Doomsday Clock Strikes to Ten
Part 6
Reggie felt impatient.
The plan was practically simple and with his speed, he could achieve some sort of completion of it within just minutes, but he knew that the cost of failure was high. Especially with the Olympia retards being in play. He would need to actually wait and make sure that his contacts, or at least some of the connections that they still had both in the Middle East and down in the depths of the black market with the criminal element that still clung to trying to keep their businesses afloat.
Like Vought, they were all desperate for a piece back into the pile, but Olympia's counterterrorism was so rampant and their hold on local governments so strong that any attempt of hiding or even trying to fight back was met with absurdly lethal difficulty. The brand and company were hypocrites in that their friendly outside nature was just a front to their more sinister deeds.
However, even on that front, it seemed they were robust and damn near impregnable for they were very open towards the public on whatever they did or at the very least what they could show and despite some blowback, public support was still mostly on their side.
A thing that Vought used to have, now only supplanted and done better by Olympia.
Even their US government contacts no longer responded to their ails. Even the more corrupt ones. The funding, support, and coverage forced it so that the company was a necessity, not an enemy to the rich politicians and businessmen who had interests in literally anything on a wider, macro-scale over the country and abroad. Worse so, whenever any opportunistic politician or businessmen tried anything to jeopardize that, they would be met with severe backlash that their careers were essentially over. Some were even quickly pushed to incarceration… some just disappeared after having 'dealt' or 'paid' any sort of hit on any of the company's heroes.
Olympia had
forced even the vocal ones to silence for it seemed like their policy was that if they weren't disturbed, they wouldn't disturb them back. To Reggie that seemed corrupt, but he heard from Homelander that it was actually a genius plan, wrought from subtly keeping everyone under control because even the worst in society had uses.
Even then, that silence was basically stricken in due time because with how lax the EU seemed to give treatment to Olympia, they allowed figures like the Black Knight, Admiral, and even the Red Saber to take down even in broad daylight, some of those politicians. Berserker and her family were given free rein in Asia, even stabilizing the Korean Peninsula, which forced China and some other states to turtle themselves in. In other key areas, where Olympia had interests but had no full ability to intervene, like in the Middle East, they were still cracking down on terrorist cells with said governments
begrudgingly accepting such aid due to the benefits they get from said partnerships.
It
scared even the most heinous ones in the US to double down on changing their act. Lest they receive any sort of retribution and public outcry on their behalf.
To Reggie, he felt as if they were all pussies, but even though he admitted to himself that while he wasn't the smartest guy on the block, he knew that orchestrating any sort of fight against Olympia's Supes was deliberate suicide, both literally and figuratively.
He lost his entire career after an altercation with Lancer, or Caenis as many now deemed to call her. It was humiliating even at his end when he was in his drugged, supercharged state that he still lost without so much of a fight against her.
The black bitch was as tough or perhaps tougher and stronger than Homelander. Because he sparred with Homelander once and he nearly died because of it. Yet there was still effort on his part, even if minimal. She, on the other hand, felt as if she was bored during the entire exchange and she did not even focus so much on him, but on the mere fact that she was angry for how he nearly caused her to go nude in front of civilians due to losing her clothes when she impacted her body violently like a brick wall.
He was knocked out just by her stopping all his momentum and speed while standing in the middle of the road. She then kicked him in the head, almost shattering his skull in the process.
If he was not a Supe or without his rapid natural healing, he would have died then and there having not noticed that his entire identity was burned overnight. Due to Caenis' being there, investigations on his misconduct, crimes, and even scandals were brought to light so fast that not even Vought who still had some power back then, could counteract against.
His brand was gone, and public support became non-existent.
Not even Homelander had any interest in him due to how fascinated and obsessed he was over the 'Great Lancer'. With nobody but his brother being his sole supporter, he nearly lost everything in the span of weeks. He became so far gone at times that he abandoned his brother even though he tried convincing Reggie that he could bounce back by actually trying to be a better person.
A mistake that would haunt him after one of the cults obsessed with Olympia, named 'Polis' had beaten him close to death, with his brother expiring just six days after even when the company promised justice over his brother's situation and to heal him from his predicament.
It was stupid of him to refuse because his brother was now
gone.
Now he was left with nothing, and with Vought now being a skittering corpse compared to what it once was, he was now left with a burning sensation of vengeance that couldn't be quelled.
Maybe what he was doing now was stupid.
Maybe he did want to die.
But he both blamed himself and Olympia for ruining his life ten times over.
Now, knowing that his contacts who were both Supe and non-Supe individuals were making sure that most if not all in the summit would die. Creating the most harrowing and biggest failure that would surely get Olympia's reputation in some way or form. His job was to watch, ultimately making sure that none would come out alive, and if they did, he could silence them.
He wasn't sure if the Supes of Olympia that were in attendance could survive such an event, but if they did, hopefully, they were weakened and wounded enough to be finished off.
He just had to wait. Wait and make sure that he can inflict as much damage on t-
"ACK!"
In just a split second, he was forced into a rapid chokehold as he was dragged just a few blocks away from Wardenclyffe University,
all the way to the emptier parts of the Hither Woods Preserve in Montauk. The one who dragged him away with such speed then lifted him up into the air and threw him into a line of trees.
BRACKSH! BRACKSH! BRACKSH!
Reggie felt his back, breaking and crashing against Trees that were probably older than him. He crashed and splintered hundreds of pieces of wood and vegetation as the force behind the throw that launched him away made him skid violently on the rocks and sand of the nearby beach.
BRWOUSH!
The sand was kicked high into the air as his momentum was finally stopped by a collection of large boulders piled there by the formations near the sea.
Disoriented, confused, and blatantly injured with gashes and wounds all around his body, Reggie tried standing up in pain as he tried to get the sand out of his eyes.
He coughed violently as some of the sand entered his nostrils and mouth. His eyes adjusted back to normalcy before opening wide when he saw his hands which he coughed into, had specks of blood.
"W-What the fuck?" he groused as his shivering fingers were now rattled with fear until a shadow across the sunlit beach revealed another person just a few meters away standing still in ready. Reggie's entire form went frozen still in fright as he saw who it was.
With an orange scarf waving into the wind and green hair standing atop his head…
The Rider whose speed eclipsed his own stood with his Lance in hand, staring at him with a large, boastful smirk. Standing proud, unconcerned, and boisterous, he slowly aimed the tip of his spear toward Reggie and spoke…
"You now face Achilles, hero of the Trojan War…"
His grin turned deathly serious.
"…Butcher of the Sons of Troy."
Reggie felt all the bravery and hate in his heart temporarily disappear just through the aura and
conviction in the man's words.
"If you're finding any sort of alcoholic drink, ma'am, then I need to remind you that
this is a university campus, not a Gala."
The statement made her jolt in surprise and fear as the woman known as Queen Maeve's back became ramrod straight. Turning, she saw a man that was
oddly familiar to her senses. Even though she only knew him by reputation.
"I… wasn't. I was actually trying to find the snack bar or someplace with sweets." She lied and knew for a moment that the excuse would not fly over someone like him. Because she knew full well that with how Olympia Supes talked, acted, and how they conducted themselves, any form of lie was easily debunked on the spot.
