Windstorm

The town of Twin Peaks is quiet as the Ryker Brothers make their way down the mostly empty main straight. They have finished their tour of the town—and of the local bar’s entire whiskey supply—and are now making their way to the clock tower to have one final meeting with their subordinates before they take off once again.

“I don’t see the sheriff anywhere, bro,” Luke, the larger, less charming brother comments wryly. His shin-length dark-blond hair blows freely in the soft breeze, creating a paradoxically gentle aura around his otherwise terrifyingly massive physique. He wears a torn and sleeveless denim jacket over a plain black shirt and faded black denim shorts, the tightness of his outfit only further highlighting his immense musculature and brutish look.

“Yer right. He hasn’t bothered to show his face all day,” Liam, the smaller and somehow more striking brother remarks. His shock-blond hair stands straight up in a mess of spikes and tangles, clashing against his tanned skin and green eyes like a pale fire. He wears no shirt, only a thin, unbuttoned, purple jacket that reveals a surprisingly well-defined torso. He tugs at his black, fingerless gloves, moreso out of habit than actual need. “Think we scared him off?”

“Probably,” Luke chuckles in reply, cracking his knuckles. “After the scorcher we put him through? I’d be surprised if we see him ever again.”

The two brothers laugh contentedly to themselves, eager to finish off their brief visit to Twin Peaks and ride back home. They climb up the clock tower and enter a little chamber to the side, a small sort of office where only they and a handful of higher-ranking goons are allowed. To their surprise, however, no one is there to greet them in the dark office space.

“The heck is everyone?” Liam grunts, lighting a lamp.

“Ain’t it just Lyons and Jones’re supposed to be here?” Luke points out, sitting down in an old wooden chair that’s just barely able to support his bulk.

“Still…” Liam mutters to himself before reaching out with his mind to contact Lyons. Where the heck are ya? He demands, waiting for a response from his second-in-command.

Just a moment, Lyons’ reply comes shortly after. It feels a bit distracted, as if he wasn’t really focusing on making a proper answer. There’s something on the horizon.

Well, you’d better hurry up, Liam retorts, his short temper already reaching its limits. We’re on a schedule, here.

Lyons doesn’t reply properly, but Liam does get a brief sense of urgency from the little stooge before he severs his psychic link. “He’ll be down,” Liam says, almost like a threat.

“I’m sure he will,” Luke replies with a grunt as he leans back in the small chair, straining its already ancient and creaking frame to its limit. “Why don’tcha take a seat, man? Relax a little.”

Liam seems to bristle at the comment, but he eventually does take a seat next to his younger brother, resting his head on his fist and tapping the seconds away with his foot. He refuses to relax until someone shows up. He hates having his time wasted like this, but he can manage. For now, anyway.

***

From atop the clock tower, Lyons and a few other goons stationed nearby watch the horizon line near the north-eastern border in confusion. Just a second before, something that looked like dust from an approaching vehicle was billowing out over the dunes, but now there’s nothing. Not a single speck of dust seems disturbed, no glints of metal shine in the sun, nothing.

“Strange…” Lyons mumbles, staring harder through his spyglass at the suspicious area.

“Maybe it was just a freak dust devil,” a goon suggests on his left, Thomas to be exact.

“Maybe…” Lyons agrees, though he’s not sure he believes it fully. He leans forward past the edge of the balcony, peering past the seemingly clear area to a small set of dunes just beyond it. At first, he doesn’t see anything, but after a brief moment he notices something that sets his teeth on edge: buggy tracks leading all the way to the supposedly clear area before abruptly vanishing. “Boys, we got company.”

***

“How you holding up back there?” Sullivan calls to Maria, his voice slightly drowned out by the whirling wind around him.

“Shut up, I need to focus,” Maria replies tartly, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and her head leaned forward in concentration. The constant mottled clatter of Sullivan’s buggy’s engine, the jostling parts and material in their own buggy, as well as the constant billowing wind, isn’t helping her focus at all, and the last thing she needs is more distractions.

Sullivan simply shrugs in understanding and continues driving, tearing through the wilderness toward Twin Peaks Village. Anxiety begins to well up within his mind as he remembers his last clash with the Rykers. His body aches at the memory, old wounds sending mild reminders that he barely survived their last encounter, and that he’d been the lucky one at that. So many others had been killed or horribly maimed during that attack, so many families torn apart, so many homes destroyed.

So many…

Peter places a steadying hand on his shoulder from the second row, noticing the hard clench in the large man’s jaw, the steely focus in his eye. “Are you good?” He asks, his voice a whisper to avoid interrupting Maria further.

With a concerted effort, Sullivan shakes off the ghosts from his past. Now is not the time to freeze up or doubt himself. He has a job to do, and this time, he’s determined to do it right. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sullivan replies quietly. He glances over to Joel in the passenger seat, watching him work on the small device in his hand. “So you’re sure that thing is gonna work against a crowd?”

Joel nods distractedly, his fingers working delicately on the Psycho Scrambler’s settings and emitter dish. “It should, anyway. I’ve never actually tested it against a crowd. Heck, until today, I’d never used it before, period.”

Sullivan scoffs at that. “Glad I could be your first test nevin.”

“What did I just say?” Maria says, her voice clipped in frustration. “Everyone, shut up. Someone up there is getting rowdy.”

