I could see the false hope spread across the wall of humanity. Faces alight with relief, eyes bright through the blood and scars, a moment of optimism, like a ray of light shining through a tempest.

I saw it and I cringed within. Because in that hope, I truly understood what was occurring, what Justice has meant when he said he would break humanity.

His words did not intend the death of the species. Nor did they portend a break from established culture. He cared not for how we held our laws, our faith, our morals, or how many of us there even were.

He had pressed our lines, throwing down his accursed powers left and right, and stilling the infighting among the armies in an instant. In the moments he had arrived, he had killed thousands; there remained not a single survivor in the area immediately adjacent to him, a zone of death so absolute as to be barren as the moon: scorched, flayed, scoured, the very ground churned upside down and inside out, as though to bury the flagellated remains of those he had consumed.

But then, this. As he had pressed inwards towards the bulk of the forces, as they had turned their focus upon him, as Exhuman powers and exotics and humanity's arms combined as one, for the first time in Earth's history, brought to bear against a threat greater than all--

His advance slowed. And then stopped entirely. The killing relented, the offense surged, and hope sparked alight.

And in that hope I saw ultimate despair. Because I knew, from fighting more Exhumans than nearly any present, that we were not winning.

That which Justice sought to break was not our ranks or our lives, it was our hope. We were being toyed with, and the thought of that sickened me.

From my position above the field, I heard the first turning. The swelling of the voices of man, tempered with the first yelps of panic. And then soon, it became all-consuming. I looked down and saw the latest of Justices' apparently-infinite tricks that he deployed against us.

People were being attacked by their own shadows. Lines swelled with an infection from within, as the number within the ranks suddenly doubled, consumed by infighting. Black, hazy beasts, solid as steel and with raking claws emerging from the earth itself, slashing at all nearby with ferenic madness.

It was as though a switch were flipped. Again, Justice was advancing, floating at my level, motionless in the air, except to flow forward with it. The attacks against him ceased entirely, as all were consumed with the newest threat upon their lives.

The shadows, honestly, seemed only a moderate danger. They were destroyed with hardly a touch, being made of shadow after all, and their claws were ineffective against the exosuits at least, too slow to match the inhuman reflexes of the Oasian toads, and within range of the Exhumans. But they demanded address, and while the chaotic melee erupted, Justice advanced unhindered.

"We're goin', yute," a voice crackled in my ear.

And with those words, from all angles surged what I might call my friends. Colleagues, definitely, and each of whom I had worked with in the past, on an op, or a bounty, or just in casual discussion over the water cooler to complain about the payments which payroll was not processing quickly enough.

The Hunter's Association was with me, to a man. Even the icers, even the neophytes, all had been polarized by the calamity we faced. All had been engaged through the evacuations, had family who were dead or displaced, had waited with the patience with which all hunters must possess, waiting for the time to strike.

And the time was now or never. The hunters erupted from the ranks, tearing through the shadows as though they were a mere fog, and focused their attacks on the uninhibited progress of Justice.

A few were like me, airborne in some manner or another, but the majority followed in Deej's paradigm, customized exosuits, modded for enhanced weaponry and superlative maneuverability. To strike fast and hard, that was the essence of an effective hunter.

My visor nearly whited out. Explosions of every conceivable quality erupted across him. Fire and ice, storm and corrosive, gas and concussive -- the air around Justice was so saturated with color and light that the sun seemed to go grey by comparison.

I had seen him fight before, and knew that Justice was not so resilient as to be able to survive that. He did possess an ability to separate components of his body, to knit them, and to rebind them onto himself. But a blast such as that would have left him with no body left to knit.

And so it was, I located him moments later, a good sixty feet from where he last floated, forced to evade the attack, and even so, frantically disassembling parts of himself caught in the blast. My visor automatically projected the new location through the network, and all the hunters fired upon him again.

This hope was not one born of false construction. If we hit him, he would die. And every evasive maneuver we put him through was proof that false gods did bleed.

Yet the flying man was not content to recover and to run. He had made us, and in one slashing gesture, I saw the ground tear open, and two of my associates were no more.

