Now, Manila
The thick fog blanketed everything in gray.
Visibility ended at a hundred feet in all directions around Eron. The fog was an opaque wall beyond that point. Except for the lights.
They shined faintly, like buoy beacons bobbing in a dark sea.
All sorts of different colors that would’ve brought Eron a sense of comfort had he not known what they were.
He ran, but at a jog so that he could react to obstacles that appeared suddenly out of the fog. The street was full of abandoned cars, jeepneys, trikes and buses. He had learned that lesson months ago. A full-speed sprint didn’t give him enough time to react.
Eron cut to the left and turned right on the street running along the Pasig River. He hoped that keeping the river to his left would give him one less area to watch out for attacks from the fog.
The lights followed.
A shanty town appeared in front of Eron.
“Shit.”
Narrow, twisting pathways filled with hundreds of densely packed homes were a perfect place for the fog to ambush him.
Eron put on a burst of speed and launched himself up into the air.
The fog swirled around him. Thickening as he moved faster. Almost as if it struggled to keep the hundred foot clear space around him.
A dark shape descended from above. A powerful gust of wind from broad wings.
Eron spun with a blind backfist.
Thudding impact against his arm.
The snap and crack of shattered bones accompanied by an aborted screech of pain.
The shape faded away into gray wisps, like so much smoke.
Like always.
Eron crashed into a crudely built home. Aluminum sheeting for a roof, a mixture of cinder blocks and cheap plywood for walls, demolished into scrap as he tumbled through it.
People had lived there once.
Eron held a moment of sorrow for the unknown people. For everyone that lived in the town before the spires. It wasn’t a comfortable life. It was a hard life, but it was a life. It was more than being killed and eaten by monsters, then subsumed by the fog.
The lights drew closer.
Eron scrambled to his feet and continued to his destination.
The port represented a chance for freedom. Slim though it was.
How many times had he tried to escape the boundary of the fog in the last few months?
Hundreds of shipping containers were laid out in orderly rows, stacked to varying heights.
He jumped and climbed until he reached as high as he could.
The fog seemed to clear beyond the hundred foot radius, like it was teasing him.
To the north, the International Port Basin, according to the maps, was choked with ships. Derelict vessels tangled together, pressed up against the several thousand foot long concrete port where the ocean had pushed them.
The fog to the east was an opaque wall.
Eron had suspected that the port would be clear thanks to the river flowing into the ocean on the south side.
He’d need to cross the tangle of ships before reaching open water. So, he decided to check out the other sides first.
“The sea isn’t how you’ll escape this nightmare.”
A ghostly voice echoed around Eron.
The fog thickened and swirled a dozen feet in front of him, coalescing into an old man. Not bent and stooped, but straight and strong. Lean, wiry muscles were visible through the man’s clothing.
Gray wisps streamed off the man like smoky tendrils connecting him to the fog.
“Tito Carlos… I wish I could trust you,” Eron said. He had never met his dad’s uncle, at least not that he remembered. The only time he had visited the Philippines was back when he was four or five. Such memories faded.
The shade of the man that claimed to be his tito smiled sadly.
Eron found himself believing. He saw his grandmother and his dad in that smile. Though the situation would’ve been easier to deal with if this wasn’t family and was just some kind of copy or illusion.
“My words are my own, even if my actions aren’t.”
“Then give me more information. What happened to you? What is this fog? Why do you all beat me up whenever I try to get out, yet don’t finish the job?” Eron pleaded.
“I can’t say.”
“So you’ve said… repeatedly.”
“We can speak freely and our thoughts remain our own, but we exist for the one and can do nothing to endanger that.”
“What is this one you keep mentioning?” Eron snapped.
“How are the children?”
“Safe and you should know that. The wards keep the fog out… while they last.” Eron noticed more shapes slowly beginning to coalesce around him. The lights had vanished. From experience he knew that the rest of his relatives would be appearing soon.
“The children are everything. Our existence is to ensure their continued growth and safety,” Tito Carlos intoned.
“Something we agree on. So, why not let me go? Once I get a bit of sunlight and some help I’ll come right back to save them and free you,” Eron raised his voice, “free all of you!”
“I’m sorry, pamangkin, but you can’t leave. Why do you think we’re the ones that meet you every time you try? Why we don’t appear when you’re in the city? Why only shades of monsters and weaker people plague you? Think…”
Eron nodded. They had discussed this in their sanctuaries behind the wards. “Everything has an energy cost. Spells, Skills, whatever this fog is… manifesting you and the others costs more. Which means your one definitely doesn’t want me to escape.”
