Atlas and the Vitruvian made an abandoned oil rig their base of operations, so naturally we make our approach underwater. If I were in a more eloquent mood, I’d be musing about the depths they’re literally making us sink to in order to fight them. Or perhaps a crack about how fitting it is that they’re operating out of an archaic installation that was decommissioned because it was destroying the planet. That certainly seems quite fitting, considering their aims. But right now, I only have one thing on my mind.

The submersible glides silently through the water, swiftly approaching our destination. It only seats two, which limited our options in terms of who’d be going, but that didn’t prove much of an issue. The smaller the group, the less likely it is that we’ll be detected. Our objective is simple- infiltrate the base and free Ishtar and Zero, while the others engage the enemy directly.

Accompanying me is none other than Nemesis. He’s about as engaging a conversation partner as one would expect a man who I haven’t seen remove his mask once to be. At the moment, I don’t particularly mind. Small talk has its time and place, but this is neither.

This particular drilling platform is stationed several miles off the Alaskan coast. We departed directly from Arcadia, meaning it’s been a rather long journey. Long enough for night to have fallen, which will hopefully help mask our approach. The sub is equipped with a digital cloak, as well as the standard stealth tech, but I have a feeling those wouldn’t hide us from the Vitruvian if he was looking our way. With any luck, they won’t have had time to set up a particularly sophisticated security system, but even if they do see us coming, the main force is simply too large for them to ignore.

When the submersible’s sonar begins to indicate we’re nearing the platform, I feel my heart start to hammer in my chest. Pre-battle nerves aren’t something I often experience, but this isn’t exactly on the same level as a heist or a standard deployment. For one thing, it’s the fate of the world that hangs in the balance. Failure wouldn’t mean imminent destruction, but rather a slow, drawn-out death that we’d be forced to watch from prison cells, powerless to do anything to stop it. But beyond that, failure might mean that Ishtar dies. And for some foolish reason, that’s what really makes me concerned. Of course it’s irrational, a result of some chemical reaction intended to ensure the perpetuation of the species, but even so, those impulses are what make us human. Much as I might sometimes want to, I can’t simply cut them out.

Nemesis takes the controls directly, and I breathe deep, doing my best to quell my anxieties. Kellan has spoken to me of a cold, sharp focus he feels when going into battle. All of his fears and doubts fall silent, replaced by pure instinct. It’s not quite the same for me. Though I’m certainly a formidable fighter, my mind isn’t structured for it like his is. At my core, I’m a builder, and if nothing else, I have faith in my creations. Reality is a whirlwind of unexpected variables and unpredictable outcomes. The things I build are my way of imposing order upon the disorder.

A few minutes later, the submersible begins to ascend. Oil rigs weren’t really meant to be accessed from directly underneath, but there are ladders on the ‘legs,’ presumably for anybody who happens to be foolish enough to fall in. When we surface, I see through the external video feed that it started raining at some point during our journey. All the better- the sound will drown out any hint of our approach. Nemesis hits a button and opens the hatch, allowing me to clamber out first. Holding onto the handrail tightly, I feel the torrential downpour swiftly begin to soak through my clothes. Luckily, the uniform underneath is watertight, and none of my equipment is so poorly-made as to be damaged by a bit of bad weather.

“Hawkshaw,” I say, speaking into my communicator while Nemesis emerges from the sub behind me. “We’re on-site. You’re clear to begin the attack.”

Strictly speaking, we aren’t on the site yet, but considering they’ll have a blackout field up, it makes sense to give the order now.

“Understood. Good luck in there.”

Not five seconds later, I hear an explosion on the other side of the rig. That would be Adamant making her entrance, I presume. Wasting no time, I make the leap across the short gap and grab onto the ladder, grateful that my gloves have high-friction material that makes it very difficult for me to lose my grip and fall.

One slow, wet climb later, I haul myself over the edge and onto the surface of the platform. Waves slam against the side of the rig, but it remains steady for now. Judging by the sounds from the site of the battle, however, it won’t remain that way forever. Which makes it all the more imperative that we find Ishtar and Zero fast. I look down the ladder to see how close behind me Nemesis is, only to discover that he already made it up while I was looking elsewhere. The man moves like a ghost- even without the rain, I doubt I’d have heard a thing.

