by C. S. De Mel
“On your mark.”
Bruce looked down at his fists and began to focus. Flames consumed his fists and slowly began to spread. The energy travelled up his arms and towards his shoulders. Bruce gritted his teeth as his entire body became super-charged with energy. Santos had reached the same elevated state. Without the exchange of words, they synced their attack: Energy blasts roared out of their open palms and drove back Scorcher’s forces. With their bodies illuminated, any chance of stealth had vanished. Scorcher’s men took cover behind vehicles and fired on their glowing targets. Bruce and Santos were pelted with gunfire, but the bullets that struck them simply disintegrated in their fire.
Scorcher’s amber eye locked onto Bruce. He stood his ground and destroyed every energy blast that came his way with two fiery fists. “So...the flea shows himself.” He knelt down on one knee and launched a signature Scorcher flamethrower attack. Bruce hastily leaned against the wall as the fire shot through his window.
“Bruce, get to the second floor—I can keep them distracted from here,” said Santos. “Get a good vantage point and strike them from above.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. We’re not going to get anywhere like this. Get going.”
Bruce nodded and left the front line for Santos to cover. He rushed up the stairs and took sight from a second level window. He could see it all clearly from here: the heads of Scorcher’s thugs, pressed up against their vehicles. Bruce aimed his hand and unloaded a barrage. Being pelted from above, they ran into the open, where Santos had a clear line of fire. Between Bruce and Santos, Scorcher’s army was being picked apart, one by one. Scorcher looked up. Bruce gathered energy and fired a powerful blast that would’ve been fatal for any normal person. Scorcher grunted as he defended himself from Bruce’s attack, with both hands over his head. The impact caused Scorcher to take several steps back. But his recovery was immediate, and he retaliated with terrifying ferocity. Bruce hit the deck as Scorcher shot an energy blast at him which destroyed the window and surrounding brownstone. But the projectile didn’t stop there: It bore through the ceiling, went clean through the attic, and tore open the roof. Bruce looked up at the night sky through the gaping hole in the manor. That attack was from Scorcher?
Varick and the others were startled out of their wits when the energy blast ripped past them. Stanley watched the projectile go straight up into the night sky and dissipate into the atmosphere. “Ho-ly...crap.”
“Well, looks like they’re having fun down there...” Varick muttered.
“Varick, we only have one option here. I provide cover-fire, and you go for the shed door. How fast can you get it open?”
“If they have a good shot, not fast enough.”
“I’m betting they don’t, but it’s gonna be your butt on the line.” Frank shrugged. “Your call.”
“Well, if I don’t, we’re gonna be here for a while...so let’s get to it.”
The sound of police sirens was drawing close. Tony Calzone and Ulysses Frost were standing beside a crate of heavy weapons they had taken out of their supply truck. “We’ve got company,” Tony muttered. He picked up an M4A1 with the grenade launcher attachment.
Scorcher approached the two of them. “Rally your troops and fortify our flanks. Engage the intruders, and put them down with extreme prejudice.”
Tony made his way to one end. “Ramon! Freddy! Your guys with me!” he called. Ulysses went to the opposite end with another handful of men. As police cruisers closed in from both sides, Scorcher’s troops welcomed them with heavy firepower. Frost fired off an RPG that exploded into the asphalt and forced the cruisers to screech to a halt. The officers evacuated their vehicles and took positions behind them. Scorcher’s forces were now sandwiched between two walls of police cars. Roy Cameron and Henry Schucker were among the first wave of officers on the scene, and many more were coming to deal with such significant numbers. The streets of Greenwich Village had been turned into a war zone.
Santos watched in horror as the police and Scorcher’s army engaged in a large-scale firefight. The bodies were dropping on both sides. He focused himself and fired off energy blasts in a desperate attempt to aid the police. Between Bruce and himself, the stragglers had all been knocked out. Everyone else on Scorcher’s side was safely behind cover. The ones that Bruce could get a bead on from his vantage point had also managed to scurry behind the larger trucks. Nearly a dozen men had targeted the gaping hole that used to be Bruce’s window and were now firing heavy rounds through it. Bruce stood against the wall while he waited for a break in their firing.
