He was informed of more details about the situation. Millions of people had died, but the damage hadn't spread outside Kaleidoscope City.

So what? Millions. The entire population dead or transformed into monsters, which was basically the same thing.

To make matters worse, they couldn't even be sure they would face an army of monsters at a ratio of one to every citizen.

After all, he had seen one man transform into two with his own eyes.

He would say he didn't see how the situation could get any worse except that it would be tempting fate. And because he really did see it, it was simple enough for governments to get fed up and pull the trigger, blowing up the moon and killing almost the entire planet.

Which wouldn't even do any good, according to that monster, and he believed her.

Now humanity's only chance was for him to walk into the death trap that his former city had become, that is, to do exactly what the Moon Princess expected. Something so obvious that she had made a worldwide broadcast to extend an invitation to him.

But what choice did he have? This game had to come to an end one way or another.

Sylvester took a deep breath, exhaled. He repeated this several times and it did absolutely nothing to help him. Not to calm down, not even to think a little less about things he couldn't change anyway.

Good news was in short supply, so it was especially welcome when he was allowed to reunite with his old team, to know that they had somehow or other survived that disaster. Although many other agents and the rest of the population hadn't been so lucky.

He even shared a warm hug with Ryan. Not that he wanted to kill him, but he couldn't say he liked him either, so it was another surprise. Maybe not pleasant, but not unpleasant either, so it was close enough to count in his opinion. He wasn't going to ask for a second one.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Sylvester said, after giving them both a hug.

Cynthia took it strangely. Looking at him with wide eyes, as if she didn't know what to think. She opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it, closing it again, pursing her lips into a thin line.

If he'd said or done something wrong, he was grateful she'd saved it for later. Or for good.

It meant they agreed that this was a time to celebrate, not to quarrel, even if she had every reason to do so. Which he didn't believe. That is, he'd just said he was happy, hadn't he? What could be so strange or offensive about that? Surely it was mostly his imagination.

A couple of hours passed and the only thing he learned, in essence, was that the syndicate's plan was to throw him in the general direction of the problem. None of the informants stooped to saying: we have no idea what to do. Figure it out on your own, please. But it went without saying, alas.

He wasn't the only one they would send.

So would all the agents they could spare, which were all of them with the end of the world at stake. Naturally.

But ultimately this was up to him.

They were now in the back of another plane, hoping that this time they wouldn't be attacked on the way.

Their destination was, of course, the ruins of Kaleidoscope City, which now belonged to that woman and the monsters who knelt before her. For she was their princess.

A dead city, nature devouring its bones bit by bit.

It wasn't a peaceful journey. They couldn't have peace with all that was at stake, but precisely for that reason at least it was silent.

"Boss..." Until Cynthia decided to open her mouth. Judging by her hesitant tone, it wasn't going to be a pleasant topic. But that didn't mean it all had to go to shit. They had enough to deal with. It really wasn't the time, so he would do his best not to get angry and fuck it up.

"Yes?"

"I want to tell you something. But I don't mean to pick a fight, so promise me you won't get mad."

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She'd asked him and everything. Okay, maybe it would be harder than he'd thought, great.

"Say whatever." But that was all that came out of his mouth. Though perhaps it had sounded more blunt than he had intended, a simple invitation for him to continue, because she didn't have or at least shouldn't have reason to be silent, fearing his reaction.

"I have a strong sense of justice. You know that. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. I would have left it in the hands of others, as my mother wanted." So she got along well with her mother. She had begged her, like any sensible mother, not to choose that life, not to put herself in useless danger. Whereas his own hadn't even recognized him as her son at the end of her life. It wasn't fair and had nothing to do with anything, but he couldn't help but make the comparison anyway. "I worked hard. Then I got promoted to your partner. Everyone was talking about you, gossiping" Oh, yeah. Typical "and they warned me, but I was proud to have been chosen as your partner. I still am. More so every day, actually."

Okay, so much preamble, and suddenly she was sucking up to him, too. Or so it seemed to him. That she was exaggerating. What was the bombshell she was about to drop?

"But?"

There was always a but.

