A Tale of the Endless

Lars Thompson, 33. Illuminati. Endless. Prometheus.

[taleofendless]

[herohood]

LOCATION : THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE ROAD.

"       are   you   decent?       "                       jericho   asks,   mostly   out   of   formality,   because   not   even   a   second   later   he   has   already   entered   the   room.   though,   in   his   defense,   it's   not   like   seeing   each   other   naked   would   be   anything   new.   they   have   already   spent   way   too   many   nights   in   hotels   while   he   toured   around   the   world,   and   have   explored   each   other's   bodies   enough   that   they   aren't   strangers   to   what   makes   the   other   whimper.   sure,   he   could   make   a   show   of   being   ashamed   if   he   did   see   the   other   man   naked,   but   it   has   been   a   long   day   and   an   even   longer   week.

especially   for   the   other   man,   who   woke   up   straight   into   a   nightmare.   jericho   just   wants   to   make   sure   lars   is   comfortable.

putting   the   bed   sheets   and   clothes   down   on   the   bed,   he   gives   the   room   a   quick   once-over   and   whistles    ...    and   watches   as   it   begins   to   tidy   itself.        "       how   are   you   finding   your   room?   it   used   to   be   mine   when   i   was   younger—evident   by   how   everything's   not   in   its   place.       "        jericho   chuckles   and   then   sighs.        "       but   hey!   certainly   an   upgrade   from   the   box   you   were   sleeping   in,   huh?   i   still   haven't   apologized   for   waking   you   up   this   early.       "

closed starter for @taleofendless / post event

[taleofendless]

"Jericho." If there was indeed one person who would brighten his day and make the dark clouds part from the sky - that would be Jericho. It wasn't simply because of the pact he had done with the Sorcerer's Supreme bloodline all those eons ago, but this generation sorcerer supreme was… different than the others. Not as uptight, not as consumed by the weight of responsibility. The mantle of power was a heavy one to carry. Maybe Jericho wasn't fully used to what it meant to be the magical ward against the supernatural - but he was doing one heck of a fine job. Not to mention that he was also teaching him all about this new world. It was rather impressive how everything has changed since the 1940's. The last time he awoke from his slumber was during World War II. The Nazi's had been dabbling with the occult in ways that humans would never truly learn. Jericho's ancestor ( probably his father ) was the one who summoned him back, and once everything was said and done in a matter of a couple of years, Prometheus resumed his slumber without catching much of the world back then. Or maybe he didn't even want to see it. There would always be conflicts around the globe. War and strife and people meddling with things they did not understand. Stepping out of the bathroom wearing just a pair of shorts, Lars gave the other man a smile as he waved his hand, still holding his toothbrush - not really paying much attention to the toothpaste still lingering on his lips as he closed the distance between the two of them in a couple of steps - kissing the sorcerer supreme playfully on the lips. They had gotten close over the past few weeks. Or months? Time was still a whole different concept for an immortal. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm glad you woke up before… how is it your mortals say it…? Shit hit the fan?" So many expressions that made no sense to him. How and why would shit actually hit the fan? Why would someone fling their feces at it? "There's still much I do not understand but it's somewhat funny to learn. One good thing, though… the cheese quality improved since the last time I was around! Did you know you can make cheese toasts? I had one the other day and hmmmmmm…. So decadent!"

[savioresque]

👑           *           ﹕ㅤㅤ    he might be the wielder of excalibur, but wilhelm had never seen himself as an actual king. sure, the godkin name carried a lot of weight these days, but its power would never fall on him⸻ the company passed to his mother by her father, and then it'd be passed down to wilhelm's older brother once their mother finally had enough dealing with such unruly heroes. and he was perfectly fine being the spare, how it afforded him so much freedom, and so he didn't think too much prometheus' sentiment. he'd never be crushed under pressure because he was always surrounded by his friends who'd never let him carry any burden alone. he'd never be a tyrant, not just because of excalibur but because of the people who inspired him to be good every waking hour.

