Tyrant - 11

<-Previous
~*~
Bonesaw watched with horror as Sue disappeared over the edge.

Slowly, she turned to face Scourge. But the man with the red hand had already moved away. He sprang down into the crater that Sovereign had left when Tech-Head had thrown him into Metro Tower's core.

A moment later, and Hex slammed into her from behind.

"Ugly little bitch," Hex snarled, ramming Bonesaw straight into a concrete barrier. Stone cracked beneath the hit; Bonesaw felt some of her exterior armor snap and splinter. She grimaced in pain and braced herself against the wall.

Bonesaw felt something hot and heavy seize hold of her chest; she let out an animal's roar and extended the armor as far as it could go. With a strength that surprised her, she drove her bladed arms back into Hex and threw her toward the crater.

As her armor began to heal, Bonesaw turned and leapt after her.

~*~
"Red! Are you alright?"

Red opened her eyes. There was rubble all around her, along with the smell of burning wood; somewhere in front of her she could see a gigantic hole. Through it, Metro Tower flashed in the distance.

She was on top of a desk that had been split in two. An office-building. Wytch was over her, bloody and frantic.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Rockstar," Wytch replied. "Machinehead--"

"Machin-ist," Anna's voice corrected over the ear-piece.

"--yes, yes, whatever," Wytch said. "Machinist is bringing in Arsenal. Sovereign's here too. We've got to give them and Skull as much cover as we can. Can you stand up?"

Red tried to, but instantly felt a burst of nausea. She shook her head. "I--I think I need a moment."

"Alright. Take whatever time you need. I'm heading back to Metro Tower to assist," Wytch said, and then she threw herself out of the hole. A moment later, and a tremendous wind picked her up--the old woman swept through the air, soaring back toward Metro Tower.

Red slowly righted herself. She could hear talk over the ear-piece, but it seemed distant and foggy--like in a dream.

And then there was a tremendous flash followed by a burning light.

The light faded. The Skull stood before her.

Except it wasn't the Skull. Not exactly. The suit looked different; similar, but modified. And there was a sword jutting from her back. That, and a strange belt wrapped around her waist.

"Hello, Red," the Skull said.

"What--"

"Not a lot of time for chit-chat," the Skull said. "In about three minutes, all Hell is going to break loose. And I need your help to stop it."

A woman stepped out from behind the Skull--apparently she had been brought here by the same flash of light. She was old, wiry, and looked mean as hell; her hair was a tangle of barbed wire and her face was twisted into a snarl. She had piercings through her eyebrows, her ears, her nose, and her bottom lip; she wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the image of two fists giving the middle finger.

"This her?" the old woman asked. Her voice sounded hoarse and cracked, like she'd been chewing on a pack of lit cigarettes and then washed it down with a tall glass of sulphuric acid.

"Yes," the Skull said. "This is her."

The old woman gave Red a good look. "Fuck," she said. "What does she know about music?"

"I--what?" Red said. "What is this about?"

"Red, this is Sarah O'Conner, otherwise known as the current Muse of Music," the Skull said. "Sarah, this is Red. "

Red stared.

The Muse lifted her head. "You know how to rock, girl?"

"I, uh. Maybe?" Red said, trying not to squeak.

"What's your favorite band?"

"I--um. I don't know? I like... Bjork?" Red replied.

"Oh, fuck this," the Muse said, turning around.

The Skull reached out and touched her shoulder. "Sarah--we both agreed. This is the only way."

The Muse sighed, and shook her head. "Goddammit," she said, and then she turned back to Red. "Alright. What else?"

"I. Um." Red shifted, looked from Sarah back to the Skull, then back to Sarah. "I like... Queen?"

The Muse lifted her head. "Freddie Mercury?"

"Uh, yes?"

Her scowl become just a little less fierce. "Alright," she said. "Maybe we can work with that."

~*~
The last of the gargoyles slammed into asphalt, its body making a satisfying crunch.

Sumerset turned the rail gun off and scanned for the quickest route to Metro Tower.

"Coming to assist," he said, right before three tons of force struck him from behind.

The car crumpled as it made its impact; the front-end snapped and rippled inward like an accordion. The armor stumbled forward, leaving Sumerset struggling to stay standing. A few warning messages flashed past the screen.

Sumerset turned and swung his fist around, batting the car aside.

Man-of-War charged.

His armor had been improved--its size had increased twofold. It towered over Sumerset like some sort of metal juggernaut, resembling a steam-powered suit of medieval armor. He could see where the original ceramic suit sat in a 'cradle' at the top, with Man-of-War's helmet popping up beneath a metal cage. One of the suit's fists ended in a giant spiked ball; the other had been replaced with an immense iron shield.

A cloud of smoke pumped out from the back-end.

