“I suggest that you get off of my friend,” Silo said to Siegella, still grabbing her shoulder. He towered over her as the shadows of the fiery wall covered most of his face. Only the irises of his eyes shone through, and they were both beautiful and haunting. While his face showed an odd composure to it, and his gentle mental waves seemed to back that up, there was an unnerving rage that peered out from behind his gaze. There was a firm resolve to kill within him.

“Don’t get cocky with me,” Siegella said, gritting her teeth. Her mental waves then shifted focus onto the man standing above her. With a quick swing of her arm, she batted Silo’s hand off of her and used that momentum to stand up.

Silo took a step back. “Feisty, aren’t we?”

Without saying a word, she charged at him and threw a punch directly at his face. With ease, Silo side-stepped out of the way. She continued to throw punch after punch, screaming as she brought her full weight at him. Her mental waves wildly flung off of her with each attack.

After dodging a strong right hook, Silo focused his mental waves into his hands, causing them to vibrate and blur. “You’re so easy to predict,” he mocked. And before Siegella could even respond, Silo threw a strong jab at her. And then another. And another. And another.

Within the span of only a couple of seconds, the Aries leader had thrown just over a dozen punches. As each one connected, parts of the gathering mental energy in his fists would travel into Siegella. He watched her eyes dilate and start to rapidly shift from side to side—she was getting rocked with nauseating bursts of waves.

Once he finished his assault, he watched Seigella stumble for a second before regaining her footing. Even though her gaze never fell off of him, he knew that her concentration was certainly rattled; he could tell from reading her mental waves.

“How…” Siegella said with staggered breath. “How are you still this strong? How can you predict me and have enough resonance left over to project? A Resonator with their apparition out should only be, at most, at fifty percent strength.”

“That’s correct,” Silo responded, quickly glancing over at Terragong. It had just gouged Al with its horn, pinning him to the side of a building. Vito was already dead, stomped and turned into a bloody mess. “And that’s more than enough to deal with all of you. Once I’m finished with you riff-raff, I’m taking the head of the Godfather.”

“You son of a—” Siegella began to say before being cut off by the sound of a gunshot.

The sound came from the center of the plaza. Even though every other civilian had either died or fled, there was one man that could be seen charging toward the stage where Archard was still standing, watching over the war like a maniacal puppeteer.

This man had a brown trench coat on, smoking a cigarette as he ran, with a pistol in one hand and his other hand being on fire. It took him a second, but Silo recognized this man as Hal Fordren, one of the world’s greatest international detectives. He had had some run-ins with Hal a few years ago when Aries was first getting started, but he managed to evade the cruel arm of the law with slippery skills and sheer luck. However, as that tango began to drag on for a couple of years, Silo began to realize that Hal was only ever chasing his group with a half-hearted resolve. The only time he ever saw that British-born detective put his all into something was when he was chasing Archard. And right now, it seemed like sentiment toward the godfather was coming to a boiling point.

“ARCHARD!!” Hal yelled, firing a few more bullets at the godfather. Each of them seemed to barely miss. “Your reign of terror is over!”

Archard continued to laugh. “Over, you say? Why, it’s just beginning!”

Hal stopped just over a dozen feet short of the stage and pointed his pistol directly at Archard. “But it ain't gonna last for long. Justice is knockin’ on your door!”

“Justice is whoever has power…and right now, that’s me, little boy.”

With rapid succession, Hal fired his gun several times, the shots ringing out through the plaza. However, even in such close proximity, not a single one hit the godfather. Archard just continued to stand there, calm and grinning, while each bullet just barely passed by his body. They would hit the poles to his right and left, sparking as they skidded across the metal.

Once he was out of ammunition, Hal looked down at the gun and back up at Archard. “What the hell is going on!?” he said in confusion.

“I told you,” Archard began to say with a chuckle, “I’m the one with all the power. I am justice. I am freedom. And I decree that you are a nuisance. So begone,” he said, raising his metallic hand in the air.

Silo watched as Archard’s mental waves expanded in a radius beyond him and all throughout the plaza, even entering the buildings that immediately surrounded them. While the range was impressive, it still wasn't nearly as powerful as what Silo could do. But the strength of the waves wasn’t the important part, it’s what they stood for.