and he'd never be king, because he failed to see himself as different, as inexplicably better, as the protagonist of a grand self - mythology just because he had a legendary sword. he could be a worthy leader in his own right one day, but wilhelm would like to be followed for his own deeds and strength of character than some divine title passed down to him. " you're wise, but you're also wrong. the pressure won't crush me, " the younger blond laughed, mostly joking and lighthearted, though there could also a sliver of truth in his argument. " hubris is the most common downfall of kings, how they insisted on carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders... " and like muscle memory, the sword suddenly felt lighter in his hand, but he rose it just in time to intercept the surprise attack, redirecting the attack past his shoulder. " ... but i'm not prideful. i let excalibur guide me when i don't know what to do, just like now. i ask for help when i need it. so if i ever somehow become king, which i won't, you better be awake because i doubt anything could crush me if i had a wise old warrior by my side to help me along the way. "

and he listened to the rest of prometheus' lessons and sentiments, shaking his head lightheartedly at the comments about firearms. wilhelm definitely agreed with how those marksman needed to be disarmed as quickly as possible, but his real worry came from the same vein, but much harder to deal with. " people with guns are definitely annoying, but not as annoying as those calamities and malignant espers who don't need guns to hurl shit in your direction, " wilhelm pointed out with a chuckle, sheathing excalibur into its scabbard before walking toward the bench in the corner to grab his water bottle and drink. then, he threw the bottle at prometheus, wasn't even sure if the immortal needed hydration to survive, but it was the polite thing to do anyway. " but let's put a pin in it for today. the sweat's making me feel filthy. " wilhelm said with a ever-sunny smile even when he was tired, rolling his aching shoulders, proud of the work they'd done today. and prometheus surely knew how to put him through it, couldn't ask for a better teacher.

[taleofendless]

It was good to see that there were people of this age who had a solid head on their shoulders. Prometheus had lived enough - seen enough - to know how the pressure of ruling affected others. How power corrupted. How greed and envy festered like an infected wound and erased all traces of those who had once been good. Wilhelm had a sunny disposition, which he absolutely adored but at the same time, he had a level head upon his shoulders. How many in his place would feel entitled to shit because they were wielding a magical sword? How many would dream above their station? See themselves high while everyone else remained low? "You do have a good head on your shoulders. You know you are not alone and that there are others around you that can assist without asking for things in return." Not everyone was pure-hearted or had good intentions but trusting people would always be a double-edged sword. "I have dealt with… treats. Human and unnatural." In over two thousand years, there had been a lot of things Lars had dealt with. Some of it human - guided by greed and need for conquest - but ever since he made a pact with Mistborn's ancestor…? He had seen shit. The occult world was far bigger and wider than anyone could have ever imagined. "We didn't have calamities back in my day." His reflexes were so honed that he caught the water bottle without even glancing. "There were shamans and soothsayers but it was mostly powders, herbs and getting themselves into a trance." Which Prometheus had learned that was how they got high back in the day. "Maybe a rogue vampire or a peckish werewolf." It had been a long ass time indeed. "But humans with actual powers? That can destroy entire city blocks?" Lars shook his head and took a sip from the water, blue eyes turning to Wilhelm with a smile lingering on his lips. "Times have indeed changed if humans can have powers that rival those of Gods. As if dealing with the occult and unnatural wasn't bad enough. Brings me back to World War II. Humans driven by curiosity on the occult and potentially opening some rift between our plane and a demonic one…" Now, that… was a bloody adventure, alright. "Honestly? This world scares me, Galahad. It's so very different from what I was used to. Not just the powers but the shiny lights and the technology and mentality. It's… all so very confusing, honestly."

[savioresque]

👑           *           ﹕ㅤㅤ    truth be told, but wilhelm's proficiency with excalibur had been more luck than it was skill, as well as this mystical invisible guidance that often steered his body, like muscle memory from all the previous wielders passed down to him. and maybe that was why he'd been so excited to meet a real master, a literal ancient warrior that he could really learn from⸻ to really master the way of the sword and wield it with his own expert hands. just as expected, prometheus was a great mentor, already absorbed so much information and today was only the beginning. " i took fencing in high school but that hardly makes anyone a warrior like you, " wilhelm replied with a grin, twirling excalibur the same way prometheus did just to show the ( much, much, much ) older man that he was paying attention. because he might not seem like it, often confused to be more simple-minded, probably because of the spiffy blonde hair, but wilhelm considered himself to be an erudite, always willing to learn, always perceptive of how he could please someone. so he made mental note of the advice, then slowly displayed how he'd do it differently in an actual fight, sword swung at prometheus though he didn't let it touch, just wanted the other to watch his movements, more conscious that he didn't give himself away with the motions of his hips. " is that more like it? " then he paused for a moment to think about the warrior's questions, never really thought of it that way before. " i mean, i don't think the royal family's just going to secede the throne because of a few myths and legends, but it would be funny. " he chuckled, amused by the idea of the monarchy abdicating the throne to some guy with a sword, as if a magical artifact was a more legitimate cause for succession than the law and constitution. " realistically, however, they might see me more as a madman with a sword seeking to destabilize the nation by claiming to be the spiritual heir to king arthur. so no need to drop to your knees... " unless it was for another occasion, but there was no need for his mentor to hear that obscene intrusive thought. " plus, who wants to be king anyway? think i'm fine just the way i am. "

