When the Shadow Master arrived at the airport, it was with a deep, bone-weary sigh. He'd seen so much death, been asked to save many who were too far gone. At least, this time, it had ended without much more bloodshed... and there were few merely wounded; only the victims of traps or the Pale Ones had been wounded. Most were simply dead.
He was fairly close to his limit; as powerful as he was, as much as they likened him to the pale hand of death for his exploits against the Nazis back in the day, he simply lacked the bottomless energy of his children and grandchildren. And, well. Great-grandchildren. Seven, so far. Good lord.
Two soldiers waited at the door, saluting. He glanced at them for a moment. He could sense it. One of them had just a trace of his power in it. Several years old. Must have been a terrible situation, where he was forced to give out barely enough to keep them alive; usually he liked to get them well on the way to recovery.
He stopped at the door, looking at the man. Corporal Dawes. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Have you made good use of what I gave you, son?"
The man gave a quick jerk of a nod. "Yes sir."
Both soldiers watched him step down the stairs, heading for... a canvas green tent set on the tarmac. As he approached, he could feel... power. Truly unstoppable, limitless. Spike.
He stepped inside, glancing down at a young woman in a hospital gown, lying on a gurney beside the Titan. Glancing at Spike, who hadn't even noticed his entrance, he walked forward, sensing the woman... and nodding.
She'd been exhausted beyond the point of recovery, but something was working through her, getting her back in order. She'd survive, though maybe not in as good shape as she had been. He nodded. "I can help with this in the morning... after I get some sleep, and recharge. Should have her on her feet tomorrow."
Spike nodded, glancing over at the exhausted old man. "...I.. would appreciate if you'd heal one more person before moving on to your usual rounds."
"Oh? You know they're expecting me at St. Judes tomorrow. Who is it?"
"...Jonathan Randolph. The Lord of Iron. He's in a hospital not far from here. Badly wounded by one of those controller things that turned him into a Pale One... and then he carried me and her south anyway. He won't be awake for days, but the doctors told me that doing what he did, staying on his feet, fighting machines, carrying us south... well. He might be crippled for life. He didn't end up having to, but he was even willing to go toe-to-toe with a Titan, there at the end."
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we could've stopped the machines without him. Maybe not. But he saved so many lives, and kept fighting long past earning his pardon, past the point that most people would be lying in a ditch begging for mercy. I owe him. Hell, we all owe him, the arrogant bastard."
***
The storm raged across what had once been Mexico. There was flooding; terrible storms, fire, tornadoes. Planes went down; boats sank. But in the end; while battered and drenched, the people survived. By the time the sun rose the next day, the storm was mostly spent; and hundreds of thousands of men and women from around the world began the long, hard task of returning the lands which had once been Mexico to civilization.
Miles off the coast, on a small island named Guadalupe, Eyeball was walking across a rocky cliff, looking over the land that was, at least for now, his own, personal property. It wasn't too late; it might cause some anger, but he could always change his mind, tell the family to fuck off, and keep it for himself. Or try to make it -his- country, as a petty tin-pot dictator.
He had a fearsome reputation, after all. He could probably keep people in line long enough to make a go of it. As if. He'd abandon his new family when they abandoned him. No sooner. He recorded GPS coordinates as he walked, planning out where the roads and parks of his own new home would be, while Emerald took her time on a slow overflight of the island, more gliding than flying.
He glanced up in the sky, spotting something incoming. Was that? No.
He seamlessly pulled the pins of a pair of grenades, not sure just what would work best, rolled them to his left; and leapt to his right with all his strength.... moments before a humanoid figure slammed into the earth where he'd been standing with so much force the rock cracked, a small crater forming, as a shiny, silver and green figure started to rise from the crater.
A deep booming voice that sounded vaguely.. Hawaian? emerged for just a moment. "I am.." before the grenades went off behind him, and he let out a screech of pain, stumbling away, clutching at his back.
***
Roland White was an up-and-coming supehero; not a Titan, but with his powers and dashing good looks, destined for greatness; probably a good career as both a hero for the DMA and an actor in Hollywood.
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With superhuman strength, durability, speed, and flight, he was what the DMA called a 'Flying Brick'; one of the most useful, bread-and-butter sort of heroes they had. A suit of armor turned his existing incredible durability into genuine bulletproof stature, expensive sensors gave him the sort of superhuman senses that he naturally lacked, and a beautiful tungsten blade that weighed better than a hundred pounds gave him just that bit of extra power he needed to handle the rare person who could survive his punches.
He could also hack right through a tank with it, which came in handy.
With the callsign of 'The Green Knight', he'd been looking to make a name for himself... and failed to do so terribly during the machine invasion, while villains like this Eyeball character had done incredible things.
He needed something to get his name in the papers; so that an agent would give him the time of day. And when he got word about the deal they'd made with Eyeball... giving him an island? Ridiculous.
He could kill this guy. He wasn't fragile, like Lightning, who, for all his speed, had been taken down by ordinary bullets. He could land, make some threats, crush the man... and go down as the hero that killed Eyeball and avenged the great hero.