The two of us are on a lower level of the platform, seemingly dedicated to maintenance for the drilling machinery itself. No structures large enough to be containing prisoners, so we head up the nearest flight of stairs. I nearly slip and fall once, catching myself on the railing, and Nemesis takes the opportunity to get ahead of me. He’s probably not even trying to be rude- his focus is simply on the mission, and nothing else.

Once we’re up on the main platform, he scans the structure swiftly. It’s larger than I anticipated, even having studied the blueprints closely in preparation. Naturally, it has to be large enough to support an entire crew, given that they live on the rig for months at a time, but the magnitude that implies failed to fully register until now. Nemesis wastes no time, though- his gaze settles on the central tower. There are no lights on in any of the windows, but he seems certain regardless.

“That’s where they’ll be.”

“Are you sure?”

More of a rhetorical question. He wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t sure, but I want to hear his reasoning. We can’t afford any mistakes. Take too long, and the Vitruvian will start wondering where I am, and why I’m not with the main assault group. After that, it’s not exactly a huge logical leap to guess that I’d be going after the prisoners.

“It’s where I’d put them,” he replies bluntly, and gets moving. I follow close behind, sidearm in hand. Nemesis carries a gun as well, but it remains in its holster for the time being. Besides that, he seems not to require much in the way of equipment, just a bare-bones utility belt.

As we cross the platform, there are intermittent gunshots, loud enough that I’m certain it can only be Kellan’s high-powered weapon Inquiry. Those come every few seconds, while the thunderous sound of Atlas, Adamant, and Apex fighting is as omnipresent as the rain itself. There’s a screeching noise, as I presume some large section of the rig itself is torn off to be used as a bludgeon. Hopefully they can contain the damage for long enough that Nemesis and I can get the job done.

Fortunately for us, we don’t exactly have to sneak around. While there’s still a chance Atlas and the Vitruvian have more allies we don’t know about, it certainly isn’t enough for there to be anybody patrolling the entire rig. And even if there were, all eyes would be on the fight right now, which means we can take the most efficient route possible.

Rather than searching for the nearest doorway into the central tower, Nemesis pulls a grapnel gun from his belt and fires it at a mid-level window. His aim is impressive, given the weather conditions- I suspect I’d miscalculate and let the line be diverted by a gust of wind. Luckily, I don’t require a grapnel gun when I’ve got my Bounce Boots. After he goes through the window, I give them a moment to charge and leap after him. Halfway through the arc of my jump, I see something move in the corner of my eye. Immediately, my heart leaps into my throat, imagining it’s Atlas, flying fast enough that he’d tear me in half without slowing down. But it’s just a flash of lightning.

As a result of the moment of panic, I land less than gracefully, but still manage to get through the window rather than smacking against the wall unceremoniously. We appear to have made our way into someone’s quarters, which have been stripped completely bare, save for a bedframe and empty dresser. Must have been too large to feasibly remove from the rig after it was shut down. This rig, like many others, was decommissioned not too long ago, as a result of our push towards renewable energy.

Nemesis pushes the door open, checking the corners in a single, rapid sweep of his head. Satisfied that there’s no ambush waiting, he gestures for me to follow, and I acquiesce. The hallway we find ourselves in is circular, surrounding a central staircase leading upwards and back down. A sign on the wall indicates that the mess hall is beneath us, and the operations center above.

Now that we’re inside, with the rain no longer masking our movements, Nemesis seems to have decided to go nonverbal. He gestures upward, and I follow him up the stairwell. Only a few moments after we’ve gone up another level, past more empty dormitories, a massive shadow descends from above and tackles me over the railing. Gun thrown from my hand, I struggle against it, but both my arms are pinned by a grip I can’t even begin to break. Something slams into my face, and I feel one of the lenses in my mask crack. Thankfully, it’s tough enough not to shatter instantly, else I’d have an eyeful of glass, but I’m now half-blind. Worse still, the shadow, which is now slowly taking the shape of a man, is reaching for the precise spot where my mask connects to the rest of my uniform- presumably to peel it off and cut my throat.