"The fuck is this shit?" Sumerset said, right before the spiked ball hammered into his face.

The Arsenal armor screamed out a series of warnings as Sumerset crouched low and skidded across concrete. He felt a signpost creak and snap against his back--his fingertips gouged deep into the ground. Man-of-War laughed and swung the iron ball around before firing.

It flew forward, attached to his arm via an extending length of chain. When it hit, Sumerset was thrown sixty feet back.

The Arsenal suit scraped further down the street. Sumerset shifted and struggled to get back to his feet; more yellow warnings flashed on the screen. He re-armed the plasma launcher and unleashed a series of shots--Man-of-War brought his shield up, leaving the plasma to splash harmlessly against iron.

"Plasma melts iron," Sumerset said, his voice amplified through the armor's loudspeaker. "Ain't no way in hell that piece of yours ain't magic."

"It's amazing what that Woot kid can do with the right amount of inspiration," Man-of-War replied. "Fact is, I don't give one flying hell what it is, so long as it lets me kick your geriatric ass."

"You're fucking with science, son," Sumerset said, re-arming the plasma launcher. "Don't blame me for the consequences."

"Bring it, old man."

~*~
The last of the demons made a pathetic mewling sound beneath Paladin's newly formed hammer. Just as he was finishing with it, he heard a distant commotion over his earpiece.

He turned from the gaping hole for just a moment--which was just in time to catch sight of the immense block of concrete hurtling for his head.

He ducked and raised his hammer, reforming it into a shield; the cinderblock exploded into rubble, its force rippling harmlessly down through his arm.

Paladin gritted his teeth and peeked up over the shield. A woman descended from one of the buildings above, landing at the edge of the parking lot. Her arms looked as if they had been dipped in metal; either was surrounded in a disturbing silver-blue glow.

Paladin shifted his position. The shield shifted from one hand to the other, shrinking in size; he produced a sword in his other hand. "You one of Scourge's crew?" he asked.

"Yep," the woman replied. She continued forward, her pace steady and easy.

"Only got one question," Paladin said. "My teammates. Brick and Woot. Are they alright?"

"One's alive. The other's dead," she said.

Paladin's eyes narrowed. "That's a shame," he said.

"Is it?"

"Yeah." The sword shifted from a single, straight-edged blade to one with over a dozen wickedly curved barbs. "For all of you."

~*~
It wasn't long before a bladed boomerang interrupted Mulligan's zombie killing spree.

It initially managed to spear him straight through the back, scissoring his spine in two; after three rewinds, he managed to block it with his bat instead. Shortly after, he caught sight of the Boomerang Kid running toward one of the back alleys.

Mulligan gave chase.

The Boomerang Kid was spry for an old man; he darted down the alleyway and into the city streets. After several minutes of chasing him, the mask finally threw himself into a doorway that looked like it lead into a nightclub. As Mulligan raced in, he noticed the place appeared to be abandoned.

He threw the door open, stepped in, and brandished his bat.

It was an immense dance floor; flotsam and rubble was strewn across it, with several chairs turned upside down. It looked like all the other doors and hallways were boarded up. There was no immediate sign of the Boomerang Kid--but he had gotten a good twenty second lead on Mulligan. Enough time to hide, or maybe duck into a good sniping position.

Mulligan walked forward. "Yeah, whatever, shit-for-brains. We know how this is going to turn out. So why don't you just show your face and--"

His foot stubbed against something. He looked down at a device that was on the ground--an iron bomb as large as his foot had been imbedded in the floor and hidden beneath a chair. It had a red digital timer; it currently read: 00:03.

Mulligan snorted, then turned to look back at the exit. No problem. He'd just rewind to when he first stepped inside, and--

He hadn't noticed, but when he closed the door behind him, it had triggered some sort of latch-lock. The door was now securely shut. Carved on the inside were only two words:

12 SECONDS

"Oh shit," Mulligan whispered.

The bomb went off.

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 10

<-Previous
~*~
The whole rooftop of Metro Tower had been turned into a giant concert stage; gigantic speakers were stacked on top of one another, with a microphone mounted near the front. The sound became a thunderous roar--we could hear nothing but that goddamn music, played at full crank.

Wytch and Red threw us at the same time. Bonesaw and I hit the rooftop and rolled; a moment later and a bolt of lightning tore through the skies and struck the speakers.

Sparks flew. The music didn't stop, but the volume went down. I could see the singer, now--some thick-shouldered man dressed in black leather. His skin was granite-gray and his eyes were smoldering red coals--he had a guitar slung over his shoulders. When he saw us, he grinned.

The guitar crackled with lightning.

"This is ridiculous," I shouted, and that's when Wytch and Red descended in a fury of lightning and wind.