The Admiral was notorious for this, and in Maeve's own experience, Lancer had an easy way of figuring out and saying the right number of words to her on their very first time having met each other. Margaret knew that this one would be no different.
Still, with the amount of people around them walking in and about, she hoped that she wouldn't cause another stir that would cause people to hate her further. Nobody wanted to see another reason as to why she was so inept as a hero by asking around for booze.
"Oh, well if that's the case I can lead you to it if you wish, ma'am." He politely said with a smile that Margaret's own perspective would make women swoon. Oddly enough, she did find him attractive, but her mind was neither here nor there to act on it. Especially with how bad her last interaction with Elena was. It also didn't help that he was a fair bit taller than her.
"Um, sure? But… I gotta warn you, I'm poor company as is." She said, ideally she would try to politely and firmly push him away to leave her alone but given the circumstances of people around her, she worried that it may be taken as another leverage of bad will against her name.
Especially when her
last interaction with Lancer had gone so poorly with how she screamed in the woman's face.
"I hardly think it's poorer company than the kind I'm used to. But nonetheless, perhaps an introduction is in order, just so we can clear the ice between us." He offered as Margaret raised a brow. He even outstretched his hand towards her, as if testing her.
With a sigh, she took his hand and shook it.
"Margaret Shaw." She intoned with some effort of politeness.
"Are we to share real names?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in question.
"At this point? I don't really give a shit and I don't think you're that ignorant of what people think of me now," she said with some frustration and guilt. It was never meant as a jab against him, but that's how she felt at that moment.
"Oh, if I may, ma'am. Even if I'm more so geared towards research, I don't think you're reputation is as bad as you think it is." He said as she scoffed and folded her arms together atop her chest in response.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, her tone raised a bit.
"No, but I'm merely stating the facts…"
She sighed deeply again as she shook her head while raising both arms up.
"Hey, I know you're trying to be sweat and all, perhaps even genuinely kind, but I don't think you're that stupid to know that I'm the social pariah that every little girl in class is afraid of being. Worse, some people are out to ruin my life just for spite." She groused as he remained unchanged in opinion towards her.
"If that's so, then you would be shocked to know that I've counted, five or ten students just in this campus alone wishing to have your autograph. If that's what you consider as bad, then perhaps you haven't been paying much attention to your surroundings." He said with an honest smirk as Margaret blinked at his words.
"Are you serious?"
He then gestured with his hand behind her, where Margaret slowly turned and saw close to one of the stands, a glasses-wearing girl hiding while holding a notebook. She even tried looking away sheepishly so that she wouldn't meet her eyes.
Margaret paused as the man who was yet to introduce himself walked next to her and gestured for the girl to come closer.
"Delilah don't be shy, dear. I'm sure she's absolutely happy for you to ask for her autograph." He softly said as the blushing girl walked towards them slowly in a shy manner before stopping just a few meters away from Margaret, who was still shocked to see someone…
"Hi…" the girl innocently said with a degree of endearing happiness that it made her heart beat in joy, subtly.
…
admiring her of all people.
"Well? She's waiting…" he teased as the girl blushed further.
"If… if it's not a bother of course ma'am… it's okay if you won't if that's-" she started muttering off, her voice becoming lower and lower as the man beside her found his smile widening.
"I… no, s-sure. I'll do it." Margaret mumbled as a feeling of hope blossomed inside of her out of the darkness and numbness she had previously felt for a long time. Seeing the little girl made her feel uncertain and disbelief at how
odd this all felt. Even her numbness during the days when Vought was still a thing did not push her emotions and heart this way…
But, that was it, wasn't it?
She hadn't felt such genuine innocence and joy in such a long time for everything she felt, heard, and experienced had all been so bad up to this point.
Or maybe… she was just far too blind to see the bad over the good that still existed.
"Why?" she suddenly asked, closer to a whisper as she met the little girl's eyes while she finished carefully writing her signature on the girl's notebook. The girl's only widened in question before innocently asking,
"Why not? You… you were my favorite hero even before everyone else got popular!" Delilah proudly said as she then pulled out a little worn doll from her bag and showed it to her. To some, the quality of the toy would prove offensive due to how poor its condition was, but to Margaret, the man, and Delilah, they all knew that it was worn out of love.
The love of a little girl who cherished and played with the toy so much in her youth.
"This is… t-thank you," Margaret said with a true, genuine smile as a feeling of relief washed over her as she returned the doll to the girl's hands. Delilah, having seen how she acted, felt her eyes watering in joy as she clutched the doll and notebook tighter.
"You're welcome, ma'am."
"But you're not scared?" Margaret asked, conflicted and fearful of the girl's answer.
"Why would I be scared?" the girl asked. "To me, you'll always be my hero."
Margaret felt her lips part momentarily as the man beside her thanked the girl for her time while she could only nod. The girl continued to wave her hand goodbye and joy as she skipped away. Her absence even in the relatively noisy event around them made her feel as if the world had become silent. The entire experience caused her to pause.
"Ah… I almost forgot, Nikola, my dear lady, is my name. You may call me Archer if you wish." He finally said as Margaret turned to him. "…let me treat you for today. A reward is needed after you gave that little girl as much joy as she had with the encounter."
Looking at him, she narrowed her eyes, recalling the vague memory of a man who helped her to her bed, at the night of the Gala. The one who she never got to thank after waking up the next day and seeing him gone.
"Holy shit… that was…
you." She slowly said while her memories seemed to return to her on that hazy night. He then perked up at her change in tone and sudden realization.
Smiling, he nodded. "Yes… and I think we have yet to meet again until now."
"But why?" she asked again, still confused by the surprising amount of kindness.
"Do I need a reason to?" he asked. "And like I said, the offer is still on the table; want to grab a bite?" Margaret watched him as the sense of unease subsided and she eventually accepted his offer, knowing full well that she would be alright.
If anything, she felt better… after Delilah's departure and their interaction.
"It's good, isn't it?" The man, who also went by the name Tesla said as he watched her closely while taking a bite out of the sandwiches that the cafeteria offered. She looked around and saw that it was less populated by people compared to the auditorium and was by far, much more peaceful.
A few students minded their own business as well as a few professors and such. Some took note of their presence, with Tesla taking much of the attention, but Margaret saw and felt a few glances from a few that were not as hostile compared to the people outside.
They looked elated instead of offended by her presence, and it basically made her feel strange after experiencing every sort of insult, demeaning stare, and misaligned treatment to her entire name and existence. It was as if the world felt,
normal again to her senses.
Even the one who sold them the sandwich was ecstatic at both of their presences.
Speaking of the sandwich, she forgot to answer his question.
"No, go on… you seemed hungry and I'm patient enough to wait for your response." He politely said with a friendly grin as she curled the edge of her lips in response as well.
It was very good, far better than most types of fast food outside, and bordered on some of the well-known and pleasingly delicious food she once had in the many snobby restaurants she'd been to. Whoever cooked it was very talented and from the aroma and steam coming out of it alone, she felt as if it was cooked with soul that not many could replicate nowadays.
"Compliments to chef…" she responded as he chuckled.
"Yes, Suzie and her wife Gillian were responsible for that, and given they're both accomplished chemists, they know just enough about what to put on their dishes. You'd think they're professional chefs with how good they synchronize with each other on that front." He proudly said as they snuck a glance at the two fairly young women selling said food.