“Big man.”

The shadow turns to look over its shoulder, just in time for Nemesis to drive both boots into his back. This has the unpleasant knock-on effect of crushing me beneath the shadow, which I’m fairly certain would have broken my ribs if it weren’t for the uniform protecting me. But he does release his grip, and when he gets up, I’m able to roll out from under him and scramble to my feet, entire body aching.

Through the remaining lens of my mask, my assailant is still an indistinct shape. I pull it off, and

It comes into focus, giving me my first good look at the Equalizer. He’s massive, heavily-muscled, to the point where I’d assume steroids if I didn’t know he was a metahuman. Close-cut hair, a square jaw and a face carved from granite. Not a single scrap of skin shows beneath the neck- he’s clad in black tactical gear. At the same moment, I understand exactly how he killed Ulysses. He isn’t just a power-nullifier. He’s got a blanket immunity to all metahuman abilities, to the point where my mask, the product of metahuman science, can’t properly visualize him. Ulysses, who relied on his pseudo-precognitive powers of prediction, would have seen him as a black void of information. Until it was too late. No wonder he occupies the position of Death.

I take two steps back, without even consciously intending to do so, and find myself quite literally up against the wall. If I wanted to grab my sidearm, I’d have to make a break for it, and I suspect he’d be able to cross the distance before I could pull anything out of the armory. Instead, he turns around to face Nemesis.

Neither man says a word. The Equalizer reaches down to his belt and unhooks a weapon. At first, I make the mistake of thinking it’s a hatchet, but when the handle extends, I realize it’s a full-fledged combat axe. Black metal blade, and a sharp point on the other end that could quite easily be driven through my skull. Nemesis reaches for his belt as well, but instead of drawing a weapon, he unclips it, and tosses it aside. A brazen display of confidence. Whatever his abilities are, he won’t be able to rely on them for this fight- and now he won’t have any tricks up his sleeve either.

Charging like a bull, the Equalizer strikes first. For someone of his size, he moves with surprising, terrifying speed. Rather than swing the axe, he sweeps a meaty fist in an outward arc. Nemesis leans back, and the blow misses him by the breadth of a blade of grass. Rocking forward, he makes as if he’s going for a headbutt, then snaps an arm up and jams his fingers in the Equalizer’s eyes.

What unnerves me the most is that the Equalizer doesn’t even grunt. He gives no indication he feels the pain at all, just wipes the blood from his eyes and makes another attack. This time, he brings the handle of the axe down at the same time as he tries to drive a knee into Nemesis’s gut. The simultaneous attack leaves him nowhere to go, not in such close quarters. Instead, he jerks his head to the side, causing the axe blade to dig into the wall, while allowing the second strike to connect. Similarly, Nemesis gives no indication that he felt anything other than annoyance. And with the Equalizer’s weapon momentarily stuck in place, he takes the opportunity to circle around and get behind him.

Based on my observations so far, I’ve come to the conclusion that Nemesis is at least forty, if not older. His build, gait, and speech patterns- distorted by the voice modulator as they are -all give him away. The Equalizer, on the other hand, still looks like he’s about thirty, if not younger. Yet Nemesis moves like lightning, evading almost every attack with ease. It mirrors the fight I witnessed between Atlas and Adamant. One of them hits harder, but less often. The other moves like he knows where every punch is going to land before it’s thrown, and hits with less obvious force, yet somehow does more damage. The human body is vast and complex, but Nemesis fights like he’s got every nerve cluster, weak joint, and blind spot memorized. Maybe he does.

Nobody fights like he does. No ordinary human, at least. Certainly not anybody over twenty-three or so. But he can’t be relying on some sort of precognition to fight like this, even though Ulysses is one of the only other people I’ve ever seen operate with such lethal efficiency. If he’s got any powers- and I haven’t seen him display them yet -they aren’t in play. Unless, I suppose, he’s been physically enhanced in some way. A life-extending drug, or maybe cybernetics. But if even my lenses are confounded by the Equalizer’s power, would those continue to function in his presence?

