There were flashes, some of the time. Brief flickers of imagery. A man who wasn’t a man anymore, nor was he anyone’s father, but still conjured up feelings of familial affection, warmth, and safety. A house, full of loving people. A forest. A fire. Screams, and screams, and screams - so many people screaming. The worst was the giant figure, looming overhead before an object bigger than any one person descended, blacking out the sky and anything beyond it as it came closer and closer.

Mostly there was just darkness.

So when the darkness finally lifted, it was a very confused Joshua Christophe who was left blinking away the last vestiges of a very long sleep from his glowing eyes.

The first thing Josh noticed was that he was cold. How strange, considering after his transformation into Demon he was never cold. The second was just how uncomfortable he was. Mr. Harris had made a nice cocoon hammock for him, so why did it feel like-

Oh. He was sleeping on stone. And … naked?

For a moment Josh could only stare at the stone slab beneath him in puzzlement, partially covered by a simple purple blanket, before slowly his gaze lifted to take in the room. It was dark, rather forbidding, and kind of creepy. He seemed to be the only one here except ... A sharp inhale sounded in the room as Josh’s glowing white eyes took in the only other occupant of the room, a boy younger than him and surrounded by a glowing orange light. Yet to say he was a boy was … generous. He was mangled, badly, seeming little more than a pile of meat in some areas.

Bile rose in Josh’s mouth and he quickly got up while tying the blanket around his waist, moving to the ‘bed’ of the boy.

”H-Hey!” He called out, feeling both extremely silly and completely uneasy. Not to mention foolish. Surely the boy was dead. Yet as Josh reached out, touching the boy’s neck he once more inhaled sharply. There was a pulse there, faint but there. He needed help, and so did Josh - where was he?!

A giant figure looming overhead. Raising its great arms before bringing down an object even bigger than him, closer and closer and closer-

The demonic boy staggered back, a great blue hand raising to press against his head just behind the long horns jutting from his forehead. He was… He was with Mr. Harris, wasn’t he? No, Mr. Harris had gone to help another group of heroes, or to… go somewhere? And Josh, he had gone to try and help somewhere else, with another … another…?

Another … Titan?

… The Titans!

”Oh, oh no.” The words came spilling out of Josh’s mouth as he quickly whirled around. ”I have to - where is every - MR. HARRIS?!” His voice echoed again, and the young man whirled around looking every which way. He didn’t know where he was, what was going on, but others were in danger and he needed to help! … And possibly needed help! Actually, he definitely needed help with the other boy - he wasn’t a doctor!

The door to the room bust open with a deafening boom as Josh rammed his shoulder into it - he had no time for doorknobs! - before taking off down the corridor. He had to find the others, had to get people away from the Titans, had to - had to -

”MR. HAAARRIIIIS!”

As if summoned by his panicked shriek, a bright rectangle of light appeared at Josh’s feet. Glowing like the hieroglyphs lining the walls, the air was filled with a gentle yet steady hum of power. A second rectangle then appeared, followed by a third and forth. Soon, they formed a clear path for him to follow.

”... That’s strange!” Was the panicked, confused half-yell that emerged from Josh. Yet with his only other option being to keep wildly running about until he could find a plant to try and beg Mr. Green to get Mr. Harris, well, it seemed it’s what he was following.

The light guided him down the corridor and through an open doorway that, as it turns out, lead to yet another lengthy stretch of hallway. More hieroglyphs adorned the walls, always unique. Down a third, fourth, and ultimately fifth passageway Josh would walk for what seemed like half an hour at least until he at last arrived in what can only be described as a vast--near endless, in fact--museum of strange and otherworldly artifacts.

Most were contained in large glass displays, while others had been carefully bound to the wall as if to prevent them from somehow escaping. Their myriad shapes and appearances were beyond description. Thankfully, the guiding light remained to lead Josh through the great maze.

Yet by this time Josh was now panting lightly, a few droplets of sweat gliding down from his forehead. In truth, it was a good thing that his transformation kept him as fit as it did, considering that whenever a drop of sweat dripped off of him it sizzled against the floor. Still, he felt weaker than normal. It was concerning, on top of everything else, yet the more pressing thing was wondering if that boy would still be alright in the time this wild goose chase lasted, and the ever pressing concern of…

Where was he?

The items didn’t help at all. He couldn’t recognize most of them, and those he did Josh was so far out of his element he almost suspected them to be traps. Still, it was in this room that his rapid pace finally slowed as he caught his breath, keeping a jog up as he followed the glowing rectangles further.

Another ten minutes of talking through the great chamber of artifacts finally lead Josh to a set of stairs that ascended to a great pair of doors that bared a golden thunderbolt. Before he had even reached the top, they began to split open, just wide enough for him to be able to comfortably fit through.

For a moment, Josh hesitated. Lingering at the bottom of the stairs he stared up at the door, trying to gather whatever courage he had left. He had to do this, to find Mr. Harris, to help against the Titans, to - to - stop tearing up, Josh! - to get out of this place. Taking a deep breath that shuddered in his chest, the monstrous being finally began to ascend. Step by step the dread in his stomach grew, and when he finally reached the top he began almost edging his way inside tentatively.

”... Mr. Harris …?”

”...Man, you’re even bigger than I remember,” said Lady Arcana, lounging back on what looked to be a throne made from the same obsidian material as everything else. It, too, bore an elaborate collection of hieroglyphs.

As for Arcana herself, she had changed a bit in appearance from the heroine Josh once knew--her uniform was now a deep shade of red whereas it had once been purple, with flame patterns at the ends of her sleeves.

”Did you have to smash through the door, though?”

For a long moment Josh could only stare at up Lady Arcana, seemingly at a loss. However, slowly those long ears on the demonic boy’s head seemed to perk up and his glowing eyes became even brighter.

”Miss Arcana!” The teenager eagerly explained, though hesitated after a moment on seeing the uniform. ”This, uhm, I don’t mean to be rude - you are the most powerful person in the world, but uh, this isn’t really… the time for a costume change…” Josh trailed off helplessly, after a moment getting excited once more.

”But you saw me smash the door! So you saw the boy, and - and you helped him right? But why are we here? There’s these giant things - you saw those right? The Titans? Of course you did, Mr. Harris contacted you, and then I left Mr. Harris - is he alright? Why am I here anyway?”

Finally, Josh’s rambling trailed off and he cautiously approached the throne. For a moment he didn’t know what to do, and ended up bowing his head respectfully.

Was that what he was supposed to do?

”Err, you don’t need to bow or anything,” she said, waving her hand. She seemed rather taken aback by his barrage of questions, and didn’t quite seem to know where to start in answering them. ”I guess it’s not surprising that you’d be really confused after everything that happened.”

Raising her hand, Josh’s eye would be drawn to a bright flash behind him. A screen now displayed him as he was just before his confrontation with the Titan, standing amidst the ruins of downtown Los Angeles. A shadowed loomed over him, and in a blinding flash of motion, his torso was ripped from the lower part of his body, which slumped over pathetically.

”...Yeah, you had an accident,” explained Arcana, gesturing at the screen. ”Harris found you laying there after the war ended, and--shockingly--you weren’t completely dead! Just mostly. He asked me to take you back to the Rock, where I’ve been watching over you for the past five years.”

Predictably, Josh whirled around on the flash of light, though it showed just how much of a civilian he was that he didn’t even raise a hand defensively at first. Shown the screen he couldn’t help but watch in confusion, and as this vision of himself was literally split in two, his jaw dropped.

Josh was silent for a long minute. Then another. He seemed to be trying desperately to take in what was shown to him and process it, and was struggling to do so. When he finally closed his mouth he took a deep breath and formulated his response.

”... WHY WOULD YOU SHOW ME THAT?!” The teenage - was he still a teenager? - boy yelled, his hands raising to grab onto his head. He whirled around to stare at her, and despite his eyes being nothing but glowing white the crazed distress was obvious. ”You just showed me almost dying! And - and five years?! You’re just gonna drop that on me?! MISS ARCANA YOU ARE THE WORST AT THIS!”

Tears began to gather in Josh’s eyes, quickly spilling out - and on dripping to the ground began to sizzle, though didn’t eat through the obsidian. Slowly his great frame sank down to sitting on the floor, still holding his head. Was Mr. Harris still worried about him after all this time? Josh had wanted to see his family again, too - they probably thought he was long dead if they didn’t before.

”... Five years …”

Strangely, the thought bubbled up that his burrito coupon was expired.

New Year's Day, 2026
Rock of Eternity

”Ah...you’re right. My bad, dude,” said Lady Arcana, offering him an apologetic wave of her hand. The picture on the screen then changed to Lady Arcana, Harris, and six others standing tall over what looked like one of the massive Titans. ”But you will be happy to know we won, and put an end to Eris’ invasion, after a long and hard week of fighting...apparently.”

She smiled. ”In fact, it’s the anniversary of our victory, and of the Justice League’s formation! Happy New Year.”

The screen once again shifted, but this time it appeared to be displaying a television program of some sort. The words “The Morning Power Hour with Cassandra McKenzie” flashed across the screen, before they were greeted to the sight of a pretty blonde and a older gentleman sitting across from one another on what appeared to be the set of some kind of talk show.

”I love this show. They’re interviewing my mentor!”

Josh, from his position sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, just groaned weakly. ”That’s.. That’s nice Miss Arcana. Happy New Year.”

Crossing one of her slender legs over the other, Cassandra McKenzie flashed a sharp smile to the man sitting across from her. The crackle of applause from the audience was finally starting to settle, allowing her to speak.

“Mr. Lüneburg, thank you for being here with us this morning. I’m sure your schedule keeps you very busy these days.”

Though no stranger to interviews in the past of this life in particular, Raymond looked a fair bit more haggard and worn as the last few years had taken their toll. Only a few had known of just how close to death he came at the hands of Theia in the LSOC, and of them only two that he still carried the wounds. Hiding the pain in his side, he leaned forward, a deceptively charming smile on his face as he nodded in agreement.

"Quite so, there are many things to be done in keeping the UNDF supplied and combating various threats around the globe. Thanks to the Justice League though, at least we don't have to face them alone."

“Indeed,” she readily agreed, “we all owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the Justice League, particularly today, on the fifth anniversary of the One Week War. It seems difficult to believe that so much time has already passed, and yet the scars from that conflict are still raw for many. Our world has been irreversibly changed.”

Cassandra shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes sweeping over the somewhat disheveled billionaire sitting before her. “But you would know all about that, of course--you’ve played a key role in the rebuilding effort. Tell us, Mr. Lüneburg, how have these changes personally affected you, and how have they affected your company as a whole?”

"As you know, Salt Lake City was hit as hard as many other cities in the US, with the Titan Theia coming to personally oversee the battle. LIS lost many good men and women that day, and if not for Velocity coming to intervene at the last moment, I would have been among them. Since then I've taken a less involved approach in heading the company, relegating myself back to the CEO and Chairman of the Board. It's a little different when you're not at the forefront of everything, but considering what happened, a very needed change."