Their smiles and the genuine aura of kindness surrounding them made Margaret remember her time with Elena. "That's amazing. I'm happy for them," she said, nearly a whisper.
"I'm sure they would be happy to know that a hero, one of your status, complimented their food. I remember the last time Atalanta was here, Suzie almost cried after hearing that she and the children loved their food." He explained while reminiscing.
For the first time, Margaret didn't seem that bothered with that, yet at the same time an aura of slight guilt bubbled inside of her as she thought about her situation. She pondered about it in silence until Tesla spoke,
"May I ask if you're alright?"
She turned to him, meeting his eyes for that question. She wanted to lie. To hopefully detract and change the topic from that concept after running away from it for so long, but the peaceful atmosphere and the genuine kindness she had just experienced thus far made her hesitate.
Eventually, her parting lips turned into a slight frown as she sighed.
"N-No… I, I don't think I've been okay after everything that's happened."
"May I ask why?"
Margaret looked at him as she felt her fingers curl on the cup of soda that paired well with her sandwich. A million thoughts seemed to wrestle her mind at that moment and the discomfort was coming back. Her lips were quivering, trying to speak a word until it all went silent when she forced it all down with a broken but contemplative smirk that bordered on tearing up.
"It's… it's a lot to talk about."
He then looked at her in surprise, before nodding slightly with an affirming, supportive look.
"I'm here to listen if you let me."
Uncertainty took hold of her heart, but a degree of all the betrayal and pain she went through made her look at him less as a stranger, but more of a person to vent with. Given that he never divulged what happened to her in the Gala, she felt as if it was fine.
"It's not like I have anything to do here in the first place. I'm just their excuse to have someone represent them." Margaret voiced out with vehement distaste as she looked at him. "…and I've got nobody to talk to these last few days."
"If it's too painful for you to speak about, we could always change the subject." He said to hopefully change the direction of the conversation, hoping to keep her comfortable.
"No… I just need someone to listen. I don't even know if this is a good thing, that I'm trusting you this much, but… I don't have anybody else to talk to, so I might as well tell it." She said as he looked at her, the shiver in her fingers subsiding as confidence, even if just defiance at being sad seemingly overtook her emotions and heart completely.
"Very well…" he agreed, as her heart seemingly skipped a beat, not to love, but to the simple joy of letting the weight in her chest subside somewhat with this conversation.
Inevitably she unloaded everything with as much time as she comfortably could. It wasn't as long as many speeches or overt conversations were, but she carefully and emotionally spoke her heart out to him. From the loss, the pain, and all of the subsequent negative things that burst from her ever since this all started.
Slowly and surely, she found the tightening in her chest going away bit by bit as Tesla silently listened, not even daring to interrupt her as she continued talking. A subtle tear here and there manifested but she kept her fortitude strong to not break down as she finally admitted with full honesty, the demons of doubt and guilt in her soul.
The world seemingly disappeared around them as they both got dragged and invested in Margaret's plight and words. Many students silently watched them in the periphery, but due to Tesla's presence, they kept their distance in respect. Unknowingly, they did not realize that with Helena's efforts in the main auditorium, people were slowly thinning out into the campus grounds in a subtle evacuation process while Tesla kept Margaret grounded.
Even then, the hostility towards her was now gone. All that was left was concern and empathy towards what he should consider as a political enemy to Olympia.
"…and I don't even blame her for screaming in my face. I-It's my fault. I know it was… but I just wanted to see her. I didn't mean to put them both in danger." Margaret finished as she looked at him. A tear slowly trailing down her cheek. Her voice was steady in the entirety of her tirade, but the last few sentences were painful to her. So much so that Tesla had to stand up and move his seat closer to her side. He even placed a supportive hand on her shoulder respectfully as she reached for it. The skin contact made her feel better through the heavy tone of her words.
"I wish I could have done better, but… I was lost. I've been lost ever since I gave up trying to be a hero so long ago. I've been lost trying to accept that it was just… a dream."
"It wasn't," he said.
"What?"
"It wasn't a dream…" he said as he recoiled his hand from her shoulder. Staring at him, he sighed as they met eyes yet again. "Will you allow me to be blunt?"
Margaret didn't answer, as she looked away.
"Very well then, but understand your dream wasn't far-fetched. You just abandoned hope in trying to realize it."
Margaret paused in response to his words.
"And… I believe with the context of life, it's not ultimately a bad thing."
She then sighed herself after hearing those words come out of his mouth.
"It's easy for you and Olympia to say such shit… you're all perfect people that continue to remain heroes despite it all. You're all saints compared to me."
He scoffed with a hardy chuckle afterward. "Miss Shaw, if you were to know my life's story right now, you'd realize that all of this?" he gestured to the campus. "…is almost an ironic joke to my entire name and history."
He then smiled bitterly before taking a sip of his own drink as if it was alcohol. The depth of the look on his face made her feel surprised knowing that his words had literal weight. They were not something falsified to create an artificial sympathetic bond between them.
From how his eyes seemingly became wistful along with his reduced posture, Margaret found herself nearly eating her words just from that.
"…I'm every bit of a failure just like you. Sometimes more so in some respects."
"Oh." She muttered. His voice made it all feel so real that she stared at him, unsure of what to say.
"Look, Miss Shaw… I don't blame you for feeling this way. I don't blame you at all for all the things that you've felt ever since the day you lost your path, but I think you're looking at all of this the wrong way…"
She met his eyes again. "How so?" her emotions so unsure but oddly invested in what he was about to say. The uncertainty still wrapped up most of her outlook on life as she gazed towards the unending dark tunnel.
"…have you ever considered to act on the failures you have experienced, personally?"
"I…" memories of her time in Vought started to come back. Many of them neglect, apathy, and a general sense of longing for a time when she still believed in the cause. A sense of longing that was diminished with every failure and inability to try and do something due to fear.
Fear of her own self. Fear of dying. Fear of ultimately realizing that she could never escape Vought and that Homelander and his legacy were now part of her. For better or for worse.
Yet at the same time, it was there with his words that she realized that she did in fact do nothing. She let her own fear take her away into places unknown where she was unable to do anything. She let it dictate her apathy, to the point where she gave up on being a good person.
Had she stuck to her morals, it would have been a long time ago when she would have finally decided to leave Vought altogether and try living a life with Elena somewhere far away.
It pained her to slowly realize that either a misplaced, naïve feeling that she could make a difference to change Vought and Homelander, or it was just the fear of denying him and hurting those that she cared for most.
Whatever it was, she gave in to that sentiment. He was right for saying those words to her.
"I see… I do have one more question to ask, and hopefully this would make you think of all this, differently." Tesla said as she met his eyes. The non-verbal subtle hum was his cue to say it.
"Are you still happy, remaining as Queen Maeve after all this time?"
"What…" she bit her lip. "What difference does it make if I say no?"
"Well… for one, there is no malice or wrong in accepting defeat. Life is simply like that. Perhaps it's just fate, telling us that we're better off in another way. There is only so much we can learn and act with failures both past and present. Sometimes… it's just better, moving on."