No, the longer I watch, it becomes clear that Nemesis isn’t using any sort of technological or chemical performance-enhancers. He’s just that good. Better than anybody could be at any age. The breadth of his skills is too vast. Increasingly, I can come to only one conclusion as to his identity- but before that thought can fully crystalize, I’m forced to move out of the way, as the Equalizer drives his opponent towards me. The thought to try and help Nemesis does occur, and I discard it just as quickly. I’d only get in his way.

Ducking beneath an axe-swing, Nemesis comes up behind the Equalizer, and drives his elbow into the man’s shoulder like a jackhammer, three times in quick succession. I know enough about human anatomy to guess that he’s targeting the brachial plexus, a major nerve cluster in the arm. Sure enough, something audibly cracks, and a moment later the limb goes limp. Worse still, it’s the arm that held the axe, which clatters to the ground. The Equalizer stumbles forward before turning, his eyes darting around wildly. It’s clear that he hasn’t had a fight like this in a long time. That’s the problem with unfair fights- you forget what it’s like to have a fair one.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Not waiting for an invitation, Nemesis approaches at speed, kicking off the wall and driving a knee straight into the Equalizer’s nose. Already unsteady, it’s enough to send him crashing to the ground with enough force that the platform rattles beneath us. Without an ounce of mercy, Nemesis grabs his opponent’s left leg and bends the joint backwards with a sickening sound. It’s a clean break, bad enough that the jagged shard is actually sticking out through the Equalizer’s meaty thigh. Breathing heavily, he uses his remaining leg to kick Nemesis in the chest. He tumbles backward, and for a moment I think he’s about to fall to the ground as well. Instead, he manages to turn it into a nimble backflip, deftly landing upright and falling right back into a combat stance.

Unable to follow suit, the Equalizer instead drags himself backwards, blood gushing from his wound. His vision must be blurring crimson by now, with Nemesis’s very first attack having left him half-blind to begin with. My mysterious ally doesn’t approach, allowing the Equalizer to retreat a few feet. Then the murderer’s hand brushes up against something- the handle of his axe. He doesn’t quite smile, but his expression shifts marginally. With every ounce of force he can muster in the arm he can still move, he hurls the axe straight at Nemesis. If it hit, I have little doubt it would have split the man’s head in two. Instead, he claps his hands together, stopping it short at the last second. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I’d drawn in.

For a moment, I wonder if Nemesis plans to return the favor. The Equalizer clearly doesn’t possess the reflexes to match the feat- but if he guarded his face with an arm, he might be able to survive. Instead, Nemesis wedges the blade into the railing of the stairwell, and leaves it there. The message is clear- that would be too easy.

Putting as little weight on his ruined leg as possible, the Equalizer pushes himself upright. Forced to use his arm to hold steady, he’s effectively unable to attack without the risk of falling flat on his face. Still, he doesn’t show an ounce of fear as Nemesis approaches. When he decides to attack, even I can see it coming. He pushes forward with the last of his strength, perhaps trying to tackle his foe to the ground, but it’s almost pitifully easy for Nemesis to dodge. Rather than let the Equalizer fall, he catches him, pulls him back upright, and snaps his neck. It’s a move I’ve seen before, but never like this. Thanks to the Equalizer’s inhuman durability, Nemesis has to twist his head a full hundred and eighty degrees around before he’s well and truly dead.

Allowing the body to fall and hit the floor with a dull smack, Nemesis takes a moment to brush off his hands- not in a mocking gesture, but to keep his gloves clean. It’s evident that he didn’t care enough about this fight to disrespect the loser. It’s just business.

Of course, conducting business means you don’t leave behind any loose ends. So he takes the axe and lodges it in the Equalizer’s forehead, before driving it deep with the heel of his boot. No matter how tough he is, he’s not coming back from that. Not sparing me so much as a glance, he scoops up his fallen utility belt and heads back up the stairs, leaving me to stare at the mangled corpse for a few more moments. Then I pick up my sidearm, and follow, stowing my damaged mask in a jacket pocket. That marks one of our two allotted kills, but I don’t particularly consider it a waste. He was too much of a threat to leave alive, even crippled.