[taleofendless]

"I knew a great king once." Long, long ago. Leonidas was the sort of man that people would just follow without giving it too much thought. Charismatic, just, always worried about the people rather than his own power. How else would someone inspire such unwavering loyalty in 300 soldiers that followed him to one of the most epic battles that history had ever seen? Yes, Lars had taken some time to inspect the legends regarding his own people and his fallen king a few times in the course of centuries. Leonidas was always painted as a warrior, a king worth following. A legend. He would probably be proud of his prowess as a fighter and leader but definitely pay little to no mind to his current status as a legend. "People nowadays assume it's all … what is the expression?" He paused for a second, a frown forming on his face as he tried to remember that line he had seen on the magic box he now knew it was called television. "Fine and dandy?" Truly, he had seen the weight of the crown. The responsibilities. The politics. It was a lot better to just not rule or follow the commands of a capable king rather than sit on a throne and proclaim a few laws. "I am not saying you would be incapable. You would probably be a nice king from what I could gather. But the pressure would eventually crush you." He had brought other kings and rulers to their knees. History was filled with events like that. "Or you'd become a tyrant - which I doubt since you wield the legendary sword." Another chuckle and before anyone could react - like a viper ambushing a prey - Prometheus lunged to Galahad just to test his reflexes and see how quick he would parry a proximity strike. "Always watch your opponent's feet. It takes a lot of experience to feint with a stance. But considering not everyone uses swords…" From what he could tell, law enforcement and other protectors of the common folk used guns. Long gone were the days of swords, spears and bows. "When dealing with those carrying weapons, the priority is always to keep moving and not provide a window of attack. Disarm them quick. Swords have no place in a gun fight… unless you know how to use them." At least they didn't have to reload those things. "I never liked firearms. Makes the whole fighting point impersonal. Maybe it's my pride as a Spartan talking but I like to be the one guiding my weapon to the target rather than allowing bullets to do so." But then again… bullets wouldn't bring him down, unlike others. "If anything, use me as a shield. Not like firearms can do that much damage to me."

[taleofendless]

Everyone had heard the legend of Excalibur at one point or another. A magic sword was stuck in a stone, and whoever would wield it would become the new king of England. But legends were not all black and white as that. Prometheus - or Lars as he went by nowadays - had seen and heard many legends and not all of them were as accurate as people assumed. The battle of the 300 against King Xerxes was legendary but not due to mystical means or supernatural occurrences. Just soldiers. Brothers. All of them followed a king whom they would gladly die for. And they did. All but one. And since that time, many legends have come to be. Some true, some false. Some a mixture of both. "Are you sure you didn't have classes before?" Prometheus chuckled as he twirled his own sword in one hand. There was a cut on his left arm that closed virtually instantly after the metal of the legendary sword met his skin. Galahad - or Wilhelm - was doing better than he expected. Not perfectly… but that was why they were doing this. Back in Mistborn's mansion, in a training room where neither of them would be interrupted. It made sense for the oldest warrior among them to train the sword wielder. "You are still giving away your position on the way you roll your hip to attack." No mockery, no arrogance. Just stating a fact with a smile on his lips as Prometheus motioned to the other man's waist. "You want to catch them off-guard. Fewer chances for a parry. Also - I am curious…" The Spartan warrior paused for a second, head tilting to the side as he gave Galahad a mocking bow. "Am I supposed to call you something like Your Majesty? If the sword legends are to be believed, you are the king of England. Shall I drop to my knee or… that legend is not as the books say?"