She had no words for what he just said, yet before she could utter anything he continued as he visibly relaxed on his seat. "Your dream is a humble, innocent, and honorable goal that every person with even a hint of common decency would accept without hesitation. Power, after all, is a responsibility, one that somebody should hold with great fortitude for all the trials that would come."
He then focused on her. "…but it's not a life or choice for anyone. A noble goal, yes… but oftentimes a foolish one, others might even call it an asinine ideal reserved only for those of strong hearts."
"Are you… telling me that I should, walk away from being a hero?"
Tesla then placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is that what your heart is telling you?"
"But… why?"
"Why indeed? But do understand, I am not telling you to stop being a hero. I am urging
you to ask yourself directly if being Queen Maeve, still makes you happy. Because there's more to being a person than the name people associate you with."
She looked away, looking at her fingers. "How would you know?" she asked with a whisper. "One of the reasons I never walked away is because part of me kept excusing
everything as a means of doing good. That I can be…
forgiven for all the bullshit"
She then raised her head, closing her eyes. "I admit I'm not a good person. I never was, even before I lost my way. I wanted to be a hero… but I also wanted the fame, the feeling of being loved and supported for once after my mom died. I wanted to be selfish, to feel free…"
Memories of being pressed by her father came to her, Tesla listening in, knowing the context after her whole story earlier. The memories made Maeve shed a tear again in defeat as she wiped it while he kept silent to keep her comfortable. "…only to trade one master with another, huh?"
Vought and Homelander came to mind as Tesla looked at her.
He then smiled as she looked at him with slight confusion.
"Isn't every action, no matter the context, always selfish in the end? We're all human. What simply matters in the end, is if that selfishness can ultimately do right with the people around us, without trampling their own happiness."
"I… I don't understand."
He then took an object from inside his coat, it was an old pocket watch, which looked out of place when compared to the gold-laced mementos surrounding his entire suit and form. It was the only item that had the wear and tear of his old life, one that he had bought straight from the museum that housed most of his remaining personal wares.
"Humanity is flawed by design. For each of us, even those you consider as the best men and women in Olympia or somewhere else, are all bound by the simplest detail that we all, naturally possess.
Imperfection."
He then placed that worn pocket watch into her hand, gently.
"It's possibly the greatest gift we have as a race. To learn that we aren't perfect by design and through that imperfection, that we all
strive to be better… in whatever form that takes."
He then closed her hand.
"Hopefully in your case, you find what makes you happy. What makes you content. Because at the end of the day, we selfishly desire that which we feel good about. In your part, based on what I've seen and heard… despite everything you've said…
you are a good person, Margaret Shaw…"
He then placed a supportive hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.
"…and you don't need the justification and feeling of others to be
that hero that you wish those you love and care to see you as."
Margaret stared at him, dumbfounded. "W-Who exactly are you again?"
He smiled again. "A similarly selfish man who wished to be validated by helping humanity. Even if it cost him his entire life… even if he knew that it was pointless."
He then looked at the cafeteria, now nearly empty, as his plan with Helena was bearing fruit. "…Now, I'm trying a different path. One that foregoes past grudges in hopes of cooperation. One… that would make sure to do it not for myself, but for those who look up to me."
She then finally smiled back. The weight in her heart finally lifted.
"You just love the sound of your voice do you?" she teased with an elbow as he chuckled. "B-but thank you… I… I appreciate that." She admitted, for the first time in a while, seeing light in her eyes again. Seeing some of the darkness on the tunnel part quite a bit.
"You are welcome… and, I believe I can firmly say that you played no part in this." He said as he stood up, his face becoming slowly serious. She was about to ask why the sudden change in tone was when they both felt a significant tremor.
Concern and finely-honed senses of experiences long past made her instantly ready as she stood up beside him in alarm. "What's going on?"
"We believe there's a plan to attack this campus. We only had guesses as to who and why but we believe you are being used as a scapegoat." He gravely said as he placed a finger on his ear. The voices of Helena and the Hoplites came into his mind as they were keeping everything under tight security as they could manage. "And seeing that you are confused tells me that it is definitely the case."
"Vought…" she whispered as she watched Tesla relay orders through a link that she could not hear as he also led the remaining people in the cafeteria to evacuate.
A sensation blossomed inside of her. A sensation that she did not feel ever since she nearly spent her life trying to save a school bus all those years ago.
A sensation of hope.
She then took Tesla's hand and her gaze became firm as they met eyes.
"How can I help?"
For perhaps one last time, Margaret Shaw would try to reach for that unreachable dream.
Not for Queen Maeve, but for those who still believed in her.
Artoria watched while the godling sat in silence near the swampy lake that their surroundings now took form out of. The clouds were less detailed from their smoky forms. The trees, far sicklier in appearance, and the waters, clear and divine as they once seemed, looked green and filled with disease. Even the animals that were part of the visage looked cursed. Their superficial and artificial nature was further broken by the aura of sadness that seemed to drip from the dew of the sky above.
Rain whose droplets were yellow and heavier than the common deluge that the clouds bore upon the earth. It was a harrowing and sorrow-filled environment, which mirrored the mood of the one who conjured the domain itself.
The godling had simply turned her back from her since her proclamation as the truth was laid bare. Her will seemingly took a turn for the worst as soon as Artoria removed the naïve lines of thought that made up her belief in humans and reality.
The King of Storms was ultimately unphased by how the divine being reacted to such a truth for it was the same reality that every human being experienced once their innocence was lost. Whether what age it occurred did not matter, for nobody could run away from it. Not even her.
Not even Vellamo.
Still, it seemed the gloomy, sorrowful aura of this place made Artoria wince. Not because of pity. Not because of guilt over her words that the godling deservedly needed to hear, no…
"Father…" Mordred's whisper said, as the spear was driven deeper into her breastplate, finally ending her son's life then and there.
…but sadness brought forth by the realization that unlike the other versions of herself on the Throne, she too had lost her way. That she, Artoria Pendragon had lost the meaning and beauty of life beyond her own selfish, conquering desires.
That the loneliness was the cause of such violence…
"You cold-blooded b-bitch. Y-You're no sister of mine…" Kay said as she remained unphased.
That the violence was the cause of her losing hope.
She looked at her hand as she lamented over her own failures. Over her own victories. Over all the violence, death, and decay that she brought to her own Britain. To her own world.
"Did you enjoy it, father?" Mordred asked after they consumed all the films in the local cinema that they rented for the entire day. Artoria was particularly impressed and amazed by the fantasy films they had in store as well as some of the simple comedic ones. Her son was more so amazed by the more action-oriented stories and sometimes that of sci-fi.
Without any sort of doubt in her mind, she looked at her son and nodded.
"Yes… I did, Mordred." She said, a small curve in her lip forming.
She then felt a hand taking her own as Artoria felt shocked looking at her son who did it.
"I'm glad…" Mordred whispered with a low tone, blushing and looking away until she shook her head and pulled her along down the street in glee. "…now come on! I know a shop down this street that I know you'll love, Father."
Artoria smiles and allows her son to pull her away. She did behave lately. Perhaps it was fine.
"Perhaps… everything was fine…" Artoria whispered to herself as she closed her hand and looked at the godling. Regret was never part of her vocabulary. Nor was true guilt over her own actions. Everything was already done. Her history was already written.
Yet… the existence that she was now, was a second chance.
A second, hopeful chance for her to alleviate that loneliness.
