For the first time since he’d awoken in this basement, Matt was glad of the gloomy and oppressive darkness. There were many things he needed in his life right now, but seeing Celeste morph back from a flea was absolutely not one of them.

“You were right,” the girl said, once her face had reverted from a long stabby thing and whiskers, “They took the bait.”

“Of course they did,” gloated Matt, grinning into the darkness, “They were always going to. Imagine you’re a secret group of big intense conspiracy people, your mercenary team has just screwed up royally, and you see your target just walking around all undefended and alone. They probably watched me storm off and thought they’d won the lottery.”

“How did you know they wouldn’t just shoot you?” she asked. Matt shrugged, the movement barely visible in the dim light.

“Just a hunch,” he replied, “Besides if they did, Jane would just resurrect me.”

“So casual.”

“I’m trying this new thing called acceptance.”

“Oh babe, that’s so sweet. Good for you.” She glanced around at the empty basement. “So dragon, right? I’m busting you out of here?”

“Not just yet. I think you go rat to dog to bird to payphone, get the hell out of here and go bring the cavalry while I stay here looking vulnerable.”

Even in the dark he could see Celeste’s concerned grimace. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Please,” Matt scoffed, “I’ve already been dead once today. Besides, this interrogation is going swimmingly.”

“You’re chained up.”

“And he’s just where I want him. Go. Let’s catch this bastard in the act. The only thing I like better than seeing what a man’s hiding is catching him with his pants down.”

The faunamorph fixed him with a grin. “Sometimes I really get what Jane sees in you,” she said.

“You’re only saying that because it’s dark. Go on, get.”

Celeste flipped him a two fingered ‘peace’, then with a sudden rush of fur she vanished, leaving Matt alone and chained to the floor of an earthen basement, listening with a triumphant smile to the rapidly disappearing scurry of tiny rodent paws.

****

Deep in Azleena’s computer lab, Giselle’s cellphone rang. The speedster turned away, putting her back to the genius and the rapidly flashing computer, and squinted at the unknown number. A landline, probably a telemarketer. Sigh. She had to answer it. Worst part about being leader of the Legion – nothing could ever just be ignored.

“Hello?”

A sudden rush of excited, familiar chattering, erupted from her speaker. Giselle’s eyes widened.

“Celeste?!”

All around the room all work abruptly stopped. All eyes turned to her, Farrington, Will, Azleena, Helen, a dozen or so other recon‑useful Acolytes.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Where the hell-?”

Giselle’s words cut off as the voice in her phone rattled. Immediately, she reached back to the staring crowd and whipped a finger through the air.

“Sedgwick Kansas,” she called out, “We have a location.” Giselle turned back to the phone, covering her ear as the room burst into electric commotion. “Uh-huh. Yep. Got it. Slow down. Okay. Roger. Hold on.” Giselle cupped her hand over the receiver as the black‑clad figure of Charles Farrington stepped over, his expression set, his chin held high.

“What do we need? Who are we taking?”

“All of it,” Giselle commanded, “Everyone who’s standing, anyone who’s awake. Matt is one of our own. We are going to rain Hell down on this sonnofabitch the likes of which he can barely dream, and then he’ll see what happens when you mess with the Legion of Heroes.”

“SUIT UP!”

*****

Jane stood in the ruins of Port Lions and stared with burning eyes at the ashes in her wake.

“ARGHHH!”

More. More. Destroy them all, any who dared to touch him. The searing light of Dawn blazed out from her in roiling waves, never ceasing to rest, never needing to stop. Around her, blackened shells of vehicles, of trucks and tanks and helicopters, bombed out building remains, sat smoking between mounds of ash and scorched skeletons.

Some had run. Some had begged. Some had tried to stop her. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. They had hurt the person she cared about and this was the only way to stop it. This was the only way they’d learn.

In the distance there rang more sirens, more shouts, far off rumblings – reinforcements yet to arrive. Let them come. They swarmed from underground and though Jane had scorched everything atop the surface she knew the snake’s true body lay beneath. She would purge them all, all of it. Let them see what it meant to hurt him. Let them spend the last seconds of their miserable lives learning the consequences of taking his blood.

“Oh my God.”

Jane’s head snapped around and her lips curled in a snarl. At the top of the blackened crater, crimson against the drifting smoke, stood Will. His eyes were wide. His stared down at Jane, at the devastation, face mangled in unmitigated horror.

Jane would have none of it.

“Either help or get out of my way,” she spat.

“I… I…”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will,” she promised, “I’m done with mercy. Done with restraint.”

“Please,” Will begged, “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Have I?” Jane snarled, turning on him, “These aren’t the ones who’ve been hunting him? Who’ve been pursuing him? Who hurt him?” She turned back towards some distant bunker. “No. I don’t care if it’s wrong. I’ll burn it all before I let them get away with-”

“We’ve found Matt.”

Jane’s words stopped mid‑sentence. She spun on her heel, cape cutting a swathe of ash, and glared up at the teleporter.

“What do you mean found him, he’s already-”

“The person we found on the side of the road – that wasn’t Matt. It’s an imposter. A decoy.”

Jane’s heart leapt to her throat.

“A decoy?”

“Yes.”

“Then where-”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We’ve found him. Please. Stop this.” Will held out his un‑gloved hand. “I can take you.”

Jane’s head spun. Suddenly the light around her decreased its intensity. An imposter? A decoy? That meant she’d been… the paper had been…

And suddenly Jane was turning her, staring at the destruction all around her. The ruined buildings, ruined vehicles, ruined lives. She had attacked… she had attacked…

NO! This was what they wanted. They had put that note there to control her, to manipulate her, and now these bodies were on their hands, their-

“Where is he?” she demanded, launching in furious strides up the side of the crater towards Will, who recoiled, shrinking, “Where are they?”

“I can take you there,” the teleporter repeated, again holding out a trembling hand, “If you’ll just-”

“Yeah, right,” spat Jane, “How can I trust you? How do I know you’re not just here to stop this-” she gestured behind her at the devastation, “-and teleport me into the sun?”

“I’m not… you don’t trust me?” Despite the fear in his eyes and the smoke of death billowing all around them, a part of Will actually looked hurt. It was a ploy, Jane knew, all a ploy. She ignored it.

“You don’t trust me?” she demanded, “Give me the location. I’ll go there myself.”

“I… okay. No problem.” Will hurriedly reached into his back pocket and drew out a small scrap of notepaper. An address in Sedgwick. Kansas.

“It’s Pastor Fredericks,” the teleporter explained, words falling from his mouth like rotten teeth, “The Eastborough Baptists, we don’t understand why but-”

But Jane listened not another moment. With a resounding boom she launched into the air in a blaze of golden fury, abandoning Will and the military, leaving ashen destruction in her wake.