Rockstar soared up to meet them; there was an explosion of noise, a screech of guitars, and then everything above us was chaos. In front of us, I could see the stairwell bursting open.

Two women emerged.

One had shaved head and was covered in swirling tattoos; the other was tall, blonde, and looked like she'd been torn out of the pages from a swimsuit magazine. When the latter one saw me, she grinned.

"Finally," she said. "The Skull!"

"Excuse me?" I asked over the roar of lightning above us. "Do I know you?"

Both women charged. Bonesaw sprouted her blades and met the girl with the tattoos head on; meanwhile, the tall blonde leapt through the air, did a backflip, and proceeded to jump-kick me in the face.

It was like getting hit with a car. My upper body snapped back; I rolled half a dozen feet across the ground, scrambling for purchase across concrete. When I finally stopped, the woman cartwheeled in front of me and brought the tip of her high-heel down against my chest.

"The name is Victoria Noble," she said. "Sound familiar?"

"Nope," I replied, and I grabbed her ankle, squeezed, and twisted.

Her skin and bone resisted the force that the Skull-Buster's gauntlets applied; it was like trying to twist a girder of steel. I still managed to throw her off balance, which lead to her somersaulting through the air and landing in a cat-like crouch.

I threw myself to my feet and assumed the position. She grinned up to me, sinking lower.

"Nearly a century ago," she said. "Alexander Noble. My father."

"Oh, right," I said, lying through my teeth. "That guy."

"Your predecessor launched him. To the moon."

Huh.

"Did he survive?" I asked.

"Of course, you twit," Victoria responded, and then she pounced. She was fast--quick--and skilled. Her hands blurred forward in a series of punches; I managed to block maybe two out of six. Each hit hammered through my helmet and suit, forcing me back toward the building edge. "We are the Nobles. We cannot be killed."

I felt my foot catch the edge of the building's railing; I dropped low, grimaced as her fist slammed into my left chest, and darted my hand out to catch her by the shoulder. And then I squeezed with every ounce of might that I could manage.

"Immortal, huh?" I said, and I shifted--pulled--and proceeded to throw her over my back, hurling her off the tower's edge. "Good to know."

She screamed out several curses before she disappeared into the cityscape below.

Bonesaw was still dealing with the woman with tattoos. I figured she must have been Hex, one of the ones Sumerset had warned us about. She was a teenage magician--someone who had turned her body into a conduit for demons and otherworldy powers. In exchange, they gave her incredible strength, endurance, and magic.

Some of her punches gouged through concrete and metal. One swing missed Bonesaw only to crumple an iron air-vent.

I rushed in hard. When I hit, I hammered into her chest with my shoulder and threw her down. She rolled across the ground, turned to both of us, and spat out a tongue of flame.

I crossed my arms over my face and moved in front of Bonesaw to take the hit. The fire licked at my shoulders and chest, but didn't pierce the suit. When it was over, Hex hit me, and I felt the exoskeleton beneath the suit give just a smidge.

"Crap," I muttered, forced back.

Bonesaw had taken the opportunity to move behind us. Just as Hex was reeling back for another blow, she screamed with pain; Bonesaw's elbow-blades had both come down and stabbed straight into her shoulders. Bonesaw proceeded to slam her knee into the back of her spine and pull.

Hex arched back, yowling. It was more than a little gruesome, but it got the job done. I stood back and started hitting her.

After the sixth blow, she was out.

Bonesaw retracted her bones and let Hex slump to the ground. We both looked up to the battle raging over our heads--just as a streak of white-and-black speared through and knocked Rockstar to the ground.

He hit the rooftop with an earth-shattering crash; a network of cracks splintered outward from where he had landed. Above him floated Sovereign, with Rockstar's guitar held in his hands.

"Concert's over," he said, and he snapped the instrument in half.

"Sovereign!" I yelled. "Trap!"

Sovereign looked up at me--as if to say something--just when it happened. The roof beneath him gave way; long metal pincers snapped up and seized him in their grip. An immense, skeletal-like machine rushed up from below. It was something like a mix between a steam-powered spider and a crab--one with what looked like a television for a head.

"THE ENTIRETY OF YOUR FACILITIES ARE IN OUR POSSESSION," the machine said.

"Tech-Head," Anna's voice buzzed in my ear. "Holy crap, that's Tech-Head."

"Where is Wytch and Red?" I asked, stepping back.

"Rockstar threw them both into a nearby building," Anna said. "They're okay, just recovering. You need to get out of there. Tech-Head's only a Class 4, but it looks like someone upgraded him. And with Rockstar--"

A guitar riff screamed across the sky. Rockstar flew up from the hole Tech-Head had made and hammered his fist into the grappled cape. The blow was so hard I could feel it; Sovereign's entire body snapped back.