“You can’t escape this by getting out. You should go back to your hiding places where you keep the children. That is your true path.”
“Sorry, tito, can’t do that.”
The old man sighed. “Turn back now and we won’t need to hurt you… again.” A wry smile.
Eron shrugged. “Maybe I do this more often. Drain the power it takes to manifest you.”
The two men stared at each other as other forms continued to slowly coalesced around them.
“Well?” Tito Carlos raised a brow.
“I’m not going to hit an old man, my grandma’s brother, first.”
“I don’t have that problem,” a voice behind Eron.
He turned his head only to take a fist to the side of his head.
The blow echoed like a gunshot in the eerily silent fog-engulfed port.
Eron went flying into a shipping container. The metal cratered around his body.
He pulled himself out of the container with a wince.
That had hurt.
“Sorry, not sorry, cousin, but these are the only times I can control myself. Otherwise it’s just floating around in a gray foggy void,” the young man jumped down from thirty foot tall stack of containers and glance around, “not much different from this.”
“Right… uh… this is embarrassing, but I forgot your name,” Eron said lightly.
“Figures, why would you care about us? Too busy being all fancy in America. Even when the world ends you still put them over your family, your roots. Safe and sound, while we get taken by this—” the young man struggled to get the words out, but gave up. “Vernardo is my name, cousin, friends and family call me Vern. I was ten when this all started. I watched people I care about die, first to monsters then to this fog. Where were you?”
“The world was shit for everybody. Not everyone had superpowered people to defend them,” Eron sighed.
“They weren’t blood!” Vernardo leapt in with a wild punch.
Eron slipped his head to the side and dug a short hook into his cousin’s gut.
Vernardo gasped for air as Eron grabbed his arm and threw him into the ocean.
Tito Carlos’ face was an impassive mask as he watched from the top of the container stack.
“What? He’ll be fine. The fog will draw him back or whatever. Probably won’t be able to bring him back right away with all of you and I’d rather not fight family when they actually want to hurt me. At least you guys are somewhat reluctant fighters, right?” Eron regarded the handful of relatives arrayed in a semi-circle a few dozen feet in front of him.
Second and third cousins on both sides. All with superpowers. Those on his dad’s side had the classic superhuman strength and durability package, though not quite on Eron’s level even without the sun-given abilities being a Solar Paragon granted him.
Those on his mom’s side could generate forcefields though not as varied as hers. Their creations were singular in nature. A round shield on an arm. A wall a dozen feet from the hands. A thin, form-fitting field around the body.
“Stop this. Return to the city, protect the children,” Tito Carlos pleaded, “the sea doesn’t offer a way out. The one’s reach extends out and into the bay. Beyond that… well, there are worst things in the depths.”
“I just need an instant in the sun,” Eron said. “No monster, no matter how terrible scares me… I’ve yet to face one I’ve been unable to destroy.”
“This is the exception. Isn’t it?”
Eron had no answer for that. He readied himself. Tito Carlos was the greatest threat. The old man’s strength exceeded Eron’s with how the fog had been able to drain the solar radiation from his body. The rest of his relatives were manageable. Take the old man out of the fight just like Vernardo. Then quickly do the same to the rest.
Even after multiple encounters with his relatives’ shades he was still reluctant to fight them fully. He didn’t think they were illusions or copies. He felt, deep down, that they were his actual family.
“Sorry, Eron,” a middle-aged woman held out her hands and three, translucent panes of teal light encased Eron in a pyramid-shaped forcefield, “I don’t have a choice.”
“I know, Tita Lu,” Eron pulled his fist back, “I’m sorry too.” He struck the forcefield.
Cracks spiderweb under his fist.
Tita Lu grimaced.
“Really sorry about this,” Eron muttered as he struck it again.
The forcefield shattered like glass.
His mom’s cousin screamed and began to fall. She vanished into the fog before she hit the ground.
Eron glanced up to the top of the containers. “Damn it!” His great-uncle was nowhere in sight.
The momentary distraction was costly.
One of his cousins landed a thudding blow to his back.
From his dad’s side then.
He spun with a backfist.
A whiff.
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More punches to his stomach.
Fortunately, he was in the habit of keeping his core tight.