Santos was specifically trying to target the danger men: the ones with explosives. Santos knocked out a thug preparing to throw a grenade into the manor. He fell to the ground and with him, the unpinned grenade... “Get back, get back!” Scorcher’s men scrambled to get out of the grenade’s blast radius as it exploded. Santos’ demeanor was intense—this was do or die for everyone. Suddenly, the front door of the manor was smashed open. The reinforced door was knocked clean off its hinges by Scorcher’s boot. Santos turned in shock and was caught completely off guard. How did he reach the door? He didn’t even see his movements. With lightning-fast speed, Scorcher charged at Santos before he could react. Scorcher’s glowing palm struck into Santos’ chest, right through his energy shield. He flew back into the wall, where he hit the stone and collapsed. As he approached Santos, Scorcher sensed something else moving towards him. Bounding from the hallway, Leonardo leapt into the air and clamped his jaws firmly onto Scorcher’s gauntlet. His teeth sunk in. Scorcher looked down at the canine hanging from his forearm. His amber eye narrowed. He swung out his arm and smashed Leonardo against the wall. He yelped in pain and released his hold on Scorcher. He glanced down at the deep bites in his forearm, but there was no blood. Scorched watched as the marks slowly began to heal and miraculously disappear. He turned his attention back to Santos, as if there was no interruption. He was clearly unconscious, but Scorcher decided to address him nevertheless: “You’re not the one I want... You can burn here.” Scorcher looked up to the ceiling and smiled.
“You two—just stay here,” Varick instructed to Alex and Stanley.
Stanley turned his head to Alex. “Can you do that, Alex?”
“Yeah.”
Stanley nodded repeatedly. “Yeah-yeah, we can do that, Varick.”
Varick opened his wallet and withdrew the shed key from his coin pouch. It was all about nerves and keeping a cool head and a steady hand. Varick nodded at Frank. “Do it.”
Frank peeked around the corner, stuck his arm out, and fired. His eye followed his arm all the way down to the end of his pistol sight. The instant Varick heard the first gunshot, he turned the corner and ran for the shed door. He stuck the key in the lock, unlocked it, and frantically turned the door handle. He could hear bullets pinging off the shed. He kept turning the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge—it was frozen shut. C’mon, you bastard! He gritted his teeth, applied all his strength, and finally managed to force the door open and ran inside. “ARGH!” He closed the door behind him and hit the shed floor with a thud.
“Varick!” Frank called from outside the shed. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?” He had stopped firing and was safely back behind cover.
“No, I’m not alright, you idiot!” Varick snarled. “I just got shot in the ass!”
Frank laughed, despite himself. “You know—when I told you it’s your butt on the line...”
“I don’t wanna hear it, Frank!” Varick could hear Stanley sniggering outside the shed as well.
“Hey, but consider yourself lucky, that’s the million-dollar wound. But seriously, are you going to be okay?”
Varick sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s just get on with this.”
“Alright. So, I managed to get one of the shooters—and there were actually four total.”
“So then, nothing’s really changed. Still three on their feet?” Varick called back.
“Yeah. S
o, what’ve you got in there?”
“Let me take a look.” He was talking back and forth with Frank in complete darkness. He felt the wound on his backside. Goddammit... Whatever. Focus on the task at hand. He pulled out his cell phone and used the light from it to find an actual flashlight. Once the real thing was in hand, he was quick to find the zip-line assembly—but something else caught his eye as well. “Alright, Frank, new plan. What I got in here is a riot-control tear gas launcher. I’m going to send a round at them, and once I do, that will leave you free to move right up to the ledge of the roof. They’re going to try to get clear of the gas, and once they do, you’ll be at a good range to take them out. Sound good?”
“Just don’t miss!”