Tech-Head threw Sovereign down into the core of the building--the entire tower shook as Sovereign crashed down through floor after floor.

"Get Arsenal here now," I said. "Anyone else, too. We can't take these guys on without some serious back up."

"They're on their way," Anna said. "What are you going to do in the meanwhile?"

"Buy some ti--" I started to say, just before I was cut off by a single, thin red blade.

It shot straight through my back and emerged from between my breasts, neatly penetrating the armor as if it wasn't even there. I stared down at the blade, dumbstruck; I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"Shit," Bonesaw said. "Sue!"

Scourge was behind me. His red hand was held out, with his fingertip extended into a needle that was over twenty feet long; he had neatly speared me on its tip. Without another word, he swung me around, retracted the blade, and threw me off the tower's edge.

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 9

<-Previous
~*~
The electric hum of speakers pierced the roar of winds on top of Metro Tower.

Above Rockstar lay the stars and moon; beneath him was the city--a wide, sparkling tapestry of glass, concrete, and light.

He flicked on his electric guitar and leaned into the microphone. When he spoke, his voice was carried--magnified--down through the tower and into the streets below.

"Metro City," he roared. "Are you ready to rock?!"

He brought the pick down and started to sing.

~*~
The saints are crippled
On this sinners' night
Lost are the lambs with no guiding light

The police radio bands were instantly engulfed in a confused network of static, screams, and hard rock.

A moment later and reports started pouring in by the hundreds.

The call room was immediately jammed. Phones began ringing; men and women in uniform ran about in confusion, grabbing whatever was available and attempting to scribble down what seemed like an endless stream of nonsensical details.

"City Hall is under attack by a legion of stone gargoyles?"

"Okay, exactly how many demons are emerging from the fissure in your backyard, ma'am?"

"Sir, we're in the middle of a crisis. The safe return of your wife is not a reason to call--oh. Oh, I see. Well, yes, I imagine if she's been dead for ten years, that is unusual--"

Captain Peterson didn't even bother to ask questions in the noise and chaos. Instead, he reached for the phone that served as a direct connection to the Society--

--and listened in disbelief to what sounded like a dead line.

~*~
The walls come down like thunder
The rock's about to roll
It's the arockalypse
Now bare your soul

Jennifer Straub stared at the car radio in confusion. Five seconds ago, she'd been listening to the second refrain of Lady Gaga's Poker Face; then there was a flash of static followed by snarling electric guitars and some guy with a bad accent yelling about 'Hard Rock'.

"The heck is this crap?" the teenager asked, and that's when she heard the sound of something cracking high above. She turned her head skyward, peering up through the windshield--had something moved on the side of that building? There was nothing there but stone gargoyles, though. But she could have sworn--

The gargoyle's head turned and winked at her.

"Ohmygod," she said, and without another thought, she hit the gas.

The light ahead was still red, but it didn't matter--she hadn't even gotten five feet before the gargoyle sprang off its perch on city hall and slammed feet first into the hood of her car. It tore through the engine in a single stroke, claws sinking into metal as it grinned down through the windshield.

Jennifer started to scream just as Rockstar entered his first refrain.

~*~
All we need is lightning
With power and might

Four figures flew high above the chaos.

Red and Wytch had joined hands; Red held the Skull and Wytch held Bonesaw. Far below, smoke and fire started to swell up from the streets of Metro City. As they flew toward Metro Tower, the strains of music grew louder.

"What the hell is happening?!" Bonesaw shouted.

"Magic," Wytch shouted back. "Rockstar's magic. But he's not this powerful. He must have help--Scourge must be augmenting his powers somehow."

"So we hit him at Metro Tower and stop whatever the hell this is," the Skull said. "While the others hit the streets and try to manage the chaos."

"Red and I will take care of Rockstar," Wytch said. "You and Bonesaw concentrate on the others."

~*~
As the moon is rising
Give us the sign
Now let us rise up in awe

Over two tons of high-end military hardware cracked the asphalt in front of City Hall.

One of the circling gargoyles looked up from the car it had just landed on; it snarled at the Arsenal suit and bared its claws.

"Eat plasma and die," Sumerset said, and he fired the shoulder-mounted launcher. A small device created the electromagnetic shell; inside was a core of burning plasma. When it hit, the device disrupted the shell--the result was a contained explosion that neatly beheaded the gargoyle.

The smoking stone torso clattered to the city street.

The girl inside the car stopped screaming and scrambled out, running for cover. Sumerset turned to the remaining gargoyles and loaded up the rail gun mounted on his opposite shoulder.

"By the way: your music sounds like shit," he said, and then he opened fire.