Mildly painful.
His attacker was a short-haired woman his age. He was ashamed to realize that he had no idea what her name was.
Strong, but the gap between them was too large to trouble Eron much.
He grabbed her by the arm and threw her at more of his charging relatives.
One manifested a large round shield of ivory-colored light on his arm.
He went down in a tangle with the woman, though the shield managed to take most of the impact.
Light flashed around Eron as he punched and kicked, shattering forcefields and removing more of his relatives from the field of battle.
Fists connected with faces as he knocked out relatives from his dad’s side of the family.
They landed their own bruising blows before they went down.
There were too many though.
It hurt Eron to think about how many of his relatives had been taken by the fog to be used in such a way against their will.
He had dealt with slavery all over the world.
The fact that he couldn’t do anything in the here and now for his blood wounded him deeply.
What use was he if he couldn’t save his own?
The fight raged around the port.
Containers filled with decade old goods were crushed and toppled.
Eron was in the eye of a tornado of fists, feet and forcefields.
A sharp-edged forcefield surrounding a young woman’s hands like over-sized claws shredded Eron’s shirt and scored thin lines across his back.
He whirled, fist poised and stopped.
The young woman’s features echoed his sister’s.
He flicked a finger to her forehead.
She crumpled bonelessly to the ground before disappearing back into the fog on wisps of gray.
One by one, Eron rendered his relatives unconscious or if they were tougher, threw them into sea.
Until only Tito Carlos remained.
Eron struggled to breathe. His chest heaved as he tried to get some air back. His shirt and jeans were in tatters. His face was bruised. Blood leaked from his nose, mouth and dozens of thin cuts all over his body.
“I’m proud of you. You don’t give up. Reminds me of that one time me and my pare had to save your dad and his friends when they got in trouble at this disco club,” Tito Carlos sighed wistfully, “now that was a brawl! Course after your grandma got through with us,” he laughed, “the fight didn’t seem so bad. I’m glad she wasn’t around for all this.”
“Me too,” Eron said. “Grandma wouldn’t appreciate me knocking you out!” he surged forward.
Tito Carlos reacted impossibly quick. He went from standing still, relaxed, into a boxer’s crouch, bobbing to one side then digging a right hook into Eron’s ribs. He followed it up with a left hook into the other side of Eron’s body.
Eron reached out and grabbed his great-uncle by the front of his shirt, spinning in one quick motion.
Tito Carlos clamped down on Eron’s wrists like an industrial vise, so instead of going on a long flight into the sea he and Eron took turns spinning each other around like a helicopter’s rotors.
Eron grit his teeth against the crushing pain and awkwardly dug his heels into the ground, which allowed him to slam his great-uncle down.
The ground buckled and cratered.
Tito Carlos grinned.
Eron punched down.
Nose cartilage crunched under his fist.
The grin was bloody, but it remained in place as Tito Carlos caught the next punch and adroitly reversed places with Eron.
Tito Carlos punched Eron in the stomach knocking the wind out of him. “I truly am sorry for this, but as you know, it takes a lot to beat the fight out of you.” He grabbed Eron by the arms and slammed him repeatedly into the ground sending chunks of concrete spraying into the air.
Eron’s head spun.
Then he was spinning through the air right before he crashed into the side of a shipping container and out the other. He groaned, back flat on the ground staring up at nothing but gray.
Tito Carlos leapt to the top of the container to look down at Eron. “What could’ve been.” Tears glistened in the old man’s eyes. “When these spires appeared I was in a wheelchair. An old, broken man, waiting for the end. Those little gremlin things thought they were going to give it to me, but I showed them. They bit me, I bit them. Then I go from dying to such strength. The years after were tough, so many people died. Family, friends, but secretly a part of me was happy. I guess this hell is what I deserve for that. What use is all this strength if another owns it?”
“God, you’re such a badass,” Eron coughed and spat out a tooth. “We should be fighting together.”
“If only…” Tito Carlos regarded Eron. “You should grab that before…” he pointed at the bloody tooth.
“S’okay… it’ll grow back.”
“That’s not right,” Tito Carlos shook his head.
“Superstrength, flight, eye beams…” Eron trailed off. “A lot of ‘not right’ in the world.” He pushed himself up off the ground and raised his fists shakily. “Next round.”
“No, I think you’re done for today.” Tito Carlos rushed in.