Peter shrinks back sheepishly in apology before turning his gaze to the nearing village, trying to see what his friend means. From what he can tell, no one is even in Twin Peaks. The streets seem completely empty, save for a few of the bandits Sullivan had warned them about, but none of them seem to notice their approach. As he continues his scan of the town, he eventually lands on the large clock tower in the center of the main square. It seems to be nonfunctional from what he can tell, but he can see a few silhouettes shuffling around at the very top. Then, suddenly, the silhouettes rush out of view.

“They know we’re here…” Sullivan says quietly. “Maria! Drop the illusion, it’s not fooling them.”

“I know,” she replies dejectedly as she slowly relaxes her psyche, dropping the empty illusion around them and slumping down in exhaustion. “Sorry, guys. I couldn’t hold it…”

“Don’t be sorry, just get ready,” Sullivan says curtly, his fists tightening against the steering wheel in anticipation. This is it. No turning back now. He’ll either win this time or die trying. No. No, don’t think like that, he chastises himself. I will win. WE will win. “That goes for everyone. Strap yourselves down, because we’re going in!”

He reaches down for the lever near his leg and shoves it down while he slams on the accelerator, causing the buggy to launch forward at blistering speed, closing the small gap between them and the village in mere moments. He barrels through the side entrance to the town, chasing bandits through the streets like a maniac, attempting to run them over and remove them from the equation. He manages to get a small handful of targets in his mad dash until he explodes into the center of Twin Peaks, whipping the connected buggies around and drifting to an abrupt stop just outside the clock tower.

“Go, go, go!” He shouts, leaping out of the driver’s seat, fists already glowing with flaming green energy, fully prepared to fight. He bolts towards the first goon he can see, decking the poor, unexpecting sap directly in the face, launching him clear across the square with several broken bones.

“You heard him, go!” Maria says, gripping her metal orb with her telekinesis and jumping into the fray, smashing her weapon into any bandits that she can see.

Peter and Joel both join her efforts, taking on the ever-growing crowd of bandits and thugs. Joel quickly takes aim at one of the bandits and fires, striking her in the shoulder, crippling her gun arm, and forcing her to drop the weapon in pain. In retaliation, one of the bandits next to her leaps into action, a blade of purple psychic energy flashing into life as he dashes towards Joel, only to be blown off of his feet by a small psion orb. Peter and Joel exchange nods before continuing their battle.

To their side, Maria bashes a bandit on the head with her steel orb, fully expecting that attack to be the end of him, but the man simply chuckles as blazing white light envelopes his skull, protecting him from the damage. Maria pulls her orb back, ready for another strike when the man fires a blast of blindingly bright white energy at her from his outstretched hand. Maria barely manages to duck under the blast in time, but the bandit had counted on that. He darts forward and grabs Maria by the ankles, hefting her up and spinning her around before slamming her back down into the dust. Maria lets out a gasp of pain as the wind is knocked out of her, lying prone and dazed on her back.

The bandit is just about to finish the job when Sullivan steps in and tanks the blast for Maria. The bandit freezes up in surprise at the sight of Sullivan for a very brief, very costly second. Sullivan whips behind the man, grabbing his arms and snapping them back, dislocating both shoulders instantly and pinning the man to the ground. The man lets out a shout of pain that is cut short when Sullivan hoists him up and chucks him out of the main square with all of his might.

“Thanks,” Maria grunts, taking Sullivan’s outstretched hand and pulling herself up to her feet.

“Heads up! We got more incoming!” Joel exclaims as the set of bandits that had been on the roof of the clock tower tear through the tower doors and onto the streets. Joel turns and fires on the first few bandits as they exit, taking them out by the knees or shoulders. Only a couple manage to escape his spray of bullets, but the ones that do quickly spread out to support their comrades.

As the reinforcements spread through the square, the last bandit to exit the tower is Lyons, looking as infuriated and wild as he ever has. “Jones! What in the scorching winds are you doing?”

“Taking my home back!” Sullivan retorts, instantly dropping the bandit he was tangling with and bolting forward to strike Lyons down. Lyons doesn’t even have a chance to react before Sullivan grabs the scrawny man by his neck and slams him face-first into the ground, instantly knocking him out. Sullivan stands proud over this small victory, but his moment of catharsis is cut short as a knife of psychic energy embeds itself in his shoulder, puncturing through his momentarily dropped psychic armor with painful efficiency.

Sullivan whirls around to see who had just assaulted him, his stone-cold eyes finally landing on Thomas, who shudders under the weight of Sullivan’s hateful glare, but still squares up, preparing himself for a fight. Surprisingly enough, Thomas manages to hold his own against Sullivan, at least for a little while. One of his psychic blades catches Sullivan’s incoming fist, allowing him to deflect that blow while dodging another one. Sullivan reacts quickly, sweeping Thomas’ legs with his foot and knocking him to the ground, but Thomas uses his momentum to roll out of the way of Sullivan’s finishing blow, just barely dodging the attack as it leaves a massive crater where his head had once been. Thomas attempts to strike Sullivan while he’s distracted, slashing out at his legs, only for the blade to bounce off of Sullivan’s newly refocused psychic armor.

Thomas’ eyes go wide as his attack proves ineffective. The last thing he sees before he is defeated is Sullivan’s blazing green fist rocketing toward his face. Sullivan strikes Thomas with a brutal right hook, launching him several feet into the air and propelling him through the door of the clock tower and clear through the first layer of steps, handily beating the little man.

