Dark Skies

"Fucking hell," groaned Matthius as he stepped onto the runway, stretching. "Never flying in a plane ever again. I’ll never understand how people do this shit willingly. It's like a coffin but louder."

"And with wine," reminded Elise, padding down after him. "Expensive wine."

"I hate wine," he pointed out. "Either way, it's good to be home."

He swept the airport with a glance, then frowned. "Where's Dad?"

She frowned. "I... huh. I'm not sure. Maybe he doesn't know we're back?"

"Be real, Mom. Bernard deported us, so we're only here cause he backpedalled. And since we still have no idea where Plague is, I'm going to guess it's not from the goodness of his heart. Dad probably got to him, which means he'd know."

"Maybe he's busy?"

"With what?" Matthius snapped at one of their stewards and pointed to the luggage compartment, then to their waiting SUV, before heading to the car himself. "He already got Titan."

"There's the other thing."

Matthius paused to face his mother. "What, Church? So?"

"Andre wasn't a pushover, Matty. His killer must have been Queen at minimum."

"Clearly not. Look, either way, we're back. I've got some friends to check up on, then I'll meet you back home. As we both know, Bernard's got a stick of West Wizard proportion lodged firmly up his ass, so our assignment can't be far behind. I'll pick you up when it arrives."

"West Wizard has a staff, Matty. You know he gets annoyed when you call it a stick."

"And I love Canelazo, but I'm sure he doesn't give a shit. You need a ride, or you wanna brave the box?"

Elise glanced over at the SUV. "I think I've been in the air enough today. I'll–"

Matthius' phone, muffled through the pocket of his letterman jacket, interrupted her. He pulled it free and immediately scowled at the caller ID.

"Speak of the devil." He blocked the call and looked back at his mother. "That's early, even for him."

Elise's expression darkened. "He's likely calling to gloat. It's what happens when narcissists get in positions–"

RING .

"The fuck?" Matthius was about to dismiss the call again, then realized he could be committing some kind of breach and relented. Elder brother or not, he was his boss now.

He sucked in a breath and raised the speaker to his ear. "I know you're–"

"Get to LA, now. Dad needs you."

Matthius frowned. Not only because of the order but because Bernard actually called their father 'Dad'. He couldn't remember the last time that'd happened. "What are you talking about?"

"You're at Logan, correct?" asked Bernard, right as a Bentley popped into sight and tore down the runway.

Matthius's vision wasn't as good as his father's, but he could make out the petite and non-threatening outline of the young woman parked behind the wheel.

"Your point?" he grumbled.

"My associate is in the Mulliner. She has both of your armours. Get there as fast as you can."

Matthius was starting to get worried. "Why?"

"Floodgates and Plague just made landfall in LA, accompanied by a King-Class unknown. They're levelling the city."

Matthius’ jaw dropped so dramatically; Elise frowned in concern.

"What's wrong?" she inquired.

Matthius only waved her off. "Who's there?"

"So far, only locals. We have six presumed casualties. Firefly, Masochist, and Lifeline are all confirmed KIA. We're still awaiting word on The Nordic, Slick and Bejewelled."

"Fuck me," breathed Matthius, steadying himself against their private jet's hull. He didn't even realize until the metal started warping. No wonder Bernard called. Two of those heroes ranked Bishop. Killing them at the same time would require power even Titan didn't command. "Holy shit."

"Matthius, listen to me. Dad is already en route. So are Valkyrie, Blacklight, my assistant and a few others. You and Mom are our only other Kings. This is bigger than either of us. We need you there, now."

"Yeah, yeah," Matthius swallowed shakily. "Fuck, is this why you brought us back?"

Bernard paused. "In part. I never thought it'd get this bad. One more thing. Floodgates and Plague are enhanced. They're currently in cahoots with a terrorist organization known only as the Family. I can't give you anything concrete, but my money's on King."

"We'll be there." Matthius shoved off the plane hard enough to shake it. He turned to face the woman scurrying out of the sports car, armed with dual briefcases.

"Keep me updated. Don't die."

With those encouraging words, Bernard hung up. Matthius tossed the phone to a nearby steward, who fumbled to catch it before beginning to strip.

"Which one's mine?" he asked the woman.

She glanced down before sliding him the case in her left hand. "There's an earpiece in the side. Pommel will access it to paint your picture."

"What are you doing?" snapped Elise.

Matthius faced her. "LA just got hit. On the bright side, we know why Dad isn't here. As for dark, well, he's fighting a King."

"He already fought Titan," argued Elise, glowering.

"Which is why Bernard called this one an 'unknown'." His jeans were taking too much time to wriggle from, so Matthius just ripped them apart, taking several airport attendants by surprise.

"Bernard assigned you?" spat Elise.

Matthius unclasped the case. "No shit! Dad is probably neck-deep by now! We need to... oh. Do, uh, you want to go in the plane to change?"

"I'm not changing," she snapped. "And I'm definitely not travelling across the country for some wild goose chase commissioned by someone I know isn't qualified to make those decisions!"

"What? Mom, he's the Director ! You can't not listen to what he says! That’s, like an A-Red breach!"

"I'll call Jason. If he's actually–"

"What, in the middle of a fight? When was the last time you took a call while battling multiple King-Class Rogues?"

"I thought you said it was one?"

"Floodgates and Plague joined in on the fun, apparently after sampling some steroid cocktails."

Elise laughed. "Oh, so we had to travel to the North Pole to fight Plague, but now he's suddenly in our backyard? At this point, he's mocking your gullibility, Matty."

"He didn't lie. Plague was in Norway. And I'm pretty sure the North Pole is a little farther. Look, whether you like it or not, we've gotta go, Mom, so suit up. I've been itching to hit something anyway."