She wanted to chastise herself for being this way, for not being as pragmatic as before. Yet her comrades, her master, this world, and her
son had slowly made her heart re-open again.
"Thy progeny is threatening to kill mine followers…"
Artoria perked up at the godling's sudden words.
"…if what thee says is true, then what point doth protecting humanity entail? What logic is there to have?" Vellamo slowly said in sorrow as she turned her head to meet her gaze.
"What point is there if humanity both hath sides of cruelty and good?" she finished as she looked at her as if standing on the precipice of uncertainty. Lost and alone, like a child left by its parents to die.
"I hath no answer to give to thee. Yet… thou hath to understand that there is more than looking at the world in two halves. There is
more to just there being cruelty and compassion."
"What is it then?" Vellamo nearly begged, wishing to know that her beliefs were not ultimately pointless. Artoria then walked towards her slowly as she let out her hand.
"What does thou ask of me?" the godling said as she looked into her eyes.
"I want thee to
see."
Vellamo stared at her face and towards her hand while a look filled with fear and hesitation grabbed her entire emotional state. Her fingers reached towards Artoria's hand and just from nearing it, she began to hear and
feel all of the terrible things she did as King.
She pulled her hand back in fear, like an animal backing away from a predator as her eyes grew wide. The godling looked weak as ever as the shadows of Artoria's past were now manifesting around her metaphorically. Yet before she could take another step back, Artoria's firm and stoic face morphed into that of a calm yet troubled expression.
"Thou… thou lived a terrible lif-
"Look deeper."
"W-what?" she said in surprise as Artoria took a step forward and pulled the godling's hand gently into her own. The screams and terror returned as betrayal, genocide, and brutality filled the godling's head. The echoes of all those foul deeds spread across them as their environment, her domain became a wild, quick depiction of those memories and thoughts while Vellamo closed her eyes. A tear filled with terror wrapping her form until she felt Artoria squeeze her hand.
"Tis…Wilt thou cease to make me see such
pain…" Vellamo begged as she was now shivering from the slight reprieve before she felt Artoria wipe the tear that trickled down her cheek. A sensation that made everything freeze around them from the former chaotic environment into sheer silence.
Vellamo met Artoria's eyes, which were now filled with serenity.
"Focus… Vellamo. May thine eyes
see beyond that of the dark."
"Is there such a thing?" Vellamo asked as the sensation of Artoria wiping her tears re-opened the memory of her as a mere child being loved and cared for by her mother after she innocently sobbed. The silence and how serene her face had become allowed her to eventually focus as Artoria asked of her. Then…
"Oh…"
…she saw it. She saw it all.
It was not just the memories of Artoria as she both saved, butchered, and removed the threats of Europe, but the simple memories of joy with her new comrades in this second life. The innocent simplicity of children that were inspired by her presence despite the fear and respect she garnered and how they became brave because of it. How her master showed those who were lesser that they could become more by uplifting their lives for the better…
How such few memories, in the span of just months, barely a year shined brighter and became much more prominent than any foul deed she had in the past confused the godling. For she felt it, she knew that Artoria Pendragon, the King of the Storms had both accepted and begrudgingly condemned herself for all the evil she had done. How the loneliness shaped her to accept a contract of a man who asked her to do the opposite.
She was no true saint.
Nor a true hero even now…
Yet despite all of that, she persevered. Even if she denied it, emotionally.
She persevered to find what was lost in her life once more by seeing the bright sun once again.
The bright rays of hope.
Yet what stood out to Vellamo most was something that her own immortal heart had lost in time.
"Son…" Artoria said as they finished ending the last remaining stronghold of the Nazi cult within Switzerland that terrorized Europe for quite a while. There they stood proud together as Mordred instantly looked at her father after referring to her directly.
"Yes, father?" the illegitimate son of the King said in ready. Fearful yet hopeful of what words would come out of her parents' lips.
"I…" the King made herself stop as a smile broke onto her face. She then placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder. Even through the armor, her son felt goosebumps as she looked confused at what she was about to say.
"F-Father?" Mordred whispered.
"I am proud of you." an echo of Vellamo's similar memory with her father resurfaced as she withdrew her hand and looked at Artoria.
"I am not asking thee to accept nor forgive mine soul of all my transgressions and crimes. Nor am I asking that thee should do the same to the Humanity that exists now." Artoria said as she then thought about her master and her son with a clear heart and soul. "Merely that thou see Man as both capable of wonders and empathy amidst the terror and pain."
"A paradox given form…" Vellamo added in observation as the silent world around them turned into a mix of said ideals. Good and Bad. Empathy and Cruelty. Loss and Acceptance
"It doesn't have to be," Artoria said in a calm rebuttal as she looked at the images surrounding them. She then showed a small smile to Vellamo whose heart was still pure. "… Thy father was right in some way."
Vellamo perked up the mention of Ahti as Artoria's gaze bore down to her with kindness, rather than disappointment as she placed both hands on the godling's shoulders.
"Humanity is a beautiful race. One that is flawed, yet capable of great and terrible things. It's just that many of those in Men are lost. Wandering with their souls cast adrift into nothing as meaning and empathy change into something vile. Yet many hold on to their hearts. Their values, their courage. All because they believe in hope."
The godling's lips part slightly as Artoria squeezes her shoulders.
"What Men need most of all, to allow such beauty and love to prosper, is to see a bright star to point to." She then gazes up into the artificial fixation of her memory that Vellamo was able to conjure as she recalled moments in her youth with her brother. Of whom joined her in lying down on the peaceful grass while they happily laughed together. For a moment she smiled dreamily to that again before looking back to Vellamo. "…to have someone with pure heart and intention to lead those still uncertain, misguided, and lost in this dark world."
"Thou don't consider thyself as one?" Vellamo asked.
"Nay. Thou hath seen what I am. I'm a failure that only seeks redemption by being in service of a better man. Of a better person, to bring about a better world."
"But…" Vellamo stopped when a realization hit her.
"Thou art still young. Thou… hath an innocent soul and heart in thy veins and if thou wishes to see thine father's dream, then thee have an opportunity to see it be reality."
"Am I… capable enough?" Vellamo whispered as she lowered her gaze, only to hear Artoria chuckle in response.
"Only thee can answer that, but a word of advice, Vellamo, Daughter of Great Ahti, thou art thine Father's legacy, and thou may view thine countrymen as no longer Men as thine Father served and led, but they still look up to him with reverence and love. Lead them. Guide them. Prove thine hopeful ideal as a just, plausible, and meaningful peace."
Vellamo, finally allowed herself to smile after the despair they both shared briefly earlier.
A smile that Artoria reciprocated as they let the weight of their exchange settle in.
"FATHER!!!" a familiar voice echoed through the domain they were in as visible cracks in the world started to form.
"Forgive me, Miekankantaja, I have forgotten that the world around us is merely a temporary reflection of the power mine Father used to possess."
"Fear not, dear Vellamo. I'm sure thy Father would be proud. Not just for what thee were able to accomplish, in this country no less, but making sure that thou are an honorable leader."
Vellamo's genuine, innocent smile widened. She was probably the most
human, divine being or Fae that Artoria had ever encountered, which meant that with guidance and trust from her master, she would be a benevolent being that people may look up to.