Behind Sullivan, Joel and Peter are struggling to keep up with the seemingly endless supply of fresh bandits to deal with. Joel fires at a few of them as they round a corner and duck under some outlying stones for protection, his shots going wide. For his part, Peter is focusing more on not destroying the town than he is on fighting the bandits, which leaves him wide open for counterattacks from the much less cautious goons around him. He barely manages to dodge a blast from one of the bandits, only for that blast to be followed up with a powerful psychic vice grip around his body as another bandit latches onto him and chucks him like a ragdoll through one of the nearby storefronts.

“P.K.!” Joel exclaims, his focus diverted from the bandits he had cornered for a split second, long enough for one of them to creep out from behind her protective boulder and fire a blast of green energy at Joel. Joel lets out a cry of pain as the psychic blast explodes against his back, burning a hole through his jacket and shirt, and leaving a sizable mark on his skin. “Okay… That does it!” Joel shouts, drawing the Psycho Scrambler out of his inner jacket pocket, flipping it around so the emitter dish is high in the air, and firing.

The Scrambler releases a massive wave of yellow-and-blue lightning in a wide sphere around Joel, covering nearly the entire town square in psychic-negating energy. Everyone within the sphere, including Peter, Maria, and Sullivan, stagger against the sudden shock to their system as various psychic projectiles, weapons, fields, and constructs all evaporate into thin air. As the Scrambler finishes its work, it starts to spark and smoke, the immense power required to emit such a large field overwhelming its circuits and causing it to blow. Joel exclaims in pain and drops the ruined prototype, a smoldering red blister burned into his hand.

“God…” he mutters, rubbing his injured hand gently as he examines the effects of the strange weapon. Everyone around him seems to be testing their abilities, shocked to find that they are completely powerless. Everyone, that is, but his allies, who quickly recover from their shock and continue fighting, throwing punches at the nearest threats in an attempt to take out as many as they can. Joel joins their efforts, firing into several bandit’s hands and legs, effectively ruining their chances of fighting back.

The number of bandits continues to dwindle as Joel, Peter, Maria, and Sullivan all take them out one by one, leaving only a small handful left standing when the effects of the Psycho Scrambler wear off. Sullivan is the first to take advantage of his recovered powers, charging his fists and blowing two of the bandits away with consecutive punches before they even have a chance to realize they can properly fight back.

Sullivan stalks up to one of the remaining bandits, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and hefting her into the air, staring her down with an intense, burning rage in his eyes. “Where are they?” He grinds out through his gritted teeth. The frightened woman attempts to shoot him with her pistol, only for the bullets to land flat against his armor and fall off like dead leaves. “Wrong answer,” Sullivan growls, enveloping his other fist with intense green flames. “Where are they?” He demands, his rage boiling over and rippling through his psyche uncontrollably, causing intense flickers of energy to course through his coiled muscles. He tightens his grip on the woman’s collar, practically choking her.

“Easy, Sully…” Maria says quietly, cautiously making her way up to him. “I think we got everyone.”

“Not everyone,” a sly voice calls from the clock tower. Everyone’s gaze turns to the tower as two figures step out from it, one immense and frightening, the other small and disconcerting. The figures step into the light, their blond hair glinting in the sunlight, their eyes holding similar yet different levels of intensity and hate. “How’s it going, sheriff?” Liam asks, his voice eerily casual, his hands held behind his back.

“Didn’t think we’d see you here, pal,” Luke chimes in, arms crossed over his chest imposingly, his bulky shoulders straining his tight jacket with the motion. He eyes the smaller man with casual contempt as if he was looking at some small rabid animal. “Huh. Three years and you’re still as scrawny as ever. And who’re these punks?” His gaze flickers over to Sullivan’s three accomplices, a malicious grin spreading over his face as he sizes them up.

Sullivan drops the woman he’d been holding and turns to face the Rykers, his whole body enveloped in burning green energy, his eyes glowing like molten steel. “They’re with me. I’m only gonna give you two one chance. Surrender now and leave, before I break every bone in your bodies.”

Liam lets out a thoughtful “hmm” at that, smirking the whole time. “Luke. Kill ‘em.”

Luke doesn’t waste any time. He rockets towards Sullivan at full speed, his body enveloped in a powerful psychic aura of his own, only his burns copper red instead of green. He and Sullivan collide, their energies mixing together and exploding off of each other as they struggle against each other, sending bolts of various colored energy sparking off of them. Luke wraps Sullivan’s arms up in a tight grapple and keeps shoving, slowly pushing the smaller man forward.

Peter and the others move to help Sullivan, but Liam interrupts them, launching several glowing, cyan psychic knives at them. “Ah, ah, ah. You three are dealing with me,” he says, a casual glee tinting his words. “It’s been way too long since I stretched my legs. Make this worth my while.” He generates several psychic knives between his fingers and starts hurling them at his prey, laughing maniacally the whole time.

Joel dives out of the way of the onslaught, loading his pistol up with two fresh chambers, making a quick note to himself that he only has one extra chamber to go and that he needs to be conservative with his bullet use. He rolls to one knee, takes aim, and fires, just barely missing Liam’s left knee, grazing against it instead.

Liam grunts in pain and retaliates by hurling a handful of knives at Joel. “You really brought a gun to a knife fight?” He snarls, a wide grin on his face. “Come on, kid. Fight like a real man!”

“This good enough for you?” Maria shouts, hurling her steel orb at Liam’s face. Liam steps away from the first attack and then brings up a knife to catch the follow-up, leaving a small gash in the otherwise perfectly smooth metal.

“Better,” Liam says with a chuckle as Peter lashes out with an attack of his own, sending a burst of psychic energy his way. “I know you can do better than that, though.” He throws more knives at his opponents, leaving small gashes on their arms and legs and torsos.