Going quiet for a moment, he pulls out a notebook from beside him with some of his prepared notes and some slides come across the screen for the viewers. "For the company though, while I am adverse to say we've profited off the reconstruction efforts, there has most certainly been positive effects from our contributions. An increase in government contracts has allowed us to finish many of our research projects that had languished as pipe-dreams and thought decades away, some of which I'm not quite allowed to speak about yet. I can say that later this month the UNDF Navy will be putting to sea their newest battleship with LIS technology that should hopefully protect against future arcane incursions."

Cassandra listened quietly, the audience likewise remaining silent while he spoke. Folding her hands over her knee, she nodded in understanding. “It’s always a relief to hear that the UN Defense Force will be well-prepared in the event of a new crisis; perhaps even at the hands of the Eurasian Confederation. Do you feel confident that the arsenal you’re developing for our military will ensure its continued technological superiority over the Russians?”

At that comment he frowned just slightly, sitting back once more in his chair with the notebook in his lap. "If the Eurasian Confederation acts in such a way as to endanger their neighbors or incite further political instability among the non-aligned powers, then yes I am confident that the UNDF will have technological superiority."

Smiling, Cassandra eased back in her own chair, seeming decidedly more relaxed than the man she was interviewing. “Mr. Lüneburg, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the rumours that have been circulating as of late in regards to your possible status as a Homo Magi. Many believe that the extraordinary breakthroughs that LIS has achieved would not be possible without the supervision of someone with intimate knowledge of the arcane.”

"That could certainly be argued." He offered, that smile turning from somewhat charming to a little more devious as he continued. "My company makes use of numerous contacts through the world, looking into acquiring the brightest minds of each generation and putting them to task where they do best. Though perhaps a little bit of magic does go a long way here and there."

Cassandra chuckled, along with the audience. She didn’t seem particularly bothered by his evasiveness, merely evening out a wrinkle in her dress. “It is now known that Homo Magi have existed in the shadows long before the One Week War thrust them into the limelight. It begs the question of just who may or may not be hiding a magic wand in their back pocket. Many fear mages, just as they fear metahumans. How do you feel about the changes these two groups have brought to our society?”

"Well Cassandra, I can assure you that I do not have a wand in my pocket." He laughed as if to disarm that insinuation before thinking for a moment on the question. "Fear of change is quite natural, especially for normal humans who do not have these kinds of powers. They see something that has abilities far beyond their own, such as men who can leap continents or a girl who can run at supersonic speeds, yet many struggle to make it through the day to day. For my opinion on the changes they have brought, I ask everyone to look at the people who build and rebuild our society. Yes, the metas and the mages defend the common people from threats beyond their ken, but it is everyday people who put in the effort to ensure that we all have something to fight for."

“Well said, Mr. Lüneburg,” said Cassandra, smiling. The audience clapped in appreciation for his words, before once again quietting. “Now, one of the most groundbreaking inventions produced by your company is the Rift Jammer, which promises to prevent the opening of any interdimensional rifts within a ten kilometer radius. This is widely available to the military now, but people throughout the world still live in fear of monsters and demons ripping straight through reality and right into their living rooms during family night. When can we expect these to be distributed to the public at large?”

It was a question he was expecting, and as such didn't have to even open his notebook to give the answer to. "As and when we are able to distribute them to local governments without the possibility of malcontents disabling them. It is known that the device does utilize some of the technology acquired during the Arabian Intervention, and there are still many who are agitated over the use of magitech at all. We do not wish to risk having cities under the protection of these devices suddenly left defenseless when a cult or domestic terrorist attacks."

“But they’re defenseless right now, in many cases,” Cassandra was quick to point out, not seeming satisfied with his answer. “Just last week, a father of three was pulled under his son’s bed and torn to pieces by an unseen force in Boston. The people are crying to return to the days when parents could reassure their children that there wasn’t a monster hiding in their closet, or that their dreams couldn’t harm them.”

"We're doing the best we can, and cooperating with as many willing tech leaders that are available and with the resources to produce the devices. The simple fact of the matter is that while the UNDF works to provide as much protection to our regions as we can, there are still some who have not realized the world has changed. Petty politics prevent us from stepping in to assist in some regions, where some kind of presence would mean all the difference."

Though she frowned, Cassandra offered a curt nod. “I understand, Mr. Lüneburg. Magic is a new and oftentimes frightening technology--but I find the prospect of Freddy Krueger standing over my bed to be far more terrifying. We can only hope that our representatives will come to understand as much, before it’s too late.”

”...As you can see, quite a lot has changed,” said Lady Arcana, waving her hand once more. The “Power Hour” vanished, to be replaced with what appeared to be a simple map of the world. ”The ‘One Week War’ saw hundreds of millions dead by the end--it was horrible, as I’m sure you remember. We’ve spent the last five years just trying to rebuild using the technology they left behind.”

Josh raised his head from his hands as the image changed, tears smeared across his face. He had been listening to the interview but now could only stare in dull confusion at the map.

”... I was failing geography in school.” Rubbing at his face to get rid of the lingering highly acidic fluids, the ten foot tall boy finally pulled himself to his feet, peering at the Historama.”But, uhm, so there’s … a lot more metahumans and mages? And we’re… sort of more accepted? Right? That’s at least good…” He trailed off, scratching at the dark scruff on his face.

”What about all the, uh, gods? Did they get like… banished or something?”

“The ones that were behind the war have been banished back to Tartarus, yes,” explained Lady Arcana. ”As for the rest of the Pantheon, well…”

The image changed to show an immense golden palace resting at the top of Mount Olympus--the actual, physical location. Birds flew past it, and trees gently swayed in the wind at the base of the great mountain.

”The Greek Gods have returned to Earth, and millions have taken to worshiping them once again.” Lady Arcana sighed, not seeming entirely happy about this development. ”Atlantis also revealed itself to the world and has started sharing its technology with us.”

”Oh,” Was the very intelligent response, Josh nodding along slowly. ”There’s an Atlantis.”

Arcana nodded quickly. ”Lovely place, I go there often! They had a civil war a few years back, but they’ve recovered quite nicely.”

”...Oh.”

A moment of silence passed as the boy once again struggled through processing the information dump that was being deposited in his lap. Between Lady Arcana’s flippant attitude and the interview on the … screen-thingy, he had a lot of questions. Finally he pointed at the Historama, still displaying the world map.

”That, uhm, that interview with your mentor, he mentioned a b-battleship for protecting against arcane stuff. And that there are still … things attacking people, right? Is it, uh, is it safe for someone like… like me, out there?” Josh nervously rubbed at one of his horns. He didn’t feel like being nearly killed for the third time in his short life due to a misunderstanding.

”To be honest, it’s not really safe for anyone out there. Not even me, not entirely. Ever since we blew that alien ship up a couple of years ago, I’ve been occasionally running afoul of something called ‘nth metal’.” Arcana shook her head in frustration. ”It’s a pain in the ass to deal with, honestly.”

”I’m sorry,” Was the automatic reply from Demon, quiet and distracted. ”So… wow. A lot … a lot going on in the passed five years…” Once again he trailed off, seemingly staring into space.

”I’m… Well, I-I guess first thank you for watching over me. I have… a lot to think about. Do you… do you think I could see Mr. Harris?”

Arcana smiled to him. ”You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re back on your feet. And that you have feet. As for Harris, I’ll take you to see him--I needed to check up with the Space Station anyhow.”

Josh gave a small smile back, wobbily though it was, and began nodding eagerly. ”Thank you, thank you so much I really - Space Station?! MISS ARCANA YOU ARE THE WORST AT THIS!”

The Anubis was an Egyptian themed nightclub, tucked deep within a borough of Gotham that housed most of the city's 18-30 demographic - and, as it turned out, a large amount of Angels. The club, in fact, was a popular spot for them. David figured that a BDSM club or some other wacky joint would be more their speed. No accounting for taste, apparently.

The violet neon sign lit up the sky, a beacon shining its light, guiding him towards the club. David came to a stop in front of the Anubis, taking off his helmet and staring at the brick facade. Most of the buildings in the borough were made of brick, after the fire that destroyed most of the wooden buildings in old Robinsville two decades or so back. The place was still called Robinsville officially, but Gothamites liked to refer to it by a more sardonic name: Burnside.

David got into line, waiting around ten minutes or so. Once he reached the bouncer, he showed the man his ID (a fake), which the bouncer glanced at and grunted, before waving him along. Slipping the plastic card back into his wallet, the young man raised an eyebrow. Security sure wasn't tight, which meant that, hopefully, this mission would go smoothly. He didn't need to get into a shootout at a public venue. He pushed the door open.

The club was... Gaudy, to say the least. Between the purple neon lights, Egyptian-style decor, and blaring techno music, it amazed David that this many people came here. He could barely stand it. But the crowd shimmying about on the dance floor, or gathered around the bar, or seated at tables, spoke highly of the club's popularity, if not its class. There were quite a few Angels around, a dozen if not more. All recognizable by their hair dyed in ridiculously bright colors, and the clothing patches (or, in some cases, tattoos) of bloody angel wings they had. The higher ranking ones wore suit jackets on top of it all.

Just being in the same room as so many of these bastards made the weight the pistol in his jacket held seem that much heavier, but he'd need to set those feelings aside for now. He had a job to do. Sauntering up to the bar, he took note of one particular Angel in a suit jacket who was eyeing a man at the end of the bar, clear lust in the anarchist's eyes. Too shy to approach an object of interest, despite the Angels' brazen displays of insanity. Kind of adorable really. Dave had to remind himself that this was the enemy for a minute, before he approached.

As David approached, he cast a glance at the television above the bar, displaying an episode of Power Hour with Cassandra McKenzie.

'Don't get distracted Dave.'

David shook his head slightly, refocusing his attention on the Angel. "Hey," Dave said, sliding up and leaning against the bar behind the Angel.

The Angel turned around, surprise on his face. "Oh, uh, hey."

"Care if I buy you a drink?" Dave put on a grin, nodding his head in the direction of the bartender.

"Sure thing."

Dave whistled to the bartender, holding up two fingers and saying "two beers, please." The bartender grabbed two bottles of beer and set them down, whilst Dave pulled out his wallet and dug out a twenty. "Keep 'em coming." The bartender nodded, going off to serve another patron.

The Angel grabbed his beer, as did Dave. "So. What's your name?"

After a swig from his beer, the Angel's confidence seemed to boost a little. "Bobby. What's yours, stranger?"

"Jack. But you can call me whatever you want."

Dear God, that was lame. But dear God, it actually worked, if Bobby's small smile turning into a smoldering grin indicated anything. "Oh?"

In response, Dave shot Bobby a grin and a wink, nodding.

The flirtation continued after that, fueled by the increasing intoxication of both. Or at least, the increasing intoxication of the gangster; David took care to make it seem like he was drinking more than he really was. By the end of it, he was probably on his second or third bottle, while Bobby had drank upwards of nine. The young vigilante was a bit tipsy, but compared to the Angel, he was sober as a preacher.

