The night roared as the approaching spawn evaporated under the incredulous firepower of a mini-gun.
“Good shooting, Nikolai,” the sergeant heard an unfamiliar calm voice say. “Now stop!”
Ears ringing with the taste of gunpowder in his mouth, he rose to his feet as soon as the gun relented and retreated backward, away from the spawn that were still coming in the distance.
A line of men stood with poise, rifles in hand. His two surviving officers sat exhausted on the tarmac behind the men. To the side of everyone on the sidewalk, a van was packed. A familiar man covered in scars sat behind a mini-gun on the roof of the van. Walton couldn’t quite place where he knew the man from.
It was when he spotted another man who stood behind the line of men in a commanding posture that everything clicked.
The most wanted man in the city, Declan “The Fixer” O’Malley, offered a handshake, spotting a smug smirk. “Why the insistence to throw your life away? You lawmen continue to astound me.”
Walton reached for his empty gun instinctively.
To that, Declan just shrugged. “For the sake of this city, let us put aside our blood feud, Sergeant, and deal with this infestation.” Then the mobster’s eyes narrowed on Walton. “But if you wish to battle atop a pile of ruins, be my guest.”
A whirlpool of conflicting emotions, the sergeant closed his eyes, swallowed his dignity, and shattered his moral compass. When he opened his eyes again, he was a changed man. Morally broken, yes. But at least he had a chance to see his family again. That mattered far more than any blind righteousness.
“Hand me a gun,” Walton said.
“Well, I thought you’d never ask. Finnegan, give this fine gentleman a rifle.”
Once sufficiently armed again, the sergeant joined the line of criminals. Seconds later, his officers joined him as well, clutching rifles.
“Sorry, Sergeant,” Crespo mumbled, her eyes shying away from his.
“Don’t mention it.” Walton tightened his hand around the cold grip of the assault rifle as he gazed down the road that rapidly filled with approaching spawn.
Dispatching additional units, my arse, Walton thought. ETA fifteen minutes, my arse.
“Alright, lady and gentlemen,” Declan announced. “Let’s show these ugly fuckers what happens when they mess with our city!”
As the spawn charged down his sights, the sergeant let his gun roar.
❊ ❊ ❊
The blistering air blew across the nightscape of Midtown, carrying with it heavy ash that reminded all the people who poured into the parking lot of the superstore of the horrors that were transpiring. Law enforcement officers and local superheroes ushered the battered men, women, and children in, directing them to the lines of people who waited to venture into swirling portals that would whisk them away to someplace safe.
Jalen stood atop the roof of the Walmart superstore in his god form, his watchful gaze observing the procession of civilians that fled into his universe to a planet he had terraformed and set aside for this exact scenario hours after it became imminent that there was no stopping the avalanche of spawn that were slaughtering their way through the city. His spawn hunt with Dynamo a few nights ago led him to that insight, their efforts a drop in the bucket at defeating the animated corpses.
As he peered at the faces of the defeated mortals, he thought about how things were shaping for him to seize the reins. Thanks to the tsuchigumo, his plans of controlling Hermosville were coming to fruition faster than he ever imagined. Now that the residents of the city were hunted down like overpopulated pests, his offer of a sanctuary greatly indebted the people to himself. However, he couldn’t deny the bitter taste in his mouth from all the distasteful senseless killing. What use was there in wasting their lives so aimlessly? He stilled his temper. The only thing left to do now was to wrap his hands around the spider demon’s neck and squeeze till her undeserving breath eluded her.
Being fully aware of his surroundings, he picked up something—an object hurtling down at him at near supersonic speeds.
He spun around and unleashed his cosmic beams, cutting through the night and piercing a water tank, causing its contents to spill out in a cloud of steam.
However, the tank had only been a diversion because another object approached from his off angle. He turned just in time to witness a fist smashing into his face. Shockwaves cracked against the air as he plunged through the store’s roof and bounced across the ground, tearing through many aisles. The assailant, thinking Jalen was stunned, rushed after him. But hurting, he was not. The force from the attack simply exceeded the roof’s structural rigidity.