"Do whatever you want," she sneered. "I'm tired of being dragged around by that idiot."

In the time it took Matthius to throw on the rest of his costume, Elise called Jason thrice. It went to voicemail each time. "Figures. Bernard probably blocked the call. You're seriously going to let that idiot manipulate you again , Matty?"

Bernard's assistant, still holding Elise's suitcase, adopted an expression of disgust. "Ma'am, I assure you this catastrophe is legitimate. In fact, I doubt there isn't a news channel or social media platform not inundated by–"

"Shut your fucking mouth," Elise growled. Her red hair reared up dangerously, smoking with plasma. "You speak when spoken to."

The woman shrivelled, stumbling back from the verbal and physical heat of the rebuke.

Matthius' brows furrowed as his concentration slipped. White light began to build behind his eyes and through the skin around the sockets. "Mom, what the hell? She's doing her job. What is your deal?"

Elise stalked over to Matthius and grabbed his jaw. It wasn't done with any real malice, as she only turned his head to stare deep into her blood-red eyes, but the Crimson Nova was no pushover. Matthius grimaced uncomfortably at the nails digging into his chin.

"I worked to get where I was, Matthius. Every day, every night. I suffered in ways you can't imagine and I did it so you could have something in the future. The plane, the friends, the fame and the girls. All of it came because of what I did. I will never be led around by another man again, let alone one as pathetic as him. You wanna be a puppy? Shit when he says, run when you’re allowed, lick where he tells you? Be my guest. I'm good."

Matthius slapped her arm away and floated off his feet. "People are dying, Mom. I don't like the guy either. He's stuck up. And a dick. But people are dying. I mean, even if you didn't care about that, Dad's there, and needs us." Matthius crossed his arms. "Last chance. I won't burn more clock, hanging Dad out to dry arguing with you. Make the right choice."

Elise regarded her son coldly, then strutted over to the SUV. "I'll see you at home. And when you see LA in perfect condition, don't say I didn't warn you."

Matthius didn't take off immediately. He was too shocked. Instead, he stared in confusion until the van left the airport and vanished into Boston traffic.

"She... left?"

He could barely process it.

"Novax?" said the woman. He turned. The case was no longer in her hand, though she still looked a little pale.

"Sorry about her. She's not usually like that. I don't know why–"

"It doesn't matter now," she warned him. "You need to go. As fast as you can." She hesitated. "And... thank you."

Matthius shrugged, then shot her a mischievous grin. "Maybe you should make it up to me, hmm? You ever been with an Alpha? The name's not for show, if you're wondering."

She flashed him a revolted look before spinning on her heel and stomping toward the car. "You know what? Never mind!"

Matthius snorted and raced into the sky. High speeds at that altitude were no big deal, and he felt little to no drag with this new, sleek battle suit. He grinned. Being in the air, outside a metal machine, was liberating in ways few could understand. But now was neither the time nor place to indulge.

His father needed him.

Novax balled up tight, gathering heaps of dormant thrust. His release popped the sound barrier like a balloon, then hearing disappeared altogether as Massachusetts turned to porridge beneath him.

God, it feels good to fly.

Nova could not believe his eyes.

LA was not LA. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Personally, he'd never been a fan of the suffocating culture, rabid celebrity worship and depravity, many times often superimposed with superhuman shenanigans. The number of times he'd been called over to this stupid town to wrestle down a coked-up Alpha was more than zero, which, in his opinion, was too many.

But this wasn't what he wanted.

The Museum of Art no longer existed. He couldn't even tell where the 'beach' in Long Beach was supposed to be. They appeared to have hit the Sports Arena and Convention Centre first. He remembered flying overhead and having the glassy blue surface constantly reflecting sunlight into his eyes.

That was never going to happen again.

The worst part, by far, though, was the civilian population. He remembered a census listing it at near five hundred thousand.

He saw no one—just debris, carnage, and water.

So much water.

"PRIME!"

He whirled to see Beck, his son's assistant glaring at him with matching horror. For the first time, none of it seemed directed at him.

"We need to move!" she was shouting.

Nova narrowed his eyes. He'd almost dropped her at the sight of the damage. It was one thing to witness terrorism of such scale through a screen.

Nothing could filter this. The scent of raw, overpowering cortisol practically shoved itself down his throat, tinged with a few other select chemicals. He recognized the excitotoxic neurotransmitters triggered by cerebral hypoxia.

People were drowning. In terror.

Drowning. He could hear the hearts slowing. A child was somewhere in the mix. Pounding on a car door. Where? Where–

FOCUS.

"What are we working with?" he barked into his comm, then turned to Beck while pointing at a half-submerged minivan. "Civilians!"

She didn't hesitate, bounding over and ripping off the door with a bit of strain. Nova documented that—Bishop-Class strength. Not the best, but certainly could be worse.

"Valkyrie is a few blocks down," explained the Pommel liaison. "Slick is scrambling to help push evacuation north, while the rest–"

"What the..." interrupted Nova, staring at the flood. It was receding back toward the ocean. "Hold. The water is dropping. Do we have eyes on Floodgates?"

"Negative," replied the Pommel. "Hold on. Chief wants your ear."

A second later, Bernard was speaking. "Something's come up. I won't be in contact for much longer."

Nova was trying to split his attention between the retreating flood and Bernard's words, which was difficult as both were confusing him.

"Huh? What–"

"Listen to me. We don't have manpower to spare. I'll take some Droids and go myself. I've activated Protocol B-94."

That brought Nova up short. "We have execute authority?"

