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Beginning of The First Arc
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Doom Is Imminent
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Chapter 1 - Din of the Coming Storm
One week later…
Pouria's whole body shuddered as the metal rod struck the guard's chin. The man was most likely spending the night in the hospital.
He set the weapon aside as the man fell to the floor. He wouldn't need the weapon anymore, he didn't want to hurt anyone else, not if he could help it. The rod’s bulk would be unruly and hard to hide with anyway.
He shuffled out of the way of the slow moving searchlight, dragging the unconscious man by his legs to make sure that nobody spotted his corpse and outed him until he was long gone. He knew he could make a break for it, as he'd already crossed the wall, but that would only get him chased down and arrested.
He needed nobody to know he was even in the city at all. His new friend, an old-dog calling himself Ammar, helped him get this far. Even if he couldn't trust him much, he was helpful and generous despite his gruffness.
The messages he'd received on the burner phone guided him this far, but now it was up to him to cross the border, and he was halfway there.
Pouria dragged the man's body to a spot between the two moving searchlights, pressing as tightly to the wall as he could manage. He needed to move quickly, and it would be hard to do that if he was dragging the body.
Tonight, he wore all black, with a beanie on his head, only keeping his red scarf on, worn like a bandana currently. He hoped this outfit he'd scrounged up would be enough to hide him from the many prying eyes he would see in the city.
He looked back at the man. He was barely an adult, only in his early twenties. Shiny leather shoes with his fingerprints now on them. They would have to be removed, both of them. And so he did, dropping the man against the wall into a small ditch where water had eroded the dirt due to poor drainage systems. The guards wouldn’t spot their comrade here for a while.
The lights began to part, giving way to a dark zone in between, but it wasn't going to last for long.
He ran.
He was halfway across the zone when heard a noise from afar. It pierced the relative silence of the suburban night. A gunshot.
He picked up the pace as the sirens behind him blared, and more gunfire rang out. He recognized the sound exactly, it was a sniper rifle. West-Side-made, fifteen millimeter, autoloading, nicknamed ‘The Cerberus’ for the three deadly bullets in each mag. It was the same kind he had instated for the border patrol officers up on the wall. The wall that was right behind him.
He was nearly at the end, a cluster of trashy buildings stopped right at the border, and he knew which door had been left unlocked for him.
He didn't have time to be mad about being spotted, he only had time to run and not look back.
He reached the door, testing the handle. Unlocked, as expected.
He took a quick scan behind him as he flung open the door. There wasn't a single officer even on the wall. They were all clustered a ways down. Someone else had been shot and killed for jumping the border, right there behind him.
Pouria's heart stirred with fear and sadness for the lost life, but the opportunist in him knew that whoever it was, they had given the guards a distraction.
He shut the door behind him, and took a moment to breathe.
The building was unoccupied, but it clearly hosted a cigarette store during the day given all the packs lining the walls in glass cabinets, alongside bongs, vapes, and other smoke-related pleasure devices. Pouria stayed low, avoiding the barred windows.
"Ammar?" He called out softly, looking around the tight building. Not a single sound. No reply whatsoever.
Ammar said that he would meet him here, and he was anxious to know if he was okay. He was an insider working out of a traveling cart, someone with great knowledge of the criminal underworld and the exiled, and he quickly figured out that he also had knowledge of the criminals in the Wastelands too.
Surely, he would be critical in getting him started with taking back his city.
Pouria saw some stairs behind the counter. He assumed Ammar may be up there, waiting.
He stepped through the thin curtain and up the creaky wooden stairs. The door at the top had a dim light coming from the other side. He tested the handle… it was unlocked.
On the other side, two men he had never seen before were sitting in chairs, looking like they were waiting for him. Beside them was the slumped-over, bruised body of Ammar, resting up against the wall with a bloodstain behind him. Everything suddenly clicked for Pouria, and it made his heart sink and his mind race.
It was within a single moment that they stood up and ran at him, causing Pouria to turn and flee down the stairs.
He realized that he had nowhere to run to, and as he turned to try and flee out the back door he'd come in through, he heard a low hum fill the room, and static coursed through the air.
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It was the unmistakable aura of a power from within, a Soulflare. It was one that didn't wish to hide its presence.
"Welcome back to Soulflare Metropolis." A male’s deep voice said through the darkness. They lunged out, a hulking figure who immediately subsumed any hope of moving past him to the exit.
The last thing that Pouria felt before blacking out was a tight grip on his throat, and a coursing jolt of electricity going straight through his body.
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"Wake up, maggot."
Shock surged through Pouria's body. Light flooded his eyes as the cloth sack shrouding his vision was ripped off.
He was tied to a chair in an empty warehouse, moonlight piercing gathering storm clouds and shafting in through the skylights on the roof. Around him were burly men wearing black leather jackets with blue lightning decals all over. Each of them wore face paint like wrestlers, all of them with unique designs, mimicked by the unique wraps and patterning on their bulky assault rifles.