@savioresque gets a tale

[heroescue]

! 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 : 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚘.

all of this was pure hell, and that wasn't an exaggeration at the moment either; laureano wondered if this was the best or worst place to be at the moment: trapped in city hall while the entire city was overrun with horde. it was so much worry in their mind, mostly for their dad; he decides to rejoin the force and now he's probably in the midst of battling mind and body transforming monsters. as they always did, the stone starer did all they could; hooking up mayor flores to the broadcast radio, sending out emergency rations through the city … tallying body counts as best as possible as well as keeping up the building damages. suffice to say ? this was gonna take a lot of major reconstruction … if they all survived. 

the mayor's assistant was getting ready to post an address to the city hall site, but then they hear a voice and then see a figure … a big ol' figure at that. like a reflex, the crafty assistant's pointer and thumb goes along the right shift of their special glasses as they look up, greenish eyes glancing considering the way the light comes from the window of the dome makes them look like an unrecognizable figure. 

“ yeah … who are you ? you don't seem like a civilian … miracle or calamity ? ” or monster at this point: one couldn't be too careful at the moment. what they do see is a polearm weapon … looks like a damn spear: who is this guy ?? 

[taleofendless]

Miracle? Calamity? It takes Prometheus a couple of seconds to recognize those terms. Mistborn had informed him that there were humans with special abilities. Powers that made some of them capable of rival with the Gods of Old. The good ones - Miracles - and the bad ones - Calamities. And considering the current circumstances happening around the city, it was perfectly understandable for someone to be wary. Even more so when a stranger walks into a building wearing old Spartan armor and a spear in his hands, covered with black liquid that could be the blood of something that he had slayed outside. "Neither, actually." The immortal keeps his hands perfectly visible. A show of faith, that he did not intend to bring harm upon anyone or anything. "I dealt with the group at the entrance so the path is clear if there are survivors inside." No matter the century or decade, there would always be some sort of conflict that would drag innocents into the thick of things. Lives that would be taken long before their appointed time because the Fates wielded it so. The carnage that had taken place all over the city was proof of that. That no matter who was out there, hero or villain, innocent or guilty… they were all part of the machine. They would all die eventually, despite their actions. Unless… there were able to hold their ground or someone would come to their rescue. Keeping the spear at bay, Prometheus kept his other hand lifted to convey that he meant no harm. "My name's Prometheus. I'm checking if there are survivors in here and take them somewhere safe. Away from the monstrosities." Away from the rivers of blood that painted the concrete streets red. "Is there anyone else here besides you? We don't have much time. I killed the ones outside but sooner or later, others will come." And while he was perfectly capable of fending against the creatures, it would be harder for him to do so while trying to keep other people alive. "So - is there anyone else here or are you the only one?"

[taleofendless]

[herohood]

now,   what   kind   of   mess   has   happened   here?                       mistborn   can   still   remember   how   peaceful   and   lively   this   place   was   when   he   left   his   hometown   all   those   years   ago.   he   was   sure   that,   with   the   rise   of   heroes   and   the   establishment   of   halcyon   city   as   a   thriving   metropolis,   he   would   have   enough   time   to   travel   the   world   before   he   needed   to   come   back.   well,   sure,   some   could   argue   that   twenty   years   is   enough   time,   but   still       ...       their   heroes   should   be   more   than   capable   of   taking   care   of   themselves,   right?

but   then   again,   this   really   isn't   a   normal   circumstance.   he   can   gather   that   much   from   the   air   he   is   breathing,   the   light   he’s   not   seeing,   and   the   gore   that   has   mounted   in   the   city   streets.   something   more   sinister   happened   here—and   it   looks   like   they   need   him   to   straighten   things   out.

"       begone,       "        he   says,   just   above   a   whisper,   but   the   blast   that   follows   is   like   a   cannon   of   pure   light.   warm,   but   not   welcoming.   bright,   but   not   illuminating.   certainly   not   the   light   you   want   to   see   at   the   end   of   the   tunnel.   and   when   it   dies,   the   horde   of   monsters   that   was   approaching   is   turned   into   nothing   but   dust   and   a   faint   roar.

divine   absolution:   a   spell   he   rarely   casts   because   of   the   strain   it   causes   him   and   his   connection   to   his   patrons.   but   the   goddesses   are   quiet   today,   which   probably   means   they   don't   mind.

"       these   are   creatures   that   shouldn't   be   walking   this   plane,   and   their   presence   here   is   a   disturbance   to   the   balance   of   this   world       ...       "        with   a   raised   eyebrow,   he   turns   to   the   party   he   is   interrupting.        "       can   anyone   explain   to   me   what   the   fuck   happened   here?       "

open to everyone / @capewiki.