All at once, all bullets, scrap metal, poles, gears, screws, sheets of iron, and so much more began to rise up and swirl in the air. It was like a giant cloud of metal had begun to coalesce above the entirety of the plaza, blocking out any of the remaining sunlight. The magnetized metal stuck together and swirled like a storm above.

With a flick of his wrist, Archard said, “Raining Chrome.”

Like a furious storm, small shreds of metal began to rain down at a blistering pace, tearing through anything they came in contact with. Fabrics ripped, stones shattered, and wood split. Silo didn’t have enough time to see what happened to Hal, as the rain of darkened metal began to pour down all over the plaza.

With haste, he ended his battle with Siegella and dashed into one of the nearby buildings, smashing through the door with no restraint. Although he was quick and had used prediction to see Archard’s intent ahead of time, he still got cut by a couple of the metallic raindrops. As he looked at his body, he saw that there were a couple of nice gashes that ran down his torso, but nothing extremely dangerous.

That’s good, he thought to himself. I wonder how Terragong is doing?

Without needing to look, he focused in on his connection with his apparition and could sense that it was still up and around. There was pain and damage, but it didn't seem like anything that would threaten the beast’s existence.

Picking himself back up, he brushed off the wood and dust from him and looked out of the broken door. The sudden “flash-flooding” of metal had subsided and the magnetic cloud above seemed to be gone, too. What he also found suspicious was that the wall of fire that cut the plaza in half was also gone. He figured that must’ve been Hal’s doing, and since it's gone, that means that Hal is either unconscious or dead. Regardless, there was still a war to win.

“Alright,” he announced, stepping out of the building, “now it’s time for…”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

His voice trailed off in disbelief when he saw a familiar figure now next to the godfather. Now standing on the stage, above the broken mess of Archard’s creation, was Tom King. To most, it would seem odd for a simple cafe owner and ally to Libra to be here in the middle of a war. But to Silo, a more sinister and darker realization hit. That man wasn’t just simply a cafe owner…he was the man who abused and killed Silo’s mother.

“You…” was all Silo could say. The thin veneer of a calm leader instantly vanished. On his relaxed face was now a visage of solemn rage. Veins popped, teeth ground, and his eyes became much more bloodshot.

One step.

Another.

And another.

One foot in front of the other, Silo marched toward the center of his anger. The world around him disappeared and he couldn’t care less about the rest of the war. He heard the vague screams of familiar voices, begging him to stop. But even those friendly voices were soon drowned out.

Another step.

And another.

No thoughts were entertained in his mind. All he cared about was the old, vindictive feelings that were burning in his mind. He saw the man who made his life a living hell in front of him. He was standing next to the billionaire who bailed him out. The two most despicable men in the world, in his eyes, were right in front of him. His entire reason for fighting was right there. All he had to do was kill them.

Step.

Step.

Silo called the raging Terragong over, its massive 30-foot stature charged at the stage like a behemoth from hell. With each stomp, the ground shook and splintered around it. It was no longer protecting, it was now hunting to kill. And in its eyes was the same fiery wrath that consumed Silo.

Just as the beast was about to reach the stage, Silo noticed the relaxed expressions on both Archard and Tom’s faces. He didn't have time to think about it, but even through his hate-filled march, he clocked it. Why?

As if answering his question, Archard glanced at Tom and casually said, “Hey, Tom, do you mind if you take care of this pest?”

Pushing up his glasses, the white-haired bar owner replied, “But of course.” With a bow, Tom glanced over to the rampaging beast and raised a hand at it. Just as the Terragong was only a few feet away from decimating the stage, Tom waved his hand.

Even though it was only a fraction of a second, to Silo, time seemed to slow to a crawl. He watched as his trusted companion—his apparition and safety net for his entire childhood—exploded in front of him. It looked as though hundreds of bubbles suddenly bulged up all around its body. When they reached a breaking point, the entirety of the creature burst, like a bomb was set off inside of it. A rain of flesh of blood caked the immediate vicinity in crimson.

As Silo continued to mindlessly walk toward his enemies, pieces of his dead companion splattered around him. With each step, a new image flashed before his eyes before disappearing into the ether. Memories of his mother and his childhood started to vanish. Parts of himself were suddenly forgotten. Major chunks of his very identity started to escape him. And soon enough, he no longer remembered the name “Terragong.”

The moment he made it to the front of the stage, he stopped walking. He looked up at the two men in front of him in confusion. The embers of his rage had died and he couldn't even remember why.