Still we rained down fire, it was all we could do. As we pressed forward, as the distance shrunk, our attacks grew harder to evade, and I saw him retreating further and further from the lines.

"Hunters, withdraw!" Deej ordered. And as one, we did. "Help wit' those shadows, free up da' ranks."

Deej had family in Kansas City, I knew. I did not know if they made it out on time. The fact that he kept a cool head and did not overextend our position meant nothing -- even if they had all been slaughtered before his eyes, I trusted the man to retain himself, no matter what. His voice was cool as iron, but from fury or simple intensity, I could not tell.

We descended into the battle lines, each of us superior to the rank-and-file in mobility, if nothing else, and where we struck, the tides turned. The shadows were banished, and suddenly freed of their own tormentors, those we aided were able to abet their neighbors. Like ripples, we worked, purifying the ranks for a time.

Until Justice once again threatened, newly mended, and approaching with renewed menace.

This time, we had the line at our backs, firing what they could while we rushed him. Again, blinding explosions harried him through the sky, each time seeming only moments too slow, his movement like a slideshow in the strobing blasts, vivid images of him caught in my eyes of him twisting this way and that, appearing to my left and to my right.

So much of his menace was gone, to see him no longer still, no longer floating without effort, to know that one errant blast could end it all.

But even should the menace be gone, there remained yet a certain unfathomable panic, like a scream threatening to rise from our throats.

We were throwing our all at him. Each of us was as fresh as we were going to be, as stocked and armed and ready, and we could not touch him. In minutes, ammo counts would be going black, missile banks depleted and discarded, bandoliers and reserve magazines going thin.

To say nothing of the human element; we had him on the run for now, and for the most part, were avoiding his counterattacks. But when we grew tired, when our minds were clouded with fatigue, or worse, despair, for ourselves, or for those who had fallen before us, what would happen then?

The hunter's greatest strengths were often ambush and overwhelming force. We were attackers, who sprung closed on an Exhuman and disposed of them before they could get their powers to bear. Ours was not a protracted fight in general, and it was already beginning to show.

"Fall back!" Deej shouted, and then I heard him grunt through comms as I saw him far below, his exosuit engulfed in flames. Likewise, Aello, my sister in the air screamed as her wing was clipped and she spiraled out of control, impacting the ground with a crunch that forced my eyes shut despite the chaos.

I took careful aim and fired once, before scattering, a wave of nearly-invisible wires erupting in the air behind me, razor-thin and anchored to the air itself. My shot somehow traversed the minefield, and flew true, hammering the ground at Deej's feet, and exploding into shards of ice I knew would not puncture his armor.

The sudden cold, and more, the oxygen devoured by the blast suppressed the fires, enough that Deej could pat them out across his body as his suit rocketed back towards the lines.

I turned to fire one more departing blast in Justice's direction, taking the approach to fill the air around him with flak and hope that he flew into it whilst evading the attack of the others, when suddenly, my visor screamed with warnings.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Emergency systems deployed, and my vision went black as my body slammed to a halt in the air, but even so, it was not fast enough. I saw the blood before I even felt it, and held perfectly still as my systems attempted to process what had been done to me.

Somehow, I'd flown straight into another pocket of the razor-wire, and as I hung motionless, felt at least four places on my body where it had sheared through me. My jetpack had been damaged, two of the arms cut clean off, but had it not been for the emergency breaks, I'd have been in pieces by now. I became acutely aware that one wire had cut through my leg, and was now grinding uncomfortably against my bone, inches away from shearing it off entirely.

More of the wires had brushed me but my armor had held, or pushed them aside. I was fortunate to be alive. Prepared, but fortunate nonetheless.

I took slow, careful breaths as I attempted, inch-by-inch to reverse and extricate myself. But it would not do, any backwards motion would require a loss of upwards thrust, and even the millimeters of that difference would embed the wires in me further. I hung here, hooked, tears building in my eyes as the pain of my body began to fully register. As proximity indicators warned that Justice was now fully within range, that if he wanted, I would die.

The other hunters had rejoined the lines. Deej was telling me I was going to be okay. He always was weak to those kinds of white lies, no matter how competent a leader.

And then, even he went strangely silent, and I knew why.