Eron threw hands, but was blocked.
His great-uncle grabbed him by the back of his neck and belt.
“Rest, recover. Remember that everything is for the children. Keep them safe in their deep, dark places.” Tito Carlos heaved Eron back toward the center of the city.
The side of the building that sprang up in front of Eron was the last sight he had before everything went black.
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Now, Southern California
Cal and Nila walked hand in hand down to the end of the pier.
The sun cast red rays as it dipped below the ocean horizon.
The darkening sky, the dying light and the reflection in the water set the sky with a beautiful mix of orange, red, blue and purple tones.
The beach was completely deserted as far as the eye could see and they could see much further than humanly possible.
It was understandable considering the existence of land sharks, several of which were climbing up the pier’s pillars.
“I thought you said that monsters stay away from you,” Nila remarked as she leaned over the railing for a quick peek.
“I don’t know,” Cal shrugged. He grabbed each land shark with his telekinesis, broke a bunch of their bones and dunked them back into the ocean. The water became a bloody froth as other creatures fell upon the injured ones in a frenzy. “That should keep them busy,” he turned to Nila with a smile.
“Yes, the smell of blood and guts sets quite the romantic stage. Do you hear that?” Nila cupped her ear.
“What?”
“The sounds of monsters and mutant animals tearing each other to pieces… like a symphony.”
“Sorry,” Cal shrugged.
“It’s fine, I’m just kidding.” Nila kissed him for a spell.
“Maybe it’s your fault,” Cal ventured. “Like, your presence is bringing our overall power level down enough that they think it’s go time.”
“That is concerning,” Nila didn’t take the bait, “since you’re driving back north with a whole lot of much weaker people. You and your dad are going to be busy babysitting.”
Cal grimaced. “Might be a good leveling opportunity for the others.”
“I don’t know if they can handle the drakes and wyverns on the 5.”
“It’ll be fine.”
They remained silent while they continued their walk to the end of the pier.
Small shapes moved within the empty diner they circled.
Cal sensed gremlins.
Almost nostalgic.
They stood, arms around each other and watched the sun slowly complete its descent.
“Are you sure you’re okay with all this?”
“With what?” Nila rested her head on Cal’s shoulder.
“The whole mission.”
“You mean, you leaving after being back only six months… after over five years on an entirely different world?”
Cal nodded.
“Hell no! Except… for the circumstances. Eron needs your help and no matter how much I don’t want you away from my side… he’s your brother.”
“There’s no one else. The fog saps powers, at least the non-physical ones. Hence me and my dad. We’re stronger than Rayna and my mom sans powers.”
“My powers are physical in nature,” Nila said.
“I know and I didn’t ask you specifically because you need to be here to pick up the slack of our absence. Plus, I didn’t want to take you away from your family. You hadn’t seen them since the spires appeared. I can’t take that away from you. Who knows how much time is left…”
“I could say the same about us.”
“Oh, we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy each other,” Cal squeezed Nila tightly, “once I get back.”
“You’d better not let me down,” Nila dug a knuckle into Cal’s side.
He feigned a wince. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“This is nice though.” Nila gazed at the setting sun.
“I know right. I don’t remember the last time we’ve had a moment to ourselves like this.” Cal absorbed everything he could of the moment. “I really don’t want to leave. The last six months went by like nothing. My years on the Threnosh world were an eternity by comparison.”
“A very expensive diplomatic mission,” Nila caressed Cal’s three-fingered left hand.
“Good training too,” Cal said lightly, “pushed my abilities to the next level. Made friends.” A sense of melancholy permeated his thoughts.
“That wasn’t your fault,” Nila whispered, “Mother Madrigal did that and you destroyed her for it.”
Cal nodded, but he still didn’t believe the words.
“So, what else did you have planned for our last night together?” Nila smiled brightly.
Cal gazed into her eyes.
The way the sunset lit her face added to her beauty.
The urge to stay grew stronger, but he couldn’t abandon his brother.
Cal smiled. “Old school, early 2010’s style date,” he pointed at the diner.
“Ruby’s, seriously? I can see gremlins moving around in there.”
“Trust me. You don’t have to do anything. Just give me ten minutes to clear it and take ownership. I’ll cook you up a classic burger, some fries and a milkshake.”
“Pie and ice cream?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Okay, but remember I can put away pounds of food,” Nila laughed, “pounds.”