“That goes for you too! On my signal!” Varick held the launcher in his arms and kicked open the door. He leaned against the wall as they began shooting into the open shed. He measured the distance, tilted the launcher just right, and fired off a round... Bingo. The canister had landed on the enemy roof. Upon impact, the gas dispersed and blanketed the area in a large white cloud.
“It’s good! Go, Frank!” Varick yelled. Frank rushed out from behind the shed and moved swiftly to the roof edge, where he crouched down and waited. Varick slung a thick rope over his shoulder, reloaded the launcher, picked up the zip-line assembly, and joined Frank at the ledge. He placed the zip-line kit down by his feet and aimed the launcher. He fired another round onto the roof. Now they could see a figure emerging from the gas. Varick held his hand up to Frank. “Wait for it...” Another could be seen now. The two were rubbing their eyes profusely and coughing. They still had their guns held out in front of them, but they couldn’t aim them. Finally, the third man showed himself.
Frank aimed his pistol. “Got ‘em.” He fired quickly and accurately. He had dropped all three.
Varick stood up. “Nice job. Now let’s go.”
***
Scorcher knew exactly where Bruce was positioned above him. He could sense it. He directed his arm up towards the ceiling...
Bruce was back on the attack and pummelling the opposition. He had taken out several of the weapon supply trucks, and the police were now beginning to turn the tide of the battle. SWAT had arrived on the scene as well. And with all the commotion, came the news crews. They were swarming around police barricades, with several cameras focused on Bruce. Bruce’s full attention was on the outside battle. And then it happened. The attack from below. The very floor Bruce stood on was obliterated by Scorcher’s projectile, and he was blasted off his feet. He screamed out. His energy shield took the brunt of the attack, and that was the only reason he was still alive. He landed on his back, severely injured, but alive. As he attempted to gather himself, Scorcher rose up from the hole in the floor...
Bruce’s vision was shaky. He was disoriented, but his eyes were not deceiving him: Scorcher had appeared in front of him...levitating in the air. “This can’t be...” His palms pressed into the floor as he tried to stand. Scorcher’s amber eye glowed and suddenly discharged a shot like a laser—right through Bruce’s chest. He clutched at his wound, gasping. “Goddammit...” Bruce bared his teeth and was looking livid as he stared into Scorcher’s ghoulish face. Bruce’s right hand began to glow and then, just as suddenly—faded. The flicker of flames disappeared. Bruce wheezed. “My power...”
Scorcher gently landed on the second floor. He placed his arms behind his back and slowly walked forward. He then stopped directly in front of Bruce. “Do you know why—you cannot gather your energy? It’s because you are dying. It’s slowly leaving your body...trickling away...” Bruce hung his head. Scorcher looked down at Bruce and took a moment to relish in the pitiful state that Bruce was in. “All it takes is one split second. You let your guard down...and everything changes. For every victory, for every great deed you’ve accomplished...now—it means nothing.”
Bruce mustered the strength to lift his head back up. “You’re not Scorcher... Your power is unlike anything he’s ever had.” He spoke through labored breaths. “You’re not Scorcher...you’re not...”
Scorcher smiled. “Very good, Bruce. I’m like you, I suppose. A god amongst men. Someone to be revered and worshipped...because they cannot understand my nature, and my abilities far extend the breadth of their knowledge. Perhaps you and I will become friends when we meet again in the afterlife...where we are all one with the universe.”
Despite Bruce’s dire situation, he managed a smile. “You even sound more deranged than Scorcher.”
Scorcher shook his head, amused. “Oh, Bruce...so young... So naive and misguided. If you could only fathom the things I’ve seen—the things I’ve done in my time on this planet... But that’s for another time.” The figure in front of Bruce began to let out a low rumbling laugh. “Watch closely now.”
Bruce stared as Scorcher’s entire body began to glow. He appeared to be getting bigger... His features were turning dark—jet black. The light was fading. Bruce was forced to look higher and higher up as the thing in front of him continued to increase in size. It was now towering over him. And his face—Scorcher’s already ghoulish face had twisted and contorted into something much more horrific... Darkness... A demon.
