Keeping up was getting harder.
It hadn’t been easy before, but Viperia wasn’t occasionally stopping to swat her assailants anymore, just slithering at full bore to the district proper.
And they were traveling in an area with a relative lack of high structures, limiting the distance Finn could cover in a single swing.
Worse yet, there weren’t any delaying factors besides Nar and Mistral, both of whom had undoubtedly been instructed to hold her in place until backup arrived. What backup that was going to be, Finn didn’t know. Whoever got here the fastest to start with, he supposed.
Counting on the branches from the surrounding districts showing up seemed reasonable to him. The question was whether they had anyone capable of stopping Viperia, and if not, how long it would take for someone stronger to show up and what level of support they had the authority to call in. None of these things were certain in his mind or in reality, but he hoped.
That was what he was reduced to, in this battle. A bystander, wishing for things to be alright in the end. It felt so pathetic he didn’t even have the words for it. He should be more frustrated, he thought. Maybe the idea pissed him off so much he was looping back around to amusement, because it was close to making him laugh.
He refocused his thoughts from the useless directions they were going in. There was no way he could afford to get distracted by his own agitation and powerlessness. If he couldn’t do anything, he would find a way to change that. Viperia was approaching the city, so he needed to be ready to change tactics.
“Are you getting any updates?” Finn inquired over the comms, more to have something to say than anything else.
“Nothing worth mentioning right now. The officials are reaching out to Central, but response times aren’t looking good.” His friend paused. “At least we know what the villain is after; Viperia’s motives are pretty straightforward. Only one person she’d be going for.”
Right, Viperia would be trying to free her son from captivity, starting with the most obvious location the heroes could’ve hidden him in.
“Are they actually holding him there?” Lyra asked.
“If they were before, they aren’t now. I can guarantee you that,” Jack replied.
That was if the rampaging gang boss couldn’t track him over long distances by scent alone. Though Finn supposed that would be irrelevant if her son was out of the district already; no way was she getting that far… was she?
Whatever could happen, Nar didn’t seem to be planning on leaving it to chance, as he activated yet another power to keep her in place longer. He was losing ground, while Mistral was failing to keep her back fully. She hadn’t managed to tag or shake either powerhouse, however. They eventually slowed her down long enough for others to catch up.
The second clash which Finn had no method of meaningfully contributing to, was taking place with much more caution on the heroes’ part. Having left behind the broken bodies of the ones Viperia ruthlessly slaughtered earlier, there was a zone that they steered clear of around the Venin leader, each mercenary that could fire from a distance doing so, whereas the rest kept moving. Not surrounding her—she had proven that to be futile—but getting into a better position at least.
Weaknesses were what they targeted first. Or rather, what they perceived to be weaknesses. Like the eyes, for instance. None of it worked, bullets, elemental fire, and other esoteric effects pinging off her glassy black orbs.
Within seconds, Viperia responded to the flurry of powers, flashing lights lighting up the dark night, various powers blasting her into the ground. By… dancing.
Her head lifted, and her long, serpentine neck began to undulate in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, a motion eerily reminiscent of a cobra entranced by a snake charmer’s flute.
The ones closest to her started flagging. Even the storm manipulator and jester, albeit briefly before they caught themselves.
What was noteworthy was how the powers being used on her began to weaken along with their users. Finn had never seen anything like this. Power dampening? Or was she just making it so the superhumans were too weak to concentrate on their power use properly?
Cryoforged weapons collided with her in time to push Viperia into the umpteenth trap of the day. And to their credit, it didn’t break quickly like the last.
She broke free anyway, then darted out between the transparent pillars. There were attempts to stall her further, but she was reaching the city.
Ever since her unbinding, they hadn’t been able to ascertain this monster’s limits, and now it turned out she was still learning, still in the process of discovering her abilities. Assuming an altered transformation and more venom were all she had was foolish, looking back. It left them scrambling for an answer to the last move while the gap in strength only grew.
Despite the impending disaster, Finn felt light. Just not in a good way. Physically, he’d never felt better, which only reinforced his sense of helplessness. Even at his peak, this fight was out of his hands. Running along the ground was like floating, steps coming easily and each muscle twitch registering to his passive senses.
Mentally? He just kept banging his head into the same wall over and over again. The result, of course, was the same every single time. No progress. No solution.
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The citizens had already been warned of a potential threat to their homes, and evacuation efforts should have started with the signal from the DHD reaching all citizens in her path and beyond. What made the situation risky was how he knew that this was going to take a while, and that not everyone would make it out in time.
Moments later, the proof of his prediction unfolded in his range. Alongside the other independents and government heroes traveling near them, Finn witnessed the first apartment complex getting rammed by that massive serpentine body. There were people still inside.
With the level of detail he was sensing, it was as if the crash happened in slow motion.
Walls cracked under the impact, and the sound echoed like a thunderclap, jolting the air and rattling bones. Glass shattered in jagged rain, and the apartment floors buckled as Viperia’s massive form tore through, sending fragments flying with deadly speed. The residents inside, blissfully unaware moments ago, had only seconds to register the earth-shaking force before everything around them began to collapse.
