The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 9 (Patreon)

Comoedia Glacialis 9: The Queen proffers the Forbidden Fruit

For the next three weeks, the Tsaritsa remained in Mordovia, restoring and rebuilding the city. Her first act was to repave all the roads herself, which involved an astonishing display of power. She had Anatoly spread the word throughout the city that she would make an announcement, which he had done using Yelizaveta’s contact network. A crowd of several thousand civilians had gathered, along with most of the city’s capes, most of them members of the Red Gauntlet, who had looked on dubiously from the sidelines. 

“Who are those mercenaries?” the Tsaritsa had asked Anatoly shortly before taking the stage. 

“Red Gauntlet. They’re the most powerful group in Russia, though they operate outside of our borders too. They sell their services to the highest bidder, and they effectively rule most of the country,” Anatoly told her. 

The Tsaritsa’s eyes narrowed, and Anatoly noted that she set her jaw for a moment before she spoke. “Then they shall bend the knee, or perish. I will not suffer mercenaries operating upon my soil.”

“Rukavitsa has a reputation as a reasonable man,” Anatoly told her. “I could set up a meeting with him in all likelihood, though he is currently in Novosibirsk.”

“That’s old information I’m afraid, cutie,” Yelizaveta said, causing Anatoly to frown at her in annoyance as she stepped through the door to the rear of the makeshift stage they’d erected. He hated being corrected. “He left last night and arrived in Nizhny Novgorod early this morning. He’s interested in you, sweetie.”

That last one was directed at the Tsaritsa, who eyed Yelizaveta with interest. “You have not introduced me to this lady, Thief.”

Hiding his irritation, Anatoly grinned broadly and gestured. “Allow me to introduce the woman I have told you of, Yelizaveta Mirova. She has helped organize this event, and provided me with much of the intelligence I have passed along to you.”

“You can just call me the Witch like everyone else,” Yelizaveta chuckled. She reached into her purse and pulled out a candied apple of all things wrapped in plastic. “Apple? Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned this time.”

The Tsaritsa accepted the apple with a smile of amusement, holding it up in the palm of her hand. She spun it on the stick, nodding to herself. “Every fairy tale should have a Witch, don’t you think?”

“All the best stories do,” Yelizaveta agreed, though she arched an eyebrow. 

“You wonder why I cast you as the villain?” the Tsaritsa asked, handing the apple to Anatoly, who frowned at it. This was the sort of cheap sweet that was best discarded. 

“I’m a woman in power, sweetie. I’ve always been cast as the villain,” Yelizaveta said with a shrug. 

“How true. And if that is the part the world is determined you play, why not do so with style?” the Tsaritsa asked. Then, she turned to the curtain, and with a wave of her hand, flung it aside,  stepping out onto the stage. 

It was a simple affair made of wood and freshly painted, but the Tsaritsa strode out as the crowd cheered for her. Word had spread that she was the one who had tamed the Sleeper, and that she was to announce her next project today. As she swept out onto the stage, frost spread out, and from it grew a set of sparkling icy buildings, and several crystalline trees that looked almost like growing snowflakes.

The crowd gasped in awe, and quite a few applauded, but the Tsaritsa raised a hand for silence, and it quietly fell. The crowd seemed to be holding its breath, the air holding an electric charge as they all waited to hear the Tsaritsa’s words. 

“My beloved people,” the Tsaritsa said, her voice clear and ringing without amplification, yet somehow soft and breathy still. “Long have you suffered, your Motherland rocked by war, famine, and plague. Fear not: I have come to bring you comfort and peace. I shall restore this land, starting here, in Mordovia, to the greatness that Russia once had. And as a token of my goodwill, I give you the Sleeper.”

At a signal from the Tsaritsa, a shimmering bubble suddenly appeared from the left of the stage, rising up and swelling in size as it floated up towards the Tsaritsa. There were a few screams, and the crowd was on the verge of panic, but the Tsaritsa’s voice suddenly whispered in everyone’s heart. 

DID I NOT TELL YOU TO FEAR NOT? THIS WAS BUT A DREAM, A NIGHTMARE, AND THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO AWAKEN, MY CHILDREN. 

The bubble stopped growing in size, though it was now nearly 20 meters in diameter. The Tsaritsa approached it with a gliding step, then reached out with a single hand, one finger extended. As soon as her finger touched the bubble, it popped as though it had been made of soap. In its place, The Sleeper appeared in his chiseled form. He fell to both knees before the Tsaritsa, arms spread low and wide. 

“My Beloved Queen! You have saved me, awoken me! I am the Sleeper no more!” he cried, his deep baritone full of melodramatic passion. 

Gently, the Tsaritsa bent and kissed the Sleeper’s forehead. “Arise, my Prince. Arise, and reclaim the Motherland in my name.”

The Prince sprang to his feet. “At once, my lady! Show me what beast to slay or what army to fight, and they shall be laid low at once!” 