"Any Rogue now involved in this attack is considered a terrorist and enemy of state. Kill if and when necessary. If this is the last time we speak, tell Mom she's fired."

The line flipped back to the Pommel. Nova did not like the way that call ended. Bernard said he had to do something. He also sounded distracted, like he was rushing to get everything out before he left. And his parting statement hadn't been in fear for Nova's life.

No, Bernard didn’t fret for his wellbeing.

Bernard, like a fucking idiot, was jumping into trouble.

Blacklight interrupted Nova's mental deliberations of the consequences. He, as usual, appeared out of nowhere.

"Prime, start moving! We need you in the..." Blacklight trailed off as water rolled back across the sands of Alamitos Beach. Far back enough for the two to catch sight of their guilty trio.

Nova saw red. It took all his self-control not to charge across the boulevard and blast the Ergo-mimic halfway across the Pacific.

But he wasn't an idiot. Someone capable of knocking a helicopter sitting a mile above them with the pure aerokinetic blowback of a clap ranked comfortably in King, no matter what his other powers might be.

And even Nova wasn't stupid enough to charge a King.

A flash of golden-white wings heralded the arrival of Valkyrie. At six-two and almost two hundred and twenty pounds, she was all muscle and business. He knew very few people and even fewer women who could pack a harder punch, which made her addition all the more welcome.

"There they are," she snarled, unsheathing her claws with a practiced flex.

Nova spared a glance in her direction. "Where's Nordic?"

She made an expression of distaste. She usually did when someone mentioned her on-and-off lover. "Coming."

Blacklight joined him and Valkyrie in approaching the Rogues. Nova relaxed his hands, rolling the knuckles back and forth in anticipation of a duel.

Aside from their new tattoos, Floodgates and Plague didn't look all that different. Clearly far more confident and powerful, but visually unchanged.

This newcomer, though, was another story. Nova cased him from top to bottom. The Rogue’s open chest promoted hairy pecs, an interesting foil to Cruisium-plated knees. Oddly, though, his feet were as uncovered as his chest.

Brawler, surmised Nova, improving his angle by rising a handful of feet. High general durability, though favours upper-body combat. Low reactionary agility circumvented through acceleration and explosiveness.

"Surrender." Nova barked the order loud and clear, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to gain height. "You will be brought in. Your only choice is whether that happens hot or cold." He narrowed his eyes. "But we're all Alphas. Inclement weather’s never bothered us."

The Ergo-mimic grinned. "Prime Nova. It's an honour. Though I am... disheartened we meet under these circumstances."

His voice was a gong from hell. Unreasonably deep. Nothing like his snobbish counterpart Nova remembered hearing on recordings sent from the Chaos Committee.

"Really? Then next time, don't sink the city. What's–"

"Oh, no. That's not what I meant. I mean you having been sent by the ant."

Nova cocked his head. "The ant?"

"Bernard Skies."

WHAM!

Nobody in a very, very long time had managed to catch Prime Nova completely off guard while sitting directly in his line of sight.

And certainly not while ripping Valkyrie's wing off.

What the fuck?

The Mimic trucked into him with the force of a ballistic missile. Considering the number of times Nova had put Crackle down, someone who could move just as fast as her electricity, that was no small feat.

"But he's not the only one, is he?" chuckled the Mimic, increasing the pressure of his grip on Nova's head.

Nova's flight abilities gave him something of a natural altimeter, so he could tell the moment before they hit the ground. With a deft twist, he broke the hold, clamped his hand around an impressively wide neck and drove his adversary hard into a stone deck.

The marble rippled like an undulating carpet, then the shockwave left the ground and flattened every house within five hundred feet.

The Mimic just grinned and wrenched Nova's hand off his throat. "Not bad!"

Nova endured a debilitating headbutt, which triggered another ring of force. A Prius untouched by the initial shockwave crashed down on a roof a mile away. Nova took a second to conquer his dizziness but recovered in time to weave a hook, then connect a straight to the Mimic's abdomen.

The Rogue shot through the decimated house, over the driveway and into a sewer grate. The metal shrieked as it mangled, and the concrete spiderwebbed violently with cracks.

Nova, however, found himself preoccupied by an angry red streak marred with fleshy globs and shredded denim running across what was once a foyer floor.

His blood froze over as he stepped into the levelled house.

Oh fuck. Fuck. No!

"Ouuu," chortled the Mimic, popping up from his crater. "Don't you have your... eh, what are they called? Employees? Who checks the evacuation processes?"

This block was still populated. And they'd just wiped out a dozen houses.

No, he'd just wiped out a dozen houses.

"These people aren't involved!" roared Nova. "We don't–"

WHOOSH!

Nova barely managed to wrench himself right of the Mimic's charge. Time slowed as he dropped into focus and bobbed through the onslaught of punches.

That acceleration is abnormal, he realized, stomping the mimic’s knee plate. Even for a King.

Nova's blow sank the limb straight through the ground, right up to the joint. The Mimic, unfettered, simply shovelled his leg through solid concrete and wood to crack Nova's underarm with a side kick.

Being hurtled through the sound barrier would never be a pleasant experience. Nova only managed to partially decelerate before he crashed through something and slammed to a stop against glass.

Nova hit the... carpet standing? He glanced up. There was a family, midway through packing. A young couple and elderly woman. No, just one bag. They were helping her–

BANG!

"FOCUS!" roared the Mimic. "These people cannot kill you! I not only can, but w–"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Nova couldn't risk a direct blow capable of affecting this Rogue without a shockwave annihilating the civilians, but he couldn't stay pinned in the wall forever. He dislodged himself with a twist, then kept spinning to rope the Mimic in a headlock and hold them both aloft a few feet off the ground.