[taleofendless]

"You know as much as I do." Prometheus appears behind the Sorcerer Supreme somewhat worse for wear: half of his face and one eye were missing, his right arm appeared to be ripped at the elbow, several chunks of his body were gone but the worse bite was one that revealed a portion of his ribcage. Covered in blood, the immortal stands next to the man responsible for his awakening. The one whose bloodline was intimately connected to his presence in that world. But as gruesome as Prometheus was in that moment - he was also healing. The missing skin was patching itself up, the eye that was missing was reforming inside the socket. He lifted his right arm as bone, muscle, veins and skin regrew anew, a monumental healing feature that would probably take a lot out of everyone… that was not him. "Had an encounter with those flying things. Gave me one hell of a welcome. I paid them back in kind." He shrugged, the bones on his shoulders cracking back into place as his appearance was quickly returning to normal - his jaw was back into place, the muscles covering his exposed ribcage were already being coated with his skin. All he looked now was half-naked, covered in goo from the monsters wounds mixed with his own blood. Could be worse. There were always some sort of supernatural monstrosity that needed to be taken down at any given point in time. But this…? In over two thousand years, the closest thing Prometheus had seen to such a considerable mayhem was when the Nazis were fucking up with the occult during the war. His blue eyes - one of them pretty much brand new - took in Mistborn's appearence. He didn't appeared to be injured or even dirty. Not that the Sorcerer Supreme would have much trouble dealing with those displaced monsters but Prometheus liked to make sure that he was indeed alright. The mystical bond that tied them together was too damn fucking important to lose. "How do you plan to deal with the dome?" The immortal sighed and looked up. Nothing but darkness all around them, nothing but the feral growls of the uninvited guests. "You always bring me to the most interesting of places, Jericho." A chuckle danced past Prometheus' lips. "But I still like your magic shows more. Less chances of losing a limb. Or an eye."

[taleofendless]

[taleofendless]

It had been quite some time since he had seen such a degree of destruction. Such a dark force laying siege to everything in their path. Innocent people were being caught in the middle, screaming for their lives as the monstrosities tore through them like they were nothing but paper. Blood painted the streets crimson and the smell of smoke, blood and death lingered like a pungent aroma that one could never forget. This was why he was there now. To fight once more against dark forces, to keep the innocent safe. Prometheus's strong fingers squeezed his spear as he watched the horde approach a building that he had recently learned was the city hall. A place where those in power tended to use for themselves. What were the odds that there would be people inside who needed help? That needed rescuing? For centuries, the spear that Prometheus carried had been his greatest weapon but as time evolved, so did the weapons one would bring to a fight. He was never a fan of firearms. Too impersonal when it came to a fight. Plus - what good could bullets do against something supernatural in their origin? But a spear? One enchanted by the Sorcerer Supreme of way back when? It held power. Legit power. And Prometheus knew how to be one with his spear. How it was an extension of his arm - how he had learned to fight with it through the rough trials of what had once been his homeland. The way he moved into the city hall was… different. While others took their aggression out head-on and with brute force, Prometheus used aeons of experience to put a quick dent in a small horde dragging themselves to the city hall. Why waste precious energy beating something down when they could do it for him? He danced around the zombies with an experience that could only come with practice. Impaling one with the spear only to toss the discarded body against another. Taunt the brainless creatures into brawling one another for meat they would not have. It wasn't as fast as Prometheus had expected but by the time he was sneaking into the city hall through a window, there was not a wound on his body. There was only the liquid the creatures called blood staining his old Spartan armor as he quietly tip-toed around the empty halls. "Is anyone there? I'm here to help you. Get you to safety. Hello…?"

@heroescue gets a story time

[taleofendless]

[   zane phillips,  pansexual,  male  +  he/him,  endless + member of the illuminati ]  shhh,  is that lars thompson ?  the two thousand six hundred and seventy five year old might look like any other thirty-three year old mortal but they’re actually a true neutral esper whose expertise lies in military warfare tactics and combat prowess aligned with healing any injury or illness and being ageless.  there are rumors that they are loyal & protective,  but i’ve been told they are actually reserved & slightly mad,  so i wonder what they’ll do now that the secret about espers is out of the bag.  the mortals are definitely in for a shock,  especially with how they’ve been part of the 300 soldiers that king leonidas charged with back in ancient greece and occasional warrior protecting people during times of crisis when the world needs him once more. so it just makes me wonder how the people react to prometheus.  gods,  i just can’t wait to see how magical they will be out there!