Their leader, the source of the voice, was a tall, shirtless man with several tubes of electric fluid pumping in and out of his skin, about as much of a freakish creation as he was. He generated a low hum, as well as a lot of static, making Pouria's leg hair stand on end both from his presence and his electrical power. His teeth were all made of a black metal, grinning ecstatically, their color countered dramatically by his limp mohawk, a shocking shade of yellow.
"Remember me, Pouria?" he said, not waiting a second for Pouria to catch his breath. "Or does the Soulflare Mayor forget what he did to the great and mighty Thunder!?"
Pouria certainly remembered him, but not like this. "Thunder… What the fuck happened to you?!" he said fearfully. "Did you kill Ammar?!"
The man stomped on the floor, and a low rumble echoed through the entire warehouse, silencing Pouria. "I heard he was helping you back into the city. Honestly I think I did you a favor! It surprised me when The Exodus Angel told me all about your desire to return," Thunder said with a smug tone, before his voice turned grim. "But I was very excited to see my old enemy again. So I made sure mine was the first face you’d see, Pouria."
"You can't be seriou-"
"Shut the fuck up, Pouria!" Thunder screamed, stomping his boot onto the floor again, an even louder sound shuddering the walls. "I used to be the greatest man alive, but you destroyed that. And hot damn, I thought you'd leave forever after the Exodus Event, but I guess you missed seeing the greatest star in Soulflare! So, here I am, back again as well. Couldn’t miss a meeting with my biggest hater."
“I see you fixed your teeth since last time.” Pouria said with a huff.
“Thanks for noticing.” Thunder said in a tone that exuded some sense of pride, under-toned by a deep hatred. He showed them off, not by grinning, but by clenching his teeth. “They taste like shit, but sure tastes better than gums, blood, and broken jaws. I’ll be sure to give you a taste of your own medicine before you die.”
Despite his new body augments, the seven foot tall mammoth was still the same prideful showman that every wrestler was. The only difference between him and his crew was his brain and how he got into Fight Loop Studio. He was good at finding success, and fostering it. He worked alongside his adoptive father… At least back then. That was all gone now.
All it took was one bad movie review to send his empire crumbling down, sending out a chain reaction that destroyed him.
The last thing Pouria saw of the wrestling star was his face over every news article, his life and empire reduced to a weekend in the news cycle before he faded into obscurity.
“This is all revenge then?”
“Oh no, Pouria. This is more than revenge. This is what the Angel asked of me. I was more than happy to oblige with the task in return for their favor.” Thunder explained.
“How do you know… the Angel… You’ve spoken to them?” Pouria said, believing for years that he was the only one to have seen the four wings of the Exodus Angel. It surely had to have been Thunder’s delusion.
Thunder only gave him a belittling look as a response.
“What does that mean?!” Pouria asked, desperate.
"You don't know shit, huh?" Thunder chuckled, mimicked by his goons right after. He then delicately placed a veiny hand upon Pouria's chin. "Guess you'll remain nothing more than a political puppet til the day you die. And that day is today!"
With a shark-tooth grin, he slapped Pouria across the face. It stung long after the initial hit, and all through Thunder's odd and unnerving cackle.
"If you wanna be fair, you'll give me a fighting chance." Pouria said.
"Yeah? Why should I be fair?" Thunder replied.
"You said it in your movie and in the ring. You never used to fight dirty! You had honor! It was why the people loved you!" Pouria said, trying to say anything that would spark Thunder's kindness, and yet, the ex-wrestler stayed stalwart in his choices. Even if Pouria hadn’t enjoyed Thunder’s movie, he still remembered it. It was iconic, a symbol of the last city on Earth, yet also made to make a jab at its ruler, a mockery of him as the movie’s antagonist.
"Maybe I would still care about that shit if you didn't ruin my life, you fucking cheater!" he screamed with unmatched intensity. "Besides, God himself wants you gone, and I got the honor of being your executioner. Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
Pouria quickly realized that Thunder was taken by insanity, plain and simple. No longer was he the jolly and charismatic star wrestler of Fight Loop Studio, no longer was he the smoldering tough guy that made 'Fallen Star' a box office blockbuster.
He was now only a tragic and insane leader of a group of madmen with a vendetta against the ex-mayor.
"Killing a defenseless man is not an honor." Pouria replied with fury. "An honor would be fighting him hand to hand, just like back in the ring. I am now challenging you to a fight, and you can kill me in it as you wish."
Thunder's face lit up with a smile, one so sinister that Pouria couldn't help but squirm with uncomfort. "Oh, Pouria," he said. "I would be happy to oblige that challenge. But, this is a test. A test for both of us. My honor was destroyed long ago by none other than you, and I'm busy rebuilding it. You’ve got tricks up your sleeves that I got no time for! Why would I be such an idiot to fight a cheater like you honorably when you didn’t do that for me?!"
Pouria's heart sank. He was out of ideas already.
But he didn't need any, for in the skylight above the warehouse, he saw the silhouette of a figure standing upon the roof. A shadow in the night. Were they a savior? Or just another enemy? A streak of flaming energy burst from the figure’s chest, manifesting into their Soulflare.
They leaped down, glass smashing and chaos erupting, landing on the floor behind The Stormcloud.
Pouria could only hope they were here to rescue him.