The family continued to gape in disbelieving astonishment, like the sight of battling supers in their home required several minutes to absorb.

"GET CLEAR!" he shrieked, tightening his grip. He could hold for now. The Mimic had no leverage.

The sky. I gotta get him high, then angle toward the wat—

BOOM!

Missing the glowing light beginning to roll down the Mimic's right leg turned out to be a mistake. Energy reminiscent of the enhanced clap responsible for blowing the news chopper to confetti swelled at the sole, then punched out with a violent burst.

The carpet incinerated, walls cracked, and the blanks flew. The man hit the fridge, the woman knocked into a mirror, and the grandma bounced off a wall.

The impact on Nova wasn't bad, but the shock allowed the Mimic to headbutt himself free and knock Nova to his back.

No shockwave, though. The Rogue hadn't thrown him anywhere near full force.

Why?

As the Mimic couldn't fly, he dropped nicely for Nova. He also raised no defence against the Hero's thrust kick. The Mimic pinwheeled through the back wall and flailed into an electrical pole.

Not hard enough to paste the blanks; just to give them a moment.

"Is she breathing?" barked Nova, motioning to the grandma while not making the mistake of letting his eyes off the Mimic. Not after finally breaking down his power. The light was a multiplier. It increased the force of his punches through his hands and upped the speed of his takeoffs, even without tactile leverage, through his feet.

Neither of the couple responded, though the man was able to roll to his side and crawl. His hand clumsily pressed against the elderly woman’s throat, then her chest. He started to panic.

"She's not! She's– oh, fuck. Gran! GRAN! Prime, please, you gotta–"

Nova saw him coming, and now knew why he'd been thrown lightly. The Rogue wanted him to see. To hear the helplessness, and to witness the blanks' despair.

His adversary’s lunge carried him an unreal two hundred feet, reaching Nova in under a second. He sidestepped, keeping an eye on the Rogue's legs, lest he try again.

"Look at them," the Mimic scoffed in disgust. At seven feet tall, his head brushed the popcorn ceiling. "The roaches. Mewling as they're sicced like wheat. How can you not feel sick?"

Energy rolled up his finger, and he snapped. The bang wasn't pleasant for Nova, but not nearly as bad as the two who doubled over screaming.

"This is what you protect?" snorted the Rogue. "These... fucking nothings?"

Nova saw the clap coming and instinctively braced. He realized his mistake and went for the tackle too late.

The blowback uprooted the entire street and tore the blanks' bodies apart. As Nova had been leaning into super speed, he saw everything in graphic detail. Their skin and muscles sheared off the bone and their skulls flattened against the force while crushing the brains within. The man had almost recovered from the snap and was on his way to his downed wife when the Mimic atomized him.

He'd never touch her again.

"NO!" screamed Nova, utilizing some impressive supersonic acceleration of his own to ram his knee into the Mimic's nose. He bounced up for Nova to crack right back down, through the living room's hardwood and about ten feet into the basement floor.

Nova dove after him, but the Mimic moved fast, twisting to trap his head in a spade-like hand, then whip him into a punching bag. Naturally, the thing popped as Nova's back punched through insulation and hit piping.

"We haven't been formally introduced," remarked the Rogue, plucking a hundred-and-twenty-pound kettlebell off a workout mat to flick across the room. Nova caught and crushed it in the same motion. "I'm Tacti."

Nova feinted a flying punch that 'Tacti' bought. He mimicked the arc of a natural lunge before using his flight to redirect his boot into Tacti's lower abs. This time, it was the Rogue who punched into insulation.

"Isn't it exhausting?" Tacti smirked, not even bothering to dislodge himself before triggering his glow step to catch Nova in a rugby tackle.

Though technically underground, Tacti ripped them through walls, dirt and street to erupt halfway down the block. The explosion must’ve tossed debris a mile high. A transport truck unfortunate enough to be there when they surfaced split in half. The cab looked like it’d touch down on the other side of the city.

He prayed no one would be there when it did.

Nova now gave up on negotiation. He did not care to try and transmit reason to this creature.

Now it was about putting down a rabid animal.

Though Tacti appeared to have aerial maneuverability through his glow step, it couldn't compete with outright flight, and Nova immediately took advantage.

Get higher.

He simultaneously drove his left knee and elbow into either side of Tacti's throat, then cocked his arm back to drive a devastating uppercut to his chest.

He heard glass shatter, even with them over a hundred feet high. Tacti pinwheeled into the clouds at triple the speed of a fighter jet. Nova raced after him, only to hear the pop of a glow step trigger.

A second later, force rammed him from above. He struggled to remain aloft. They battled through the sky for what felt like hours, though in their accelerated state, only really lasted minutes. Then, to Nova's shock, he almost collided with a skyscraper. That shouldn't have been possible unless...

DAMMIT!

The fucker herded him downtown. But more importantly, toward the largest grouping of civilians.

"SHIT!" yelled Nova, straining every atom in his body to reverse his momentum. He killed his fall fifty feet from the ground. Surrounding him lay towering, opulent structures. All untouched by the evils of Rogue insanity.

At least until Tacti materialized on his right and nailed him with a glow punch. A theatre roof dissolved around him as he crashed through a balcony and cannoned into lush, carpeted floors.

The whole time, he heard screams. Hundreds. They'd been using this place as shelter from the flood.

Wait, he realized, is this their–

"Now you see," intoned Tacti from his hole in the ceiling. "They cannot even survive water. The most natural aspect of our planet. The source of life. How does one even fathom such weakness?"

Glow step. Nova read him like a book and was already dodging when Tacti's energy shredded the roof.