----------------------------------------
“Consider colors.”
“Huh?” Cal didn’t look up from the table where he was poring over several documents.
“Your armor needs color. Plain gray doesn’t cut it,” Rayna said.
“I don’t care what it looks like. All I care about is that it protects me.”
“Oh, but that’s were you’re wrong, oldest brother.”
Cal looked up from his studying to shoot Rayna some eye daggers.
“Factually correct, not my fault you were born so long ago, much longer than myself in comparison. Anyways, you’re looking at it the wrong way.”
“I don’t need nor want extra attention that colors on the armor would bring.”
“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” Rayna sighed. “That’s exactly the opposite of what you need. Think about it. You’re already more survivable than most everyone else without the armor. Doesn’t it make sense to draw enemy attention, thereby protecting those around you?”
“Your rangers volunteered for this.” Cal looked up again and paid attention to his sister this time. He had missed it due to being distracted and his own efforts to keep the telepathic walls around his thoughts as strong as possible, but Rayna was worried. “I can’t promise you that I’ll bring them all back unharmed. That would be a lie.”
“I know that,” Rayna said flatly.
“I can only promise that I won’t treat them as disposable soldiers.”
“Sgt. Butcher has command over the rangers. If she deems your decisions as flawed, I gave her the okay to ignore them,” Rayna waved a hand dismissively.
It was Cal’s turn to frown. “That’s problematic, but… okay.”
“You’re not a ranger,” Rayna shrugged. “Unless you want to sign up.”
“Thanks, but no,” Cal paused. “You know, the rangers don’t have to go,” he ventured.
Rayna snorted. “I want to help Eron and you stand a better chance with more people. Also it represents a leveling opportunity.”
“Is the latter worth the cost?”
“The rangers that participated in the Cabal Quest jumped up a minimum of five levels. Some increased by seven, eight.”
Cal didn’t need his telepathy to see the conflicting emotions warring across Rayna’s face. She was always the most expressive of the Cruces siblings. “This world forces difficult decisions on all of us. You and each individual ranger.”
“I’m fine… I get that,” Rayna said. “So, you want color on your armor? I know a guy. Used to be into street art back before the spires. Ended up with a Class. The paint he lays down will last longer than it has any right to.”
“How do you know that? Did you already have your armor painted?”
“Yup, scarlet and gray, our old high school colors. I took some sword cuts, didn’t even chip the paint,” Rayna grinned.
“Did you have him do a logo too?” Cal mocked.
Rayna stuck out her tongue. “We’re working on one for the rangers. I think I’ll use that. So, what’s your favorite color? Purple and gold for your favorite team? School colors? College? High School? Grade School?”
“I don’t know…”
“Purple is Jesus’ color,” Rayna remarked.
“It traditionally signifies royalty,” Cal sighed.
“Same difference,” Rayna shrugged. “What was your university’s colors?”
“Blue and yellow, same as yours. All the UC’s used the same colors.”
“Not exactly. Different shades.”
“I don’t remember… like a darker blue and darker yellow,” he shrugged.
“I’ll have him do that then. What kind of logo do you want? How about a brain? Or a brain with waves coming off it? Or brainwaves?”
Cal knew when he was beaten. Even as an adult the baby sister will do baby sister things and ultimately get her way. “Your parents spoiled you rotten.”
“As I recall, so did you and everyone else,” Rayna shrugged. “You reap what you sow. I think that was in the Bible.”
“Probably, but not exactly like that. Okay, paint the armor dark blue, dark yellow, but like with a hint of gold, like thirty percent gold, seventy percent dark yellow. No logo.”
“Great, let me call it in!”
“What?” Cal was confused. “You already gave him my armor?”
“You’re leaving in four hours. Can’t waste any time.”
“Jesus,” Cal muttered. “Fine, once you’re done with that frivolous task I want to talk to you about this roster,” he waved a sheet of paper.
“Not happy with the squad?”
“I have concerns about one person in particular.”
“Sure… but a bit too late for changes don’t you think?”
“It’s never too late. Don’t get locked into a plan for the sake of it,” Cal lectured.
“Okay, but Eron said the fog was wonky. So, I’m thinking you need someone with some wonky magic.”
“Just hear me out.”
“Fine, fine, let me get your armor taken care of first.”
“Oh, I’m leaving my axe with you. Don’t paint it,” Cal warned.
Rayna was already out the door.