Seeing the flying villainess, Emerald, flitting away, Roland aimed his foot at Eyeball's chest; intent on making that first blow the last, hurtling towards the ground at hundreds of miles per hour... the HUD on his faux-medieval helmet gave him excellent information; about the 40mm grenade launcher, the 10mm handgun, the more ordinary grenades... no rifle. Hah. The distance countdown shrank to the moment he would bring his career to the headlines.
Only for the man, surprisingly swift, to abruptly leap out of the way... Roland grunted when he hit the ground, turning towards his prey; only for his HUD to suddenly go dead, his vision going from all-round to a narrow cone in front of his face... and something splattering his back.
Even as he started to speak, to threaten... he felt it. Fire! Good god, fire! He was... no, it wasn't fire. Acid!? Smoke was rising from his body, and he could feel it burning into him, all across his back, shoulders, legs.
No! He could survive it. He was tough. Just... finish this guy, quickly, and get to a hospital. He reached down, grabbing at one of the chunks of rock broken free when he impacted, planning to smash it into Eyeball's face... only to suddenly have his vision go dark, hearing a loud hissing sound... as sticky foam expanded in every direction.
He shook himself, tossing away clumps of foam... only for it to stick to his hands, his face, his body. He dropped to the ground, rolling, his screams cut off as the foam covered his helmet completely.. he tore the helmet off, throwing it in the general direction he thought Eyeball had been... only for another loud, terrible pain. Something hit the side of his head! He was bleeding! That wasn't a bullet, what was it? He... couldn't hear! He could see, for a moment, Eyeball in front of him, as the foam continued to expand over his face.
He should never have removed the helmet. He lunged at Eyeball, pulling that tungsten sword out to give him a bit of extra reach, if the man tried to dodge it... but the man didn't even need to dodge. Roland was off-balance. His eardrum.. was his eardrum ruptured? He stumbled, and fell, burying the blade three feet into the rock, desperately clawing at the foam, keeping it away from his face.
There was so much pain. His back still felt as if it were on fire, and his head...
He looked up, as the foam finally stopped expanding, to see the barrel of that 40mm revolver. Even the worst 40mm round the army carried could only bruise him; he'd taken those to the chest before just to show off how tough he was, and was fine by the next day. What was in this thing? He could still handle this. Just give him a minute to catch his balance. "Wait. S....stop."
A bright flash of light. Something slammed into the center of his forehead... and it all went dark.
***
Emerald landed beside Eyeball, straightening out the long black dress she'd worn out for her flight over the simple bike shorts, looking over the fallen hero with amusement as she nudged him with her foot, careful not to touch the still-sticky foam. "Still alive?"
"Yup. Probly a ruptured eardrum, all sorts of burns, a concussion. I could finish him off, or I could let him live." He chuckled. "I think I got the distance on that EMP perfect. The Breach-Cam shell in my revolver died, but the helmet still works. Just a few more inches and I'd need -another- new helmet."
Emerald shrugged. "Do you really need the helmet? You look fine as-is."
"Officially, Victor is still a law-abiding US businessman, and Jason Bennet now has a pardon. If I can keep the helmet on, then I can break the law as either Victor, or as Eyeball, and still be able to walk around in public as the other. Plus... I like the helmet. Feels kinda badass. The whole signature Eyeball look. Could you imagine? I could pull off a whole string of crimes as Victor, and still be the friendly Enforcer of the quiet little island nation of Famiglia."
A long-suffering sigh. "I thought you were gonna go mostly legit now? You told me that was what you really wanted back when you first took on the whole Victor ID."
"Well, yeah. But apparently I got at least one more crime spree I need to go on. Where is your family nowadays?"
"....Japan. All of the clan are in Japan. I.... Yes. We still need to deal with them, at the very least."
He nodded. "That's fine. I'm gonna need you to explain before the wedding, at least, or invitations will be complicated. They gonna disapprove of me?"
"...Not so much that as just want you to give me one kid, and then send me on to someone that's part of the plan. How about we skip that for a time we don't have a hero to deal with? What do we do about him?"
Eyeball sighed. "Well. Officially, I could simply say I killed him in a fight, and hand over his corpse; thats what most of the other villains would expect here. A bit torn on it, though. Showing mercy might help pave the way form dealing with...."
He stopped. He'd been scanning the area, seeing what would pop up if he pulled the trigger, ever since the hero had landed. For just a moment, he'd seen... a woman. In golden, winged armor. Was there seriously a Valkyrie here, waiting to grab this guy if he fell in battle? How often were these women around? How many invisible people were there? He didn't really scan for them most of the time. Did he need to?
Emerald stepped closer, seeming just a bit anxious. "Everything alright? You kind of lost your train of thought there."
He looked down at her; deciding that a quasi-religious discussion could wait for another day; and laughed. "I suppose so. You know what? I'll call his bosses. Explain the situation. This seems like a perfect time to set the ground rules for when their super-cops show up on La Famiglia."