With each drink Bobby was gaining more confidence, his initial attraction to the other man at the end of the bar long forgotten. He was growing bolder; what started as a few instances where he touched Dave's hand or leg became practically groping the other man. Dave found it a little creepy and, coming from him, that was saying something. He couldn't wait to be over with this.

"What say you and I head somewhere a little more... Private?"

This was it. Now or never. David took in a slow and steady breath, closing his eyes.

Hood opened them, mouth twisting into a smirk.

"Let's."

The two men stood up and began to make their way to the bathrooms. Heading in and locking the door behind them, Hood was ready to take out his gun when Bobby gripped him by the shoulders and violently pressed his mouth onto Hood's, tongue attempting to part the other man's lips. Hood's eyes widened in shock, and he pushed the gangster away.

Bobby looked confused. "What? I figured you'd like it rough."

"Buddy," Hood said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "You have no idea just how rough I can be."

The vigilante then grabbed the other man, one hand on his arm and the other on the side of his head. He slammed Bobby's head into the sink, putting a crack in the porcelain, and twisted his arm around behind his back. Bobby gave a grunt in pain. "H-holy shit! You really are rough! ... Do it again!"

Hood complied, hard enough to break the sink, bits of porcelain cutting Bobby's face open. A few shards were stuck in it. Bobby hissed in pain, but let out a groan of pleasure, rather than pain. "Ohhhhh, yeah! Again! I'm loving this!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, what do you think this is?"

"Foreplay?"

Hood's eyes widened in shock, and his face twisted into a sneer. "No, you kinky fuck, I'm torturing you!"

"Nice!"

"What the fuck?! ... Look, just- just tell me where I can find Anarkee!"

Bobby laughed. "Or you'll what? Bash my face against the sink? Make me hurt?"

Hood's disgusted sneer turned into an angry snarl. He raised a leg and stomped at a downward left angle on the Angel's right leg. Bobby let out a scream of pain, which didn't pierce the booming bass of the night club's music. Unlike before, Bobby didn't ask for anymore or grunt in pleasure. Instead he whimpered painfully, jerking his head around to try and catch a look at the damage done to his leg.

"What the fuck!?"

"Oh, so now you're confused?"

"Y-you just broke my leg!"

"No fuckin' shit, Sherlock! And I'll break a lot more bones if you don't tell me where I can find Anarkee!"

"She... The boss lady doesn't tell us where she's staying, I swear! I-I can give you the names of a few of our bases! Places we meet!"

"Keep going."

The Angel spouted off the names of a few places, trying desperately to save his skin. Little did he know, he was dead as soon as Hood walked in the door and set his sights on him; poor bastard just didn't realize it yet.

"P-please, just leave me alone!"

"Don't worry. You won't see me again." Hood let Bobby out of the hold, the gangster falling to the ground and looking at his right leg, twisted in all sorts of horrible angles.

"Oh, thank Go-" *BANG!*

Hood closed his eyes and released his finger from the trigger, taking a quick breath which David released.

David slipped the pistol back into the holster under his jacket, looking down at the face of what was once Bobby, watching the blood and tiny bits of brain matter leak out of a bullet hole in the side of his head. David had to swallow back the bile that threatened to climb out of his throat, shaking his head in disgust. The poor guy just wanted to have some fun, and instead he got killed.

'Don't think like that. They're the enemy.'

'You're really annoying, you know that?'

'Annoying people is what I do best.'

David pinched his nose, ignoring Hood's comments for now. He pushed open the door, leaving the corpse behind for the next poor bastard who needed to take a piss to find... And as he did, came face to face with another Angel. She peered over his shoulder and noticed the corpse, eyes widening.

'You gonna let Jesus take the wheel, pal?'

'Shut up, you insane fuck. I've got this.'

'Geez, no need to be so mean.'

'It's what I do best.'

David ignored the ever present nuisance in his brain, instead focusing on the Angel in front of him, already reaching for a gun in her belt.

"Wh-"

He always had this strange... Ability, since he was reborn from the Pits. This ability to just...

Do.

He pulled the pistol from under his jacket.

"-at t-"

He fired off a few rounds at the lights, before rushing towards the Angel.

"-he fu-"

He slammed the barrel across her face, then brought her head down into his knee, sending her out cold.

Dave blinked and everything was back.

The lights were out. The people were shouting. The music was blaring.

He holstered the pistol, and worked his way through the now darkened room. Slowly, so he didn't bump into anyone. There didn't need to be a fight.

With his luck, he was surprised it took this long to bump into someone.

"Hey, watch it!" the man said. Dave could see the dyed hair and the jacket patch with what little light was in the room.

"Oh. Sorry."

Dave tensed, waiting for the fight that would come...

"... Just don't do it again, guy."

He nodded, and went on his way.

Exiting the Anubis Night Club, Dave released a breath of relief, basking in the cold air of the outside world. Hopping onto his motorcycle, he slid his helmet on, and started it up, before beginning to make the drive back to his apartment.

'I could have handled it, y'know.'

'I know. But maybe I didn't feel like adding to an already unbelievably high body count.'

'God, you're boring. Everything with you is "no unnecessary killing" and "I've got this" and blah blah blah. I get it. You don't like me. But after nearly seven years I'm amazed you're not used to me.'

'I am used to you and your butting in. I'm just sick of it. You've done enough "helping".'

'Sure, Dave.'

'Why won't you just go away?'

'Oh, David... I want you to know one thing... I will never leave.'

'Whatever you say, asshole.'

The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

New Year's Day, 2026

Star Sector 2814

"Come on, come on." Preston grunted. It would have been so easy for him to just take his ring and fly the both of them whenever she wanted to go, but Cat wanted to take the ship. He supposed she was in the right, though. With them having the ship, she could go wherever she wanted even if Preston himself was busy. She wouldn't have to rely on him to get her around places.

If only flying as fast as a Power Ring would take you didn't make you hate normal vehicles.

He was kicked back in his seat, watching the stars fly by. Their ship was on autopilot, so they had little to worry about when it came to hitting celestial bodies at warp speed.

"Worried?" Came the voice of his wife and co-pilot in the seat right next to his. Her voice, rough and almost taunting, brought a smile to his face. "You've talked down two warring factions from unleashing weapons of mayhem, you can handle talking to a few old friends."

Preston smiled. Being out in the stars, with Cat, everything was simple. Do your job, do it well. he didn't even worry about having his costume on all the time because he wasn't worried about people finding earth and hunting the planet down for him. "Easy for you to say," He looked over at her. "I've been gone for five years, and the last time I checked, Sotra wasn't worried about powered people and magic. This is my home, but it's a whole new world for me."

A light blinked on the screen in front of him, a small beep sounded. He had been around for its construction, even completion and the grand tour. As a sign of trust, he was given the frequency of the watchtower in case they ever needed him. Thankfully, Preston only ever needed to stop by to say hello every few months to a year.

Preston went to work, tapping buttons on the screen and changing his coordinates just slightly. "Alright Cat, go-time."

Catalea stood from her seat and walked further into the back of the ship to go and change. Though these were friends of Preston's, this was a new envirnment, and it was only polite to be first seen in your battle armor representing your people. Not long after, she came back, spear, helmet, coat and all, ready for anything.

It only took preston a short second to change into his Green Lantern outfit. Though he could change it, he never did over the past five years.

"Watchtower, come in. This is Emerald Knight, reporting in from a long, long vacation."

He had almost forgotten that it had been a year and some change since he had actually been around. He never really checked in on the radio, only in person. He had mentioned Catalea once or twice in his visits, but never about them being married. Hopefully they'd take the news well.

Jason Graves dragged the massive cable across the expanse of the long-abandoned theatre before settling it into place by the exposed electrical main. That would have been easier if Tank had been here to help, but the big guy was… Well, better to not think about it. Better to not think about any of them. Jason and Ditch were the only ones left, and they had long since realized they had no chance of standing up to Umbra and his army. The undefined being of darkness had swept across the city nearly a year before, and form there had expanded to the rest of the world. Now everything was under an eternal pall of midnight, and anyone who resisted was either killed, or enthralled.The last remaining pair of free heroes knew they were next. They needed to get out. Their world was a lost cause.

Jason snapped himself out of his memories and brought himself back to the task at hand. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a bundle of wire connectors from beside the plastic carrier swaddled in old clothes. “Sorry Ellie.” He murmured, turning to the electrical main. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll be out of here and you’ll be safe.” Turning away from his backpack, Jason set to work hooking up the huge cable to the electrical grid.

After several agonizing minutes of work, Jason straightened up and slung his backpack over his shoulder again. “Okay Ditch!” He called out into the next room. “We’re hooked up, get ready to go!”

No answer.

Jason paused for a moment before swearing under his breath. Ditch could get caught up in her work, but with how paranoid the both of them had become, would she really ignore him right now? He reached down to his neck and tugged up the purple handkerchief that was always tied there, concealing his lower face. Turn Back, the energy vampire reached behind himself and touched the exposed wiring, feeling the spark leap to his fingers as he drained off some excess power.

Stepping forward, the powered-up vigilante siphoned his new energy into his legs, brilliant blue sparks arcing as the grounded themselves and causing his form to leap forward in a burst of unnatural speed. In a matter of seconds he was through the door and beelining for the machine by the far wall, blazing past the shadowed figures that had just finished choking the life out of his last ally.

“Get him!” The red-skinned demonic woman called, pointing as he went past. Jason just managed to avoid her swinging claws, knowing from experience that that was the only thing that could bypass his powers.

“Don’t you move, any of you!” Turn Back yelled, glaring at the trio. The demoness snarled at him, causing regret to fill his heart. The hulking brute of a man to her left glanced at her before sneering at TB. The shadowy Reaper simply chuckled harshly.

“I mean it.” Jason continued. “You don’t need to catch me. You know the collars won’t work anyway, that’s why Umbra wants me dead. But that doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. I’m never coming back. He’s won, with all of you. Just… For old times sake, let me go…”

The trio almost seemed taken aback by this. “Ditch did say the same thing…” Reaper whispered, earning a sharp look from Demoness.

“‘Sides, if that thing’s ready to go” Rumbled Tank, glaring critically at Turn Back. “I don’t think we’re quick enough to stop him.” This earned another scornful gaze from Demoness.

Turn Back raised his hand, earning the glares and suspicion from all three of his former allies. “Whoa whoa, take it easy. I just wanted to say they’re right. You’re smart, Dee. You can take this deal. Besides… I just wanted to get you talking.” He said with a grin before his upraised hand connected with the exposed leads. Electricity surged through Jason’s body and the machine in turn, the shitty Tesla coils arcing and providing a barrier that the dark trio couldn’t cross. Lights flared and popped, and from what Ditch had explained, Jason knew what was happening. He was draining the power from the whole city. Cycling it through the machine which matched his biometric signature. It was a door and he was the key. Siphoning energy from everywhere around…

Including Umbra’s control collars.