~*~
The true believers
Thou shall be saved
Brothers and sisters, keep strong in the faith

The crimson-skinned demons swelled up from the apartment's backyard, flame and magma licking at their backs. Clawed and fanged, they spread their blackened wings and howled with triumph.

Paladin descended atop the first demon, engulfed in gleaming white armor. When he landed, the demon made a moist squish, reduced to nothing more than a fine paste beneath the sheer weight of his armored feet.

He raised his sword and pointed it at the demons.

And then he pointed it down at the hole.

~*~
On the day of Rockening
It's who dares, who wins
You'll see--the jokers soon'll be the new kings

"Now, Martha, I'm sure we can discuss this civilly," the man said as he stepped back from his apartment doorway.

The zombified corpse of his wife proceeded to moan, her clawed and dirt-stained fingernails reaching out for him. But before she got another step closer, there was the sudden sound of a very loud whump--and her head exploded to the side, splattering rotting brain matter across the far window.

Mulligan stood behind her, his bat covered in bits of shattered skull, a lit cigarette pressed between his lips.

"Zombies," he said, turning around to face the legions of undead that were beginning to emerge from the alleyways and streets behind the apartment. "Always with the fuckin' zombies."

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 8

<-Previous
~*~
1989. Somewhere in Metro Park...

~*~
An old man fed the pigeons while sitting on the bench.

When the figure in the black suit and skull helmet appeared, he didn't even look up.

"Daylight? In plain sight?" the old man asked. "Really?"

"We've got about fourteen minutes before anyone comes by," the Skull replied.

"Mmn. I've got to ask," he said, lifting his eyes up to the hilt that jutted out above one of the Skull's shoulders. "...isn't the sword--you know--tacky?"

"It does the job."

"Just saying. Even the original wasn't scared to use guns."

"The original didn't have a problem with killing."

This made the old man's face split into a grin. "That's a problem for you, is it, son?"

The Skull sat down besides him. The bench groaned beneath the weight. "I'm not here to swap war stories, grandpa."

"No," he said. "I don't imagine you are. You've been a busy little bee, haven't you?"

"Mmn?"

"The US government's got a file on you a mile long," he said. "Appearing in the midst of battle and, in all the confusion, snatching some weapon--some earth-shattering device--away. Judging by the files, you've managed to get yourself quite a little arsenal. Not bad for 80 years worth of work."

"It's actually only been a few hours from my perspective," the Skull said.

"Ah," the old man said. "Regardless, you'd need at least a dozen highly trained men to operate all the gear you've stolen throughout history. You planning on fighting a war? With some friends, maybe?"

"Something like that."

"Heh. Either way, I guess it's none of my business. There a reason you decided to pester a harmless old man?"

"Harmless?" the Skull said. "Somehow I don't quite buy that."

The old man gave the figure a sly look. "Exactly who do you think I am?"

"I don't think. I know. You're the man who singlehandedly ended the invasion of 1984," the Skull said. "For under one minute, throughout the entire world, no one died."

"And now I'm an old man on a park bench feeding pigeons," he said. "When I slow time down--when I go faster--the rest of the world stays young while I get old. It took me quite a while to pull off that trick, son. Fifty three seconds for the world--sixty-seven years for me."

The Skull shifted position. "You beat all of them. Streak, the others--all of them your equals. But you managed to win."

"You'd think we wouldn't have been able to pull it off," Blink said. "We didn't kill. They did. But there's one thing that their master didn't count on. They were willing to kill--but they weren't willing to die. We were. And that's how we won."

"I need information."

Blink gave Skull an even stare. "On another super-weapon, I take it? You seem to have no problem locating them."

"My source didn't know where to look for this last one," the Skull said. "He told me you would."

"What do you need to know?"

"Where is the Muse of Music?"

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 7

<-Previous
~*~
A security guard paused mid-step at the sound of the elevator's ding.

Instinctively, he reached for his radio. "Perkins?" he asked over the crackle of static. "Anyone coming up from the bottom floor?"

Nothing but white noise.

"Davis? Henry? Boys?"

The elevator doors opened. A group of men and women stood on the other side.

"What the--"

"Stop," Philip Darden said, and the security guard obeyed.

"No witnesses," Scourge said.

Philip nodded, and turned back to the guard. "Shoot yourself."

The guard's hand trembled as he unsnapped the buckle over his firearm.

"Are the others in position?" Scourge asked, with Victoria Noble and Hex behind him.

"Yes," Victoria Noble replied. "Although I still do not understand why you have yet to partake in the Skull formu--"

She was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot behind them. Scourge shook his head. "That is none of your concern," he said. "Is Tech-Head ready?"

"Yep," Hex said. "He's moving the speakers to the roof. Rockstar's following."

Scourge grinned. "Smile, friends. We've got front row seats to the greatest show on earth."