The Equalizer’s presence was essentially confirmation, but when we reach the top floor, Nemesis’s theory is confirmed. Ishtar and Zero are in the center of the room, seated in chairs that are bound to a thick iron pole in the center of the room. Zero is zip-tied, while Ishtar has heavy iron manacles around her wrists and ankles. Both of them turn to look as we enter, though neither speaks, owing to the fact that they’ve been gagged. A quick scan indicates there aren’t any hidden surprises in the room, so Nemesis and I swiftly approach. He pulls a blade from his belt and cuts Sandra free, while I take a miniature plasma torch and burn through the chains restraining Ishtar. Her hands free, she yanks the gag out of her mouth and wastes no time prying off the manacles themselves, displaying more strength than I’ve yet seen her use. Before looking to me, she forms a psychokinetic blade and dismisses it just as quickly.

“He’s dead, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Neither of us speaks for a few moments. Then I step forward and embrace her. She grumbles for a moment when she feels how wet my clothes are, but wraps her arms around me tightly. We break quickly, both aware that we aren’t exactly alone. Nemesis says nothing, and Zero clearly has other concerns.

“Winters, I figured out how to fix Network.”

That was decidedly not what I was expecting her to say.

“Please, elaborate.”

“I programmed a memetic antivirus in my head,” she says, as if telling me that she fixed the coffee machine. “What? It’s not like there was much else to do in here.”

“Okay. Good. There’s a translocation blackout field around the whole platform, but you shouldn’t have to swim far before you’re outside of it. We’ll deal with things here, you go.”

Sandra doesn’t protest, just nods, brushes some hair out of her eyes, and rushes out of the room. I’d have insisted she leave either way- with her suit’s hard-light holo-projectors damaged, she wouldn’t be anything but a liability in a fight. But knowing that the Network situation is going to be resolved soon takes a load off my mind.

“I hope you don’t expect me to go with her,” Ishtar says, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Of course not. Let’s get going, we’ve got a job to do.”

Nemesis is already going, and Ishtar takes a moment to stretch before following. It’s difficult to tell- in low-light conditions, her skin is onyx-black -but I suspect she sustained some bruises at some point in her captivity, and not merely by straining to free herself from her shackles. Most likely, she managed to do so at least once, resulting in a confrontation between her and the Equalizer, before they switched from zip-ties to actual metal chains. When we pass by his corpse, she spits on it and smiles.

As we’re making our way out of the central tower, she leans over and whispers to me, eyes fixed on the back of Nemesis’s head.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“He’s a friend of Kellan’s,” I reply. “Goes by Nemesis. I’m fairly certain I know who he is, but if I said it aloud, I suspect he’d kill me.”

Ishtar chuckles.

“I assume he’s the one who left the meathead in that condition, then?”

“Correct. So you’ll excuse me if I try to avoid getting on his bad side.”

We don’t have much time for conversation after that, though. It’s not long until we leave the central building, passing by the smaller structures surrounding it, and enter the battlefield proper. Surprisingly, the destruction seems to have been contained to a relatively small area- mainly owing to the fact that the fight appears to be exceedingly one-sided. A great deal of the platform and the objects upon it have been torn apart and used as weapons, but at present, everybody seems to be mainly making use of their bare hands- except for Adam Apex, who’s wielding my Superdensity Slugger. It’s a loan, of course, but he proved highly amenable to the idea, once I explained it was tough enough not to instantly shatter after a single swing, even from someone as strong as him.

He and Adamant are hammering away at Atlas, who seems too exhausted to even avoid most of their hits. Instead, he just weathers their blows, and takes every opportunity he can get to hit back. Those opportunities aren’t common, though- especially now, as the Demon Armor throws itself at him, having clearly been backhanded into a wall moments before.