Meanwhile, Sullivan and Luke are still locked in their pushing match, neither one wanting to lose ground. Sullivan growls in exertion and he attempts to free his arms from Luke’s grasp, only for his footing to slip slightly, allowing the larger man to shove against him even harder, sending the two clashing men hurtling through the town, crashing through small houses and stores like a train.

“Just give up, will ya? Ya couldn’t handle me last time, and ya can’t handle me now!” Luke shouts, pushing his powers to their limits in an effort to overwhelm Sullivan’s strength.

“I already told you…” Sullivan says, grunting in his effort not to be overwhelmed. He plants his feet firmly in the ground and summons two psychic constructs in the shape of extra arms from his back, using them to latch onto his much larger opponent. Luke looks at the constructs in surprise, then in disgust. “I’m gonna break every bone in your body!” Sullivan uses the psychic arms to heft Luke up and spin him around, smashing him into the ground behind him, leaving a small impact crater from the effort.

“Not bad…” Luke says from under the grip of Sullivan’s projections. “But I’m still stronger than you!” He summons his own coppery constructs and uses them to break free from Sullivan’s grasp, shattering nearby windows and splintering wood in the process.

Sullivan doesn’t say a word in reply, he simply summons two extra projections to his side and prepares himself for battle, keeping his real hands close to his face while his projected hands stance for combat. Luke seems surprised by Sullivan’s sudden boost in power, but he prepares his own projections, hunkering down in a grappling stance, ready to strike. Sullivan makes the first move, sending his two right projections hurtling towards his opponent, using his left to catch a counter strike in return. Luke manages to deflect one of Sullivan’s attacks, but not the other as it flies low and catches him in the kidney.

Luke gasps in pain and staggers slightly, dropping his real physical defense to clutch his injured gut, leaving himself wide open for Sullivan’s third follow-up attack as he bolts towards the larger man and decks him directly in the face, knocking him back several feet. Sullivan rushes forward to press his advantage, but Luke manages to block his incoming projections, locking the four arms down and catching Sullivan’s real hands, leaving the two in a stalemate once again. Sullivan growls in frustration and pumps more energy into his physical body, causing the muscles in his arms to charge with immense strength, allowing him to overwhelm Luke and punch him in the face, the gut, the arms, everywhere, so quickly that he seemingly strikes everything all at once.

Luke pulls his real arms up to block the relentless barrage as best he can, but Sullivan simply won’t let up, sending a constant flurry of blows and strikes all over his opponent’s body, leaving massive impact wounds with every strike. “Liam! Interference!” Luke cries out as he takes another blow to the chest that resonates with the hollow crack of a shattered rib.

Liam dodges another bullet from Joel, sending a flurry of knives his way in response. Joel ducks behind a boulder to dodge the knives, but they slice through the boulder like butter, demolishing his cover and rendering it several small chunks of stone. “On it!” Liam replies. He steps back to avoid a blast from Peter, gathers his focus, then strikes out with his psyche, sending waves of crippling pain into his enemies’ minds.

Peter and Maria let out synchronized cries of agony as their bodies seem to light on fire, their minds unable to place where the indescribable pain is coming from, so it simply substitutes feeling all over the body. Their bones feel like they’ve shattered into a thousand tiny shards, slicing their organs into ribbons, and turning their blood into fire. Peter collapses to his knees, clutching his head in agony, while Maria struggles to stand straight.

Across the town, Sullivan suddenly buckles under his own sudden scorching wave of agony, allowing Luke to press his advantage and lash out with his projections, striking Sullivan all over his body, adding real damage to the artificial pain he is experiencing. Sullivan struggles to focus through the pain, forcing his vision to steady and willing his body to cooperate as he attempts to weave through Luke’s sloppy but destructive attacks, with limited success.

The only one who is completely unaffected by Liam’s psychic onslaught is Joel, who doesn’t seem to feel so much as a paper cut. He rushes up and jabs his fist into Liam’s gut, knocking the wind out of him, but not breaking his focus enough to shatter his psychic assault. Joel pulls his pistol on the bandit leader and attempts to fire, but Liam catches his gun hand and wrenches it out of range, shock sprawled all over his face.

“How are… You shouldn’t be standing, kid! How are you doing this?” He demands, attempting to slash Joel with a psychic knife as Joel presses him against the wall of the clock tower, struggling to get his gun aimed at the crook once again.

“Psychic immunity, punk!” Joel replies with a sinister grin. He bats Liam’s offhand aside, using the motion to bring his fist back around and knock Liam on the side of his head, forcing him to loosen his grip on Joel’s pistol, allowing Joel to leap back and take aim. Liam ducks out of the way of Joel’s wild shots, snarling in combined confusion and rage.

“‘Psychic immunity’, please! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard!” He shouts, thrashing wildly now, sending wild streams of knives all over the place. Peter barely manages to notice and dodge the assault himself, kicking himself out of the way of the attack and using his momentum to knock Maria out of the path as well.

“Believe it,” Joel says calmly as he loads his last chamber of bullets. Six shots. Make ‘em count. He reminds himself sternly.