His opponent apparently read him too, though, and only took off with his left. His right redirected him mid-flight into Nova and sent the two tumbling through a bar. Nova fought off hysteria as he felt bodies pulp against them. The white of his costume was designed to resist stains and wear, but he was swimming in blood.

Tens of dozens of bones broke against his invincible body. Tacti even laughed as he twisted psychotically, plowing forward with step after step to keep the killing constant.

Nova fought wildly to take them up and out of the crowd. Tacti could tell and simply thumped him in the ribs. Nova shrieked. Not from pain. It barely hurt.

But it wasn't for him.

The shockwave rolled out in a ring and flattened everything. He couldn't even tell the people from the scarlet paint and carmine carpeting.

There was just so much fucking red.

Tacti triggered a two-foot glow step to ram the upper wall, taking their grapple back outdoors. The second there was sufficient distance between themselves and the blanks, Nova went feral. He hit everything he could see, not even caring to justify them with tactical analysis.

He needed to kill this thing, and he needed to do it now.

Another flurry of fighting ensued. They hit a motel and turned it to scrap. Nova kicked Tacti through a gas station, which blew a tower-sized fireball in the sky. They reversed months of work in a construction yard when Tacti whipped him through forty floors of scaffolding.

Nova punched and fought and kicked and nothing worked.

The Alpha just refused to die.

"Bedther!" gargled Tacti as he wrestled the hand clamped to his neck. "Mud bedthur!" He pried himself free. "But you do not fight me properly, because you still fight me for them."

Tacti twisted, wedging his feet against Nova's chest and shoved.

Nova split a skyscraper in half as he punched through two dozen support columns. He tumbled out the back and had to fight to hit the street feet first. His boots tore from friction as he skidded to a halt, bowling apart cars unfortunate enough to be caught in his wake.

Nova spun to absorb his surroundings. He was in the financial district. He didn't even know how.

What the fuck is he? hissed Nova, swiping a line of blood from his forehead. He wasn't sure who it belonged to.

His hearing caught the glow step, but he was too slow to turn. Tacti rocketed at him with the power of an airliner and probably would've obliterated the entire block, had Blacklight not manifested from a perpendicular shadow to redirect Tacti’s downward trajectory.

Nova ignored the shockwave and watched his peer tangle Tacti in a cocoon of tentacled shadows, then drag him across the glass of a tower. They made it halfway across before Tacti broke the bonds with a roar.

Blacklight flailed in astonishment, allowing Tacti to blast him with a glow punch. The force ripped the Hero out of the sky. Instead of crashing, though, Blacklight vanished into a streetlight shadow.

Tacti, inversely, was now the one who hesitated in perplexion. Blacklight relieved him of his confusion by emerging from the Rogue's own shadow to drive a heel into the back of his neck.

The kick, slathered in shadow, shattered proximate windows and sent Tacti spinning for the street. Nova stepped in and skipped across the half mile to crack his fist into the Rogue's cheek, sending him bowling through highway supports like gigantic pins.

Nova staggered to his knees, gasping for breath. He was starting to tire, yes, but exhaustion he could manage. What he couldn’t was the level of carnage this monster had just inflicted.

Forced him to inflict.

No , realized Nova grimly, I killed them. Fucking hell I killed so–

"Prime!"

Blacklight was very lucky he was quick. He dodged Nova's reactionary swipe with a casual bob.

"Wake up, man! We need your head in the fucking game! He's– shit!"

Blacklight was one of... maybe ten people on the planet who could singlehandedly (literally with one hand) push Nova anywhere. That was a very lucky thing, too, as Tacti bulled through the space they previously occupied with all the elegance and subtlety of an aircraft carrier.

Blacklight twisted and lashed a gargantuan whip into Tacti's back, blowing him through an elevated parking garage.

"JASON!" screamed Blacklight. "Listen to me! Support capes are already incoming! We've got help getting people clear, but we have to take this guy out! Can you do that?"

You have to focus. Have to focus. Save whatever you can. Save anything. Save something.

"What about Plague and–"

"Long dead, Prime. I skewered him, and Floodgates is snoozing. Focus on the present. This asshole is shredding the city."

Nova inhaled. One breath. He cocked his head sideways, listening for life. Nothing on this block. No cries, no heartbeats. Then he balled his hands into instruments of murder.

"I want this fucker's head on a pike," he snarled.

Even through the mask, Nova knew Blacklight was grinning.

"Attaboy."

Tacti exploded from the rubble. He skidded to a halt at the sight of the two Heroes, shot Blacklight an upturned eyebrow, then flashed a wide grin at Nova's features.

"Finally."

The demon, in his deluded arrogance, was excited.

They met in a maelstrom of power. Blacklight could drop through the shadows of the street, and Nova could fly. Naturally, then, he went high, and Blacklight low. Both were feints to extract commitment from Tacti. They got it when he glow stepped left, only to be tripped up by a jagged wire of shadow.

He stumbled. Lost his balance and couldn’t counter.

Nova didn’t.

Nova hit hard.

They collided at the centre of an intersection. A bank, two hotels and a law firm, all hundreds of feet high, occupied each corner of the street.

Nova’s punch annihilated them all.

The force rattled up his spine, through his head and into his teeth. The street imploded, and the highway shattered. Cars were smushed flat and then sent screaming into the distance. His sleeve didn't just tear, it vaporized. Blacklight had to spectre just to stay in California.

Nova had to spin himself to a stop, then grimaced down at his hand. Two of his fingers were broken, and the knuckle was bleeding profusely. He ignored them and found Tacti deep in the pavement, a mile and a half away. The Rogue was rolling to his feet when Nova's boot smashed into his throat, taking them both down into the sewage platforms.