A young man, barely in his twenties, caught mid-stride in the kitchen, was crushed in an instant as the ceiling buckled under the impact, pinning him between the stove and the unyielding slab of concrete above. He had no time to scream, only a look of shock frozen on his face as he was abruptly stilled, his hopes and dreams snuffed out in a heartbeat. Nearby, an elderly woman who had been painstakingly shuffling toward the exit was struck down, her frail body flung backward by a piece of jagged debris that shattered her neck like glass. She collapsed where she stood, limbs splayed out in an unnatural angle, her final moments stolen without warning or ceremony.
Behind her, a young woman—a friend, or perhaps a neighbor—had been helping her navigate the unstable corridor. She tried to scream, but terror strangled the sound in her throat as she staggered backward, her footing lost in the chaos. She stumbled blindly toward the broken elevator, the doors partially ajar and twisted, a dark maw waiting at the building’s core. One misstep and she plummeted into the chasm, her hands clawing at the air in vain as she fell, her cry finally breaking free, only to be swallowed by the dust-filled silence below. She never got up, her final cries vanishing into the cacophony of ruin.
The visions seared into Finn’s mind, each one a vivid, merciless reminder of what it meant to be weak in the presence of such monstrous strength. He grit his teeth, feeling helpless rage churn in his gut as he watched lives cut short in an instant. It was brutal, unavoidable. Viperia was too large, too strong, too unstoppable for him to prevent any of it.
Even a boy no older than ten, running behind his father, but being too late to avoid having the room above fall on top of him. He didn’t stand a chance.
Finn's fists clenched. A kid. Just a child, swallowed by destruction he never saw coming. The sight hit Finn harder than he wanted to admit. He felt a hollowness in his chest, an ache at his own inability to save someone that young. They weren’t supposed to die. It felt so wrong, like a breach of the very things he’d been taught and believed since before he himself was that age. Two parts of the world that were meant to stay separate, crashing into each other and leaving behind an irreparable mess.
He wanted to turn away, but it was useless. His awareness didn’t allow him to turn away from the images of those people. Couldn’t ignore the atrocities burning in his mind with painful clarity.
Next to him, Lyra pressed her hands to her ears, squeezing her eyes shut as the horrific sounds reached her.
He knew how she felt. With their senses, each and every casualty stood out to them, and they stood there watching it all happen, smoke rising into the air.
The damage was as bad as expected.
Viperia had already charged on, uncaring of the carnage she wrought. Most of the heroes followed her, attempting to prevent this from going on any longer. But some stayed.
Throughout his short career, Finn rarely interacted with the general public. Only on a few occasions had he jumped by to stop petty crime and said the bare minimum to get out of the interaction before moving on. As an Aegis operative, engaging them wasn’t a priority.
But now there was nothing else to demand his attention. Nothing he could affect. He wasn’t like Dad, didn’t have that attitude or outlook that attracted others to him. His power gave him the ability to blend into the background, fade from the spotlight; the best use of his capabilities was to observe, to assess so he could find a way to strike.
Since he couldn’t do that at this juncture, where did that leave him?
Right here, paying attention to the voices calling. Fear and agony hung thick in the air. All these innocents, begging for aid, for a hero.
Which was why he couldn’t just leave that little there girl to her fate. He and Lyra were the only ones who could perceive her cries for help.
She was buried in the corner of the collapsed building, choking on dust, panicking while she ineffectually banged her tiny fists into the block of concrete
“We need to get her out,” Finn declared, rushing over. Lyra followed. They didn’t waste any time when they got there.
Digging someone out from underneath blocks of rubble was both less suspenseful and easier when you could sense them, but that didn't make their predicament any less dire. Being able to sense which ones he couldn’t move was crucial here. It made it so he wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally removing the wrong one and causing the entire thing to cave in. It was just difficult regardless.
His grappling hook lifted the final slab safely off her bruised legs. He picked the girl up, and she clung to him like a lifeline, heaving sobs wracking her body. His training had never prepared him for this, so he handed her off to Lyra, who whispered soothing words to her as she rocked the girl gently back and forth. He wondered if it was enough.
Stupid question, really. How could it be? This child had lost everything. As many more would, today.
Viperia had gone, and they were left to pick up the pieces, quite literally in this case. Gridlock sent updates, encouraging them to stick to their task. Finn understood what his friend was trying to do: keep them out of the fight for as long as possible. And at the moment he didn’t have the power to justify why he should head back into the conflict.
It wasn’t over. When the emergency responders arrived, he would have to get back into the action, but until then he used his colors to guide other heroes towards survivors, the ones who could still be saved.
In the distance, a fire started, and he turned it vantablack to extinguish it. Finally, something he could deal with. There wasn’t even anyone near the flames, but having that tiny semblance of control over this tragedy invigorated him somewhat.
More cries reached him from every direction, faint and scattered in the rubble, like flickering signals barely clinging to life. His senses guided him from one trapped form to the next, each heartbeat and whispered gasp calling him forward. One woman lay crushed beneath a collapsed wall, her breaths shallow, eyes unfocused, a child curled beside her with a vacant stare. Finn’s hands worked fast to clear the debris around them, and when another hero appeared to assist, he stepped away without a word, his focus already shifting to the next life he might still have time to save.
More ruined homes.
More fallen victims.
More deaths.
Finn never stopped moving.