There are a number of long, thin cuts all over Atlas’s body, which I take to be the work of Network, using Accel’s speed to strike at him with a time-locked knife. Axel is nowhere to be seen at the moment, though- perhaps Atlas managed to land a blow on him, or simply tossed him off the platform with a thunderclap. He’s also got at least one gunshot wound, judging by the blood staining his shoulder. Most likely Hawkshaw’s work. At the moment, though, Kellan is applying first aid to Evrimci, who’s been impaled on a jagged metal spike. It looks rather serious, but Tahir can heal from almost anything, given time.

In the air above the oil rig, another battle is taking place- Delta-V versus Karitha, the Front Line’s resident geokinetic. She hails from Palestine originally, and only left as a result of the peace deal that the Council arranged last year, which included a provision for certain individuals on both sides to either leave, or face prosecution for their crimes. Of course, both sides rather strenuously objected to having the actions of their partisans characterized as crimes, which is why the pseudo-amnesty arrangement was necessary. Since they were generally sympathetic to her side of the conflict, the Front Line offered Karitha- meaning Cataclysm in her language -an opportunity to work with them, and keep fighting the proverbial good fight.

Given that she’s here now, she must know the truth about all that. Clearly she’s accepted it to some degree, but judging by the intensity with which she’s hurling boulders at the armored Peacekeeper, she’s not entirely thrilled about it either. Unfortunately, her power doesn’t extend to metallokinesis, so she’s somewhat limited in terms of raw material with which to make use of her geokinetic abilities.

What concerns me the most, however, is that I don’t see the Vitruvian anywhere. First studying the immediate area, I then turn my eyes to the heavens, but find no trace of the hero. I’m not the only one looking, either, but if Nemesis sees something, he doesn’t say. What I do see is Vindicator, whose arrival is marked by a sonic boom loud enough to cut through the sound of the storm. He’s got a barrage primed and ready to fire, but before he can, Delta-V activates some kind of shield. When Vindicator opens fire on her, she doesn’t flinch, just hangs still in the air, and watches as the projectiles are caught in stasis around her. It reminds me of the same shield the Vitruvian used to defend himself at Avernus. Clearly he’s been sharing his designs with her- maybe playing the role of replacement mentor, now that she knows Machina is dead.

From within the shield bubble, she activates some other weapon, and I can see the wings of her armor start to vibrate. A second later, Vindicator and Karitha both drop out of the sky, hands clasped to their ears. Sonic weaponry, I can only assume. Bad news for them, and worse news for us, because that’s who she’s turned her attention to. Specifically Kellan, who looks up from Tahir’s wounded form to see a furious Delta-V rocketing towards him, weapons armed.

If she thought that would be enough to faze him, she needs to think again. Hawkshaw activates his hard-light shield, letting it eat the brunt of her onslaught, but it quickly begins to crack as the bullets and micro-missiles strike it. A second before the shield goes down, he pulls the pin on an electromagnetic smoke grenade, and vanishes. It only takes a second for Delta-V to clear the smoke cloud with her wings, before Kellan even gets a chance to activate the electric charge it carried, but that’s all the time he needed to disappear. The Peacekeeper turns slowly, scanning the area for him, seemingly unconcerned with the rest of us, or the ongoing battle with Atlas taking place just a few hundred yards away. She’s got eyes only for Kellan, and not in a good way.

“I know what you did, you son of a bitch,” Delta-V shouts, her armor amplifying her voice. “He only wanted to help people, and you- you replaced him! Stole his body and destroyed his mind!”

“Robards wasn’t who you thought he was,” Kellan intones, his voice appearing to emanate from the ether. I’ve seen him pull this trick before, but typically with more places to hide. In fact, I’ve got no idea where he’s even hiding right now, and Delta-V’s sensor suite has to be at least as advanced as mine, if not superior. Sandra’s digital cloak is putting in some work today, it seems.

“I don’t care! Nothing could justify what you did to him! Nothing!”

The fact that Machina signed off on doing pretty much the same thing to Kellan’s mentor arguably does justify it, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and one we don’t really have time to get into. When Kellan beat Machina, he did so by cheating- using a method he doesn’t have available here. I’m rather curious how he intends to win this fight.