~*~
Shortly after Sumerset finished briefing us on the potentials, I got a moment alone with Red.

We slipped out into the storage facility's hallway. When we got there, I wanted to take my helmet off, but I was worried about being seen. I wasn't sure by whom--Epoch was clearly on our side. But Paladin and Mulligan still didn't know who I was, and I felt like letting them know could be dangerous in the future.

"You don't have to do this," I told her. "I can take care of--"

"I am doing this," she said, and there was a crackle of lightning in her voice. But then it shifted to something softer: "Are you alright? Grandmother mentioned--you had to destroy--"

"Yeah," I said, and not for the first time I was glad that the helmet hid the weakness in my voice. "Yeah, it wasn't easy, but I did it. I'm okay."

She touched my shoulder. "We will win."

I gave her a sly look from beneath my helmet. "You see that in a vision?"

Red blushed. "I--no, not exactly," she said, and I could tell by the way she suddenly looked away that she had seen something else.

"What? What did you see?"

"I do not wish to concern you," she said.

"Tell me," I said.

She squirmed, restless and hesitant, but finally submitted. "I saw a man, floating above a shattered battlefield. From what you've described, I think it was Scourge."

I shook my head. "Scourge can't fly."

"This man could. And he possessed power," she said. "Terrible power."

"Maybe it's a fake-out," I said. "Like that whole kissing thing back when we were in the Stix."

Oh, how she blushed. "That was not exactly a fake-out."

"No, I guess not," I said. "Red?"

"Yes?"

"Can I tell you something?"

She nodded her head.

I looked around to make sure there was no one else in earshot. And then I started talking: "I'm terrified. I--I'm not sure if everyone here is going to make it back. And if anyone dies, I--"

She wrapped her arms around me. "I'm scared too, Sue," she whispered. "But no one will die. We won't let them."

I was still shaking beneath the suit, but it was hard to tell. I squeezed her back as hard as I dared; then we heard Sumerset's voice calling everyone back.

"Break's over," he announced. As we came back in, I saw that someone new had arrived--Anna. She was sitting besides Sumerset, wearing a long black coat with strange goggles strapped over her temple. She had a big leather backpack and a toolbox on the ground next to her.

"Who the hell is that?" Mulligan asked as he threw himself back into a chair.

"A friend," Sumerset replied. "I'm going to be in the thick of it, which means we'll need a handler. I've been showing her the ropes--"

"Call me... the Machinist," Anna said. And then she grinned.

I tried desperately to keep my groan inward.

"...right," Sumerset said. "Anyway, she'll keep us in communication, monitor the situation from afar. Are there any other questions?"

"How are we going to find these guys?" Bonesaw asked.

"Wytch is working on that," Sumerset replied. "But I've got a feeling that when they go for Sovereign... it's going to be pretty obvious where they are."

As if on cue, Wytch sat up from where she had been meditating. Her eyes flashed with lightning. "TV," she said. "Now."

Among the tools in the workshop was a small monitor screen; Sumerset tuned it to a newschannel. There was a crash of sound, followed by the frantic shouting of a reporter above screams of panic behind him.

It was then that we noticed a sound in the distance, somewhere above the storage facility. The sound of distant explosions.

"Reports are pouring in all over the city," the reporter said, his face flushed. The camera was shaky, violently slashing through the streets. We could see windows breaking--people rioting. And through it all, there was a tremendous, terrible sound--the sound of music.

"Rockstar," Sumerset said. "That son of a bitch."

"What?" I asked.

"He's throwing a concert," Wytch said. "At the top of Metro Tower."

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 6

<-Previous
~*~
1984. Somewhere in Metro City...

~*~
"Inessa. Report."

"The Blink's holding off Streak. Arsenal's got Man-Catcher and Kali. The Senator's up against Mr. Grim; Wytch is taking on a horde of demons somewhere above your location."

"Sovereign?"

"Last we saw him, he was fighting off pretty much every other mask they've got," Inessa said. "We lost communication when the battle moved over the Pacific. Where are you?"

Donald Daysdale--the third Skull--shook his head. He had traded his usual skull-styled face-paint and military fatigues for a suit of power armor; it had once been Captain Plasma's. The unconscious body of a similar figure was laid out before him, their own power armor cracked and disabled. The armor's faceplate had been removed, exposing the bruised features of its owner.

"I just finished beating the shit out of a guy with my face," the Skull said. "Called himself the Skeleton. Didn't have any powers, just tech."

"Yeah. They don't have strong counters for everyone," she said. "And they've got nothing for Sovereign."

"Doesn't make sense. There's an opposite of every cape from this world, except for him?"

"We think their Sovereign--he was called 'Tyrant'--we think he was killed a few years back. As for the 'Skeletons'--their version of the Skulls..."