While Liam struggles against Joel, Sullivan continues to fight against Luke. He takes another blow from a projected arm, absorbing the impact as best he can while still making his way towards his target. Luke snarls in anger and pulls both projections back, preparing for a single, powerful blow. Sullivan braces himself, trying to center his mind through the immense pain he still believes he feels, knowing he’ll only have one shot at this. Luke launches his psychic projections at full speed, leaving only the smallest gap between them. Sullivan capitalizes on that gap, squeezing his large frame through it as he dodges under the attack and pops up through it. With great effort, he focuses through Liam’s psychic assault and forces his Flash Blaze technique to life, enveloping his physical arms with a burning green aura. Before Luke can react, Sullivan latches onto his projections, pinning them between his arms and forcing his elbows down, pulling the larger man down with them.

Luke staggers to his knees, his balance completely thrown off. He doesn’t have enough time to recover before Sullivan darts up to him and smashes the back of his skull with both fists, knocking the larger man down with a shout and one swift blow.

As Luke goes down, Maria also manages to press through the pain projected into her mind, allowing her to focus enough to use her own telepathy against Liam while he’s distracted by Joel. She reaches into the bandit’s mind and clenches down hard, as if she was attempting to squish a citrine in her hand. Liam suddenly spasms, his body going limp as the projected waves of pain are suddenly focused directly onto him instead. He shouts in agony, unable to understand what’s happening at first.

“Surrender,” Maria commands, still using her telepathy to constrict Liam’s power, sending him writhing in agony.

“I surrender! I surrender!” Liam exclaims, his thoughts finally catching up with him. He stops projecting the waves of pain, instantly soothing his own mind and body, but not removing Maria’s inhibiting presence from his psyche.

Peter pulls himself onto his feet with a grunt of lasting pain before charging a psion orb in his hand. “Stay down,” he breathes tiredly.

As soon as Liam’s assault ends, Sullivan brings his full power to bear on Luke, grabbing him by the hair, whirling him around, and throwing him further out of the town. Luke shouts in surprise and pain, but he manages to catch himself with a psychic projection, easing his landing and allowing him to stand upright. “Oh, yer gonna get scuffed for that!” Luke shouts, running a hand through his broken locks. He envelopes his entire body in his flaming copper aura once again, summoning a single, massive psychic arm over one of his real ones before he rockets forward, preparing to end Sullivan with one punch.

Sullivan tenses up, drawing all of his strength and power into one emerald-green construct of his own, leaning back, prepared to strike. Luke cocks his arm back and fires, lashing out with all of his might. Sullivan shouts and throws a punch of his own, his projection exploding against Luke’s in a shower of clashing greens and reds. Through it all, however, Sullivan comes out on top, his attack blasting through Luke’s projection and colliding with his real arm, shattering every bone in his hand, up to his arm, and finally blowing it completely out of its socket, leaving it a fractured, dangling mess of broken flesh and bone.

Luke lets out a horrified shriek as his arm is destroyed. His momentum carries him just slightly past Sullivan, landing right on his already damaged arm. Luke screams in agony as his weight presses down on his broken limb, then in fear as Sullivan quietly stalks up to him and grabs him by the face, lifting him up like a ragdoll.

“That was for humiliating me,” Sullivan grinds out, his face devoid of all emotion, save for the burning, piercing rage in his eyes. He tosses Luke up before rocketing him back down with a powerful downward smash. “This is for destroying my home,” he says as he grabs the larger man by his hair and drags him at full speed back to the center of town, tearing his skin against the rocky soil before he heaves him to his feet and decks him in the chest with a full powered punch, shattering several bones and sending him flying through the clock tower, smashing through several steel beams and shattering even more bones.

Liam begins to call out to his brother, but Sullivan is already on top of him. He grabs the scrawny man by his neck, squeezing so hard that his eyes begin to bulge out. “And this…” Sullivan says, leaning in close to whisper into Liam’s ear. “Is for killing my sister.” He throws Liam with all of his might, launching him clear across the town straight before rocketing after him. Sullivan catches up to Liam’s flying body well before it lands and he decks Liam in the face so hard that he is sent flying off in a completely different direction. Sullivan chases after him again, delivering another devastating punch that propels him through another section of the town, only for Sullivan to once again catch him, this time slamming him into the ground so hard that the recoil sends him bouncing back up into the air.

Sullivan grabs Liam’s face and smashes it back into the ground, leaving a massive crater from the force of the impact, before Sullivan hefts him up again, this time using his psychic projections to hold Liam up by his arms, pulling them to the point that they very nearly snap, but not so much that they actually do. Sullivan then charges his fists with as much power as he can muster, sending blow after furious blow into the tiny man’s body, shattering bone with each impact.

Liam is no longer conscious enough to feel the pain Sullivan is inflicting, but he doesn’t care. Sullivan can barely see the world around him through the violent green haze in his vision. All he can see is the man who destroyed his home, ruined his reputation, humiliated him, killed his sister, RUINED SO MANY LIVES! No matter how many blows he deals, it won’t ever be enough. He will keep striking until Liam is nothing more than an empty pulp!

“Sullivan!” Peter’s voice calls through the haze. “Sullivan, stop, he’s already down!” Peter tries to get in close, but a stray blow knocks him aside, a fresh welt growing on his barely healed right arm.

“Sully! Cut it out! You got him!” Maria shouts, her voice coming through much more clearly as she uses her telepathy to cut through the fog of rage in Sullivan’s mind. She gets close enough to touch Sullivan, a huge mistake.

Sullivan shouts and turns to attack whatever had grabbed him, realizing too late that it’s Maria. His blow connects with her gut, sending her flying back into the ground, hunched over in a fetal position from the impact. The haze of rage finally falls from Sullivan’s vision as he sees Maria’s limp form curled up on the ground, her jet-black hair falling over her face, obscuring the anguish in her expression. The sight of Maria’s crumpled form sends a fresh pang of memory through Sullivan’s mind, back to the day when the Rykers first invaded.