His opening gambit seems to involve using himself as bait. Three gunshots ring out, and three tungsten penetrators are caught in Delta-V’s stasis field. She turns to their source, and sees Kellan standing in the shadow of the rig’s central building, smoke still blowing from his sidearm’s barrel. The field shimmers and vanishes, each bullet dropping to the ground.

“That was stupid,” the Peacekeeper spits. “I’m gonna kill you now.”

A bit of water has gotten in my eye, and I blink. When my eyes open, Delta-V’s armor is sitting in pieces, leaving her in the black bodysuit she wears underneath. She looks around in disbelief, only for Network, in Accel’s body, to appear before her in a blur of motion.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

I worry for a moment that he’s about to overwrite her, before I remember that I dosed him with the ‘Network vaccine.’ Instead, he just punches her out, turns to give Kellan a nod, and vanishes in another blur.

“Clay, Azra, status,” Kellan barks. With my mask off, I don’t hear their response, but his body language tells me that they aren’t dead, at least. Probably pulling back for the time being to recover. With that dealt with, he gives me a momentary nod, and then returns to Tahir, whose condition doesn’t seem to have improved dramatically.

With the sideshow complete, I return my attention to the main event. Apex, Adamant, and the Demon Armor, versus Atlas. He may be outnumbered, but he’s not exactly losing. No matter how hard the trio strikes, he doesn’t break. Luckily, I’ve got options other than just hitting him.

Pulling a device from my utility belt, I gauge the distance, doing my best to factor in the wind and rain. Before I can make the throw, however, Nemesis snatches it from my hands and hurls it straight at Atlas. It lands squarely between his shoulderblades, and takes a second to activate. When it does, however, it instantly sends him plummeting through the platform, straight into the water. A gravity amplifier is useful against almost everybody, but someone who’s tough enough to break through the ground beneath them, rather than just being pinned to it, is particularly vulnerable.

Apex is the one to notice us first, and offers an exhausted wave. He’s got a nasty-looking black eye, but to his credit, he hasn’t given up. Or broken my bat, which I was rather worried about. Adamant and the Demon Armor, however, don’t relax for a second. They keep their eyes locked on the hole Atlas left in the platform.

Rather than flying straight back up, however, Atlas emerges directly behind me. I don’t think he has enhanced senses, certainly none that would let him see through solid metal. That means he could easily have been intending to simply kill me, and missed by a matter of inches. The thought is sobering, though I’m too busy hurling myself out of the way to really notice. Sliding across the slick surface of the platform, I come up against the railing and grab onto it with one hand. With the other, I draw my sidearm and fire at Atlas, who has Ishtar by the arm.

The self-guided bullets strike him squarely in the face. Rather than simply shattering against his unbreakable skin, they attach themselves, and then deploy a burst of superadhesive. Suddenly blinded, he tosses Ishtar away. This time, she’s prepared, and manages to land on her feet rather than slamming into a wall. Instead of simply trying to peel off the adhesive, which would only get his hands stuck as well, Atlas feels around for the nearest solid object, and tears a chunk of metal out of it. He begins attempting to scrape the adhesive off with the jagged edge, which wouldn’t ordinarily work, but the adhesive’s strength is diluted somewhat due to having been deployed in the middle of a rainstorm.

Being clever types, Adamant and the Demon Armor don’t just stand there and let him do that. Instead, they rush over and resume their assault, hammering him relentlessly. Apex follows suit after a moment, apparently having not entirely internalized yet that there are no rules to this sort of fight.

“Restrain him,” Ishtar calls over the cacophony. They get the message quickly- Adamant takes one arm, and the Armor grabs the other, while Apex strikes the back of Atlas’s knees in quick succession with the bat. He collapses, still struggling furiously. Before he can break free, however, Ishtar rushes over and plunges a psychokinetic dagger straight into the back of his head.

Atlas roars furiously, his voice alone enough to rip through some of the adhesive blocking his mouth. But a moment later, he goes limp, all of his fight gone in an instant. Ishtar makes no move to remove the blade- I suspect that if she did, he’d recover in a matter of seconds. But that’s acceptable for the moment.