Justice hovered over my shoulder, seeming to pause to survey the scene. The hundreds of thousands of men and women beneath us, armed with powers and weapons never before assembled, the greatest army ever raised on Earth, fighting shadows and struggling to regroup for yet another ineffective push.

"They will break," he said. His voice was as cold and black as the dried blood on his hands.

"Fuck you," I spat.

"You--" he turned and looked at me, with eyes that writhed. My visor couldn't depict them properly, an error almost. But even so, I could see how inhuman he was, what a terrifying monster lurked behind those human-shaped eyes. "--you will face Justice."

"I am justice," I informed him. "I am God's sword, and humanity's shield. I cut down the blight such as you--"

I suddenly twisted in the air, sickeningly; the metal wires embedded in my flesh pulled at my insides like a thousand fishhooks. I gasped, panting heavily, several times, infirm shallow breaths, that at the end, came with choking blood.

"I AM JUSTICE," he boomed, his voice echoing inside me with raw emotion I could feel, but could not place. Panic, fear, guilt, paranoia...even rapture, it was all of those things at once, and more. "I WILL PURIFY."

"You're insane," I gasped. "You're just...you're Liev Bareletti, a murderer...and an Exhuman, and a...fugitive. And if you...think that these...deaths will improve the world...you know nothing."

He stared at me with renewed intensity. "Liar!" he screamed. "Parasite! I am Justice, and I will purify this earth. I will break them, and what comes next will be pure!"

"How do you see that happening?" I spat. "Drive humanity to extinction and govern a world of...fucking dogs and pigs? Or will you rule...and…" I coughed, aware of how wet it felt in my throat. "...and all your kingdom will be naught but purging and scouring...until even the resilience of man fails...beneath you?"

"Silence!" I jolted sideways again, and gaped anew, as the razor-wire dug deeper into my flesh. I couldn't see anymore through the tears. My stim patches were out of reach, and the pain was more than I could stand.

But I would not be silent. If I were to die, I would do as Jesus once had, telling Satan to begone.

"There are…" I coughed "only...two options. Either...your accursed-powers...grant you immortal life...and you will be forced to anguish...in the hell you have created here...for all eternity...or you will someday die, and hell shall be waiting. Whichever way...you will discover your inconsequence. You will know eternal suffering...while those you have oppressed...will sit at the right hand of God."

He stared at me, his face unfathomable, his eyes, inhuman. He showed no reaction, no emotion at all. And yet, he stared at me all the same, while the battle raged beneath us, beyond his notice.

I hoped I had somehow gotten through to him. I hoped he regretted all, and spent his life in purgatory, and his death in hell. I hoped a great many things, finding myself at the end of the line, as it were, with still so much left unaccomplished.

He was still floating, staring, listless, when half of his body spontaneously detonated, the ripples and gore from the blast, pushing me further into the wires, and further away from consciousness. I saw him scramble, even as he fell, chunks of his flesh leaping off my visor to re-assemble into his body. And then I heard and felt the sonic boom of the rifle round that had blown through him.

"Hang in there," I heard a familiar voice, tense with focus and worry. "Or, I guess...bad phrasing. We're gonna get you out."

I felt something touch my leg gingerly, but I was too far gone to even glance to see. It was not until I felt a familiar tugging sensation, not of my body, but of my whole, and then found myself on the ground, looking up at a pair of smiling faces that I understood.

"The cuts are deep, but clean," Jack said. "With minimal treatment, you should be fine."

"I'm just glad we got here in time," Tower grinned.

My mind staggered at seeing them. Were they a hallucination in my death throes? Or angels sent by God?

"I'll take her back. Go for the next one," Jack said. Tower nodded, and began moving impossible quantities of ground from under him, throwing enormous fistfuls into the air, where they hung, like stardust.

And then, with another tug, after long seconds, I found myself on a bed, indoors, crowded with personnel in white masks and bloodstained aprons crowded around the wounded.

"You're going to be fine," Jack smiled at me, more convincing by far than Deej's empty words. "He didn't get your lungs or heart, and the rest, they can patch up. "I'll see you later, Karu--"

He turned to go but I grabbed his arm somehow, and he turned back to cock his head at me.