He sees May, his younger sister, caught in a battle she never had a chance in. The memory is fuzzy in most places, thanks in most part to Liam’s psychic pain attack, but also because of the chaos of the battle. But one thing stands out, sharper than any other memory he has. He was too busy clashing with Luke at the time to help. He was powerless to stop anything as May struggled to fight against Liam. Her arms were horribly damaged from his knives, her face covered in slashes, her legs riddled with cuts. But through it all, she was still fighting. He wanted to shout at her, tell her to stand down, to stop fighting, but he couldn’t speak, as Luke had a vice grip on his entire body with one of his psychic projections.

Sullivan was forced to watch, helplessly, as Liam knocked another failed counterattack aside before ramming his fist into May’s gut, then forcing three cyan knives to cut through. Sullivan cried in strangled anguish as he saw his little sister collapse, the fire in her eyes extinguished, the fierce determination in her body evaporating like water as she slumped down, her dead weight being propped up only by Liam’s knives. He pulled his bloody glove out and simply walked away, leaving his kill right there in the middle of the town.

May fell, crumpled up, arms clutched against her bleeding stomach, her eyes turning helplessly to her older brother, terror, pain, shock, despair, all of it playing through those beautiful, innocent eyes before they went cold and shut for good.

And now he looks on as Maria’s eyes hold the same muddled expression, one of shock, pain, betrayal, terror. Sullivan looks down at his flaming hands, his whole body trembling in horror. He drops everything, the flaming aura around his body, the psychic projections he was using to hold up Liam’s barely breathing body, Liam himself, and finally his own body as he collapses to his knees, guilt and horror numbing him to his very core.

Peter slowly walks up to his friend, kneeling over her to ask if she’s okay. Joel follows after him, shooting Sullivan a dirty look on the way over. Sullivan watches the trio in stunned horror, barely registering anything as Maria slowly comes to her feet and stares at Sullivan. There is no anger in that stare, simply disbelieving shock and pain. Peter says something about getting Maria some attention, then the three are off, heading towards a hospital of some kind, leaving Sullivan there in the town square, alone with nothing but his regret.

“I’m sorry,” Sullivan whispers, his throat closing up as tears begin to well in his eyes. He doesn’t know who he’s speaking to. It could be Maria, it could be May, it could be the world itself for all he knows, but he speaks anyway. “I’m so sorry.”

***

“The damage doesn’t seem too bad,” Doc Phyllis, the local physician, says calmly, the wrinkled, tanned skin around her face scrunching up in a small smile as she gives Maria a quick once over. “Maybe some internal bleeding, but that will heal with time. The gashes will also heal, given some time and a good gauze.” She leans over and grabs a wad of bandages and some gauze to place over everyone’s wounds.

“Thanks, Doc,” Maria says warmly. “That feels pretty good.”

“I’m glad,” Doc Phyllis says before turning to face Peter. She eyes his wounded arm sympathetically, at a bit of a loss as to how to react to the old injury. “Are you sure you don’t need anything for that? It looks like it hurts.”

Peter just shrugs the comment off. “Eh, it’s fine. It’s a few days old, so I’m used to it. It’ll be better soon enough.”

“Okay then,” Phyllis says, her tone making it clear she doesn’t agree with his estimation but that she also doesn’t want to push the matter. “Well, if that’s everything, then I can say that y’all are fit to go. Thanks for everything, you guys.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Peter says, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, unsure how to really reply. At the end of the day, none of them actually did anything but slow Liam down. It was Sullivan who took him and Luke out. Which reminds him. “Say, how are the Rykers doing now?”

Phyllis shakes her head slowly, making a face that Peter can’t quite read. “Honestly, I don’t know. Mr. Jones really put the scorcher on them, especially the small one. I’d be surprised if they make it through the night, but then again, they are some tough little things. Who can say what’ll happen to them?”

Translation: she doesn’t know, she doesn’t care, and she’d frankly be fine if they bled out through the night. After everything they and their gang had put the town through, who could blame her?

“Right. Well, again, thanks for patching us up, Doc,” Joel says, a little uncomfortable with the doctor’s casual tone. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m gonna wheel the buggy into a garage and get to work.” Joel doesn’t stay for a reply, he simply leaves the hospital, rushing past Sullivan on the way out, not making eye contact with him as he passes.

Peter looks back to see Sullivan’s forlorn expression and wonders if he should say anything to him. What could he even say? He didn’t hold Sullivan accountable for hitting him, or Maria for that matter. He’d been caught up in the heat of the moment, clearly not noticing anyone was nearby until it was too late. How often had Peter gotten others hurt by simple accidents while he was using his own powers? If anything, Peter probably feels the most sympathy for the older man than anyone else here, but that still doesn’t mean he knows what to say to him, or even if he should say anything.

As always, Maria reads the room the fastest and is the first to speak up. “Hey, Sully. You wanna come in? It’s cooler indoors than out there.”

Sullivan looks up, clearly surprised at Maria’s invitation, but he walks in nonetheless. He steps up beside Maria, exchanging cautious glances with the doctor, then takes a seat. “Thanks. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have. It’s hot out, and you need some time to cool off,” Maria says, smiling genuinely, warmly.