Picking myself up and hurrying over, I retrieve a canister of superadhesive from the armory. Understanding my intent, Adamant and the Demon Armor hold his arms together behind his back, allowing me to spray them down entirely in adhesive, up to the shoulders. If I gave him an inch, he’d likely be able to simply tear himself free, but a full coating should- hopefully -be enough to hold him. Ishtar doesn’t remove the blade, though she does shift position to allow me easier access.

Tossing aside the spent canister, I grab another one and do the same for his legs. Since he’s still kneeling, I make sure to coat the ground in adhesive as well, so he’ll be stuck in place, unable to even fly away. Once that’s finished, I take three more gravity amplifiers from my belt. Setting them to remote-activation, I affix two of them to his chest, and one to the small of his back, where he won’t be able to simply peel it off. Scraping himself against the ground would probably do the trick, but he’d have to figure out that there’s a third one even on him to do that. If by some stroke of bad fortune he manages to break free, I’ll activate the first two, wait until he takes them off, and then turn on the third.

“Yo, that was sick,” Apex says, tossing the Superdensity Slugger into the air and catching it. “Total team effort. You want this thing back?”

I brush the bat away brusquely.

“Hold onto it for now. We’re not finished here.”

As I’m speaking, Hawkshaw approaches. Tahir seems to be stable enough, though he doesn’t look fit enough to fight. Kellan’s helmet is missing- glancing around, I notice it sitting on the ground some distance away, a huge chunk missing. The corresponding spot on Hawkshaw’s face is bruised and bloody, a few small fragments of black ceramic material lodged in his cheek. He says nothing, just draws his gun and puts it to Atlas’s head.

“Wait a moment,” I find myself saying. There’s an electric hum in the air, and I wonder for a moment if lightning is going to strike one of us. Adamant is a natural lightning rod, after all.

No strike of lightning comes. Instead, everything goes utterly silent. Raindrops hang motionless in the air, bursting open when I brush a finger against them, but remaining frozen when I draw my hand away. None of the others are moving. They seem completely unaware that anything is going on. At the very least, I still seem able to breathe, which may mean that everything inside of my body is unaffected. Experimentally, I try walking a few steps, staring at the frozen splashes my footfalls create. Fortunately, the food in my stomach isn’t frozen either. That wouldn’t have been pleasant.

Unless Nemesis isn’t who I thought he was at all, there’s only one person who could have done this. A quick look around confirms it. Right on top of the central tower, where we were only a few minutes ago, a shining golden orb is rotating slowly in place. It seems to be the only object not affected by the time-stop, and the design alone marks it as a creation of the Vitruvian.

Setting my jaw, I walk a few feet closer, then charge my Bounce Boots to max. Jumping right towards the tower, I sail through a field of frozen raindrops, feeling them splash against my face and slide right off without leaving so much as a bead of moisture on me. When I land, it’s with a loud clang against the hollow metal surface. The sound fails to travel, however, instead falling flat almost instantly. It’s eerie- even sitting somewhere quiet, there’s ambient noise that one usually doesn’t register at all. But right now, there’s nothing, just the faint sounds I make while moving, which disappear almost instantly without air to travel through.

Standing in front of the orb, which is about half again as tall as me, is the Vitruvian. His armor is the most complex I’ve yet seen it, with ornate golden epaulettes and a considerable amount of moving, shifting machinery just beneath the surface. It seems to react to my presence, the gaps sealing themselves, the edges becoming sharper. Father’s mortal enemy adjusts some part of the orb’s machinery, before turning to face me.

“Of course you’d be the only one unaffected,” he says with a sigh. “Some secret failsafe hidden in your father’s uniform, no doubt.”

“Something like that,” I reply. The words sound as if they’ve been spoken by someone else.

“I was hoping to resolve this without further conflict, but I suppose that would have been too easy.”

Too easy. I almost want to laugh. Of course this is how it would end. Just him and I, with the entire world between us.