Tacti somehow recovered and glow punched himself into Nova, shoulder-checking the Hero through thick piping and into a concrete wall.

"That," coughed Tacti, "was a mistake. Nowhere to fly."

Nova grimaced as he pulled himself from the wall and flexed his healed right hand.

"No," he spat, "but so many ways to disappear."

Tacti's eyes went wide as the shadows exploded. Jagged, pointy spines attacked like rain from hell. Blacklight stepped out of a wall with a black club and hammered a crushing overhead into Tacti's shoulder, shaking the entire cavern.

The Rogue's attempted counter was restrained by another bush of brambly black vines, then Blacklight flicked him across the room. Nova's haymaker drove air from Tacti's nose, mouth and ears. The Rogue's body folded around his fist before ricocheting into a large junction box.

The cavern shrieked as rubble fell. The grid was long since fried from flooding, but this time, the pipes suffered as concrete tumbled. Tacti used the chaos to clap, which cleared about sixty feet of space. Given Blacklight's agility, he wisely elected to charge Nova instead.

Unfortunately, the former wasn't having any of it and stomped up a massive stalagmite from his teammate's shadow. It only penetrated an inch of Tacti's torso, but the force threw him high. Blacklight leapt to meet him.

"No!" Nova tried shouting, but they collided before his voice reached.

Tacti corrected in midair and caught Blacklight by the throat. They breached the cavern ceiling in a spinning jumble, Nova close on their heels. Tacti tightened his grip. Blacklight punched feverishly but couldn’t knock himself free.

The street suffered another massive trough as the two slid to a stop. Tacti got himself over Blacklight and rained punches.

Red had begun to splotch through Blacklight's mask, and his arms had started to droop when Nova rammed Tacti. He could only guess the gravity of the damage, so Nova dragged the Rogue away and prayed Blacklight could recover.

They punched, twisted and grappled through over twenty buildings. It was highly unlikely that Blacklight was dead, but Nova needed to give him time to regain his bearings.

Contain. Contain. Contain. His mantra felt meaningless. He'd given up counting how many people they'd killed.

Dodge and hit. Counter and kick. Fly and throw. The pattern fell back on him again, and Nova’s existence became battle. Hours in their accelerated perception. Instants to bystanders, half of whom died horrifically as collateral. But Nova could tell Tacti was starting to slow. Starting to hit with less accuracy. Lunge with less power. Roar with less vigour.

But even that entailed apocalyptic carnage.

Civilian faces briefly flashed into sight below him as they bombed through a belfry. They disappeared as Tacti locked him in a bear hug. Nova roared and wrestled himself free as they battled across the church, knocking Tacti into a spire before taking it out completely with an arcing knee. Tacti floundered through the air and was practically begging Nova to hit him.

And he almost did.

Almost.

Nova was cocking back for another thundering blow when a familiar shock of blonde hair flashed up from below. His eyesight was so sharp that even from almost a hundred feet high, he could detail the soft outline of her cheeks and harder outline of her shoulders and upper body. She was at the front of a crowd of civilians, several of which were climbing out of a flipped bus.

Even covered in blood, haggard and clearly exhausted, Angela met his eyes with clarity and focus.

Also, slight terror.

"Fuck!" he barked.

Nova cancelled his spinning kick and dove, accelerating past terminal velocity to overtake tumbling debris. He ground his teeth hard enough to feel it in his nails. Individually destroying or deflecting the falling chunks of collapsing church wasn't an option, so he'd have to take it out all at once.

And to do that, Nova needed to be careful not to kill anyone else in the process.

What is she doing here? And who are the civilians?

"Nice try!" jeered Tacti before bowling into him from above, threading a tackle hold through Nova's underarms to redirect them toward the bus.

Nova managed to crunch his elbow between the Rogue's shoulder plates instants before impact, separating them in time for him to make a last-second, midair swerve into a hotdog stand as opposed to the crowd of blanks. He turned, blew the rocks out of the sky with a clap, then turned on his enemy.

"Get clear!" warned Nova, focused on wedging his knees over Tacti's elbows to free his hands to throttle him. A classic, in his opinion. Unfortunately, it didn't account for this Alpha's powerset. The glow step powered Tacti's right knee to snap up into Nova's back, flipping him into the air.

The kick pushed Tacti into a backwards roll, which he turned into a handspring. He did it so fast, too, that Nova's flight hadn't even kicked in before Tacti's hand locked around his throat and hammered him through a hydrant.

Water exploded around them. Tacti completely bypassed any restraining attempts, likely aware of how Nova's flight made holds obsolete, and instead just began drumming his head into the pavement.

Nova's cradled arms and healing kept him awake through the onslaught, but it wasn't pretty. By now, his suit was slick with fluid, but whether that was from the hydrant, crowds of people they plowed through, or his own body was a mystery.

Tacti, frustrated, bombed a glow punch that knocked Nova's guard apart. The shockwave plugged the spray and shredded the stand. Nova saw his visions split and dim right as Tacti cocked back to put him to sleep.

Then the Rogue's head snapped sideways from a bright red laser. Tacti missed his punch, then a cord roped around his shoulders and sent him flying.

Nova sucked in a breath and blinked blood from his eyes to see Dreads command a nest of serpentine dreadlocks to bundle Tacti up and force him to ground. It almost worked, but Dreads was only Queen-Class.

And in this situation, that was a death sentence.

A simple flex on Tacti's part tore the hair apart before corking his ankle in a telling twist. Nova couldn't match the acceleration, but Tacti had to angle his steps. Nova's flight just took him where he wanted to go. He reached Dreads first and managed to shove him across the adjacent graveyard, instants before a glow punch crashed into his braced bicep.