Sullivan stares at her for a long while, unable to come up with a proper response. Something about that smile reminds him of May so much. Maybe it’s just because everything that’s happened so recently is bringing up old memories, maybe it’s because Maria keeps using the nickname ‘Sully’ like May once did, maybe it’s nothing at all, but he can’t help but see May when he looks at Maria. She would have invited him inside after a heated fight, too. She would have brushed everything aside, just glad to have her brother’s company.

Sullivan returns Maria’s warm smile, deciding not to think too deeply about it. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Maria replies, nudging his large shoulders playfully, letting him know that all was forgiven.

Peter, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure what he wants yet. “So, you really put ‘em through it, huh?” Sullivan simply nods in response. “You wanna talk about it?”

Sullivan looks up at Peter, a fresh surge of surprise washing through him. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even want to think about it. He wants to bury the incident far away, to pretend it never happened and simply move on, but he knows he can’t do that. And what’s more, something about Peter’s simple, imploring expression seems to just melt through Sullivan’s tough exterior. Dumb kid, he thinks to himself ruefully.

“There’s not much to talk about. It’s like I said before. They invaded my home, killed so many people. They killed my sister for god’s sake. What else was I supposed to do?” He demands, his temper flaring slightly before he gets a grip on himself. Hold it together, Jones. You’re better than this.

“I get it, really, I do,” Peter replies, a little surprised by Sullivan’s brief outburst. “I’m sure I’d do the same thing if I was in your shoes. I just… I don’t know. You don’t seem to be taking this well, is all.”

Sullivan scoffs at that. “I let her down. How else could I be taking this?”

“‘Her’? You mean your sister?” Maria asks, leaning forward to meet Sullivan’s gaze. “You beat the Rykers, didn’t you? You stopped them from hurting anyone else. You said it yourself, this was all for her, and you won. How could you have let her down?”

“Look around. Sure, I beat the Rykers, but I only made things worse in the process.” He gestures around vaguely, seeming to convey the damage he had done with a simple sweep of his hand. “How many shops and homes did I wreck, just today? How many people got hurt while we were fighting, huh?”

“Plenty of people are in waiting rooms around the town, that’s for sure,” Phyllis comments unhelpfully from across the room.

“And it’s like Peter said. I really did a number on those bandits. May wouldn’t have wanted that, not even to avenge her, heck especially not to avenge her. I messed up. I messed up bad.” He shakes his head, chuckling derisively at himself. “How can I call myself a sheriff if I can’t even save the town right?”

Neither Peter nor Maria know how to reply to that, so they simply remain silent. Maria rubs Sullivan’s back encouragingly, hoping that he picks up on whatever vague comforting thoughts she might have. Eventually, Sullivan stands up and leaves with no explanation. Peter and Maria look at each other and decide not to follow, thinking that it’s probably best to give him space to rest and recover, physically if not emotionally. They stand up, thank the doctor for her hard work, then make their way out of the hospital and down to the garage where Joel is working, offering their help to make the work go by more smoothly.

***

Sullivan makes his way through Twin Peaks, watching as several bandits are dragged to the local prison, kicking and screaming in protest. He notes that not everyone is accounted for. Thomas, Lyons, and a few others seem to have been able to escape in the chaos. It bothers him that he wasn’t able to nab everyone. He should have been out here with the villagers, rounding up the bandits, not wallowing in self-hatred in the hospital. All the more reason why he has to do what he’s about to do.

He marches down to the town square and posts up in front of the damaged clock tower, scanning the area for an old, familiar face. Eventually, he locks eyes with the man in question, an older man with thin, gray hair, a thick, bushy mustache, and what is clearly a freshly cleaned suit. He walks up to the old man and quietly clears his throat to get his attention. “Mr. Mayor, I’d like to speak with you.”

The Mayor, Alec, turns around, surprised to see Sullivan standing right behind him. “Oh, Mr. Jones. Funny seeing you here. Can I help you?” He eyes Sullivan cautiously as if he’s worried that he might hurt him.

“In fact, there is something you can do for me,” Sullivan replies, crossing his arms, bracing himself for what he’s about to say.

***

Two days later, everything is complete. The repairs on the buggy proved to be much more of a hassle than Joel had prepared for, and the mad rush to Twin Peaks, followed shortly by the intense firefight, hadn’t helped any. It took him what felt like forever to wrangle up the right parts, and it took even longer to get the right tools to substitute in ones he had forgotten to bring with him from West Village. On the bright side, at least, Peter no longer had to worry about doing last second blowtorch work.

When Joel was finished repairing the buggy and his friends were done refueling and resupplying, they strapped everything down and got everything ready to leave. They would have left sooner, if it weren’t for an unexpected wrench thrown into their plans.

As noon came on the second day, Mayor Alec called a special town meeting, and for some reason, Peter, Maria, and Joel were invited to come as well. Everyone in the town—a surprisingly large crowd considering how empty Twin Peaks had felt for the past three years—gathered by the clock tower, eager to hear whatever message Alec had for them. To their surprise, however, Alec wasn’t alone on the makeshift stage. He was flanked by Sullivan on the left, who was wearing a sheriff’s hat and badge, and a second man to his left, a bright eyed young man named Jules.

“Thank y’all for joinin’ us today,” Alec begins, his voice laced with a thick drawl, his already droopy face seeming to droop even harder. “After the chaotic events of the past few days, I know y’all are eager to get back to your normal lives. Believe me, I’m in the same wagon as y’all. I’d love nothing more than to throw a festival and start fresh, but we have some important matters to deal with.” He turns to Sullivan and offers him the podium with a gracious nod.