"How...is this?" I asked. "That you...come to be here?"

He smiled at me, his eyes glinting. "You probably missed it, but Athan of all people came on the television. He made a very passionate plea for all humans and Exhumans who were capable to come together and make this stand. And after hearing that...I couldn't just stand by and hide anymore." His grin broadened. "Actually, Steffie was the most adamant. She said, even if she didn't know what she could do, she'd be here. And so she is, right in the thick of it."

He closed his eyes and looked out sideways with a sigh. I imagined his sight-beyond-sight let him keep track of her no matter the chaos. "She's quite amazing, you know. With her experience in operations, managing the New Eden resistance, she has unique experience in Exhuman management. She's proven herself quite invaluable. It makes the few lives Tower and I are able to save seem paltry by comparison."

"Well...I for one...appreciate your efforts," I said, attempting poorly to return his smile. "Let me not detain you further. I thank you for the risk you took today."

"One of your hunter friends took the shot, otherwise we'd never have gotten close," he shrugged. "Though yes, I don't intend to ever get that close to him again." He shivered at the thought. "If you will excuse me."

I let him go, and blinked, and in that moment he was gone.

I fell back into the bed as doctors began to work me over. It was as Jack had said, the damage was not as severe as it could have been, and the cuts were as clean as anything. If it were not for damaged musculature, I might be up in a day, even. Although by then, I knew not what the face of the world might look like.

So it was not long before I was deported from the emergency tent and left to wallow in recovery. Surrounded by miserable, groaning patients, but the ones who would make it, I felt useless, alone, despite being surrounded. Others were fighting and dying, and I would lay here, useful as a side of beef.

At least I had my visor, I supposed. I could still track the fight somewhat through what feeds I had from the 'net and from the other hunters, and through optics, if the fight ever drew near. But I hardly needed any of that to know.

We were fighting a tenth of Justice's true power. As I'd suspected before, his aim was not to defeat us, but to let us know, in no uncertain terms, that we were defeated. We thought we were defending a city, but the city was never at risk -- it was our defense he was after. He would permit us hope, only to snatch it away, as many times as it took, until our hope was gone.

It was sadistic. And a part of me felt vindicated in supposing I knew the truth of Exhuman nature all along. To be beheld and feared, to destroy, for no reason other than destruction, this was Exhumanity, and this was Justice.

I leaned back into my pillow, drawing shallow breaths, as the deeper ones hurt.

No. I was merely cross. Angry at myself for my failure, and rewarding it with cynicism. Just as much as an Exhuman had crushed me, an Exhuman had spared me as well. And there were hundreds more of them along the line, fighting with all their strength and virtue for the humans on their sides and at their backs.

Perhaps it was in the nature of Exhumanity to be destructive and cruel, but the humanity it infested could always shine through. Paragons of virtue, like Ashton, could and would always rise greater than their natures.

Or so I hoped. I stopped philosophizing and turned on the news report, watching the climactic battle from above.

We were told that Skyweb was aligning, that it would rain down with thunderous force, and Justice might fall, and I shook my head. Skyweb had already failed to dispatch him once, and here, it would be yet another rung on the ladder to despair for us to climb. He would survive it, and in so doing, win another hand. Fortress armors were deploying to the field, and I feared they would be more of the same.

I could not endure how much was occurring and how easily I dismissed it all, and turned off the news before I sunk back into cynicism.

We had one hope that I knew of. The Ashtons and the AI. And though I knew not what they were up to the fact that they had not yet returned triumphant meant that they were working hard. And so I took off my visor, and all the knowledge and cynicism of the world, propped myself upright, closed my eyes, bowed my head, and prayed.

I prayed for them, and for all the good people here. Prayed for God to spare the virtuous and smite the wicked, as he had done times immemorial. Prayed for my friends...and for myself.

I prayed until I cried as I realized the deaths of so many I knew. I visited their faces and memories. I prayed with all my strength, as long as I could, until my failing body could do no more, and I found myself dizzy from sitting up, and collapsing on my pillow.

Even as my eyelids grew too heavy to bear, as the dark took me, as I knew I would wake to an uncertain future, I prayed.

Please, God, please. Hear me. Just this once.