Jason knew he had only a moment left before this machine either blew up and took them all with it, or it actually goddamn worked and ripped him away from his own world. He looked out through the arcing spears of light and grinned at the astonished and freed faces of his friends and family. Girard. Zoey. And Emma…

“You know how he works now! You have the advantage! You can do it!” He cried, before…

Light.

Then Darkness.

Then nothing.



Then chaos.

Streets full of people and light and color, things Jason hadn’t seen in almost a year. He could almost have cried with joy, but something was wrong. There was a pall over the crowd, a sense of dread. Following the gazed of some nearby groups, Jason’s eyes were drawn to a TV set in a store window. A white-faced, multicolor-haired woman was speaking. Spouting things, some nonsense about the animal nature of Man and the need to express yourself?

And then she got started talking about the rules of ‘the game’. How there’d only be a certain number of winners. The survivors. The ones who gave in to instinct. And the rest were sheep and cattle to be slaughtered.

To their credit, the people on the streets resisted the commands the TV lady was giving. But then the gang showed up and started beating compliance into people. Turn Back had taken action at that point, beating the snot out of the anarchists and leading some people to safety. But He had no idea how big this problem was, and he knew he’d have other problems very soon.

So that was how Jason found himself breaking into a closed down public library, busting open the electrical panel, and using his body as a conduit for the second time that night to power the router, computer, and eventually the printer. He needed to get information. Where he was, what this world was about, any familiar events or faces… And he’d found them. Now he just had to contact them...



11:15 PM. January 1st. 2026
Gotham City Police Department

Jason stared at the double doors of the police station with intensity. He'd never liked the cop shops back home, and this strange new city didn't fill him with confidence. But... If Jaina was in charge here, how bad could it be? Walking up the granite steps, Jason pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

Immediately, Jason was bombarded by the sounds of chaos. Phones ringing off their hooks, people talking over each other, rushed footsteps and calls for assistance. They were likely busy tonight, what with the fucking battle royale taking place across the city. But he only needed one person. Snaking through the crowd, Jason made his way towards the Comissioners office before being stopped by the suspicious gaze of an older cop sitting at the desk out front.

"Uh, hey there." Jason said lamely. "I need to see Commissioner Jasper?"

A loud guffaw immediately emerged from the officer, the thick bristles of his moustache moving with the air.

"Skipping a few levels there, lad," The man chuckled. "Ah, I needed that... listen, unless someone's been murdered right outside the station you ain't seeing anyone, least of all the Commissioner. Or did you not see the news?" A large, meaty hand was waved towards a small television set nestled in the top right of the room, no doubt for those waiting. Splayed across the screen was images of destruction and anarchy, a very obvious sign of who was at work tonight.

"Come back tomorrow. Or in a week from now. And get ready to see a detective instead." The officer chuckled again, looking down at what was directly in front of him. "Hehe, the commissioner..."

Jason's temper flared, this was exactly why he hated the police. He'd hoped Jaina would have been able to change things, but some things are just too ingrained... "Yeah, I have seen the news actually." Jason said, lowering his voice and leaning down over the desk. "I kinda just came from over there, and I didn't see many of your boys out there. I need to talk to Jaina Jasper. You need to tell her I'm here. Tell her..." Jason paused for a split second, wondering what could convince his old flame to come out and see him face to face. "Tell her I'm an old friend of Jason Graves. I need to talk to her about his murder. She'll want to see me."

There was a pause then, the edges of the moustache tilting downwards as the man lifted his head. For a long moment he just stared at Jason, looking him over. After a moment he sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his forehead.

"I know that case. It's been closed for years." The officer lifted his head, looking over the man in front of him with a more critical eye. "... You said you came from the Upper East Side, where all this is happening, though? Look, lad, maybe I can get a detective to talk to you but there are people being killed by that maniac right now. You gotta think, compared to that whatever you have can wait, can't it?"

Jason had tuned out the officer halfway through his diatribe. He didn't want to talk to a detective, that wouldn't do anybody any good. He had done everything he could out in the riot on his way out, but there was only so much even he could do. But if he could get some help, connect with the people in the universe who were his friends, maybe he could do something then...

"Listen to me." He said softly, setting down his backpack on the desk and tipping it over. He gently removed a plastic carrier with a small lizard inside before digging around in the pockets of an old pair of jeans. "You say that case was closed? 'Solved' because the guys who did it got what was coming to them, right?" There it was. Jason pulled out his wallet and grabbed the printout of his own obituary, complete with a photo and set them both on the desk in front of the glorified secretary, opening the wallet to show off his ID.

"Tell me what the hell happens to a murder case when the victim shows back up alive?"

"It sounds like a case of fraud."

"Commissioner!" The man behind the front desk sat up straight, nervously pulling at his moustache.

Approaching from the side came the quick gait of the highest cop in the city, the short-haired blonde's uniform impeccably pressed even in this trying time, hands clasped behind her back, gaze sharp. Even when she stopped, putting her appraising eye on Jason all that met him was a wall of impassiveness.

Except for a brief flicker of something in her green eyes.

"Commissioner Jaina Jasper. You're looking for me, I presume?"

Jason's icey blue eyes met Jasper's gaze, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face. It was all he could do to keep from throwing himself at her, but he had to remember. She didn't know him. Not this version of him. And he didn't know this version of her. But hopefully, given enough time...

"Yes Commissioner Jasper, I am. I apologize for the intrusion, but I thought you might be interested in what I have to say about Jason Graves, given your history with the case. Was I right, or would you like to cuff me?" He asked playfully, chancing a wink at the older woman.

The Commissioner's face remained impassive, though after a long moment there was the slightest quirk at the edge of her lips - bittersweet though it was.

"Commissioner, should I...?" The front desk cop trailed off as the woman shook her head, abruptly turning her back.

"I can spare a few minutes, Carter. You, come with me."

"Yes, thank you so much for your help Carter!" Jason said in a sing-son voice as he grabbed his things and followed behind Jasper.

It didn't take long to move to the office overlooking the pit of officers almost climbing over themselves in the chaos that Anarkee was causing in the Upper East Side. The office itself was a stark contrast to the put together Commissioner, papers on the floor and absolutely covering her desk, a large map of Gotham on it and drawn on with frantic scribbles. The heavy door closed behind Jason as they entered, a click of some sort of lock sounding out.

Jaina circled behind her desk, sitting and gesturing to the pair of plush chairs before her on the opposite side. "Forgive the lack of formalities, but I am in the middle of a crisis currently. So, you are...?" She trailed off purposefully, though her sharp eyes took him in, no doubt already predicting his answer.

Jason took in the office, noting with mild amusement what would look to anyone else like the ravings of a madwoman. "Yeah, you never did clean up your free weights either." He mused and a sly smile, sinking into a chair across the desk from Jaina. He paused for a moment, the exhaustion of his... Day? Week? No, year. The exhaustion of the past year catching up to him. "Oof..."

"I am who I said I am. Jason Graves." He said with a shrug and a smile. He leaned forward and laid the printed obituary on Jasper's desk. "Just... Not this one. I come from somewhere else. Some alternate dimension or world or universe or whatever. One where I was the only survivor. Everyone else was gone. You were gone. I was alone. I built a machine which took me... Here, I guess? Dropped me in the middle of a riot. I fought my way out. I found this place."

Jason paused, scanning Jaina's face for any hint of emotion. "... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not him. I'm sorry I kind of lied to get in here. I just don't know what else to do. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Silence descended in the office.

Jaina, elbows on the desk and leaning against her folded hands, just examined Jason. Taking in every detail about him. Every little mannerism, every familiar detail, even just the voice she hadn't heard in years. Finally a deep sigh exited her lips, raising a hand to rub at her forehead.

"If you had shown up six years ago I would've thought you insane. As it is in the current day..." She shrugged slightly. "I still can't take you on your word. I'm sure at least some of my officers are out there pissing themselves thinking you're some ploy of Anarkee's-" Here she paused, casting a sharp gaze at Jason before continuing. more thoughtfully. After a moment she opened her desk, retrieving a small plastic container holding a swab.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind proving who you are?" Jaina commented, holding out the container.

Jason shrugged again, reaching out for the container. "Hell, I don't blame you. I sound like a goddamn crazy person. All I have is my word, and some DNA." He said with a grin before swabbing the inside of his cheeck and dropping the swab back into the container and setting it on the desk.

"... Oh, and also my lizard Ellie, but she's understandably not up for visitors right now."

"As for 'Anarkee', if that's that crazy white-faced bitch on the TV, fuck all that bullshit. Shit's crazy, Jai." He said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm aware," Was the short response as Jaina retrieved the swab. Rather than get up to bring it to the labs the Commissioner pulled out a drawer on her desk. Nestled inside was a laptop which she flipped open, still inside. A small touch of a hidden trigger had a compartment near the touch pad opening, and the swab was promptly deposited.

Being friends with Gotham's resident vigilante had perks, not that anyone would know.

"So, Mister Graves..." Before she could even finish a sentence the computer was already pinging a confirmed match. Odd. Jaina's eyes darted down, taking in the results. One match, one familial match, and with them two pictures displayed with names prominently above.

A sharp inhale echoed in the room as Jaina looked from one pair of blue eyes into the other, identical in every way - right down to their DNA.

"... Jason..."

Date: New Year's Day, 2026 Time: 10:46 A.M , Location: Boston's Redlight District.

Whenever Carter ‘woke up’ he was always greeted with the same thing. And while in a way it was soothing, knowing that when it came he could predict what would happen next, but it was also incredibly annoying. Sort of like that hairy uncle you saw every Christmas; you knew what you were gonna get from him, a weird book on pirates, but you also knew he was going to talk to you non-stop about it for the next two hours and then proceed to write to you to ask if you have read it. In Carter’s case though, it wasn’t and over enthused uncle, it was instead a thought destroying headache.

Like now for instance; when the brunette eyes involuntary flew open again in the first time in whoever knew how long and his body spasmed to a dangerous degree, the first thing he could rationally think of was. Damn, someone chop my head off because this sucks. The young-old man had to tightly clench his eyes shut once more and grind his teeth as he grew accustomed once more to the pain of being alive. That sounded pretty poetic right there. Groaning after another moment of basking in glorious pain slowly began to push himself up from whatever hard surface he happened to by laying on. God, he hoped he wasn’t in a morgue again.

Luckily, sister fate was on side today as he wasn’t lying in an area smelling of chemicals and crying old people, but rather an area smelling of trash and wasted potential. He must be in the red light district; and seeing that he could still faintly smell the salty musk of the ocean, it was safe to say no one moved his corpse from a random alley in Boston to a random alley in another city. Which had happened once, it was a hobo, A hobo named Jackson, A hobo named Jackson with a very strange hobby. Eww, bad memories, not the time.

Ok Carter, time to focus, what was the last thing you remember? You asking me that question. Carter snorted at his own mental joke as his hand absentmindedly found its way underneath his mask and onto his chin; rubbing small circles around the body part as Carter contemplated what had happened before he died.