A Tale Of Endless

Once upon a time, there was a vast empire led by a strong and just king. This King's name was Leonidas. He was a strong leader, a capable military man. His soldiers were loyal to him completely. Trained in the lands of Sparta, every single one of his warriors was worth several of any other man's army due to their focus, their determination, and their teamwork. But one day, peace in Leonidas' kingdom was threatened by another king. Someone determined to conquer. Leonidas stood his ground and defied the evil king Xerxes with an army of 300 men. The Battle of Thermopylae was his stand against the evil king. Despite Leonidas and his men dying during their stand, they bought enough time for other Kings to gather forces and cast the invader out of their lands. But the tale of the Endless starts with a single soldier who wakes up on the battlefield hours after the clash. Every single one of his fellow soldiers were dead. His King was dead. But where should be sword slashes and spears piercing his body... there was nothing. Almost as if his wounds had healed.

The lone soldier quickly realized that something was wrong with him. Perhaps a victim of a god's cruel prank or a punishment for some offense he had committed. With this in mind - the lone soldier took the name Prometheus upon himself: like the titan who had given fire to mankind and was punished by Zeus to live forever while an eagle ate his insides every day, only for Prometheus to heal during the night and have it happen again the following day. Maybe the fact that he could not die despite his suffering or no matter how badly he was injured, was a punishment from the gods. So, Prometheus vanished shortly after observing the ceremonial burial his king received. Someone cursed by the gods should not be close to others, fearing that his punishment would fall upon others.

Decades passed as Prometheus roamed the land. He did not age. He did not get injured. Life passed for everyone else but him. Lost and without a proper purpose, Prometheus roamed the land, occasionally appearing here and there to settle conflicts within smaller villages or more violent disputes. The tale of a man helping those in need spread through the land like wildfire. How a roaming individual will appear when others need him most and fight off bandits or animals that threaten the livelihood of those who couldn't defend themselves.

A millenia passed after the battle that changed Prometheus' life forever. He had explored the world, helped those who needed him. He had taken lovers and watched them die of old age whenever he believed he could set up roots. And once more, he would roam the world seeking those who needed him. Fighting against natural as well as supernatural monsters. And that was when Prometheus crossed paths with a wizard. The wizard knew who he was. What he had done. A master of the mystical arts, the man introduced himself as the sorcerer supreme who was part of a group called the Illuminati. Prometheus was skeptical but the wizard explained to him that there were more things lurking in the dark than bandits and greedy lords.

A contract was made between the two. In order to preserve his sanity, the wizard would put Prometheus in a stasis where he would sleep for a few centuries at a time, awakening by his own initiative in order to see how the world had changed. He would roam the land again, he would see how time had changed things. In return, if there was ever a crisis that needed the help of someone endless - someone who could not die - the sorcerer supreme would be able to call upon Prometheus and he would fight again to protect those who needed him. The deal was made. Whenever there was a big war that threatened the world order, Prometheus - now called Lars as he chose a new name - would be awakened to fight. Every descendant of the Sorcerer Supreme that came after had interacted with him at some point or another. He was their immortal guardian. Their shield. The last time someone called Prometheus to battle was during the WWII.

But a new threat lingers. And even as Prometheus is already awakened by the current sorcerer supreme and learning more about this new world - he stands ready.

The End.

[taleofendless]

[taleofendless]

Darkness came. The lights were out and people were in panic. The sounds coming from outside were unlike anything Skye had ever heard. Screeching that felt like nails against a blackboard. And the screams? The men and women screaming for their lives before the crunching came? He could feel himself getting sick. One hand covered his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. They came out of nowhere after the dome settled around the city. Hordes of beasts and monstrosities worthy of horror movies. Spreading through the streets, killing and destroying everything in their path. The heroes were out there. The mercenaries, the vigilantes… even the villains. Everyone is fighting for survival or to protect people from certain death. Was this how the world was going to end? In hellfire and consumed by what he believed to be demons? A hiss abandoned his lips as he covered the scratch on his left flank with his hand. It was still bleeding. One of those things had managed to grab him when he was running and those sharp claws dug deep into his flesh - tearing it apart. But there was no light. No power. There was nothing but the light of his phone and one bar of service. Even if he wanted to call for help - it was impossible. No one would come. A sigh escaped his lips as he pressed his bloodied hand against his wound again. For years, he had blamed those with powers for the death of his family. His father, mother and sister… caught in the crossfire. A fight between a hero and villain brought a fucking building on top of them and they crashed underneath the debris. Skye could only wish… pray… that their deaths had been immediate. Why did humans have to be the casualties? Why did the normal people have to pay the price for the hubris of others?