Sullivan nods in reply and steps forward, removing the sheriff’s hat from his head, exposing his smooth, bald head to the bright afternoon sun. “I’m not one for fluff pieces, so I’ll say this bluntly. I, Sullivan Jones, step down as sheriff of Twin Peaks Village.” He allows the crowd a moment of shock and surprise before he continues with his brief speech. “My reckless behavior the other day was unacceptable, not to mention the entirety of these past three years. I have done nothing but bring shame, pain, and disgrace to this town and to my family name. With that being said, Twin Peaks still needs a sheriff, so it is with great humility that I offer my hat and badge to the former deputy, Jules Greene.”

Jules steps up and takes the offered hat and badge before going on a decidedly fluffy speech, voicing his disappointment that Sullivan will be stepping down, saying that he had always looked up to him as a mentor and that he hopes to live up to even half of his reputation. Sullivan doesn’t pay much attention to the speech, he simply nods through the whole thing, occasionally flicking glances at Peter, as if he is trying to signal him for something, but Peter can’t tell what.

As Jules finishes up his speech and puts on his badge and hat, Alec introduces him as the new sheriff of Twin Peaks, eliciting a wave of approving applause, a few cheers from the crowd, and even a smile from Sullivan. The ceremony finishes and everyone starts to gang up around Jules, eager to share their congratulations and offer him their support. For his part, Sullivan simply steps down from the stage and motions for Peter and his friends to follow him down through the main straight, down to his old home.

Everyone follows Sullivan into his house, surprised to find it quite empty, save for some old furniture and a few scattered knickknacks. “What’s this about, Sully?” Maria asks as she takes in the empty home.

“I wanted to ask you all something,” Sullivan says quietly, fiddling with his old family photo, staring deeply into his father’s intense gaze. “Why were you traveling through the Ryker’s territory the other day?”

The trio are surprised by the question, unsure how to reply at first. “It’s a bit complicated, but…” Peter begins, trying to think of a way to explain the Harbinger situation. “We’re kind of on a revenge mission of our own, I guess. A woman calling herself the Harbinger of Death is going around Thera, destroying villages at random. She visited our village not too long ago, and we’re hunting her down to try and stop her.”

Sullivan pauses at that. That was definitely not on his list of ideas for their journey. “I see. And this ‘Harbinger’, is she powerful? Or I guess a better question would be, are you powerful enough to stop her?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Peter replies, shaking his head. “I hope we are, but the odds are pretty rough.”

“We only survived against her the last time because she took an interest in Peter,” Maria offers. “We don’t know what her real goals are, or if she even has any. All we know is that we can’t let her get away with destroying any more villages.” She shudders at that, knowing just how real a threat they’re up against. Just the day before, the Harbinger’s trail went warm again as she laid waste to what was probably yet another peaceful village. The feeling of fresh bloodlust had kept Maria up for hours after she picked up on it.

Sullivan nods at that, looking back down at the family photo before pocketing it. “Then let me come with you. There’s nothing left for me here, that much is clear. I’ll give you all the help and power I can.”

Joel gawks at that. “Seriously? You’re just gonna up and leave your home? Just like that?”

Sullivan pauses, considering his choices carefully before answering. “Yes. I need to get this one right. I’ve already let down my people and my family. I can’t let anyone else down. If there’s even a chance that I can help you on your mission, then I have to try.”

None of the others know how to react to that. They simply stare at each other, then at Sullivan in stunned silence. Maria is the first to recover, a broad smile stretching across her face as she steps forward and offers her hand out for Sullivan to shake. “We’d love to have you. Welcome aboard, partner.”

Sullivan gladly accepts her hand and shakes it once, firmly yet gently. Peter smirks slightly and joins in on the action, placing his own hand over the others and giving them a subtle rock. Joel is the last to join in, not exactly sold on the idea, but knowing that he probably shouldn’t refuse extra help if he can get it. He places his hand over Peter’s and nods once as if that made it all official. “It’s a deal then,” Joel says with finality, giving one final, less than subtle glare at Sullivan before finally breaking into a small smile. If his friends are okay with the big dope, then he’s okay with him. Probably.

“Thank you all,” Sullivan says, a warm smile touching his lips.

As the rest of Twin Peaks celebrates their new sheriff, Peter and his allies make their way to their buggy. Sullivan manages to catch the Mayor’s gaze and nods once, getting a similar nod in reply. They both know what he is doing, and why. Alec smiles and waves goodbye to the former sheriff of Twin Peaks, silently wishing him a safe and happy future. As Sullivan climbs into the second row of Joel’s buggy and straps in next to Peter, he can’t help but wonder if he will in fact get that kind of future. A part of him almost wishes he won’t, as if that would be some sort of penance for his sins. He shakes that part away and tells himself firmly that that is all behind him now. He is on a new path, with new allies, and he intends to make the best of it.

“Hold onto your butts, everyone,” Joel warns with a casual laugh as he pulls down his mechanic’s goggles. “Maria’s at the wheel. I’d double check your straps are on right while you—“

Maria cuts him off by immediately throwing the buggy into high gear and peeling out of Twin Peaks at full speed. Peter lets out a shout of displeasure as he’s once again thrust against his seat. “Next time, I’m driving!” He shouts, drawing a deep, hearty laugh from Sullivan.

“Ah, this isn’t so bad!” He replies, throwing a hand out of the side of the buggy, feeling the breeze between his fingers. No, he thinks to himself contentedly. This won’t be so bad at all.