Had his entire body not been rigid in anticipation, Nova probably would've woken up in Utah. As it was, his body redirected the force outward, compromising the street and turning about a hundred gravestones to gravel. Nova himself took out a church wall and flailed through a dozen pews before halting unpleasantly against the podium.

Through the open wall, he saw Valkyrie, even in her mutilated state, ram Tacti alongside the Nordic. Even with all her strength, Tacti just wobbled from her flying knee. She was eventually batted away, though that left him open to the Nordic, who managed to get his frost axe and inch into Tacti's shoulder before being snatched off his feet.

Interestingly enough, while the axe didn't do much damage, the ice that spread from its blade to cover Tacti's shoulder drew a furious yell, causing the Rogue to drop him. The limb lost all power and hung limply at Tacti's side.

"WAR!" shrieked the Hero as he produced a knife from his belt and jammed it into Tacti's eye.

Or at least, tried to. It wasn't made of Cruisium, like the axe, so it shattered.

Tacti snorted. "That's it?"

He plucked the weapon still protruding from his arm like a toothpick and rammed it into the Nordic's. His swing, though, packed far more power and severed the limb completely. The frost in Tacti's shoulder, free of the axe, immediately began to recede. The Nordic's divorced arm, though, froze over.

"NO!" screamed Valkyrie as the Nordic crumpled at Tacti's feet. She was too dazed to attack, but Angela fought in her stead, emerging from the pavement with technique that would have Blacklight blushing.

She went from intangible to diamond-hard instantly and crunched her knee into Tacti's throat with enough force to toss the Nordic, still on the ground, rolling across the street.

Tacti stumbled with a confused frown. It didn't last long. He tried a swipe that passed harmlessly through her body. Angela twisted to axe kick the dome of his bald head, but Tacti couldn't be fooled twice. His hand snapped up and caught her ankle, then he crushed the bone in his grip. After a brief, curious observation of her dangling body, Tacti turned and hurled Angela into the sky.

He snorted when it happened. Like he'd finally caught a pesky insect.

Nova decided to interrupt.

Tacti never saw him coming. A rib cracked as Nova smashed his fist deep into the Rogue's solar plexus, smiting the church, wiping out the graveyard and peeling apart what was left of the street. As his enemy went flying north, Nova spun and rocketed south. He locked on to the whistle of Angela's body arrowing through the sky and only located her visually when she was fifty feet from the ground.

Nova had to barrel through a penthouse to catch her before she landed, and even then, couldn't decelerate in time to avoid a crash. He tanked it himself, but any impact at all when trying to intercept a plummeting body was a bad thing.

He flipped her over in his arms and placed a finger to her throat. Heartbeat.

Thank god .

"Beck! Can you hear me?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and a line of blood trickled weakly from the side of her mouth.

"What did you–" she muttered before seizing and moaning with pain.

"Your foot was crushed. Save your strength. Can you breathe?"

She'd tumbled through a high rise after being thrown. Glass stuck out of her skin in about a dozen places, and her clothes were thick with rocky dust. If a lung got knocked loose or punctured in the process, she may not survive long.

Luckily, Angela let out a shaky breath and nodded. "I can breathe." She went rigid. "We have to get to Bernard!"

Nova exhaled, then frowned. "What do you m–"

BANG!

How had he already recovered?

Nova managed to reflexively shove Angela into an alley full of trash bags before being bullrushed by Tacti. Another half-mile of street succumbed to their contest before the two detoured to smash into a consulting tower.

This is hell , lamented Nova as he spilled through chairs. Tacti was on top of him less than a second later. We’re killing so many people. So fucking many. I can’t do this.

Nova moved to pin Tacti against the floor. Instead, they plunged down into the tower's underground lot and caved the basement in. Tacti recovered, spun and rocked him with a glow punch, splitting the edifice in half. Nova bowled through hundreds of tons of glass, concrete and stone. Tacti didn't let up, though his aerial follow-up missed. Nova used the chance to seize the Rogue's ankle as he glided by and heaved him in the direction with the least noise.

Dodger Stadium.

He tried to sucker punch his adversary mid-flight, but Tacti twisted to accept him.

More grappling. Joy.

Nova brought their wrestle to a close by dislodging Tacti with a headbutt, right as they crashed through a scoreboard.

Nova watched Tacti ground to a halt on the field as he smashed into the stands. By now, he could confidently say most of the blood on his suit belonged to him. Everywhere hurt. His body, that'd gone on record repairing a severed finger in weeks, couldn't keep up.

He took consolation in Tacti’s equally dishevelled state. While half of Nova's suit was gone, Tacti was missing almost an entire leg of his pants. Their cuts and gashes were lined with broken glass and chips of stone, though as their internal organs were just as tough as the external, nothing stuck for long.

Tacti parried Nova's charge, wrestled him into the grass and began wailing swings to his head. The glow punches doubled the power, nearly blacking Nova out. It was like nuclear bombs to the skull.

Over and over and over.

"They infect you!" wheezed Tacti. His knuckles connected, the energy erupted, and a portion of the stands exploded. "Their frailty! Their uselessness! You reek a disgraceful, human stench! You refuse to fight honestly ! It must be for the safeguarding of the ants. And worst of all," Tacti shifted to lock his hands around Nova's throat, "you take orders from one. How fucking pathetic. The greatest Hero in the world. Bending the knee to an insect. You embarrass us all. In fact, it is time for you to be crushed like–"

"GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!"

Nova rarely discouraged his son from fighting Rogues, given his power level. Had he been able to use his voice, he'd have screamed for Matthius to run. That this being was simply too powerful.