"Y-Yes… thank you, Miekankantaja." She said as the world gradually dissipated around them.
The world trickled like it was a fresh coat of paint being washed over before subsiding when the sounds of the real world manifested once more…
"BRING MY FATHER BACK YOU WRETCHES!!!"
…only to feel the building energy of an angry Mordred Pendragon activating Clarent. Red, electrical energy lashed out around them as the fearful Finnish people and the Hoplites behind Mordred were starting to fear what was about to happen.
"Sir Mordred. Cease this instant."
Before suddenly becoming silent in shock, fear, and elation after she met eyes with her son once more.
CLANG!
Mordred, with her eyes clouded with tears and concern dematerialized her weapon as it hit the floor and ran as fast as she could to Artoria. Latching onto her, suddenly, in a bone-crushing hug.
Artoria stood still, lips slightly parted in surprise as Mordred sobbed in visible joy into her form. How she squeezed her tightly and continued to tear up caused the godling beside Artoria to stare. A memory of her parents once again came into the forefront while Artoria eventually returned the gesture with her own embrace.
"…I-I thought I lost you…" Mordred said in between breaths and tears.
"…and I am glad to see you once more again, son," Artoria said with confidence, even with a low tone, almost near a whisper as Mordred went still before slowly giggling in glee while trying to sniff away her sadness.
The wholesome, innocent gesture made those who were watching feel a strange sense of elation and hope. Especially to Vellamo…
"…Wilt be ready once the time comes, Father?" she once asked in her father's lap.
"Thou are the daughter of Ahti and thine mother, child. Thou would do well, I believe it so."
Vellamo felt a tear of nostalgia and happiness trickle down her face as she continued to watch with new meaning and understanding in her heart.
Reggie felt his heart beating in uproar at what he was seeing.
The white man with green hair had done something so impossibly insane that even
he, the fastest man alive could not even perceive nor sense before it occurred. It was like it never even happened at all with how imperceptibly quick it was, yet the evidence was there. He felt multiple lacerations all across his body as if he was dragged by his collar and all the friction burned through his skin despite its superhuman durability. Some of his bones, muscles, and tendons feel like they were strained significantly just from all the impact and broken surfaces he was forced into.
All of it caused, by one man.
"Is this, hesitation I see? I thought you were a man who wished to break
all the records? Or at least that's what your profile on that 'website' says…" The green-haired monster said with a cocky smirk as he tapped his spear onto the ground. The way how he said it was reminiscent of the empty but subtly terrifying threats that Homelander would randomly spew out whenever he wished to.
This man was different altogether, the threats were simply not empty for his eyes were cast with that of a predator. A warrior who had found a challenger to his name.
The bloodlust was palpable just from his stare despite the harmless, cocky smile.
It made Reggie take a step back as the sand behind his now-mangled shoes started to enter parts of his sole. This man was filled with confidence; not blind confidence nor a sense of self-importance that did not take into account what they were truly and fully capable of like many Vought Supes. He only had the assertiveness and certainty that only increased the level of danger he held, for his eyes already knew of the conclusion to this 'fight', and Reggie understood this on an instinctual level.
"…oh? So, is it only posturing then? A feeble attempt to make yourself stand out, in a sea of mediocrity." The man taunted as Reggie, despite his fear found himself glaring at the man.
For he built his entire life on his name. His power. His fame.
He and his brother created A-Train. They fostered it, made it stand out compared to all of the others, and made sure that his legacy was as bright as it could be next to the greats.
All the hard work that
he and
his brother built
would not be disrespected.
"Ah… there's that anger. That fury. Well, if you're willing to fight for what you believe in, then
show it. Otherwise, I have my orders against you already given and I trust my allies enough to settle the mess that you and your little prattle are about to make back there." The man said with an increasing grin as he pointed the spear at Reggie while the sea breeze flew past them as if marking the prologue to an inevitable duel. It was like the very earth was christening what was about to occur.
"Fuck you..." Reggie said with a sneer as he tightly balled both his fists. He wanted to run so badly, yet logic and a sense of defensive instinct caused him to stop. Knowing that even with his top speed, especially with how jacked he was in booster shots, he knew that the man before him was far faster and there was no way to feasibly escape him. He had to stand his ground, both out of lack of a choice and for what his name and brother stood for.
The spear posed a problem, however, for he saw what it was capable of from the many instances that this man was shown on the news and the internet. So much so that he heard that it
tore through something as durable as some of the renegade Supes that Homelander and he tried to foster by spreading Compound V strategically around the world.
"Hesitant, still? Fine then…" the man said as he made the spear in his hand disappear. Reggie looked on in surprise but kept himself ready as the man then made his gauntlets similarly disappear. Then what proceeded next was his breastplate and eventually all of the metal and protection that he had on his body. What was left was a skin-tight black undersuit that covered most of his body from head to toe. A symbol of something Grecian in origin ordained his chest as he allowed his orange scarf to remain.
"…does this make you feel like it evens the odds somewhat? Because I gotta tell you, this is
me going easy on you." He taunted once again as Reggie's fists tightened further, his nails drawing some blood as his fury ignited. It only made the man excited as his wolfish grin emanated.
"There's the bloodlust. It's like I'm talking down to a
dog." The word made Reggie
The hero of the Trojan War then put both of his hands together and cracked his knuckles on the right hand.
BRWOUF!!!
The immense pressure and power behind that one, feeble action caused a small ripple of air to displace the sand around him by a few small but significant enough meters. It dissipated some of the anger that Reggie seemed to hold as the man put himself into a stance and grinned.
"You wish to kill me? Then
prove it. Stop being a coward by standing there and
doing nothing." The hero said, losing some of his excitement with abject seriousness in the sentence as the world figuratively darkened from the blaring, instinctual alarms that Reggie was feeling.
It was
overwhelming in the most literal sense.
…
Achilles stared down at the
dog of Vought International. Their runner, their messenger, and their personal hound that their master had determined given all the evidence posed. The moron was sneering at him while still fearing the aura that the son of Peleus emitted through just a gaze.
Inevitably he lost all his patience in this waiting game and he could hear Helena and Tesla's efforts while minimal back on the campus, turning a bit difficult given the mix of civilians and hostiles within the crowd. In addition, aside from very killing a few targets that his master had accepted without issue, as well as the many spars that he had with his peers, ultimately caused him to yearn for a battle that had any form of difficulty posed to him. Not that there weren't battles ahead for them, but the inhabitants of this world proved to be like ants.
He was no Heracles, nor did Achilles push himself to be as righteous as one of his childhood idols, for he was a warrior through and through, one that embraced violence and war without flinching. One who carried himself as a soldier, honorable, but at the same time deadly.
It pained him to say that Heracles had not yet affirmed his request at a spar that would nearly make them both go all out for their master had need of them, so he was now left with dealing with the rabble. The filth that called themselves heroes.
The hounds of a maniac who wished only to control the masses.
It made him feel disgusted, if only to see the depraved acts that these people committed on those who had no power to defend themselves. Admittedly, that would sound hypocritical on Achilles' part, but he didn't care.
"You asked for this." He taunted before suddenly balling his right fist and flashing forward like a comet. The speed was just barely enough for him to react as Achilles forced a fist through the
dog's chest. Strength controlled to a manner that it wouldn't just punch through him like paper even with his inferior durability.