Eventually, after a few minutes of battling the pounding pain in his skull, Carter was able to recall what had caused his untimely demise. He had been chasing a low ranking thief across the rooftops, like a fucking badass, when the other had finally stopped running and turned to face Carter man to man; something Carter was rather excited about because damn he didn’t like running.

He was less excited though, when he realized that the other was a metahuman waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Suddenly, the shrimp of a man was growing ten times his previous muscle mass and gaining some sharp horns while he was at it too. The man snorted, seeming to blow smoke from his nostrils, before charging at Carter like the raging bull his ability seemed to take inspiration from. The impact of the others body was enough to at least break most of Carter’s ribs, but since the young-old man was near the edge of the building’s roof the metahuman was able to send Carter sailing in the air before free falling to his painful, super painful, death.

He remembered this all while stretching out his limbs; enjoying the deafeningly loud cracks his joints made while doing so. He would have to wait in the alley till nightfall, no one wanted to see a strange masked child walking down the streets of the red light district after all, but when the night falls, Carter will make his way back to his abandoned base, and begin putting into motion the plan for bringing to justice the scary ass meta that put him out of action for what, five days maybe? God, how come no one noticed me in that time? Society these days man. No respect for random corpses. Until then though, he wait patiently, for darkness to fall while maybe trying to play with a few rats along the way.

11:02 New Year's Day, 2026
Downtown, Star City, California

Arsenal sat perched on a rooftop, overlooking the city streets below, thinking back on what kind of adventures he's experienced fighting crime as Arsenal. Stopping muggings, foiling robberies, raiding some criminal hives, fighting that one guy dressed as a clock... Good times. Wherever evil had sprouted it's malicious roots, Arsenal was there to stomp it out, his fans cheering him on.

Well, turns out there's only so much evil to be stomped. It's been a solid 2 weeks and the only crime Leo's stopped was a homeless person robbing an ATM. It was boring. And his fanbase was starting to notice. Leo let out a sigh.

Guess it's time for him to move on.

Arsenal whips out his phone, takes a deep breath, and starts recording:

"Hey there, guys, gals, and people of no specific gender! It's your friendly neighborhood bowman, Arsenal. Here's the latest update:"

He spins the phone around ans pans the city-scape, voicing over his thoughts.

"Look at our beautiful city. Peaceful. Crime rate's gone down to near-nothing..."

Arsenal spins the phone back to himself.

"Boring, am I right? Think the police have gotten a bit lazy as well. Well, don't you peeps worry. It's time to unveil that I'm going on tour! I'll be heading out in a few days, traveling from city-to-city, kicking ass and taking names. I'll go to whatever cities are interesting and stop whenever I feel like it. Cool? Cool."

Arsenal does a finger gun to the camera as he lays out the rest of his plans.

"There's gonna be fighting. There's gonna be actual streams for subscribers. There's gonna be fun. If you happen to see me, give me a shout, uhhh, and that's about it. See you guys in-"

Suddenly, a shout echoes across the buildings of the peaceful city.

"There's my cue! Laters!"

Leo stops recording and uploads the video to his blog, putting his phone away and rushing off to shoot some arrows...

David kept himself focused on the road ahead, constantly listening to Hood's chattering on about how easy it would be to run someone over, or to blow up that building over there, or even to just hop off the bike and tear a person in half. 'Come on, Dave, we're strong enough to do it...' The whispers went unanswered, and David closed his eyes in order to clear his mind.

And then Dave took a wrench to the chest.

(Recommended Listening)

Falling off his bike, which went skidding into a nearby laundromat, David groaned in pain. He clutched at his chest; a rib was probably cracked, if not broken. He pulled himself to his feet, grunting in pain, and looking around for whoever the hell just threw that at him so he could... He could... 'So you can what, Dave?'

'Shut up.'

He looked around for the person who threw the wrench at him, fighting back a snarl. And it was then that he noticed the people fighting in the streets. Angels against the civilians of Gotham. The Angels were winning. As his eyes scanned over the scene, David turned to a nearby store which had a mural painted on it. The mural presented the woman who made him come back to Gotham in the first place...

Anarkee.

David's eyes widened. Within his mind, Hood screamed bloody rage, calling for her death.

'DAVID'

'YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO'

'L҉҉̡E̢͟͠͝T̵̴̢́ ̨͘͢M̸̀̕͏E͏͘͢͡ ̨҉̀͘Ó̸̵̸́Ù̀͘͝T̛̀̀'

A gunshot echoed throughout the streets, hitting the forehead of the mural dead center. Red Hood grinned, eyes brimming with barely contained rage.

"Come one, come all! Fill your guts with my lead!" Twisting around, Hood fired a round off at an Angel who was crouched on top of a civilian and beating his head in with a plank of wood. The Angel collapsed on top of his victim, and Hood holstered his pistol and rushed into the fray. Grabbing onto a nearby Angel, he stared into the man's eyes, before sticking his thumbs into them and slowly peeling the man's head in two. Mentally, Hood mused that he felt sorry for the poor bastard who'd have to clean this up. Because things were about to get messy.

Grabbing the baseball bat from the Angel's hands, Hood ran forward and swung it upwards into another's crotch, breaking the wooden bat in half in the process. Hood took a look at the sharp, splintered wood, before burying it into the Angel's throat. Tossing the dying gangster away carelessly, he pulled his gun back out, and took aim at an Angel.

*BLAM!*

The round flew true, nailing the Angel in the heart. Hearing running footsteps behind him, Hood spun around and fired off a few rounds, the gang member falling just short of her target. Hood kind of wished he had gotten Dave to bring their whole arsenal along with them, but maaaaaybe it was a little suspicious. Ah, fuck him, Hood'll just have to bring all the guns along next time.

Gunning down a few more Angels, Hood began to reload, and shouted to the civilians who weren't currently being beaten to death: "Hey, you guys might want to leave! It's about to get really nasty!" Thankfully, they took heed, and the civvies began to ran. The Angels finished up with their victims, and began to surround him. Hood gave a mockingly impressed whistle. "Phew. There's, what, thirty of you guys? Man, this isn't even fair. You'd need thirty more to pose any real threat."

That did it.

The Angels rushed forward from all sides, giving a cry of rage.

"AN-"

'Oh man... This is gonna be sick.'

Hood did a quick scan. Ten, coming in from all directions. The pistol only had an 8 round capacity. He really should've sprung for the Glock, or even the Five-SeveN. Well, he'd have to make due.

Holding the pistol outward, Hood began to spin and fire.

"-AR-"

He took down eight, before spinning around to face one of the two chargers left alive. He slammed the barrel of the pistol into the man's eyesocket, and used it as a sort of handle to swing him around into the other one.

"-CHY! ... Wait, huh?"

The battle cry of the Angels came to a halt as they noticed that ten of their numbers had been taken out in a matter of seconds.

Hood cracked his neck, giving a small chuckle. "Alright... Who's next?"

The Angels' response to that was to run away. Hood decided to give them a five second head start.



David awoke with a start. The lights in his home were off, and he couldn't see anything. Pulling himself up, he winced slightly at the sharp pain in his chest, before taking a deep breath and releasing it. He wandered over to the light switch to flick it on, only to find that it already was flipped on. "Bulb must need replacing... Shit..." He wandered into the bathroom and flipped the light on in there. Nothing.

"What the...?" He looked down, finding himself to be in full clothing... And soaked in blood. "... Oh fuck."

'Wew, man, I had the time of my life earlier. You should've seen it.'

"What the fuck did you do?"

'There were bad guys. I took care of them.'

"What... What is wrong with you!? You can't just kill people!"

'Uh, yeah, I can.'

"The next time this happens, I'll..."

'You'll what? Stop being a pussy and actually kill yourself to stop me?'

"Fuck. You."

'You do that every night, buddy.'

Taking in a deep breath, David shook his head and got out of his clothes. Heading into the bathroom, he started up the tub and plugged it, before dropping the clothes in there and spraying some body wash into it. It wouldn't do much, but it'd be good enough. Once the power was back on, he'd have to do laundry.

He pinched his nose and sighed in frustration. "... Fuck my life."

The wind blew silently through the leaves. The sun broke the clouds, sending down lines of gorgeous life-giving sunshine. Nature remained at peace, as had been.

Of course that's not true, is it? Every century, every millenium, there's been something, someone, there to screw around with the pieces. Someone to try to attain control over something best left alone.

Someone attempting to play god.

A shot rang through the air, followed by a soft pattering, which quickly grew to a loud muffled pounding in the air.

A helicopter dangled weightlessly in the air, as if held by strings.

"I think I got one!"

"What, a pygmy?"

"Some shirtless fucker I dunno."

The Amazon sprung to life at the noise, colors filling the air as birds took flight in fear for their lives. The scream of a human displayed to the men that they had in fact shot a "pygmy".

But despite all the sound and movement, the plants remained still.

They had no reason to run.

A tree sprung out of the dirt, at a speed at which trees should not move. It twisted and twirled into the open air, quickly dwarfing all others in the area. It consumed the helicopter where it stood, leaving it embedded. The pilots screamed, but the tree wasn't listening. Trees don't... listen to things.

The water shimmered under the sunlight. The vast blue emptiness stretched out in front for kilometers without end. It rumbled, a terrifying reminder of how much lived out in that nothing, and how easily one could come face to face with it.

A trumpet broke the water's natural silence. Off in the distance, a vague splotch of darkness could be seen. It grew, from a blotch to a blotch with wings. The trumpeting was joined by clicks. The blotch undulated in the darkness, creating currents of power that slammed into the rock. Finally it closed, letting out one last massive trumpet as it sailed by, the massive creature of blubber and... whatever else whales were made out of, sailed right on by, dispelling water and creature in its wake.

BEEEEEEEP

"Interesting how much that beep sounded like 'get off your ass you lazy f...udge."

Harris looked out the window of the Watch Tower, over Earth. Always his home, he's known that, but not until now had he truly understood it.

"It's Harris, what's up dude?"

---

Laboured breathing echoed through the halls of the dark building. It creaked under the wind but the room deep within the walls was near silent except for the horrific gasping and heaving of Wilhelm Silber's lungs. It had been five years, but he would never heal, not even his healing factor could do that. He could only hope to get used to struggling to breathe. He used his powers to hold himself upright enough to walk, balancing himself with his hand on everything nearby.

He felt trapped in his own body.

He hated being some worthless incapable, he hated being one of the very things he swore to destroy.

It would be different soon.

He looked upon his newest creation. A set of power armor, massive, bulky, impractical, but he just wanted to walk.

He pulled it into pieces in a moment and slapped them all in place on his body.

This was it, what he'd been preparing for. He dropped his telekinesis and immediately felt a familiar pain in his knees, it was agony, but not too bad; he was able to stand at least. Now if he could do more than that. Slowly, unsteadily, he lifted his leg, then placed it down. Huh. That worked.