Instead, Matthius unloaded every ounce of his heat vision into Tacti's back. The Rogue's fingers were knocked free, then Nova was tossed across the pitch from the force of Matthius ramming Tacti and disappearing through the bullpen.

Matthius caught Tacti trying to swivel and braked clear, then doused the Rogue in furious white plasma. It forced Tacti down through Elysian Park. His tumble reduced trees to kindling, wiped the helipad off the map and dug out a few thousand tons of dirt and stone.

Another thundering blow sent Tacti flying into Mount Washington. The sound was heard for miles. Los Angeles shook with tremors.

Matthius didn't let up. His heat vision melted sand, burned grass and liquefied stone. Tacti shrieked as his body was forced deeper and deeper into the mountain. Matthius held for almost a minute, growing frustrated as his target refused to vaporize. He blasted and blasted and blasted until his eyes began to burn.

Tacti bellowed in defiance and clapped. Matthius, unaware of the consequences, endured the full force. He touched down in Silver Lake, two and a half miles away. Due to heightened senses, a few seconds of recovery were needed before he shot back into the sky.

Seconds, unfortunately, that Tacti used to disappear.

"Shit!" Matthius snapped fearfully, spinning. "Dad!"

He broke the sound barrier and slammed into what remained of Dodger Stadium like a meteor, blowing another massive crater. His eyes smoked dangerously, hungry for a target as he swivelled for life.

"Dad, where are you?!?"

"Here," coughed a voice from across the field.

Matthius spun and caught his father sitting across the grounds, slumped against the wall. He was at his side immediately, scanning him up and down for life-threatening wounds.

"Jesus," Matthius snorted. "Really put you through the ringer, huh?"

Nova didn't smile. He didn't even react. He just smouldered with rage beyond anything Matthius could remember.

A shadow rippled, and out jumped Blacklight. Mask torn and face swollen, but ready for battle.

He spun, two shadow swords in hand. "Where is he?"

This time, Nova turned to Matthius, who shrugged. "Knocked him into the mountain, but he got the jump on me with his clap thing. Came back and he was gone."

"He's not in the city," grumbled Blacklight. "Fuck."

Nova knit his eyebrows. "I can smell the thermal residue from your blast. He's already miles away."

"You're telling me now?" asked Matthius, starting to rise. "Point."

"You got trunks?"

Blacklight frowned. "What's that mean?"

Nova pointed south.

Matthius' eyes bulged. "You're kidding."

"Straight into the drink. He could already be halfway across the Pacific, and the water will wash the scent off. Apparently, the fucker's got brains behind his brawn."

Nova attempted to roll to his feet. He coughed out a glob of blood instead.

"Easy!" chastised Matthius. "Don't be stupid and go–"

"Stupid?" repeated Nova with a frown, then a horrified expression possessed him. "Matthius, listen to me! Bernard is in trouble. I'm no good right now, so you have to help him."

Matthius rolled his eyes. "Dad, he–"

"Bernard called Elise 'Mom', and said we might never see each other again, all while greening B-94."

Colour drained from Matthius’ head. "Oh."

"Have Pommel connect you to the assistant. Angela Beck. She might have an idea where to look." He grimaced. "If she's still alive. God dammit! She's wounded, but should've made it."

Matthius nodded and took off, turning sharply to race back downtown.

"Come on," Blacklight encouraged, dissolving his weapons and moving to help Nova to his feet. "Let's get you some help."

"No," wheezed Nova. "People are dying. We need to help with rel–"

"Look at yourself, dumbass. Your nose is shattered, you've got blood pouring out of your ears and you can barely stand. You're no good to anyone like this."

"You don't get it," shuddered Nova, beginning to hyperventilate. "It was me. I k... shit. I can't..."

"What?"

"I killed them! The neighbourhood and the family and the theatre refugees! I fucking blew them apart like–"

"No, that was the Rogue. You couldn't have stopped him."

"I threw him into–"

Blacklight seized Nova's shoulder, superimposing claws over his hand as he dug into the skin. With all Nova's other injuries, he barely felt it.

"We don't have time for this," snarled Blacklight. "Focus on healing. We'll get you a therapist later. Fuck, I'll buy you an army of them. Now is not the time to lose your shit, Nova. This was a losing battle ever since we arrived. We acquitted ourselves the best we could. Bawl and bitch later. But not now, understand?"

Nova nodded, trying to push the wet red streak from his mind. "I... yes. Sorry, Micah."

Blacklight studied him momentarily, then stepped back. "I'm going back to see what we can salvage. Don't move until you're sure you won't land on someone in the process."

"I won't."

Blacklight nodded and fell backwards to spectre through his shadow.

It took Nova a few minutes of meditation to reform the fractures in his skull, then another handful for his concussion to fade. He let the cracked ribs, torn tendons, and internal bleeding fix themselves as he pushed off the grass to hover over Dodger Stadium.

The sight nearly broke him.

Pockmarks across a once great city. Buildings sheared in half. Completely gone in some cases. Stacks of cars and waste washed up by the flood. And the bodies. From miles away, he made out a twitching hand under a boulder. A foot hanging out a window.

Torn clothes there.

Missing limb here.

Death, destruction, and chaos in every direction.

Nova mastered himself before he keeled over and vomited. He could hear screams. People needed his help.

But as he closed in on a collapsed basement trapping a host of blanks, he couldn't help but agree with Blacklight's assessment.

This battle hadn't been a battle. Not where it mattered. Too many died.

Cut down in the thousands. Instantly, agonizingly. Like insects.

Exactly what Tacti wanted. Which meant he’d won.

And they'd lost.

‎