Once out of the tunnels, Ironbolt, Avenger, and their crew had a much easier time navigating the undead lands of the Lich. Through ruined cities and open fields. Across blighted swamps and strange patches of physics, it was a long-shattered warzone. But they managed to keep their stealth through most of it, and that had been their saving grace. It had carried them now to their final trial with less than a handful of casualties.

Moscow was a place frozen in time. It looked little different from the last time Ironbolt had been here, right before it fell. It’d been the last great military outpost in the fight against the Lich, with its Rift Gate serving to pull troops from all around the world. All for a lost cause.

As they came upon the outskirts of the ruins, strange and warped trees had reclaimed the brick and steel. That was new, he thought. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that around every turn, he’d see the corpse of someone familiar. Just standing there and waiting to rain hell.

As always, the same protocol was in effect. They were tired and weary of this march, but they’d packed enough food and they’d been able to find water. Though their legs were aching, even including the Speedster, their determination was ready to rise to one last challenge.

Ironbolt came up to his old friend, then, patted him on the shoulder, and without a word, sped off. His job was to scout ahead, faster than the eye could see, and search for traps and Thralls. Once he’d reported back the safest route, with the help of their Illusionist, this tactic would carry them safely. As it had done up until now.

But they’d been lucky, and that bothered him.

Ever since they came out of the metro, their encounters with the Lich’s Thralls had been sparse. Sure, there’d been thousands in some places. But they were raw numbers, most of them gory wrecks, barely intact from their deaths in battle. And most of them were previously civilians. The Powered undead were seemingly nowhere to be found. Not in the air and not on the ground. Just vanished with no signs of them in the past weeks, leaving only the leftovers in place. It was eerie as hell.

He should know that we’re here by now, Ironbolt told himself. So why hasn’t he attacked us in full force?

There must have been something else drawing the Lich’s attention. But he couldn’t possibly imagine what it was. They’d seen the moon base explode up in the sky, and there was no misinterpreting that. His mind leaped straight to the answer, and he knew. Creep had left the planet.

Besides that monster, there were only a handful of threats that could properly distract a King. Obviously, it couldn’t be another King. The only remaining two which weren’t in a pact with Seraph, well, one was holed up in the North and the other one they represented themselves. They would know if King Solomon had plans of attack.

So that left just one possibility. There was a new player on the field, he reasoned. Had to be the equivalent of a Class Zero, though Creep had shown there were apparently things beyond. Whatever the case, he just hoped that it served to distract the Lich King without becoming a problem for everyone else later on.

“God,” he swore. “It really is Armageddon around here.” He didn’t think Creep would stay in space, and when he came back, well… That might just be the end of it all.

He almost wondered if his priorities were misplaced. During Kizmet attacks, there were always truces between Heroes and Villains. This, so that everyone might come together against a common enemy. An existential threat. And if that wasn’t exactly the name for Creep, he didn’t know what was.

Maybe we should all be preparing to fight that horror. Leave the fight for justice after the one for our survival...

There was no changing course now, for better or worse. Events were set in motion which couldn't be undone.

On his way through the city, Ironbolt checked for dead and scouted a path. The moment he found himself on a vantage point, able to see all the way to the heart of the city, something else quickly became clear. Though they’d had a great run, their luck had just bottomed out. A fight was ahead, now. A bad one.

Because, although the Lich had taken many of his stronger sentries to wherever the battle was, he had not neglected to leave protection at vital sites, it seemed. Nor had he forgotten the threat that the still-warm heart of the Rift Gate posed. As such, a cloud of Heroes was immediately visible, floating in the sky above the domed building. What once housed the center of all trade in Eastern Europe was now a hotspot for the deadliest of Thralls. Not a place for the living.

Ironbolt had a hard time imagining how they would get through that. He liked to be optimistic, but even from his distance, he could see the stitching on the monsters up ahead. Many of them were custom made by the Lich himself, just like the one that had taken down his ship. They were multi-Powered abominations, capable of anything and everything.

One would have been bad enough.

Ironbolt called back to Avenger on the radio. “Ironbolt here. I’m sending a path to you now, but there’s more roamers in the city than usual, so you’re likely to make contact as they shift. Try to move quickly.”

“Copy that,” Avenger called back. “How’s the dome look?”

He wouldn’t sugar coat it. “It’s bad,” Ironbolt said. “Multiple Greater Thralls and a whole host of Powered ones. I’m sure there are even more inside. I don’t know how we’ll get through these numbers.”

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“Bloody hell. My man needs just thirty minutes to do his work. It’s quick and dirty, but that’s what he specializes in. We could try underground…”

The very thought sent a chill down Ironbolt’s spine. Cautiously, he pushed back, not wanting to sound too averse if that was indeed what they were forced to do. “Other options?”

“Fuck. Stealth and frontal assault are the only other ways. I’d say draw them out. Some are faster than others, right? So, we make a big boom and see if we can kill those bastards before the rest catch up.”

Not the worst idea, but that assumed they could kill the heaviest and fastest hitters. Moreover, kill them so quickly that the second wave would have failed to arrive. It was a stretch, but it was better than stealth. “They’ve no doubt got detecting Powers stationed. I wouldn’t risk sneaking.”

Ironbolt saw in his helmet’s display that Avenger had stopped moving on the GPS. The grim Brit had made up his mind. Decisively. “Looks like we go with plan A, then. We engage long-range, first, and wait for them to come to get us. That’s the best shot there’s bloody well going to be. And I’m tired of walking, so get your arse back here.”