"They never found the formula. Yeah," the Skull said. "About that."

"What?"

"You've got a lot of intel on these guys." The suit hummed around him; he charged forward, springing off the building top and toward the next one. Above and around him, the air burned with the release of charged energy--men and women were engaged in battle. The streets had broken into all out war. "You know their names, their powers..."

"This isn't the first time they've crossed over," Inessa said.

"Really."

"1895. Dr. Von Dread's Omnisphere. Somehow, he managed to connect to their universe--one of them came over. We captured him, interrogated him. Learned a lot. Since then, there have been other incursions, most of them minor. We've been expecting them to make a move, but not this soon, not this big..."

"No," the Skull said.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You didn't figure all this from a few leaky faucets," he said. "You've got detailed information on their powers--and on countermeasures to their powers. On which ones we have to worry about and which ones we don't. On who should be fighting who. You knew Arsenal would be able to take on his alternate version and Kali... and you knew we'd need extra power against their version of the Silver Bolt."

"Just what are you saying?"

"You've got someone on the inside," he said. "Someone in their universe who's feeding you information. Don't you?"

"You've always been far too clever for your own good," Inessa said. "Yeah. We do."

"Who?"

Inessa laughed. "You'd never believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"You ever wonder where the hell the Scourge came from?" she said. "And why Andrew Bristle just up and disappeared at the turn of the 19th century?"

Shock hit the Skull like a thunderbolt; he nearly missed his next jump. "You're not saying--shit. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah. It's him," she said. "The first Skull is alive. And he's fighting the good fight in the Mirrorverse."

~*~
"Parallel universes," I said.

"Yeah," Sumerset replied. "It's--"

"Complicated. Yeah, we figured," I said. "Try us anyway."

Sumerset sighed. "It's hard to even begin describing. There are shit-tons of alternate worlds, parallel dimensions where things went differently--where you never became the Skull, where capes don't exist, where the government never enforced registration. And then there's at least one world where all the capes and masks are reversed."

"'Reversed'?" Red asked.

"Heroes are villains," Wytch said. "Villains are heroes. Nearly each of us has a parallel 'reversed' version. For instance, in the Mirrorverse, I took the name of my patron Goddess, 'Kali'. And I have a bit more of a..." she paused, as if searching for the right phrase. "...fiery temperament."

"Mine's called 'Man-Catcher'. Focuses on traps and gadgets rather than power armor," Sumerset said. "The Skulls are called 'the Skeletons'; they never found the formula."

"So, like, there's a bizarro version of me in this world?" Bonesaw asked.

"Yeah, probably all polite and useful," Mulligan replied. "Hey, are we allowed to trade?"

Bonesaw flipped him the middle finger.

"We don't know all the details of how and why, but in 1984, they tried to take over," Sumerset said. "We have reason to believe that there was someone else behind the invasion--maybe another universe. I don't know. But..."

"...but how does Scourge fit into this?" I asked.

"In 1895, the first denizen of the Mirroverse crossed over," Wytch said. "He met his alternate version here, and they fought. In the battle that ensued, they traded places--one was left in our world, the other in theirs."

I lifted my head. "Wait--are you saying--"

"Yeah," Sumerset said. "Scourge is the evil version of Andrew Bristle--your great grandfather. He's their world's first Skeleton."

~*~
Next->

Tyrant - 5

<-Previous
~*~
The only sign of the bunker's destruction above ground was a distant rolling thunder followed by the smell of burning sulphur.

Scourge lit his cigarette as he emerged from Daysdale's kitchen and stepped out into the deck; several neighbors had gathered in the lawn, watching with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

Scourge smiled several inches too wide and gave them a wave.

The woman with the metal arms--Gearbox--soon followed. She was nursing several broken ribs by the look of her, and her face was covered in bruises. She gave Scourge a glare and leaned heavily on the railing. "Well, that was pointless. Where is Man-of-War?"

"Pointless?" Scourge said. "He's coming up the rear."

"Yes, pointless," Gearbox said. "Not only did she get away, she detonated all her stuff. We didn't get shit."

"You're forgetting the third member of this little strike force," Scourge said.

"Eh? What, the Boomerang?" she replied. "Yeah, whatever. Like he was any use. Didn't even see him during the whole raid. Why the hell did you bring him on, anyway? Not like he has any--"

The porch door was smashed open. A cloud of smoke emerged, soon followed by Boomerang Kid--covered in soot from head to toe, but clad in a shit-eating grin. He was holding something in his hands.

Scourge turned and threw an arm around Gearbox. "Of course he has a power, my dear. Haven't you heard?"

Boomerang Kid opened his hands. Clutched in his palms, covered in ash but still stoppered closed, was the last remaining Skull formula.