They can claim to protect everyone. The common folk. But promises meant nothing if they can't keep them. How many civilians died during a clash between heroes and villains? How many did they saved compared to those that died? Skye leaned against the wall, his blue eyes looking toward the window of the bathroom. There was no moon outside. Just darkness. Thick like oil. The only light sources he could see were from buildings powered by generators and the fires that scattered across the city. Maybe this was it. He was going to die and everything he had worked for had been for naught. All the years of studying and all the testing… all the lies and manipulation… he was going to die and his life work would be destroyed. No. No. With a grunt, he pushed himself from the wall, leaving a bloody print against the white tile. If he could reach a high enough place, maybe he could still send a message. Maybe he could still… maybe… Opening the bathroom door slowly, he glanced left and right. He could hear the sounds of the zombie like monstrosities nearby. They probably invaded the building and were feeding on whoever caught their path. Shit. Elevators were out so the only way up was through the emergency stairs. Luck would have it, the moment he opened the door, one of those demonic beings growled and saw him. The way it moved was gruesome. Like a broken marionette whose strings had been cut. "I am not bloody dying here." It took everything he had to grab a fire extinguisher from the wall and bash the creature in the head. Again and again. Enough to bring it down but not enough to kill. Of course not. This wasn't like a video game where a bullet between the eyes would solve this. Skye struggled up the stairs. Hands clenching to the metal rail, forcing himself to keep moving despite the severe blood loss. One more step. One more step. He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He thought about the Seven. About Neutron. About Bunny. Maybe there were some heroes out there that were worthy of their names. People who maybe truly cared about the little people. Shit. The pain spreading through his flank was forcing him to stop but the growling was growing in volume. Those things were close. His boss was going to be pissed. If he didn't die that night, the amount of PR work he would have to do to safeguard everyone's reputation would be beyond surreal. If he died? She would curse him for dying because now a replacement was needed. And Neutron… all that flirting and for what? It would have been so easy to give in to him before, but Skye didn't want to blur the professional limits between them. And sleep with a supe? After one of their kind murdered his family? That would be betraying their memory. Betraying everything he had sworn to do. But still… there was something in the way Neutron smiled at him that brought him a semblance of warmth. Maybe… maybe if things were different. Maybe if he had more time. Maybe … who knows? Skye shook his head. It was the fucking blood loss that was making him delusional.

By the time he reached the rooftop, a wave of smoke and ash hit him across the face. Everywhere he looked - things were chaotic. Monsters flying across the city, their huge bat wings flapping around. He could hear even more screams. More fighting. More explosions. He almost dragged himself to the edge and pulled out his phone. Two bars. Maybe not enough. Maybe enough. The growling coming from the building was growing. Those fuckers were tailing him by his blood. "No. Not like this. Not like this." Trembling fingers quickly wrote a text and sent to an unknown and coded number. Skye could only pray the message went through. The metal door burst and the zombie like monsters huddled together - desperate to reach him, to tear him to pieces, to devour him. "I am not going to be your fucking meal." Skye took a step back. And then another. He could barely keep his eyes open as he reached the edge, looking over his shoulder. Below? Flames. Zombies. Chaos. He didn't want to die. He really didn't. If he had more time… maybe Bunny could have dragged his ass around to do a silly Hallmark movie marathon. Maybe he could have taught him how to mingle at parties. He closed his eyes. The zombies were rushing toward him like a mindless horde before he left himself fall back. He remembered his father's smile when he was teaching him how to ride a bike. His mother's singing voice was heard whenever she was cooking. His baby sister giggled whenever he would tickle her toes. "I'm coming to you. Wait for me." It was not fire or the fall or the blood loss that took his last breath. A winged monstrosity tore him in half with sharp claws. Immediate. Painless. As the two halves of the publicist's body disappeared into the zombie horde down below… his phone left at the top of the building, buzzed a single time. MESSAGE SENT: ACTIVATE PROTOCOL NIGHTINGALE