“Who…” Silo began to say, “are you two?”

***

Eliot and Zander stepped out into the light and waved at their friend, Vincent.

“Hear me out, Vincent,” Zander said. “I can see that you’re a little confused.”

Eliot chimed in, saying, “We’re only here to help you.”

“Achard has been lying to you and using you,” Zander continued. “He’s manipulating you in order to stage this war against Aries. There’s a bigger plan that—”

“I know,” Vincent interjected.

“What?”

Vincent’s eyes looked down at the ground for a moment. “I know, and I-I’m sorry. I. uh, I just didn’t…”

Eliot rushed up to him and wrapped himself around Vincent. It was a warm embrace. It was a warmth that Vincent hadn't felt in a long time. It almost brought him to tears.

“It’s ok, Vince,” Eliot said, still hugging him. “I—” he turned and looked at Zander, who gave him a half smile. “We forgive you.”

“But I don't deserve it,” Vincent said with a frown.

“What do you mean? We’re friends, of course you deserve it! We all make mistakes.”

“Friends…” Vincent lingered on that word for a moment. As he did he started to smile. A small speck of warmth began to fill the void in his heart. It wasn't much, but it was a good start.

As he continued to embrace his friend, his eyes suddenly went wide. “Fang!” Vincent shouted. He turned around in worry to try and find his unconscious friend. When he looked back, he saw that Fang was still unconscious, but being varied over by John.

“They’re alive and alright for now,” John said, glazing at their sibling. “But we need to get out of here now.”

“Why’s that?” Vincent asked.

The giant wall of fire suddenly evaporated, leaving the brutal result of the war to lay bare for all to see. Dozens of bodies were strewn about on the ground, most of which were civilians. Some of them were crushed, some of them were burnt, but all of them were shredded and impaled with pieces of metal. While many were unrecognizable, two familiar figures were seen sumped against a partially broken building—they were the impaled, dead bodies of Al and Vito.

Among all the courses, there were a couple of people who were alive. Standing in front of the stage, covered in a crimson liquid, was the unmoving leader of Aries, Silo. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide, staring directly at the two people who stood on top of the stage.

Archard and Tom towered above everything else around them. Archard had a menacing grin on his face, while Tom stood solemnly next to his godfather. Together, the two of them radiated waves of importance, ego, and power. Even the weakest Resonator could see and understand the mental waves coming out of them; they did not hide a thing. They knew that they had won and that they alone were the strongest.

“SIlo!” John yelled, but the Aries leader did not move.

At the same time, Tom reached an arm out in his direction. All the while, Archard began to laugh. John stood frozen in place, aught between carrying their sibling and running after their sworn leader. Just as they began to make that choice, Zander grabbed their arm.

“We can’t go over there,” he said with a ghastly expression. His hand was on John’s arm, but his eyes were trained on Tom.

“Why not?” John replied with some anger.

“Because,” Zander swallowed, “that’s the Slayer.”

John stood still. Their mouth opened several times but no words came out. While they continued to babble wordlessly, Tom’s mental waves began to extend in Silo’s direction. His will was beginning to surround the distant man, and they were about o reach him any moment.

Then, with a flash of light, a man wearing a brown trenchcoat emerged from beneath some shrapnel. He was bleeding and cut all over, but there was a grit to him that seemed to ignore his injuries. And even with his circumstances, he continued to smoke the cigarette in his mouth.

“Not so fast!” Hal yelled, taking the embers from the end of his cigarette and flinging it at the stage. It exploded like a flashbang. With that moment of confusion, he grabbed Silo with one arm and flung him over his shoulders. He raced up to and past Vincent and the rest.

“We gotta run!” he shouted as he ran past them and into the alleyway.

Without much thought, Vincent motioned toward his friends to follow. He ran after the detective who was carrying the Aries leader on his shoulders. Eliot and Zander didn't hesitate to follow, but John paused for a second, looked at the unconscious face of Fang, and then ran after them.

As they all ran away from that bloody site, they could hear the laughter of Archard echoing through the alley and all throughout town. He was laughing at his victory. He was laughing at the blood he spilled. And most of all, he was laughing at the power he now held, for he and everyone else there knew that London would completely put its faith in him. There would be no citizen that wouldn't flock to him for protection, especially after such a display. He held all the power, and everyone knew it.