Bruce Kasparov stared into the abyss and blinked. “Who...what the hell are you?”
The menacing figure bared its fangs and breathed a whisper... “Death.”
The blast that came from inside Kasparov Manor reverberated through the streets. And lost in the deafening noise was the distant scream of a life being snuffed from existence...
A large fireball shot out of the second-floor window of the manor. It went straight down into the road with such force and speed that it left a smoking impact crater. The fireball had hit the side controlled by police forces. The flames began to dissipate, and the smoke cleared. Finally, all that was left in the crater was Bruce.
The fighting had stopped. In that instant—everything had stopped. Attentions were drawn to the figure looming in the window. But it wasn’t the thing Bruce had seen. It appeared to be Scorcher. His hands glowed, and he began raining down a firestorm upon police forces. “It’s done! Fall back!” Scorcher shouted to his men. He single-handedly cleared a path, destroying police vehicles and allowing the select few of Scorcher’s men still on their feet to rush to vehicles and clear out. Scorcher covered their retreat with a barrage of fire bombs. Police fired upon Scorcher and watched him stand his ground, completely unfazed. Scorcher laughed at their futility. Once his men had safely cleared the area, Scorcher propelled himself out of the window to the shocks and screams of onlookers and flew out into the night sky.
Roy and Henry had rushed to Bruce’s side. There was a crowd gathering around the crater. His body was limp. The back of Bruce’s head rested gently in Roy’s hand. “...Bruce! ...Bruce...”
His vision was in darkness. His mind was going fuzzy. He’s a monster... This monster...he came after him, and he would go after his son next. And he was completely powerless to stop it... No. He wasn’t going to give into despair. It was a tenet of life he lived by. He never gave in before and he wouldn’t now—even when lying on his death bed. His son could do it...no, he will do it. He will. He can defeat the monster. Train hard, Alex. And with this final thought, his mind relaxed, and he breathed his last.
***
Chapter 23 – Aftermath
He felt a sharp pain in his arm. He was drifting in and out of consciousness. He could ignore the pain and settle in for a long sleep. But there it was again—this time more forceful. And then it all came back to him...
“Argh!” Santos jarred awake, coughing weakly. He was lying on his back and smoke began to sting his eyes. As he strained to get up, he felt the pain in his arm again. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the imprints of bite marks in his forearm. Leonardo was waiting patiently by Santos’ side. Santos mustered a grin. “Thanks, Leo.” The entire building was in ruin and they were surrounded by fire. He could feel the intense heat from the flames. “C’mon, Leo
, we have to get out of here.” Santos gathered all his willpower to carry his severely weakened self through the debris. “Leo, we gotta move!” Santos looked over his shoulder and realized that Leonardo was limping—his back leg appeared to be broken. Santos walked back. “I got you, bud.” With an extra boost of effort, Santos picked up Leo, and together, they marched out of the burning mansion.
“Peter! Thank God.” Laura rushed towards Santos. He held out his hands for her to take Leo. Once she did, Santos collapsed onto the ground. Several other officers rushed over to help. The fire department was now on the scene, alongside paramedics and ambulances. Firefighters were battling valiantly against the raging flames. The manor had taken a lot of damage, and it was doubtful that whatever little bit they could save would be worth restoring.
Santos looked up at Laura as two officers picked him up off the ground. “Bruce—where’s Bruce? Is he still inside?”
Laura looked at him solemnly and shook her head. “No...”
Santos breathed a sigh of relief. “Good...good.” His eyes were still smarting. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision to the night. What he saw weighed tremendously on his heart. Police were being wheeled away on stretchers; the bodies of enemies and allies alike were strewn out on the road. The paramedics were overwhelmed. These were the fruits of their labor.
***
Varick and the others had managed to set up the zip-line to the opposite roof. Once all four of them reached the other side, Varick secured a rope from the roof down to the street. One by one, they rappelled down the side of the building until everyone was standing on solid ground, safely away from the battle zone.
Alex looked to Varick. “So, where do we go from here?”