"Boomerangs always come back."

~*~
"The first thing you need to understand," Sumerset said, "is that you don't have to do this."

Everyone was here, crowded together in the cramped storage room. Mulligan. Paladin. Bonesaw. Red. And me, in costume.

There weren't enough seats, so some of us had to sit on the floor; Red stayed close to me, while Mulligan was apparently glued to Paladin's side. Paladin was in costume, too--he had what looked like stitches on his temple and several bruises to match.

Sumerset, Wytch, and Paladin's aunt were near the front of the room--the latter sat aside and watched in silence. Sumerset was up front, standing next to a projector.

"This is as serious as it gets," Sumerset said. "Percival Murdoch is in charge. He'll clamp the Society--guarantee their non-interference. Which means whatever Scourge has in mind for Sovereign is shit he's facing alone. If we help him, there won't be back-up."

"What about your friends?" I asked. "That lady from Brazil--or the detective--"

"Blink isn't available," Sumerset said. "And Widget's out of range. All my other powered friends are in the Society, and calling them means running the risk of catching Percival's attention."

"What about that fucking hard-core bitch from before?" Bonesaw asked. "The one who scooped a demon's heart out with her bare hand."

"Jin won't come," Wytch said. "She's got her own half of the globe to contend with."

"So it's only us," Red said.

"Yeah," Sumerset said. "Which is why when I say you don't have to do this, I mean it. From what Mulligan and Paladin told us, Epoch got hit by Scourge's crew. Anyone and everyone involved is going to be a target. And the fact is? The only person in this room he really wants to kill is the Skull. So if you want out, get out. No shame in walking away from a fight that ain't yours."

"I am in," Red said, and she touched my arm. I felt a flush of warmth travel through her fingers and down my spine. "So long as the Skull is in danger..."

"And if she's in, I'm in," Wytch said.

"He hit us," Mulligan said. "He hit us hard. And I want to hit him back. Harder."

Paladin shook his head. "He's going to kill Sovereign. And only God knows how many more. Besides, there's a chance--Brick and Woot--he might have taken them prisoner. I'm in."

Bonesaw snorted. "You're offering me a chance to kick some ass and get to rub it in Sovereign's face? Of course I'm in."

"Alright," Sumerset said. "I've gathered what intel I could, based on recent prison breakouts and a few old sources I've called. I think I've assembled a pretty likely roster of Scourge's team. So let's go over it--who they are, what they can do--and how we're going to break them."

"What about Scourge?" I asked.

Sumerset looked to me. "Eh? What about him?"

"Mulligan--didn't you mention that he had some new powerset or something?" I said.

"Yeah," Mulligan replied. "Took a few rounds to the chest, didn't phase him. Moves fast, really strong. And his arm--from the elbow down. Where he used to have the Crimson Claw... it's all red, now. Like blood. He can extend the tips into blades, cut through just about everything."

Wytch narrowed her eyes. "His arm--the color of blood, you said? And it gleamed, like it was wet?"

"Yeah," Mulligan said. "No joints or anything, either. Just smooth as glass."

"Hand of Goron," she said, and she threw a look to Sumerset. "1984 all over again."

Sumerset winced. "Goddammit, it's not that bad--"

"Okay, what the hell happened in 1984, and what the hell does it have to do with the Scourge?" I said.

Sumerset gave me a look--then glanced around the room. He sighed and fell into a chair; it was then that I noticed how exhausted he looked. As if he had been stretched in every direction at once over the past few days--his eyes were rimmed with dark lines and his face looked as if it was slowly collapsing into his skull.

"Alright," he said. "You're putting your lives on the line to fight this guy. You deserve to know." He took in a breath. "1984 was the year we were invaded."

Bonesaw rolled her eyes. "By what, aliens?"

"No," Sumerset said. "By a parallel universe."

~*~
"Hello, Woot."

The boy struggled to open his eyes. When he did, all he could see was a red figure above him--a red figure with a white-toothed smile that stretched out several inches too far.

Scourge brought the tip of one of his clawed fingers underneath Woot's chin, directing the boy's attention to his face. "Do you know who I am?"

"The Red Skull?"

Scourge raised an eyebrow.

"From Captain America comics," Woot said. "Y'know, the Nazi guy who--"

"Shut up."

Woot clamped his mouth closed. Scourge's clawtip nudged a little nearer. "I'm the man who has your family, Woot. I'm the man who you are now working for. Otherwise? I'm the man who's going to perform live vivisection on your little sister. While you watch."

Woot stared. Scourge smiled.

"Now, for your first job..."

Behind Scourge, a figure loomed--Tech-Head whirred steadily, peering down at the boy.

"...I want you to improve my friend, here."

~*~
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