It would, however,
damage him to such a degree that he felt the
dog's bones crack from that one attack. His rapidly beating heart tried to force the contaminated solution that gave him powers at birth to heal as fast as it could, but it didn't account for how much damage his body would receive when in combat against the likes of him.
BRWOUSH!!!
The sand parted around Achilles like a wave of water from that maneuver while his enemy was catapulted away with such force that the air around them was similarly parted slightly. He careened away through the air as his brain was still trying to process what happened and before he could land at a nearby small patch of rock and sand in the middle of the beach Achilles shot forth again.
Smirking, he raised his foot as the slightly slowing world around him showed the
dog about to crash into the rock formation only for Achilles to drive his heel into his enemy's head.
BRACKSHUU!!!
Rock and debris shot upwards like a mini explosion as Achilles took a step back while the smoke parted. Revealing a heavily injured A-Train gasping for air as he tried to stand up. Achilles could still hear the moron's heartbeat at a rapid pace. The adrenaline was still there, and he still had the will to fight yet it was the kind that was now just relying on survival instinct.
He didn't even know if the man could still think clearly as his busted lips, inflamed cheeks, and bloodied nose conveyed only an animal that was rabidly trying to defend itself from dying.
He tried to hurriedly stand up as Achilles could feel his gasping, haggard breaths.
It reminded the Grecian Hero of those pompous brats who tried to challenge him in duels due to his reputation. Disbelief and ego flavored their words and souls, only to be beaten and stripped of any rights they had once Achilles humiliated and killed them with the same amount of disrespect they spouted out. It was only justice after all, for it was they who started this farce and they would have to pay for daring to challenge him to the death for his name.
This man ticked all the comparisons spot on, the only difference was that Achilles was ordered to keep this man at bay within reasonable strength. Reasonable enough that his master gave him the right to decide the man's fate due to their goal with Vought becoming close to completion.
He had not decided yet for this fight was a joke…
But he had to burn some of the impatient thoughts away by
playing with this weakling. It is as much as he deserved after all given all the direct and indirect lives he's destroyed with his actions.
Smirking cockily, Achilles lowered his fists and took a lax stance.
A-Train then only sneered with a heavy groan as he took it as a cue to push forward. Eyeing him, his potent enough speed despite all his injuries would have killed a normal man just from the impact, splattered bones and flesh in the aftermath. Yet with how Achilles' divinity and blessings worked, the fist raised to hit him in the face had magically absorbed the force of it all as if it wasn't there.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHH!!!" A-Train yelled as his fist collided with the demigod's skin.
BRWOUF!
A small, visible shockwave sputtered out as through the rage and adrenaline, A-Train then raised both fists and thrust his hands forward.
BRWOUF!! BRWOUF!!
And again…
BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!!
He thundered his fists forward like the tail-end of a never-ending swarm of locusts panicking to smash against the mesh wire of a screen door. Like the locusts, while they sounded horrifying and deranged in their attempts to try and force themselves in, in reality, they were harmlessly bouncing off without doing much damage at all. It was all superficial as he wailed with a surmounting level of fury, pain, and vengeance at Achilles while his adrenaline persisted.
BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!! BRWOUF!!!
Blood began to trickle under the dark undersuit of the Grecian Hero, but it wasn't blood of his own. A-Train might not have felt it through the sheer emotions going through his system, but each consecutive punch only further broke the bones and muscles in his arms. All the while, their surroundings were now effectively covered by a mini sandstorm from the weight of the Vought hero's efforts.
"RAAAAAAGGHH!!!" he roared as the air displaced from each punch had turned the patch of sand, vegetation, and earth around them into a small desert as the ground they were on was now nearly four feet deep.
BRWOUF!!!
"RAAAAAAAAAAARRGGHHH!!!" Reggie roared yet again as he reared one last fist where he poured all of his strength into it despite his knuckles now being cracked and bruised to oblivion. All to give one last punch at his enemy.
BRWAKSCHL!!!
The violent and audible snap that would be heard for at least the entire patch of land they were in echoed around them. A-Train's right fist burst into a bloody gulch of gore as mangled bones, flesh, and ligaments sputtered out as he took a step back.
The adrenaline finally wore down as he looked at the aftermath of his foolish endeavor.
The pain had not yet registered to him, much as Achilles could see as the blood spread across his chest and parts of his face made him stare at this weakling for how feeble his efforts were.
A-Train took another step back as he stared at the gory, barely clinging mess that was his right arm before looking at Achilles who only stared back with contempt and disappointment.
"That's it, huh?" the Grecian Hero said as the wind and sand around them started to die down before the
dog sneered again but the pain, exhaustion, and adrenaline finally exiting his system only made him grasp for air before falling flat on his face just inches away from a bloodied Achilles.
He was down for the count.
"Predictable," Achilles said as the fool was far too soft and weak against him. He then pulled a small and narrow cylindrical device from the small pocket in his back and watched the glowing green fluid dancing within its contents.
He then remembered that his master had an additional task handed to him for this idiot. Both on the account of taking him down and to see the results of an inquiry they wanted documented in some form first-hand on the field.
Achilles too, was curious given how much his comrades were praising it and how their own recruits became better compared to their contemporaries.
He stabbed the device into the
dog's chest.
Gasping as if being revived from being drowned, A-Train looked at him before he violently pulled the syringe out of him. He then scurried out of the way as the effects of the serum seemingly hastened his healing. His mangled arm starting to heal off the stump, showing that the serum still had limits, yet he was coming back to nearly full health and most of his wounds were vanishing.
"W-What the fuck did you do that for?" A-Train shouted as he backed up, his body returning to its normal form of healing as he stared down at his opponent. The loss of his arm was still unknown to him while Achilles watched his muscles ripple slightly and the sneer in his eyes becoming clearer.
"Do you feel yourself becoming stronger?" Achilles asked, not caring about answering the
dog's question as he readied himself again. He wouldn't be as fast as he was still, but he was now curious how much power was added to his mortal body.
"W-What? The fuck are yo-
Achilles watched as the man started panicking, looking at his stump of an arm yet was puzzled by how much power was coursing through his veins before looking right back at him.
"What did you do to
me?" he said, both feeling much more comfortable with how the serum made his bodily systems calmer yet at the same time feeling a tinge of horror at the implications of it all.
"Fucking tell me!" he shouted as Achilles looked him over.
"You wish to avenge your brother, correct?" Achilles questioned. The mention of the man's sibling caused the sneer of fury and vengeance to return as he watched the man grit his teeth. He then pointed at him accusingly with his hands shaking in anger.
"You don't have any fucking right to mention my brother… none of it!"
"If you wish for me to care with anything that comes out of your bastard mouth, then fight with everything you have left. I gave you an opportunity. The honor that your brother lost is up to you to recover…" he taunted as he narrowed his eyes at him with a steely look.
One that made A-Train only further angered.
Good.
"…and the only thing you have to do, is beat me. Kill me if you desire. If you can even achieve something as simple as that."
"Fuck you!" he cursed again. The prattle of insecure curse words coming out of his uncouth mouth only made Achilles smile inwardly as he seemingly readied himself to fight once more. "You don't deserve to mention my brother out of your goddamn mouth!!!"
