Lionel grabbed Tyrone, shunting off with him the moment his arms closed around him. Eva and Deidre were similarly retrieved by Aiden, shunting them both to safety.
“I didn’t think things could get this bad. But I brought some backup from your teams.” A deep voice boomed behind them, the source of the flames.
Tyrone allowed himself a small smile.
The flames subsided. Avery stepped out of them, Quinn and Alfred shrank back, they had not expected the sudden appearance of the Centurion, nor the other Sabres.
Chapter 11 - Swirling Inferno
The flames burned, their intensity decreasing as Avery emerged from them, his gaze fixed firmly on the opponents.
“My team was dispatched to deal with a wild beast a few hours ago. It should have taken them an hour to file a request, and then return,” Avery said, “When they didn’t return, it was natural that I would come to check on them.
“Imagine my surprise to find that they were dealing with something much more sinister instead. A Gorilla Beast Mask user, and a Sloth. May I presume you are Quinn and Alfred of Masquerade?”
He stepped past his injured teammates, neon eyes glowing as his pupils narrowed into a slit.
“I’ve been looking into your organisation for a while, but to make such a bold move is something we honestly didn’t expect from you at this point.”
“You arrogantly underestimated us,” Alfred replied, sweat forming on his brow under his mask, “And that will be your undoing.”
“I suppose there’s no need offering to arrest you without a struggle?” Avery replied.
Alfred laughed in response. As if on cue, Quinn leapt towards Avery.
His arm extended out, he would crush Avery with a swipe. Centurion or not, he was still human and would squish just like any one.
His arm lanced out, carving a hole in the ground where Avery had stood. Had. The Centurion had shunted, appearing behind him, his arm ignited, enveloped in flame.
Flame King’s Missile!
A column of flame burned through the air, Quinn barely dodged, but momentarily seized up as the missed attack went on to melt concrete and steel.
Avery landed and dashed towards him with intent, then flipped out of the way as Alfred swung at him. His power was inhuman enough to make the Centurion flinch, but he didn’t back down. His esoterica was more than enough to handle brute force. His arms ignited again, then his skin cracked and erupted, on both arms. From his shoulders, his bones burst, looking like a volcanic mountain with liquid flame and magma erupting from them.
“Your brute strength may challenge novices on their first days, but Volcania is more than a match for it,” Avery said.
“Is that what you think,” Alfred’s arm expanded, muscles puffed up with blood and industria.
Savage Swing!
Avery reacted to the blow just as Alfred attacked. Their fists collided, Alfred’s shattering as flame travelled up his arms bones and out his shoulders. His arm heated up and his muscles and bones were seared, the blood in his arm boiled and vessels burst. An explosion erupted from beside his collar bone.
Grimacing in pain, his arm and body shrunk as his other arm expanded to four times its original size in Anwanwu. Easily dwarfing Avery, he swung again with all the hate and desperation he could summon.
Savage Bomb!
The ground erupted around them as Avery matched that attack too, flame travelling through the arm, the explosive force of Avery’s blow shattering bone, tearing tendons and cracking cartilage.
“Argh,” Alfred screamed as both his arms had been rendered useless. He would not give up, his body was already ruined, and his hate for Aslog would consume him.
“FALL BACK!” Quinn yelled towards him, “Let’s retreat.”
“It’s too late!” Alfred charged at Avery one last time, but he was already a dead man walking.
Volcania Crash!
Avery’s next blow ignited his torso, and flame consumed his insides. He collapsed to his knees, spitting out molten liquid as he fell to the ground, his mask cracking and falling off as he did so. Alfred was dead.
Quinn stood in shock for a second. He had not considered that they would be killed, even though he knew intellectually that it was one of the possibilities from their mission. Focusing his rage, he charged at Avery, whose neon green eyes flashed at him as the other man turned to meet his challenge.
It was too late for Avery. His arms were ripped off in a single attack by Quinn. Before he could even summon the energy to scream in shock, his head followed suit.
The sloth was angered, and his incredible strength would punish the Aslogian Sabres. He quickly turned on the rest of them after their Centurion had fallen.
Tyrone screamed as his limbs were plucked off, his bones too broken to put up a fight.
Eva tried to fend him off desperately, but she too fell, Quinn’s blows easily shattering her shield. As he reached for Deidre, Quinn realised something was wrong.
There had been more of Aslog’s Sabres present than there were now.
He began to sweat, and then he retched. Something was happening to him. The air took on a green tint, then his vision began to blur, and then it cleared once more. He realised what had happened.
Avery stood over him, his arms still aflame. A steady stream of flame had been running into Quinn as the other man stood still. Avery’s Neon eyes, known as the Cat’s Eye, had the ability to hypnotize anyone who glanced at it. It was a random mutation that affected a few people, with differing effects based on the colour. He should have known.
He cursed himself as his mask had begun to crumble around him, his body reverting to normal.
“You think you’ve won, huh?” He wheezed, as he tried to yell before realising his lungs were a mess, “You think you’ve beaten us, with this pathetic show?”