So, as he rose to his feet, another fist came swinging towards his face. This time, he caught it and squeezed. The attacker, a fairly large man by human standards, grimaced, then tried to escape Jalen’s grasp by swinging his other arm. Jalen swathed that punch away and delivered a devastating strike to the man’s temple. The assailant fell like a toppled tree, eyes darting about, trying to regain a semblance of his bearings.
“Who are you?” Jalen asked, intrigued that the man could survive his punch. It hadn’t been his best effort by any standard, but the man ate a blow that would’ve pulverized most superhumans.
Instead of responding, the man spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, glared at him, and lunged with a flurry of wild punches. He backtracked and sidestepped, every wind-biting blow hurtling his way, missing. The attacker clearly hadn’t regained his senses, still suffering the damage from his punch. Anyhow, intrigue gave way to annoyance and his patience had run thin. He ignored the wild flailing and backhanded the man. Then he slipped past another careless overhand and sent a gut-wrenching uppercut to the man’s midsection. A split second later, the man punched a hole in the ceiling on his ascent into the heavens.
Jalen launched after swiping with a viscous backhand when he reached just for good measure before wrapping his hand around the man’s neck.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
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“Fuck you,” the man stammered, hampered by the pressure on his windpipe.
The man dug his fingers into Jalen’s hand and exerted considerable effort to free himself from the chokehold. But that only earned him a tighter, air-wringing hold.
“I would start being compliant if I were you,” Jalen said, as the man’s face turned purple. “You don’t exactly have a choice.”
“Leave him alone, dickhead!”
Someone crashed into his back and bounced off. Then the newcomer wrapped pink energy tail-like constructs around his neck. He chuckled at their pit resistance. He grabbed onto the energy constructs and ripped them apart, turning to regard the newcomer. It was a woman with a pissed-off expression to match her wild mane of red hair.
“Didn’t you hear me, ugly shithead?” She formed the whip constructs again as extensions of her arm and twirled them with air-splitting expertise. “I said drop him.”
“Suppose I don’t,” he said. “What will you do about it?”
“Mnoo… Sauuus…”
The man tried speaking, but his words came out unintelligible.
“You fucker!” She whipped a construct back and flung it forward to wrap around his free arm.
Then what, he wondered.
To his astonishment, she pulled, the force she exerted equal to an ant as far as he was concerned. Done playing with the weaklings, he reeled his arm inward and she soared into the air, propelled by the sheer force. Then he swathed her away like the annoying insect she was. Bones broke and skin split as she skidded across the abrasive surface of the superstore’s roof.
Now the man in his grasp had his undivided attention. “You can either answer my questions or cease to exist. The choice is yours.”
Then he loosened his grip on the man’s throat, only to receive a weak strike to his jaw.
Eyes lighting up, he remarked. “Very well. You have made your choice.”
“Wait!” A red-skinned woman dropped to her knees before him and placed her head on the surface. “It has all been a terrible misunderstanding, Mister. Please release my friend.”
“And who are you now?” he inquired, his burning eyes relenting.
“I am Kylara, a superhero under training. We mean you no harm.”
“Is anyone else waiting to pop out of nowhere and attack me?”
The woman shook her head, which was still planted on the ground. “No. I am the last one. Again, we mean you know harm. Please show mercy to him.”
“Hmm.” He grunted, studying the woman who professed herself before him cautiously. How come her presence went unnoticed till she appeared visually? As for the woman with the whips, he merely allowed her to think she caught him by surprise.
A white and black bird flew toward them and ballooned into his sister.
“Come on, Jalen!” Ella exclaimed. “Those are my fucking friends! What the hell are you doing?”
He finally released the large man, then scratched his head in confusion.
“What happened?” Ella asked, rushing to the pink construct-wielding woman who lay unmoving. “Jesus! Sasha, are you okay? Oh my God! She isn’t moving. Sasha! Sasha! Jalen, what have you done?”
“They attacked me first,” he sighed. “Wouldn’t even answer simple fucking questions.” He let out another exhausted breath. “Step aside, E.”
