’t break this one,” Champion said, raising his left arm at Hilles and taking aim.

The buckler shot forth and caught Hilles across the brim of his nose and his left eye. It ricocheted nearly straight back, and Champion caught it in his right hand and snapped it back into place on his left wrist.

The attack had only distracted Hilles, Paradox knew; after watching Steelhawk’s rail gun fail to harm their opponent, there was little hope that Champion’s bucklers would do so. I have to press the attack while he’s startled, Paradox thought. Champion seemed to think the same thing as both of them dived in at Hilles from opposite sides.

Champion feinted one way, and then ducked beneath Hilles’ sword to deliver a powerful uppercut to the big man‘s jaw. At the same time, Paradox managed to deliver a kick to the back of the knee. The combined effort was enough to send Hilles sprawling.

He managed to scramble to his feet before they could press their attack. Paradox couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill of triumph, though, as the arrogance had all but vanished from Hilles’ face. It had been replaced by…not fear, but concern, at least. “You claim to know so much about Pantheons, Hilles,” he said. “But you seem to have forgotten the way the members of a Pantheon compliment each other…the way they make each other better.”

As Hilles was about to reply, a small object bounced between Champion and Paradox, rolling to a stop amidst the three of them.

“Night time!” they heard Steelhawk cry.

They had arranged some of their tactics before hand, so both Paradox and Champion knew to avert their gazes and cover their eyes. Even still, Paradox’s eyes burned with whiteness as Steelhawk’s flare grenade went off.

Hilles growled in fury. He lashed out at them blindly, and both of them stepped back to avoid his wild attacks.

Paradox saw Steelhawk on his feet across the room, taking aim with his net projector. He fired, and the projectile sailed across the room and caught Hilles around the legs. His thrashing left him off balance, so when the net wrapped his legs up, he crashed to the floor.

“Get him!” Paradox yelled, but saw that Champion was already taking advantage.

The two of them sprang upon him, raining blows down relentlessly. For the first time, they seemed to have the advantage.

The faint red aura that had surrounded Hilles seemed to gather more tightly about him, swirling like a thin mist. Paradox paused, wondering at this development, but Champion just kept hammering away. The aura grew tighter and brighter, seeming to become solid as it gathered about him. Finally, the glow became so strong, and then exploded outward in a burst of red brilliance.

Both Paradox and Champion were knocked back by the blast, though neither was harmed. They watched as Hilles rose to his feet, bathed in that bright red glow. The net snapped apart as he flexed the huge muscles of his legs.

He stood, now surrounded in a suit of armor similar to the weapons he had created. Thick glowing greaves covered his forearms and his lower legs. His chest was covered by a blazing breastplate that almost hurt to look at. Hilles’ eyes peered out from beneath a red helmet, crested by a large fin that ran down the middle from front to back.

“You have angered me, Halfbloods,” Hilles said in a calm voice. “Now you will learn why my wrath has become the stuff of legend.”

He lunged forward with blinding speed. He slashed at Champion, and the sword caught the soldier across the chest. Blood sprayed about as Champion fell back, crying out in pain.

Paradox moved to attack, but Hilles’ shield caught him across the face, and he tumbled backward.

“I have had enough of you,” Hilles growled. “There are none who can challenge me! NONE!”

Paradox struggled to gain his bearing as Hilles moved in to finish him off.

*****

His hand was a mess of hot reds and oranges, pierced by one thick slab of cold blue.

The Fade lowered his mangled hand and cradled it to his chest. With his other hand, he reached up and clicked his goggles back to normal vision. He had been delirious for a few moments. At least a few moments, he realized; time had seemed to blur and blend with the pain. But as Champion had gotten back up and attacked Hilles, his delirium had faded. Now, despite the wounds he had received, he felt invigorated.

The Urge had faded when he had succumbed to shock. It came back with a vengeance now. It’s Champion, he realized. Somehow, it’s him that is giving me my strength back.