Avery stood over him. The other squad members, a little distance away, with the exception of Deidre who was currently being subjected to a final regeneration pill, they all stared silently at him.
“Masquerade has won. We have all the information we need. W launched an attack on this country and wiped out your towns before you could even react. You think you elites can horde the power for yourselves and set yourselves up above us?”
“What you’re doing is immoral, whatever your motives.” Avery replied calmly, “You massacred hundreds for the sole purpose of draining their Industria. There’s no getting around that”
“Yes, we did.” Quinn allowed a slight smile to cross his face, before letting one small bomb drop from his lips, “Just like Aslog did when it created the Phoenix.”
Avery’s eyes widened, but just then Quinn’s eyes closed one final time, a satisfied smile on his face.
* * *
Caine stepped into the muddy cave. The masks were piled up there, just as requested.
Too bad Alfred and Quinn had failed to survive. He would mourn them, in his own way.
Chapter 12 - Mission Complete
After Alfred and Quinn were defeated, things began to move really fast. The Centurions headed to the shelters, reassuring the cowering Legionnaires and hiding citizens that everything would be alright.
Jackson was in critical condition, but he would live. Alfred had simply grabbed him, crushing his bones, and tossed him aside like he was nothing. The duo had paid no more attention to him since them. A regeneration pill had stabilised him, and he was being attended to in the makeshift hospital which had been set up to treat the wounded Legionnaires and the odd few civilians that had been hurt by debris.
Lionel sat with his teammates in the hospital. They had been beaten badly, neither could use the regen pills to their full potential, but they were glad to be alive.
“You guys did well with what you had,” Lionel said, his eyes flitted from one to the other, lingering on Tyrone’s broken arm and Eva’s bound ribs. “I should have come with you.”
“Well, you guys came just in time,” Tyrone replied. “We were really about to be kill
ed there. Would have been a hell of a first mission. Still is.”
“Run us through what happened after we passed out.” Eva said, “I assume the comms are no longer being jammed?”
“Well, quite a bit has gone on…” Lionel began to explain the last few hours to his dazed teammates.
Avery had located various jammers around the towns. He had destroyed it on the way to Gunne. As soon as he finished with the ones just outside the town, he had called into Aslog, detailing the assault on the Four Cities from what he had witnessed and learned.
Almost immediately, the commander authorised a dispatch. The other Sabre and Centurion teams were securing the other locations, and the commander prepared to be grilled by oversight agencies in the weeks and months to come. It had been an unprecedented disaster. A mass murder which had fallen just short of genocide. The awful tools had been former Legionnaire weaponry. The Legionnaires themselves had been inadequate at protecting the populace and had themselves been killed. To top it off, even the Sabres which had been sent to the area were beaten.
* * *
An exhausted Avery entered the room to rejoin his team. The Quartet sat together in silence, the events of the past day rushing over them. He nodded towards them but sat alone with his thoughts. Masquerade had mentioned the Phoenix. Along with the events of the previous day, it was getting hard to avoid the conclusion that these two were linked.
“You guys came prepared to fight,” Tyrone said, breaking the silence. “How did you know what was going on here?”
Lionel glanced at Avery, who answered the question.
“After you guys didn’t report back in, we came to Kwere to investigate and found the scene there. It was the only one of the towns that had a working Shunt Port — one way only. Once we discovered that and noticed the lack of radio comms, we headed to all the towns as a unit, not splitting up. ”
Avery stressed the last three words and made eye contact with each of them as he did so. They felt suitably chastised.
“How about James? ” Tyrone asked. “Did you at least get him safe.”
“Who?” Lionel asked, perplexed.
“A doctor in Rulo. He was the one who had stitched up my wounds. We talked a little before I left, I promised that I’d come back for him.”
“We were in Rulo, there’s no one alive there,” Lionel replied.
Tyrone’s eyes flickered down, “Maybe he wandered out and got killed….but that doesn’t make any sense.”
“From what you say, I believe James was in Rulo,” Avery said quietly. “But there was no one alive there.”
Tyrone started to reply when he caught the look in Avery’s eyes.
“Oh.” His shoulders slumped.
“I’m very sorry Tyrone,” Avery said, “These things happen. I’m sure you did your best. In the situation he was in, I imagine that he had already made up his mind.”
Tyrone nodded, already lost in thought.
“It would be a good death.”
He had fought hard to stop Alfred from rampaging.
I promise you. It’ll be alright.
He had failed. He thought he had saved James, that too was a failure. Gunne remained intact, but that was more of an accident of fate than anything he had planned. If Avery hadn’t come, they would have crushed into pulp.
At the end, was it alright for you James? What did you feel as you extinguished your own torch? Can you tell me James - was it a good death?
He swallowed. Eva too was thinking the same thing.
Their first mission had been a failure.
* * *
They stayed in Gunne for two more days, by then the injured Sabres were more than fully recovered.
Avery had been in continued contact with Aslog, and they had set aside funds for Gunne’s restoration. The people had thanked them, but Avery reassured them that he was only doing his job — the job of keeping them safe. There were some snickers, but none dared challenge a person who had killed a person who was capable of punching buildings with their bare hands.