As his sister turned to him with tears running down her face, his cosmic beams slipped beside her and showered the woman in his life force. The man, still struggling for breath, and the red-skinned woman gasped in shock, probably assuming the worst for their friend. The woman was teetering on the edge of slipping into the afterlife. His life force stabilized her, empowering her soul and reconstructing her damaged body.
“There, she will recover now,” he confirmed. “I even granted her enhanced healing and a stronger base.”
As he had proclaimed, Sasha’s bones set in place and her skin regenerated, rejuvenating to a healthy hue.
Ella helped her friend to sit upright. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone dropped an excavator on me,” Sasha mumbled, holding her head.
Ella breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ll be fine now. Just shrug it off.” Then she stood up, her eyes sweeping everyone. “Now what the fuck is wrong with you guys?” She pointed at Jalen. “Does he look like someone you should antagonize? Bohdan, explain this mess.”
The man frowned. “We thought he was a demon. The color of his skin matches some of the demons we saw attack the protesters on TV. Remember?”
“You guys were literally on death’s door. Oh my God. I can’t take any more of this.”
“if it will quell your fears,” Jalen said, “Kylara here was on track to saving their lives.”
Silence reigned, only to be broken by Dynamo climbing to the roof. Moments later, Mothman, adorned in a brown suit with wings resembling the insect he was named after, gracefully followed her, floating through the air.
“Everything good, Jalen?” Dynamo asked.
“Yeah, I got things under control,” he said, meeting his sister’s gaze. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
Then he divulged the entire situation to his uninformed sister and her friends. Kylara supported his claims by revealing that she had peeked into the minds of some people below and arrived at the same conclusion. Bohdan and Sasha offered apologies for their rash actions.
“Speaking of which,” Dynamo said, “an estimated 800,000 people have passed through all the portals scattered throughout the city with about 250,000 seeking shelter in the subway.”
“Do you know how many spawn there are in the city?” Ella asked.
It was Mothman who provided the answer, wiping the ice buildup on his goggles. “At least over 100,000 from HAVEN’S projections. Keep in mind that Midtown was not the only place hit. The protest at the GES got hit. The Narrows, Oldtown, Downtown, Chinatown; you name it. The industrial district got hit the hardest save for here, of course.”
“It is only thanks to Jalen that we were able to get ahead of it,” Dynamo added. “If not, I fear the death toll would have been in the millions now.”
“Give yourself some credit too, Dynamo. If you had not beat it into us that Armageddon was imminent, many of us wouldn’t have disobeyed HAVEN’s orders.”
Ella rushed to hug him. “Thanks, baby brother. See? I knew you’d be an awesome superhero.”
He groaned at the comment but chose not to correct their lofty views of himself. Well, Dynamo and Prillon, who ran off somewhere, knew his ulterior motives, the veteran superhero becoming privy to his way of thinking during their adventures. After all, he had to reveal some of his true nature to get her on board with his plan. And she watched as he prepared the planet, terraforming it from an inhabitable desert world to a safe haven with vast complex biomes.
“So what actions do you advise that we take now?” Kylara asked him.
So he directed her to Dynamo, who cleared her throat.
“Exterminate any spawn you come across,” the Oni mask-wearing superhero said. “The survival of this city depends entirely on how fast we can get rid of the spawn. Also, don’t forget to get your loved ones to a portal so that you can work with a calm mind.”
After separating from him, Ella met his eyes. “Have you—”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Aunt Darcy and our cousins are on the other side. Though Caleb’s mother was not as understanding. But I’d already made arrangements earlier, like I told you. Worry not.”
“Wow. Just amazing.” She rubbed the dried tears from her face. “You have everything figured out, huh? So what will you do while we try to quell the spawn’s numbers?”
“There was mention of demons disrupting the protest by the mayor’s manor. I’d like to have a talk with one of them.”
Afterward, Dynamo provided them with essential information such as the whereabouts of his portals and the most heavily attacked areas in the city. The superhero also gave them communication devices to fix in their ears, allowing them to stay updated with the latest information. As his sister and her group departed, he also bid farewell to Dynamo and took flight towards the mayor’s manor.