Before he could do anything, the doors to the office burst inward and a form came speeding into the room. Goldrush, he realized. Guess she managed to find her Uncle.

She ran headlong at Hilles, who had turned to face her. “Come, girl,” he beckoned. “After my victory, you will be my spoils.”

She slid right up to him…and then tucked and rolled right, diving around him. She was back on her feet seamlessly, and sped toward the windows, where Blackwing was pinned to the floor.

Hilles saw what she was doing and moved to stop her. Seeing that both Champion and Paradox were still recovering, the Fade sprang into action.

He jumped up onto Hilles back, wrapping his arms around the man’s head. The blade was still stuck through his palm, and it was pure agony every time he moved his hand. But the Urge paid it no mind. He struck Hilles in the temple, knocling the helmet from his head.

“ENOUGH!” Hilles screamed. He reached up to pull Fade from his back, but he dropped off. Hilles sensed his dodge, and spun, stabbing forward.

Fade felt the blade pierce his chest. He felt it tearing the skin of his back as the tip punctured through the other side. There was a brief moment of excruciating pain and then…nothing.

*****

Paradox watched in horror as Hilles pressed his shield up to Fade’s chest and shoved him from the sword. Fade fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

“I’ll kill you,” Paradox said as he got up from the floor. “I’ll kill you!”

Hilles turned to face him as he attacked. “Don’t grieve too much, Halfblood,” Hilles said with a smirk. “You’ll be with him again soon.” Hilles slashed down with his sword. Paradox sent his left hand upward to meet the blade.

There was another burst of red light as Paradox’s hand struck the sword and shattered it into pieces. Hilles cried out as if physically hurt. He stepped back. “How..? It’s not possible.”

It was Paradox’s turn to smirk. “Don’t you tell me what’s possible, you son of a bitch.”

He backhanded Hilles’ shield, which also shattered. Focusing his power as best he could, Paradox pulled both hands back and then drove them forward into Hilles’ chest. The breastplate cracked, but did not break. Hilles looked dazed; it seemed that destroying the items he made with his power hurt him in some way.

An ear piercing screech tore Paradox’s attention away from Hilles for a moment. He turned to find that Goldrush had managed to pull the sword free and that Blackwing was on his feet. The creature flexed the still forming claws of his hands and then with one powerful thrust of his wings, lunged at Hilles. His claws slashed into the flesh of Hilles’ arms, and the man cried out in pain.

Goldrush was helping Champion to his feet. The young man held one hand against the grisly slash across his chest. Steelhawk came over and joined them, drawing a small baton from his belt. The end flashed with electricity. “Is everyone all right?” he asked, his eyes on Sara.

She didn’t answer him, but instead stepped away from Champion and nodded to the soldier when he remained on his feet. He smiled at her.

“We’ve got the advantage,” Paradox said. “Let’s finish this.”

The four of them moved in around Hilles and Blackwing as the two struggled.

“Off of me abomination!” Hilles raged. He grabbed Blackwing by either side of the head and twisted. There was an audible snap as the beast’s neck broke. Hilles flung the creature aside.

Paradox dived at him, hoping to tackle him to the ground, but Hilles brought his knee up, catching him on the chin and knocking him away.

Steelhawk struck with his stun baton, catching Hilles on the unprotected skin of his thigh. The shock did little more than irritate Hilles, who then backhanded Steelhawk into Goldrush, knocking the two of them away.

Champion delivered a devastating punch, but Hilles caught it in his fist. He closed his own fist around Champion’s, and Paradox heard the cracking of bones.

“You have done well, I’ll give you that,” Hilles said. “You have given me the challenge I was hoping for. And for that I thank you.”

He drove Champion down to his knees, still crushing his fist within his own. “It’s been centuries since I have faced worthy foes.”

Paradox truckled to get up. He’s unstoppable, he thought. Every time we seem to get the advantage, he turns it right around on us. He looked over to see Blackwing’s body twitching as it lay on the ground. Steelhawk was unconscious atop Goldrush, who seemed dazed from the impact. Champion was struggling to break free, but seemed unable to do so.