"I'm sure he died disappointed, just as I am with you." Achilles taunted, only for his senses to blare again with minimum effort as the
dog roared forward, his remaining fist colliding with his cheek.
BRWOUSH!
There was a significant jump in power, for despite having not moved in his place still from the hit, the violent pushback from the punch managed to push enough air to move the trees nearby. The impact had been strong enough to displace further sand around their area and for the ground beneath Achilles to slightly crack.
Then there was his speed. The man had doubled, perhaps tripled his normal output without him even realizing that whether by his bloodlust or his idiocy, he was able to beat his world record thrice in that small distance between them.
It wasn't enough for the Grecian Hero, however, as he stood there mighty as the walls of Troy once were with the gleam of the sun up above even with the haze of sand while his enemy raised his fist again.
"You're all goddamn frauds! Liars!" he shouted as he heaved his fist again.
BRWOUSH!!
Achilles smiled as another mini shockwave manifested on his face. A-Train's speed then multiplied once more as heaved himself back by a few meters and with his newfound strength and momentum he thrust his fist forward, into Achilles' abdomen.
Despite not having felt any pain nor did he care to, Achilles let the momentum push him forward as he was flung backward slightly as A-Train, grinning, capitalized on it as he jumped into the air and landed both his feet into the Grecian Hero.
Forcing them into the shallow waters where the sea exploded into vapor, debris, and destroyed coral.
BRWOUSHCLLHHH!!!
"YOU PREACH THAT YOU'RE BETTER THAN US! BUT YOU'RE ALL KILLERS! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!" A-Train shouted as he landed into Achilles, pulling his green hair as the hero remained smiling before he violently crashed it into the sediment.
BRWOUSH!
He then heaved his fist forward again, faster than any mortal eye could even blink as he tried to bury Achilles' head into the muddy, sandy ground and raised his foot to slam it into his enemy's face.
The thundering cracks of each hit managed to only further make the cocky Achilles keep his grin that was now annoying A-Train to no end. The
dog then stood up and disappeared into running. It forced him to stand up from the crater carved by his own body as he slightly feared and raged against the idea of the
dog cowardly running away from the fight.
Thankfully as soon as Achilles wiped the sand and coral out of his face, he watched the fool running around him, the surface of anything his feet touched
burned. The Grecian Hero then heard his cries as he grew faster and faster until most of the coast and the preserve around them were now about to go up in flames.
"RAAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!" the
dog shouted as he ran towards him with their surroundings now being bathed by fiery light. It was as if hell had been conjured just by the swiftness and level of rage he possessed.
BRWOUSH!!!
The punch hit him in the face before he sped away back into the circle…
BRWOUSH!!!
Then again.
BRWOUSH!!!
He wailed at him as the flurry of attacks around them caused the ground to become black. The intensity of his running reached the point that the flames were now rising high into the air.
"WHAT MAKES YOU BETTER THAN US!?" the
dog roared as he heaved his remaining fist forward until Achilles raised his hand…
BRACKWASHHH!!!
…and caught it. The force canceled out by his entire existence would have made a sound that would echo to the nearest neighborhood. The pressure was instantly dispersed, and some of the larger fires around them were snuffed just from that simple action.
Achilles then relinquished his smile while A-Train became stunned and horrified at what he had just seen when he thought he had the upper hand.
All such thoughts were flushed down the drain when Achilles pulled A-Train with his other arm as their faces were now barely inches apart. The shadow of the yellow-orange dying flames around them created a sinister aura around the serious expression the Grecian Hero adorned.
Inwardly, Achilles in some way
understood the burning hatred this man was conjuring.
He
remembered the hatred he had when Patroclus died.
He
remembered when he faced down the son of Troy and with burning fury, shoved the tip of his spear into his chest until he no longer took breath. Hektor, his name was, a noble, honorable man who wished only for the war to stop should he give his life in the duel. All because of the foolishness of his brother. All because of his
love for his brother.
All of it, including the terms of their honorable duel, Achilles broke without care.
He never knew Hektor personally and given his skill and prowess he knew that he was a soldier. Yet given how much he valued his family over everything else, Achilles would always…
always think of him as the better man between them. An honorable man who, despite Achilles' desecrating his city, body, and name after his death, would wholeheartedly accept such a fate without question.
Achilles never had anybody other than Patroclus.
He was a soldier bred for war. A hero to the warring Greeks. Shot down poetically by the prince who wished to avenge his brother for his desecration.
Achilles sighs as he looks at the
dog. He had a lot of guilts, many he simply ran away from by facing what was in front of him, and Hektor after his death was one of those guilts.
This man in his hands, however? He was neither the honorable man who fought for the honor of his brother nor the kind that was worth anything to this world.
"You're right… I'm no Hero." Achilles admitted as he tightened his grip on the fool's neck as he heard the neighs of the horses pulling his chariot beside him. "…I'm not like my comrades, nor my big sister Atalanta."
He then pressed his fingers further into the man's neck…
CRACKSHL!
…breaking his spine easily as if crushing an egg. A-Train gagged and moaned in pain, his body became limp as Achilles threw him into the ground after. His newfound strength, healing, and speed were rendered useless just like that.
"…and I'm not a good man. I never considered myself as one." He continued as he tied A-Train's arms and back into the rear of his chariot while his horses readied to run at his command.
They met eyes one last time as Achilles looked at him with slight pity.
"… which is why it's better that I was chosen to take care of filth such as you. Better for the honor of my comrades, Hektor, and my master to stay intact. Because they are far better men than you and I."
A-Train tried to spit at him, but his body could no longer move. Tears came out of his eyes as his body struggled to heal the damage done to him by Achilles, and even then, escape was impossible. The binds that were behind his chariot contained one of the hero's conceptual traits. That of which to drag anyone, innocent or otherwise to their doom.
"Still, I hope your brother understands, wherever he is that you truly are a disappointment. Whether you survive this entire ordeal or not, determines your worth, if only as a dung to my mares." He coldly said before A-Train could react back, Achilles blew a whistle using his fingers…
BRWOZOUUUMMM!!!
…and his chariot flew forward into the heavens at speeds that even the Great Heracles would not be able to catch up on. Speeds that no mortal man, enhanced or not, would survive.
Achilles was left to his lonesome. That man must have cursed him like many men, women, and children of Troy given
he was the enemy. He accepted it. All of it. He never once justified anything that he did as correct or honorable.
"Big Sister…" he whispered into the wind as he relaxed.
But this summoning allowed him to be
more than what his Legend was. His sins were still there and he would never be forgiven, yet just this once, for his Master and Atalanta…
He would do everything to
make sure their dreams became reality.
Even if it meant commanding him to kill anyone they desired.
"…"
Achilles took another deep breath as he allowed himself to return back to his more cheerful personality. He looked around and saw the devastation of their little bout and he was still left wanting more. Pushing those thoughts away, he would need to inform his Master and Lady Medea (the younger one) of his findings and a solution to the burned preserve around him.
Also, he still had to assist Tesla and Lady Helena.
"…Achilles, we need you right here, now!" Helena said with urgency in her tone as the Grecian Hero responded back quickly.
Manifesting his trusty spear, Achilles would once again return to the fray.
Such was the life of the Hero of the Iliad.