He spent the next hour walking slowly, getting used to doing it again. It was a triumph, but it just made him angrier. How could something so easy be so hard to him, how could achieving it seem like such a milestone?

He was calm though. He could walk. That meant he could fight.

And if he could fight... her...

Then maybe, just maybe.

He'd be able to die.

Not as an old man killing himself.

But as a martyr going out against his eternal enemy.

That sounded good to him.

---

"I'm so close now."

She hurt.

Shams felt pain pounding at her from every angle, some from hurting herself tripping due to sleep deprivation, some from starvation from forgetting to eat for days at a time, and some from those few times she'd gotten shot.

Thank god for kevlar.

Her room smelt like coffee. So much coffee. She almost tasted the goddamn fucking coffee.

So there was this body.

It had been shot seventeen times.

No empty clip though, thank god, make it harder, she loved that.

So there was clearly animosity there. You wouldn't shoot someone with a clip and a little bit more just because you got told to shoot them.

Ah, her husband, the main suspect, they'd been disputing for years apparently, but if you're together that long and never split once, then why brutally kill her now?

She looked closer at the crime scene picture she'd "borrowed".

Hold on.

Her pocket

It was full.

That's a phone.

The police never reported a phone.

One of the cops must have stolen it.

She needed that phone.

She grimaced, more work to do.

Oh well, no time to waste.

She turned to leave but collapsed onto the floor.

Maybe she wasn't leaving just yet. Just... just one more hour of deep thought.

Date: New Year's Day, 2026 Time: 4:44 P.M , Location: Boston's Redlight District/ Boston's Manufacturing District

So waiting for the sun to set was much more boring than Carter anticipated; so was the unfriendliness of the alley rats, if the various bite marks on his now uncovered hands were anything to go by. I have no one to blame but myself if I die from rabies, but I will still go on a rat murdering spree anyway, because … murder. Carter probably should be concerned with his own train of thought concerning the death of innocent rodents, being a superhero and all, but he waved them off as him being overly tired and potentially infected with an aggressive inducing virus. Can one suck out rabies, like with snake venom? Carter, now curious, brought his hand to his mouth and began sucking harshly on the wound; the only result being a horrible taste in his mouth and a strangely placed hickey.

Welp that didn’t work and my attention span is now completely depleted, time to go home. And with that, Carter was off once more; returning his gloves to their rightful place on his hands before removing his mask and the outer garments of his costume. Now he just had to hope that no one thought the boy walking down the street shirtless and holding a bundle of clothes was a stripper and asked for his “service”.

With confidence that only a man with no shame could exude Carter exited the alley and strutted down the street without even blinking. He had managed to wait out the sun until dusk so while there were fewer people on the street, there were still people wandering about, occasionally staring at the young-old man. He greeted them all with the appropriate amount of pizzazz and finger guns.

It took him a good hour, and two cops on two separate occasions asking him if he was ok, before he reached his hideout. The old warehouse stood proudly against the rest of the dilapidated factories that had been shut down for more years than anyone could remember. Well, I remember it… but you get the point. Who am I talking to? Carter paused for a moment, contemplating, before shrugging and entering his home. He had work to do.

He barely bothered to throw his costume to the side, letting it hit the cement floor with a small thud of his mask, before sitting down by his salvaged desk. It was chaotic really, the entire thing piled to the point where it was near collapse from the sheer weight of plans, intel, and Carter’s own crazed conspiracy theories. It was a chaos Carter could work with though, as with ease he shifted a few papers to find his folder on the thief he had just failed at apprehending. With a fountain pen the vigilante wrote frantically, documenting every single new fact he had discovered about his foe while simultaneously writing down on another sheet a new strategy for capturing him.

Before I thought he was just an exceptionally skilled cat burglar, but with powers like that it is easy to assume that he will soon be moving onto bigger game, potential games that could lead to serious civilian damages. Carter stood up as he wrote, sending his busted wheely chair sprawling to the other end of the room, His power means I’m going to need the element of surprise: guns and bow fighting are out. Snipping and long distance bombs are the way to go. Finding out his next target will be rough though, I would be better off trying to find his lair, then I would really get him by surprise…..

In an element of rarely seen seriousness, Carter spent the rest of the night in complete and utter silence. His only movement was the racing speed of his writing and his mouth occasionally speaking his thoughts without a sound. He had a job to do, nothing could stop him from that.

11:05 New Year's Day, 2026
Downtown, Star City, California

Affliction leaned against the side of a 24hour gas station, cigarette between her lips, hands in her pockets. Things were quiet. That was nice. That meant she could chain-smoke to her heart's content, and stand broodily at the corner of this gas station feeling the pain of the day. And of yesterday. And the day before that. Things being quiet meant everything was great for all the other heroes in town. They got to sit back, relax, spend the night in. For Affliction, it meant no release. If she had to explain it to someone, she’d tell them to imagine the worst headache they could possibly have, ever, in their life, a debilitating, blinding headache, and then to go stick their dick in a lawnmower. Imagine that, she’d tell them. She spat out the end of her cigarette and gave it a good stomp.

Time to go for a walk. She replaced her cigarette with a new one, lighting it as she crossed the street. Walking made it worse. It felt wrong to wish for bad guys, and yet here she was.

As if in answer, a scream echoed from a couple of blocks down. Affliction broke out into a run. She stopped short of rounding the corner, peeking around the corner.

"You think you're a big tough guy, huh?" A large bald white man held another man against the wall.

They both looked drunk. The building across the street was a dive bar. No villains here tonight, just some drunk assholes.

"Get offa me!" Said the second man, trying to push the first man away.

Affliction stepped round the corner. "Hey, break it up. Go home."

"What you think you're big and tough too?" Said the first man, less drunk than she'd originally assumed. He turned to face her, his eyes were red. "You shouldn't meddle in things you have no business in."

She exhaled smoke, still holding the cigarette in her mouth. "It's not worth it, not tonight, just go home" She said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Not worth it? You know how much money this guy owes?" The man laughed, he slammed the other man against the wall again, knocking him out. He dropped him on the floor of the alley. "So obviously you think you're some kind of hero." He said as he advanced towards her. He punched the brick of the wall, cracking it. Maybe there were villains here tonight.

The distance between them shrank in the blink of an eye. He was fast. But she was faster. She sidestepped, sticking her foot out to catch his ankle. As he fell she grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him into the ground. And then she felt release. All the pain she'd been holding in, building up, washed out of her. It felt like an ocean she didn't have to hold anymore.

Another scream echoed through the city, the man under her hand began to writhe and flail. She grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911, then set the phone down near his head.

"Play nice and they'll give you painkillers or something... Probably." she said, standing up. She took her cigarette out of her mouth and held it between her fingers.

She'd gone overboard, she thought as she watched the man convulse. She knew it. This guy didn't deserve all that, it just felt so nice not to feel so much. She crouched back down, grabbing the man at the neck again, taking back pain till he stopped screaming. He still hissed with pain, teeth clenched, drawing in air like it was poison. She rolled him over, and he cried out again from moving. She took the cigarette in her hand and smashed the lit end against the skin on the back of his hand. He screamed and cursed and tried to hit her, but pain made him weak, and slow. She held his hand down by the wrist with one hand, and held the cigarette to his skin with the other.

"Don't let me catch you out here again." She said with a venom.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette away, she stood up and started walking. She replaced her cigarette with a new one, and lit it as she crossed the street.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The world opens up to him.

All of its lies and half-truths are exposed, the never ending ley lines of chi forever moving throughout the universe are visible, and the city...

It can speak to him.

And when it speaks, he Hears.

"Speak to me, Hub City. What ails thee, drug-addled whore clinging to schizophrenic dreams?" the faceless freak asks.

"It's bad, man..." a worried man in a phone booth says.

"... it might be cancer..." a young woman sobs to her lover in a nearby cafe.

"... worst case I've seen in a while." a doctor across town explains to a patient.

"Where is your pain, doomed crack baby suckling on poison cola death nipple?" the protector of the weak continues.

"This warehouse I just got, for..."

"... some fucked up shit, man..."

"... it's just outside of town, can't miss it."

"Your help is appreciated, oh crime-ridden terminal tumor of the world." With those words the trenchcoated vigilante prepares to head to work, intent on investigating this clue later.

The sky above is a pleasant blue color, only just rising into the sky. Clouds float around waiting to dissipate into nothingness, birds chirp a delightful song. Down below the ordinary people make their way to work, buying Venti soy mocha coffees with a light whip. They are unaware of, or perhaps blissfully involved in, the dark underbelly of the city. They are blind and deaf, incapable of understanding much beyond what they're required to.

They cannot see that day by day their beloved city is falling apart slowly, painfully.

He can See.

They cannot hear its pleas for help.

He can Hear.

They can only walk in the mundane world.

He can walk between two worlds.

One day there will be an answer as to why the world is in the state it is in. Until then he will fight as hard as he can to help with its symptoms. He does not hope to be able to see the day when it will be cured, because he knows he will not be the one to do it; no, it will be the next generation, and if not the next generation then the one after. He hasn't the might to cure the world.

He is not the answer.

He is only the Question.

---

The warehouse. It was a shoddy thing. Only microscopic amounts of chi touched this place. It was dead. The city could not help him here.

"I must apologize, Hub City. Though I am your will and your hands, I must depart from you momentarily. Forgive me." The chi of the city flowed through him once more, before he could no longer feel his connection to the city proper, just a faint tug telling him that he needs to go back, that it needs him, it wants him.

Flicking up the collar of his trenchcoat, he continued on.

His home is the shadows. Within them he feels the comfort of lounging beside a warm fire place, of returning home after a long day to the kind words of loved ones, of Coke in green glass bottles and steaks sizzling on a grill. But he fights off that comfort, for it makes him weak. It makes him feel secure, and feeling secure leads only to death. He must stay on his toes, lest he die.

The masked avenger used the shadows to approach the back end of the warehouse, entering unheard and unseen. Ahead of him a single beam of light shone down on a poker table, six men surrounding it like corporate suits discussing their next perversion of the American people's hopes and dreams at a conference table. Disgusting. He looked to his left and found the power box.

He killed the lights. The men shouted, argued, before finally agreeing to send what was more than likely the weak link of their little group to check the problem. The walker of worlds waited in the shadows for him to approach. What he found was a man bordering on anorexia, baggy clothes making him look like a small child pretending to be his father. Question crept up on him, applying a chokehold and covering the man's mouth.

"Alert the others and the only plane you shall walk will be that of the dead." He uncovered the man's mouth and eased his grip on his throat slightly, to allow him to speak. The man didn't scream.

"He who guides you, where might he reside?"

The gangbanger whimpered softly, whispering "o-our leader? He's n-not here, he's probably at our HQ in town."

"Where does he make his nest of lies and vices?"

"I-in an a-abandoned mall in Chinatown... Please... D-don't hurt me..."