It can’t end like this, he thought. After all I’ve been through…all that I did to get here…all those that died to give me this chance…it can’t end like this.

*****

He lay there waiting to die. The darkness was closing in and he felt himself slipping away.

No.

It was the Urge. It demanded action. Protect your friends, it said to him. You cannot die yet…or else they will, too.

Fade slowly rose to his feet once again. He felt the warm wetness of the blood running down both his chest and his back. He knew he didn’t have long. Reaching to his belt with his left hand, he drew forth one of his smoke capsules.

He leaped atop Hilles’ back again. When the big man opened his mouth to say something, Fade smashed the smoke capsule into his face. He dropped, from Hilles’ back and spun around in front of him. Hilles had let go of Champion and was coughing on the smoke as it swirled about his face. Fade shoved Champion away to safety and reached up to click his goggles into night vision. He leaped forward into the cloud of smoke, colliding with his enemy.

Hilles caught him and pulled his arms in in a crushing bear hug. Fade felt his ribs cracking. It didn’t matter anymore, though…he felt no pain.

“How does it feel to know you are bout to die, worm?” Hilles cried as he crushed the Fade against his armor.

Fade raised his right arm above him. “Why don’t…” he struggled to say, blood bubbling on his lips, “…you tell me?”

He brought his arm down with all his might onto Hilles’ face. The long bladed knife that had pierced his palm slid right into Hilles’ eye.

Hilles screamed in agony, but did not drop him. Instead, he only squeezed him tighter. That’s it, Fade thought. Try to kill me before I kill you. Otherwise, I don’t think I could pull off this next part.

He raised his left hand and slammed it down onto the pommel of the blade. Fade felt the knife slide further through his hand…and further into Hilles’ eye.

Hilles’ scream increased in pitch as he fell onto his back. He squeezed Fade even harder, and the Mystery Man lost all feeling in his legs. He didn’t care though…he just brought his hand up and slammed it down onto the knife again. The hilt was now pressing into the back of his hand as far as it could go, but he slammed it again and again anyway. The Urge wouldn’t let him stop; he felt his right hand shatter completely as the hilt of the knife ripped through it. He pulled his hand away, leaving his ruined middle finger behind, and hammered the blade again.

Beneath him, Hilles’ screams had turned into unintelligible garbles of pain and confusion. His body twitched and writhed as his own blade drove further and further into his brain.

Once Hilles stopped twitching, the Fade stopped pounding on the knife. “Well?” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “How does it feel?”

Satisfied, the Urge subsided and darkness consumed him.

*****

Paradox went over to Fade, but it was already too late. He was gone. But, he had taken Hilles with him before he went. Paradox couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of pride at the Fade’s accomplishment.

Blackwing’s neck seemed to snap itself back into place. The creature rose to its clawed feet.

“You’ve got to get us out of here, Blackwing,” he said. He turned to see the others slowly rising to their feet.

“Left,” the creature growled. “Want Left.”

“We’ll have to get him another time, Blackwing. For now, we have got to get out of here.”

The creature seemed to consider this. Finally, it nodded.

They fled the building, Steelhawk carrying Champion and Blackwing carrying Paradox and the Fade’s body. Goldrush made her way down through the building and out the front doors. Luckily, she didn’t encounter any resistance on the way. She picked up her Uncle, who had hidden in an alley across the street.

They met back up at Steelhawk’s building.

Paradox lay Fade’s body down on one of the worktables. The others all faced him from the other side. They seemed almost angry with him…as if he had brought this all on them. That the Fade was dead because of him. In a way, they were right, and he knew it. But how could he explain that, without him, they had no chance? How could he explain that, without him, they would all be dead? He couldn’t….not yet. Perhaps in time.

Champion looked at the Fade’s body and then at Paradox. When he spoke his voice was even and strong.

“What next?”