Fair enough. They couldn’t turn back now. Therefore, the best worst plan would have to do.

At his usual pace, Ironbolt was able to return to the group. He was greeted there by Fortitude and Dupe. Finally, the two Wards had started to take on hardness in the eyes, like they knew what they were doing and belonged where they were; at the front lines. Such was a welcome adjustment. The battlefield would spit out anything less.

The young girl had especially shined in their last few fights, using her shields to lock down the worst threats as they came. She’d been invaluable in the tunnels. At least, that’s what Ironbolt had heard from the others. He hadn’t seen it personally. Not in all the chaos.

“There’s twenty-five of us left,” Dupe said, looking back over the group. He had long since shed his mask, and his face had gained dark circles. “It’s an army up there, isn’t it?”

Ironbolt nodded and for the first time on this long mission, he revealed his own face where everyone could see. If these were not men and women he could trust, he decided, then there was no such thing. His hand fell on the young Ward’s shoulder then and he told Dupe, “That’s why we need everything we’ve got. It’s time for you to shine, now. Help us to make this the best fight any of us have ever fought.”

The three of them were standing just out of earshot of the rest of the team. In a lowered voice, Dupe asked, “you mean what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Ironbolt said. “First, you’ve got to believe it yourself. But I think you’ve got the courage to do that.”

“Shit.”

Fortitude’s eyes widened, and she understood what they were discussing. “Leave it to Ironbolt to figure out a use for another person’s Power that even they haven’t thought of.”

He just smiled at the two of them. Ironbolt was over a hundred years old, from his own perspective of time. Deep down, he couldn’t help but look at the world through an old man’s eyes. A grandfather’s eyes. Finally, he turned to the crowd and addressed them. “Everyone!” he said. “Dupe is going to give you the situation while Avenger and I strategize. Get ready.”

Dupe swallowed hard and stepped up. The floor was all his.

“Alright,” he announced, “listen here!”

Ironbolt took Avenger aside, but he simply explained what they were doing, and the man understood. Thus, the two of them listened also, barely feigning distraction.

Dupe ran a hand through his dirty red hair and sighed. But little by little, he did muster his courage. He found his confidence to make his words believable so that he could pour his Power into them. He wasn’t one to put his money on fate, he had to admit. But right at this moment, he thought he could really see it. The reason he’d been brought here even though he felt useless. It was this one act.

“We’re going to win this,” he told the troops, willing them to believe it. He felt the tension melt out of his neck, and he steeled his gaze. “Up ahead, the Rift Gate is being protected by hundreds of Powered Thralls, set there by the Lich to prevent what we’re doing. He wants to stop us because he knows that the day we get through to that Rift Gate is the worst day of his life. Everything he built will be brought to the dirt in one fell swoop. And that day, we know, is today. But only if each and every one of us brings the best we’ve got.

“You’re not gonna miss a shot,” he pointed. “And you’re not gonna feel pain. You’re not gonna feel tired or doubt for a second that we have got this in the bag. Because we’re the motherfucking Good Guys, and we don’t lose. Not ever. And especially not to someone as godforsaken and soulless as the bastard we’re fighting here, in a graveyard of innocent people. So, for this fight you and you and you… are perfect killing machines.

"We're here to win. So gather your shit. The fight is coming to us," he concluded.

Avenger’s mercenaries were tired, but their eyes lit up and their attention returned. It was like a new wind had been blown into their spirits, and their determination swelled.

It was the first time Dupe had ever used his Power in this way, to enhance the performance of a group. But Ironbolt had always suspected that there was a greater potential to be tapped with it, using such a placebo effect. The amazing feats that were possible...

He threw a coin to one of the men at the front who, without blinking, caught it by instinct. They put it in their pocket and then nodded solemnly. Sharp as knives. “I’ll get Farsight up to the roof then. I assume we’re drawing them out?”

Avenger nodded.

“Then we’ll take out as many as we can before they even get here. Come on, Leap.”

Ironbolt smiled. He thought it might have been an effect from Dupe, even though he knew it was all hypnotism, but he was optimistic anyway. The boy had been drained from the effort, but he could stand back for the rest of the fight. He had earned his place among the best of them.

If people really believe, they can do things that are normally impossible. Lift cars and run farther.

There was one last thing to even out the odds.

Suddenly, the Technicist came forward while everyone was getting to their positions. As always he had his bodyguards at his side, but he had something else with him. A device in his arms, which he very carefully placed in Ironbolt’s hands.

“This is for you,” he said. “I’ve been cobbling it together with whatever tech I could find on our travels. Microwaves. Power converters. That kind of thing. Hopefully, if I’ve guessed right about your Power, it should serve you quite well…”

As his smile grew wider, Ironbolt hefted up the weapon and plugged it into his suit’s interface. Energy roared into the thing, and a faint blue glow emanated from within its circular steel coils. It was not too different from some of his own earlier designs. Genuinely, he thanked the man, and the two of them parted ways once more.

“It’s been ten seconds and you’re still grinning,” Avenger noted. “You must have really missed your gear.”

“For once,” Ironbolt told him, “I’ll admit it. Seeing that army almost had me doubting.”

“Glad to see your boy’s Power worked. Everything came together in the end. We lost a lot of damn good men, but… This is the turning point, Isaac.”

“We can only pray.”

“No. We can act. Let’s get this son of a bitch. Right here and now.”

Amen, Ironbolt thought. Amen to that.

It was time to put an end to the age of Kings.