"You've always been good to me. Probably the best boss I've ever had. Patient, understanding, fair." More preamble, more pleasantries. He was starting to get seriously worried. "But they were right about you. I knew it from the first time I saw you."

"What do you mean?"

It wasn't as bad as expected. Or rather, it was hard to be offended when he had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.

"It was like you were looking right through me. Maybe because you didn't expect me to survive, like the others. Maybe because you can only bury so many of your partners before you decide to stop making such a big deal out of it or go crazy." Had he done that, looking through her? He wasn't sure, but that also meant he couldn't deny it. He supposed the answer didn't matter, that the mere fact that he had made her feel that way meant something and was a problem. "I don't know, but I've always felt that way.... Until today. You were sincerely happy to see me survive."

Had she ever doubted it? Sylvester felt even worse.

"Maybe the taste of defeat made me more human." With some much-needed humility on his plate, too. "But I'm not the only one who's changed."

"Hmm?"

"You and Ryan seem to be getting along better." At the very least they'd been breathing the same air for quite a while without Cynthia finding excuses to pick a fight, knowing she had to restrain herself for the sake of humanity so leaving it at just threats and other passive aggressive talk.

"Something like that." Cynthia shrugged, looked away. "We fought together, bled together, survived together. He was basically complicit in the most horrible thing I've ever seen.... But I think it's time to admit that his attempt to redeem himself is sincere."

"Thank you." Ryan's first contribution to the conversation, he couldn't help but notice. Well, if it were him he wouldn't have been able to keep quiet either. Coming from Cynthia, that counted as effusive praise, after all.

"You don't have to thank me for telling the truth."

She sure was nice today. Anyway, they'd had four days alone to get to know each other better and talk to overcome their differences. Four days of that while the world was going to shit around them and they only had each other for support. It made sense, in a pragmatic and emotional way. And it was a good thing. He wasn't going to complain or make things difficult for no reason.

They were informed that they had arrived at their destination and the door of the plane opened before them. A short walk that led to a long, long drop. They stood on the edge, the others equipped with parachutes, to observe what was left of the city.

Sylvester rested a hand on the wall, holding on tightly to the first thing he caught, hard, as if he wanted to tear it off.

Seeing it in person, even at this distance, was somehow different from watching it on video. More real. He had been fighting for ten years to protect the whole world. But most of those ten years had been spent in that city, the city he'd been born and raised in, save for a few trips out (to other cities or countries) when the situation was simultaneously too fucked up for normal agents to handle and controlled enough that it wouldn't all be over before he had time to get wherever he was going.

It was home, in a nutshell. It was what he had fought for, and it had all had to end this way.

He knew things worked this way. It was just like watering a plant. For it to bloom properly you had to water it carefully, take care of it, take into account the weather, the soil in the pot and a lot of tips that you could find on the internet. But it was enough to forget about it for a couple of days for it to start to wither. Life wasn't designed, there was no grand plan. Life was a cosmic accident that you had to hold on to with all your might.

Sylvester was the first to jump, spreading his wings and flying toward the broken city consumed by vegetation. He simply hadn't been able to stand another second of just seeing it, wallowing in his misery. Nothing could be done about it anymore, but he could make that bitch pay. And he would.

He landed in the middle of a shattered street, making his wings disappear, looking around trying to make sure there were no enemies nearby. Though he could never be one hundred percent sure. At first that was what he did, but it wasn't long before he was distracted. Life in this city had come to a sudden and violent halt.

As proof of that, there were still quite a few cars strewn along the road. Sylvester was distracted as he waited for his companions to land with the help of parachutes, observing the open or torn doors, the broken glass, the dried blood. Traces of the tragedy.

Of the massacres.

Everything that had happened in the last four days was his fault, the blood of millions of people stained his hands. Millions. There was no turning back now, no possibility of repair.

But he could avenge them.

Sylvester stood there, watching, as if in a trance until his companions landed nearby, tossing the parachutes aside.

Then, together, they entered the dead city ruled by a being beyond the stars.

Into the huge gladiatorial area where the fate of the world would be decided.