"Won't. Will just knock you out." The Question tightened his grip on the man's throat. He squirmed a bit, before going limp in his arms.

"Yo Eric, what's the hold up?" one of the filthy degenerates called out. Question scrambled away from the unconscious man, heading out the door. He was gone before they could notice him, walking down the road into the den of scum he called home.

As he returned to the Hub the chi flowed through him, welcoming him home, congratulating him on a job well done. "Do not give your gratitude to me yet, oh wretched hive of whores and booze," he stated, "for I have yet to end this odyssey into the motherland of the scum."

He continued his hunt, purpose in his step.

Hayley, a young woman of 19, was walking home from a party. Her parents wanted her home by 12, but she was almost home anyway, so she wasn't in a rush. As she continued her walk, though, she felt like she was being... watched. Hayley turned slightly and saw a hooded figure behind her, a few dozen yards away, walking in the same direction she was. It was deadly quiet, and nobody else was around but the two of them.

Feeling a bit nervous, Hayley decided to pick up the pace. The man did as well. She turned a corner. The man followed her. She turned another. The man followed. He was slowly gaining on her. That's when Hayley just decided to break into a run, and predictably, the man followed her, sprinting as well. She turned the next two faster than him, having briefly lost him. Hayley looked behind her as she turned another corner.

THUD

Next thing she knew, she was on her ass, having just run into something. Her handbag she was carrying had it's contents spilled all over the sidewalk. She looked slowly up at what she just bumped into, terrified, and saw... a man in a dress jacket, also on his ass. He spoke up first, in an apologetic tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you hurt?"

"... Um... No. I'm fine. It's not your fault, I was running."

The man stood up and offered her his hand.

"Oh, are you one of those late-night jogger types?"

Hayley took his hand and stood to her feet as well, just as the figure who was following her turned the corner. She looked at the figure, terrified, and looked back at the dressed-up man with pleading eyes.

"That guy's been chasing me! Please, help!"

The figure approached closer, and drew a kitchen knife from his hoodie. The dressed man looked back at Hayley, his tone changing to a serious one.

"Stay right here. Grab your things. I'll handle him."

She nodded wordlessly in response, and started retrieving her scattered belongings while the man went to confront the figure. She grabbed her handbag and started putting her things inside. When she looked back up, she could see the figure trying to slash the man, but kept missing. The man grabbed the figure's knife-wielding hand and punched them in the face, making them drop the knife. The man then put a knee to the figure's abdomen, and he threw the figure to the floor, shouting at him. The figure apparently got the message, and started to flee in the other direction.

Hayley was awestruck for a moment, but when the man turned and started on his way back, she quickly looked back at the ground and resumed collecting her things. When the man returned, he helped as well, grabbing her wallet and handing it to her.

"I took care of him. Are you gonna be alright?"

She looked at him for a moment, into his worried eyes, before snapping out of it and taking the wallet.

"... Yeah. Thank you, thank you so much."

They both stood as she closed her handbag back up.

"It's no problem. Are you gonna make it home okay?"

Hayley looked around. She ran pretty far off course. It might take her a bit longer to make it home than she'd like. This man was strong, and he had a certain way about him that seemed chivalrous.

"... You wouldn't mind... Walking me home, would you?"

He paused, considering the offer. He extended a hand.

"... Sure. I can do that. What's your name?"

She took his hand, shaking it lightly.

"Hayley. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Hayley. I'm Charles."

---

Hayley, despite the potential danger earlier, was having a great time. Her and Charles had talked for a while on the walk back, and they'd gotten to know a bit more about each other. Hayley had talked about her time at college, her overbearing parents, her annoying little brother, and the job she has as a nurse. Charles had talked about how he was from Cambridge and went to M.I.T, and how he's in New Mexico on business.

Hayley had started thinking she'd found a perfect man. Charles was smart, kind, and if the fight earlier was of any indication, he was strong too. He was easy on the eyes, as well. The way he talked, it was almost as if he knew exactly what to say. And it was working.

"Oh, is this the place?"

Hayley had been lost in thought and hadn't realized her house just ahead. It's like the time flew by.

"Oh. Yeah. That's my house."

Charles walked her to the door. She fumbled with the keys for a moment before putting one in and unlocking the door, opening it. A woman's voice came from inside.

"Hayley, is that you? It's past 12:30!"

"Yeah, mom, it's me. I got caught up in something."

Charles turned to leave with an awkward wave.

"... Um... Have a nice night."

"Wait! Hold on!"

Charles halted his movements and turned back as Hayley called inside the house.

"I'll be just a sec!"

She approached him and reached inside her handbag, sifting through for her wallet.

"You deserve some sort of reward, right? Let me just-"

"Oh, no no, that won't be neccessary."

Charles interrupts and puts a his hand on the one reaching into the purse. They both stay like that for a moment, staring into each other's eyes and blushing. Hayley drops the handbag as they both inch closer to each other. All Charles had to do was say something nice. Any compliment, any sweet little nothing, and she was his.

"... You... Smell really nice..."

Close enough.

Hayley and Charles shared a passionate kiss right then and there, holding each other like they'd never let go. Hayley had never kissed anybody as good as Charles. It was intoxicating. She wanted to be like this, to be with this man she'd just met, forever, doing nothing else. This day was possibly the best day of her life.

... Unfortunately, for her... it was also her last.

As the kiss went on, Hayley's throat began to hurt. She tried to pull away, but Charles held the back of her head too tightly. She started feeling real, intense pain from her chest and stomach. She tried to scream in pain, but Charles had her muffled with his mouth. She noticed his face was no longer blushing, his expression stone-cold. Eventually, the cells had eaten away at her trachea and lungs, and she couldn't scream anymore as the cells ate her from the inside-out. Charles didn't need to kiss her anymore, and he gently pulled away as she watched in silent horror.

Finally, the pain ended when she was fully assimilated. Virus let out a small chuckle from the joy, but kept his cool. He was still hungry, after all. The mother's voice sounded from inside again.

"Hayley, are you coming in anytime soon? Or are you planning to Air-condition the entire neighborhood?"

Virus' larynx and lungs reformed as he responded.

"Sorry, thought I forgot something. I'm coming."

Virus stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him, and locking it with a click.

"Stay back! Stay back! This is a crime scene!" the burly police officer shouted into a megaphone at the rowdy crowd. The camera flashes were blinding, everyone wanted to get an image of this brutal crime, though very few saw it as anything more than a simple serial killer beginning his spree.

It was a message, a bottle thrown into the sea.

The man had been crippled, his knees shattered into pieces, then, as he laid, unable to defend himself or even stand, his back had been torn open, and his lungs pulled out the hole. They sat there now, wings for an eagle. A blood eagle.

Wilhelm hoped that Arcana knew her history, the blood eagle was no simple brutal action, it had been done by the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok unto their father's killer, to get revenge and to send a message to the Anglo Saxons that their god, Odin, of the Ravens and of war, was better than their Jesus.

Similarly, Wilhelm's own blood eagle was meant to illustrate the superiority of his own beliefs over the American ones, and of course, it was a message to her, the one who had left him in this broken body.

He stood on top of a nearby building, his body aching, but his resolve strong. He would meet her one last time. At least once.



"Hmm... Karen cupped her chin, glancing over the semi-tranluscent globe floating before her throne. There were several yellow exclamation points hovering above parts of Europe, China, and North America respectively, but nothing was in the red at the moment--there were no breaches in the veil.

The yellow marks showed a region where the veil was growing thinner, but had yet to collapse. They still seemed to be at least a day or two away from collapsing, however, and it was impossible to mend the veil until it had been properly torn. All in all, it looked like it would be a slow day today--unlike yesterday, with Josh.

She had been quite surprised to see him knocking down the door of his recuperation chamber yesterday. It was quite rare to receive an alert from inside the Rock of Eternity, after all. But now, he was safely back with Harris, probably telling him all about her horrible bedside manner.

"Anything else going on, Historama? How's Hub City doing?"

The globe dissipated and in its place appeared an image of a man laying on his stomach. The unnatural bend of his legs immediately told her they were broken, but far more notable was the fact that his back had been torn open, and his lungs ritualistically pulled out to form a pair of "wings".

Something about that seemed vaguely familiar to her--where had she seen it before?

"Guess I should go take a look, since there's nothing more pressing to deal with."

---



The flash of lightning and accompanying crack of thunder caused the crowd of reporters to only just flinch, for the citizens of Hub City knew that, on a clear and sunny day like this, lightning could only mean one thing--Lady Arcana.

Almost immediately spotting the heroine stepping from the residual smoke of her divine thunderbolt, they swarmed towards her, a dozens of questions bombarding the Wizard as she pushed towards the barrier until the cops forced the news crews back. Quickly locating the officer in charge, she offered him a polite nod.

"Hello, officer. It would seem you have quite the grizzly crime on your hands today--have you been able to gather any clues in regards to the perpetrator?"

The officer seemed awestruck. His eyes opened wider than wide and he had a goofy grin on his face. Clearly he hadn't expected to meet Lady frickin' Arcana. The rest of the police force often looked away from wrestling with the reporters to take glances at one of the Justice League's least public figures. It was a similar scene whenever one of the others showed up, but never with such a fervor as Lady Arcana brought.

Wilhelm didn't blame them. Just seeing her for the first time in five years, he couldn't help but suppress a smirk. He had expected to be blinded by rage, but something about this situation felt nostalgic in a way. He set a foot on the edge of the building, hoisting himself closer just to get a better look. She hadn't changed a bit, and judging by the thoughts of everyone around her, her sex appeal had not dampened. He found himself chuckling out loud. Oh how much fun they'd had.

One of the police officers suddenly appeared ill.

So much fun.

He shifted, grabbing at his stomach and groaning. He was attended to, but just began to sweat and gasp.

He'd never felt so alive than when she'd shattered his body and he'd gotten up for another round.

Suddenly the officer exploded into gore, his parts flying every which direction and his blood staining everyone in a ten foot radius.

A voice echoed through the air, a scream from the distance. Wilhelm felt his lungs ache as he strained them for one huge roar.

"Karen Hernandez!"

That should be enough.

Lady Arcana had just started to approach the groaning officer when he had exploded in a shower of gore. Raising the hem of her cloak to protect herself from the spray, she next heard someone scream her name--her real name--from above. Turning her head in his direction, her brows arched in surprise.

"Wilhelm Struber?" she called back.

She lifted off the ground, closing the distance between them. She had to protect the people down there, that was priority number one. Dashing forward in a tackle, she slammed into him--he seemed bulkier than usual--and shot from the scene of the now double-homicide with him in hand.

Wilhelm barely had the time to wonder what the hell she was playing at by pronouncing his name like that before he was yanked through the air at a speed far too fast for his old bones. He hacked and coughed away the pain as he felt himself go from a comfortable speed of zero to an exceptionally uncomfortable speed of way too fucking fast.