Tyrone and the rest of the Sabres stood next to Avery. When Jackson got up to shake their hands, he could sense that behind the genial nature of the event, some animosity lay there.
“This is all your fault.”
“Why didn’t you do a better job?”
“We came this close to death.”
The resentment, though hidden, pierced right through to the Sabres.
An hour later, they were in the Legion base, with the others preparing the Shunt Port for their journey back to Aslog.
“Just before we head back,” Avery started, “I want to prepare you for something you may not know about.”
“What do you mean?” Tyrone asked.
“Before we got here,” Avery said, “The Archion Tower was attacked by a masked man. We suspect him to be the leader of Masquerade — Caine.”
Chapter 13 - Enter: Caine
3 Day Ago.
Aslog.
Archion Tower.
On every floor, Legionnaires milled around, handling various busy work tasks. The few who stood on guard duty weren’t on the level of Sabres. It was unnecessary. If there was an attack on the tower, Sabres would be on hand. Centurions and the Commander himself were also in the Tower.
One of the Legionnaires working in the tower — Jeremy — had just finished his workday. Training, paperwork, shooting the breeze with other Legionnaires, he loved his job. Despite his girlfriend warning him about the danger of being a soldier, it was one of the safest jobs to have. He preferred staying in the basic ranks so he would not have to be deployed into tight areas or frightening missions. Many of his were mundane, often serving as backup for the police.
The locker room was deserted now, he noted as he changed. This was unusual, there were usually four or five people inside at all times. He glanced at the floor. Someone had dropped their shirt. That was impolite, though not noteworthy on its own. Still, his hackles raised. Something wasn’t right.
There was movement behind him. A pair of strong hands grabbed him before he could move, fixing his arms in place.
“Don’t even think about struggling.” A gravelly voice spoke from behind him. “Otherwise you will find yourself retiring early.”
“Did you do something to everyone else?” Jeremy asked despite himself.
“What’s it to you?” The voice came back. “Do you want to live? Or not.”
“What do you want?” Jeremy replied.
“Tell me where the library is.”
“It’s off limits to anyone without authorisation,” Jeremy replied, “If you don’t know where it is, you’ll never get in.”
“Try me.” The hand began to twist his arm further up, he wanted to scream. Then it occurred to him, the Sabres were upstairs. They would deal with him.
“It’s on the 52nd floor. But there are real monsters up there. Someone like you will be killed.” Jeremy struggled. “You should leave now.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Do you realise where you are?” Jeremy said, despite himself. “This is the Archion Tower. You’ll never get past the Centurions. You’re fucked no matter what you do.”
“Is that so?” The masked man released Jeremy. He turned around, hand outstretched. Industria built up within him, he was going to blast him with all he had. He never got the chance. It was like the floor opened up beneath him, and then suddenly he was airborne, outside the tower.
As he fell towards the ground, Jeremy realised what had happened to the missing Legionnaires.
* * *
“Are we doing some construction work today?”
Lionel had been idly rolling a ball of cotton between his fingers when Aiden asked the question.
“What?”
“Construction work. Are we doing any?” Aiden repeated. “Didn’t you hear the thuds outside? It started about a minute ago.”
“We can’t all have your enhanced hearing.” Lionel replied. “I’m sure it’s nothing.�
�
“We’re heading downstairs anyway.” Bart emerged from the other room. They had made a detour from the gym on their way home, which is why they now found themselves on the forty-ninth floor of the Tower, waiting for him to pick up some files on his way home.
Another thud. This time Lionel heard it. Aiden moved towards the window to check, curious now. What he saw horrified him. Before he could raise the alarm, a loud bang shattered the windows. The floor under them cracked, and the trio moved into fight mode.
“The Tower’s under attack,” Aiden said, as they rushed to the main corridor.
“Dammit. What happened to the Legionnaires below?” A frustrated Bart asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Lionel’s face was set in a grim line, “Whoever it is, we’ll stop them dead here.”
Aiden already knew. He didn’t answer. He had seen their broken bodies at the bottom of the tower below. In the seconds he had glanced, he managed to count thirty. The injured must number more. This was a disaster.
Another Legionnaire slammed into the wall just in front of them. They turned towards the direction he had been sent flying from. Lionel was the first to notice the masked man.
Blood dripped from his left hand. His right hand held another legionnaire by the collar. He was unconscious, or dead, Lionel couldn’t tell on sight. It didn’t matter anyway.
Their eyes crossed.
Lionel’s pupils contracted. “You’re dead.”
Lightning Spear!
Lionel closed the distance in a moment. Lightning flowed out from his body, coating his hand as he thrust through the air. He was fast. Caine was faster. A solid punch to his side sent him crashing into the wall, through that wall, and through another. It was only reflexively coating himself with industria that saved him from more than being rendered unconscious.
Bart froze up momentarily as he processed the unfolding scene. Then he too was sent flying downwards and to the floor below. Caine knew that he could afford to give no quarter to the Sabres. The best way to deal with them was to take them out quickly and without hesitation.
Masked Page 7