"I forgot just how fast you were. Good, I like it when things stay the same," he muttered as he was dragged through the air. He looked down at the ground beneath himself and began pulling apart as many buildings as he could and dragging the pieces behind them. With a sharp breath, he pulled them enough to overtake them in speed, sending a huge amount of pieces of concrete barreling towards them.

"I've been waiting a long time to finish what I started."

He followed with an invisible telekinetic strike to the side of her head, not enough to hurt her, god no, but hopefully enough to slow her down at least a little, and distract her from the oncoming debris.

It felt like he had tapped her on the head just then. A telekinetic strike, softer than she had remembered it being back in the day. Maybe she was just used to being struck harder now? In any case, that debris was a problem--she couldn't have it falling back down onto the city.

Extending her hand towards the oncoming rubble, a blinding flash of light enveloped it; and when it faded all of the debris had been encased in what looked to be a gigantic brown sack embroidered with a golden thunderbolt. Taking the top of it in hand, she looked to Wilhelm. "It's been more than five years--I thought you were dead, or had at least learned your lesson from last time and retired quietly."

Wilhelm chuckled, though it was clearly fake to anyone with a brain that it was fake, a way to hide what he was feeling.

If only he could figure out what the hell he was feeling.

"Five years of suffering, anguish, all of it. Just figuring out how to walk again was a chore. All thanks to you, Hernandez. All thanks to you."

It was his own fault, he knew that deep down, he should have known better, he read her mind and everything.

"Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sleep when your spine still carries the pain of getting punched by a god? I have done nothing but dream of this day every night for five years, five years, five years! I can't help but say it over and over again! Because every day was like that day repeated endlessly!" he screamed with fury enough to forget for a moment the agony he was going through from pushing his lungs so far. "I hope you remember well, and I hope your last thoughts are my name! In fact, I don't need to hope!"

He linked their minds in that instant.

Two of hearts. Six of Diamonds. Jack of Spades. Jack of Hearts. Ten of clubs. Get rid of everything but the two Jacks. Draw three. Seven of clubs. Ace of hearts. Seven of diamonds. Two pairs. Next hand. Nine of hearts...

...What was this?

Was this... was this a joke?

Was some... some deity playing a game with him? Where was he? Why couldn't he...

"Hey," a voice said to him. "Call, raise, or fold, we don't have all day buddy."

He... he was playing poker? What...what was...

"Hurry up, Jesus Christ."

"Er... raise," he said, not even having looked at his cards. He felt like he was in his body, but that couldn't be, he was flying above Hub City...

At least he thought he was.

"Raising huh? I'll see you and raise you eight hundred," said Lady Arcana, throwing a number of chips onto the table. Lifting up the corner of her cards only enough for her to peak at him, she fixed him with a steady poker face.

The shadowy figures around the table stared at him expectedly. "She raised you eight hundred. What's your move?"

Wilhelm growled. She'd tricked him. He had no clue how, but she'd done this.

"Karen..." he spat under his breath. Well, no matter, if he was to play poker, than he would play poker, and he would win. He had no clue what it would do, but he hoped that it would set him free. Finally, he turned up the corner of his cards.

A pair of twos.

Not the greatest hand. It was something, but he doubted it would win him anything when it counted. He looked at the flop. An eight, a six, and a king. That was worse.

Well, a pair could at least work in a pinch, hopefully the turn was kinder.

"Call," he finally said, as venomless as he could manage.

Karen smiled at him, placing her cards face-up on the table. Three sixes and two tens--a full house. With a big, meaty palm, the dealer swept 1,600$ worth of chips over to Karen's side. She folded her hands as he reshuffled the deck.

"You lost that round. I've now started removing that weird armor of yours."

The dealer finished shuffling, and threw five cards apiece to the both of them. Karen gathered hers, calming looking at her hand without betraying any clear emotion.

Damn, now it all made sense. He didn't know how she'd done it, but she'd trapped him in her head. Now he was defenseless. He'd lost.

He gritted his teeth and hissed, closing his fist in impotent fury.

The table shook.

Not very much, but a tiny amount.

His eyes widened. He could still save this. He just needed to hold on a little longer.

He took his cards and slid them over.

Hmm, this wasn't bad. A pair of aces, quite nice, and a four, a five, and a six. He had a dilemma now. He could toss the aces and hope for a straight, or he could toss everything else and hope for higher cards.

Ah to hell with it, no-one won anything playing it safe. He tossed the aces, flexing his hand and watching as the table rumbled just a little, hopefully that would change.

Karen waited for Wilhelm to make his move, before tossing three of her own cards. The dealer then dealt them three and two cards respectively.

Taking her new cards in hand, the slightest of frowns tugged down at the corners of Karen's lips. The dealer then quietly waited for one of them to make their next move.

She was playing him. No-one who played poker for more than a day would let their tell be so easily seen. He simply waited, giving a firm glare across the table as he lifted up the corners of his own cards.

Interesting.

"I bet three hundred," he said calmly. Just needed time. Don't get angry.

Karen glanced at her cards again. She paused for just a moment, before throwing her own chips onto the table. "I'll see your three hundred, and raise you six hundred."

The dealer turned to Wilhelm, nodding. "Your move."

Wilhelm made a noise of some kind that seemed suitably non-plussed.

"All-in."

He was always an aggressive player in the past, why change that? No reason he saw.

He pushed all that he had into the pot, his eyes remaining affixed on Karen's.

Karen smiled back at him, and reached out to sweep all over her chips into the pot as well--she had more than him, as she had already won one of their games. The dealer chuckled, glancing between both of them.

"Both all in? Alright," he nodded to Wilhelm. "Let's see them."

He'd been lucky today.

He flipped his cards, revealing a four to nine straight. He rested his chin upon his tented fingers and fixed his steely gaze on Karen. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as one of the shadowy figures distorted and bent. His influence was growing greater, just a little more time.

Karen's shoulders visibly sank.

The dealer turned to her. "Show em'."

Sighing heavily, she shook her head. "Damn it...all I've got is this..."

She turned up one of the cards to reveal a measly two of hearts. And then a King of clubs. "...And this...."

She turned up the third--a two of clubs. "And this...." A two diamonds. "Oh, and this asshole here..." The final card was a two of spades.

The dealer shoved all of Wilhelm's chips towards Karen as she sat back, shaking her head. "You knew I was trying to play you when I frowned, right? But you still went for it. Bluffing's important in this game."

The table faded, as did all of the shadows standing around it. Lady Arcana stood from her seat, which similarly vanished. "I'm now shattering your spine in a way that'll leave you paralyzed from the neck down. For good measure, I'll also tear out your eyes--your powers work by sight, after all."

Sweat formed on Wilhelm's brow, he let out a number of pleading noises, collapsing onto the ground and crawling backwards.

"Wait, don't! I have millions! I know the bank numbers of hundreds of pieces of stolen art, gold, please!"

Pleading like this disgusted him, but just a little more time, he could feel the ground morphing around his feet, he could feel his feet for god's sake, just a little more, a few seconds more.

"Just don't blind me, let me die alone, just don't hurt me any more!"

That was enough, he just needed to hope she heeded him at least a little.

"You know how I feel about death--ah, of course." She shook her head. "Something like that might drive you to suicide; I'd better remove all of your teeth so that you won't bite out your tongue."

Wilhelm's face shifted instantly, his fearful open mouthed gape transformed into a stern frown.

"You should have just killed me."

Karen's mindscape shifted into a collage of the screaming faces of everyone who she had seen Wilhelm harm or kill. Horrific screaming, dripping liquid, an assault on all senses.

"Remember their faces? Remember how you let me kill them? How you let me mutilate them? Now. You are going to say that word. You know the one. One word, then you will fall out of the sky. It doesn't matter what you've done to me physically, you will fall, and you will die.

"One word, Karen, you've said it so many times before, why not just this once?"

A litany of voices called out to her, screaming for her to say it. Lights flashed and dogs barked, there was a hideous smell unlike anything anyone on Earth had ever smelled before.

"I'm no longer that little girl you knew. I've come to accept that I can't save everyone. Even with all my power, I can't be everywhere, and I can't predict everything--I can only do my best every day. They're dead because of you, Wilhelm, and this fight is over.

Suddenly Arcana vanished, and Wilhelm was left in darkness--but he wasn't in the realm of the mind anymore. He would be able to feel the breeze against his face again, feel Lady Arcana's firm grip around his waist.

But he would be able to see nothing. And yet...there was no pain. His body could still move, he could still blink his eyes--but they were sealed behind something that cut off his vision.

Lady Arcana chuckled in his ear. "Man, you were really sweating back there, huh? Like I'd be that cruel."

Guh?... What is...

He'd been beaten, he realized, for real this time. She hadn't crippled him, he never exactly thought she would go that far, it was quite shocking to hear her say that, but he'd been in her head before.

Maybe he was just convincing himself that he still had at least some manner of control over the situation. He couldn't quite tell.

"Of course," he muttered. "You've outdone yourself, Karen Hernandez. But, you do know that this is just another event in my life, right? You crippled me, you broke my ribs to the point where my lungs hardly even work without constant aid from my telekinesis, and yet I came back. I learned to walk, I learned to breathe. No matter how easily you can stop me, I always come back. I always find just one more person to hurt. I'm not apologizing, I'm not begging forgiveness, I am proud of what I have done so far. So, I suppose it's another pothole in my road to success, isn't it?" he sighed melodramatically.

"Where will I be imprisoned this time? It's always fun to have a guessing game."

He was as smarmy as possible. He wanted to seem like the worst person alive. Maybe that would break her stubborn insistence that none of her foes needed to die.

"Somewhere special, this time--my home," she said, and for the briefest of moments Wilhelm would feel the hairs on his body stand up as if an electrical current was running through him.

He would then be able to see, the seal blocking his vision having been removed. He was in a square room of reasonable size. The walls, ceiling and floor were obsidian black with what appeared to be glowing hieroglyphics etched across their surface. There was a bed, a simple table and chair, and even a bookshelf on the far wall.

"Welcome to the Rock of Eternity, the place where you'll spend the last days of your life," said Arcana, her voice echoing all around him, though she was no longer present. "There is no escape, though you're welcome to try."

This was not what he wanted. Maybe an understatement. This may have been the worst thing that could have happened.

He gritted his teeth and let out a number of crackling noises, unable to speak or even be silent. He tried to stand but collapsed onto the ground when his legs refused to stay under him.

"You... you..."

He smiled and chuckled, pulling himself to a seat.

"You always have an answer."

He moved from a chuckle to a laugh.

"You're fascinating, really, you're like nothing else. You're so, so, fascinating."

"Glad you think so, Willy, cause I'll be your only company from here on out," she mused. "After all, you're now hundreds of millions of light years away from home. Even if your Third Reich had lasted a thousand years, it would've been long gone before you ever made it back."

He smiled with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Oh... that, yes, of course." He stared off into space, literal space, lightly chuckling. "Alle meine Entchen schwimmen auf dem See..." he sang softly.

"...Schwimmen auf dem See..." he continued, even softer than before, sometimes inserting a small chuckle as he did.