“Interesting. It’s like a little play,” Yelizaveta commented, leaning in close to Anatoly. “This will make a wonderful copy.”

“You’re recording this?” Anatoly asked, surprised. He hadn’t requested any cameras. 

Yelizaveta chuckled again and patted Anatoly’s arm. “Of course I am, cutie. You said you wanted someone to gather information and spread propaganda, didn’t you? What sort of Witch would I be if I wasn’t casting my magic spell even now? “

Out on stage, the drama continued to unfold, and Anatoly saw that the crowd was utterly enraptured. Was this all it took to entertain the masses? 

“The first decree I will make is this: no longer will my people walk upon a poor road in their own land. I will make straight ,your paths,” the Tsaritsa decreed. 

The people cheered again at that, but they seemed confused, at least until the Tsaritsa spread great wings of ice, and floated up into the air like an icy fairy. 

NO LONGER WILL MY REALM FALL INTO DISREPAIR, the Tsaritsa’s voice boomed, no longer soft and warm, but biting and cold as winter’s heart. WALK NOW UPON THE PATH I MAKE FOR YOU, AND YOU SHALL KNOW MY LOVING EMBRACE.

The Tsaritsa extended both her hands, and from the stage, a thin layer of ice began to flow along the ground. Some people tried to jump out of the way and a few screamed in fright, but they quickly quieted as the ice did them no harm. Instead, it spread along every path and road in the city, paving them over smoothly. When Anatoly inspected the “ice” later, he found that it was not slick like typical ice and was textured enough to easily walk or drive upon. It did radiate a bitter cold, but that was barely noticeable in early January in Russia. 

What it did do was pave over every pothole, fix every crumbling curb, and even prevent natural ice from easily forming on it, as if the road had been salted. When it was analyzed later, it was found to be ice, but not the natural sort. While it was made of water molecules, something had altered the molecular structure such that the Tsaritsa’s ice would never degrade based upon fluctuations in temperature. 

The end result was that with a wave of her hand, the Tsaritsa had repaired and improved every one of Mordovia’s roads in a single moment, even the roads that had been wiped away by the Sleeper’s powers. 

NOW, MY PEOPLE. TAKE UP THE SHOVEL, PICK, AND HAMMER, AND REBUILD THIS CITY! RESTORE IT NOT JUST TO ITS FORMER GLORY, BUT TO HEIGHTS BEYOND ANYTHING THIS WORLD HAS SEEN BEFORE! The Tsaritsa ordered. 

At that moment, a convoy of trucks rumbled up, each of them loaded with lumber, cement, pipes, wiring, and all the other things that would be needed to build houses. There were also empty flatbed trucks, and Anatoly’s men, now the Tsaritsa’s loyal servants, jumped off, and began shouting.

“Workers! Needed here! Strong backs! Eager for labor! Come, and build the Tsaritsa’s kingdom!” 

“Good pay for good labor! Hard currency, copper, silver, or gold, minted by her Imperial Eminence!” 

There was a rapid scramble, and soon, hundreds of men and women were flocking to the recruiters. It had nearly drained Anatoly’s coffers to find this much in precious metals, as the Tsaritsa found rubles to be as worthless as most did, and she refused to use foreign currency. Instead, she had ordered that coinage with her likeness on one side, and a Cryo symbol on the other be minted. She deemed it the “Imperial Ruble,” and if they could continue to produce the coins, Anatoly had a feeling it would soon replace the worthless paper that the various governments that claimed legitimacy printed. The Tsaritsa had agreed that they would need to switch to paper currency instead of precious metals to meet demand, but this initial run was cold, hard, commodity currency. 

“For the rest of you, do not fear,” the Tsaritsa told the other members of the audience. “There will be work for all. None shall want for labor, and all who labor will be fed, clothed, and housed. Serve me, and you shall never know fear and scarcity again.”

To the desperate, poor, and often starving masses, such a populist message was guaranteed to inspire loyalty. Anatoly had more men and women waiting in the wings, and as soon as the construction crews had departed to begin their work, they arrived to begin to recruit people to make clothing, shoes, and various household goods. Most of them would end up being made by hand, as they hadn’t built the factories necessary yet, but the point was to provide jobs, housing, and food.

That last point was tricky, as the harvests in Russia had been poor of late because of the constant warfare and lack of infastructure. Anatoly would soon need to visit his bankers to take out massive loans, and he feared he would need to purchase foodstuffs from foreign markets. A problem he would need to discuss with the Tsaritsa later. 

“Spread word of this, my Witch,” the Tsaritsa said, exiting the stage with the Prince following close behind her. “Let my people know that I am here to love them and provide for them. That is, after all, the first duty of a ruler.”

“As you wish,” Yelizaveta agreed, curtsying gracefully. “What shall they call you?”

“The Tsaritsa,” Anatoly supplied. “Her Imperial Eminence, Bronislava Cocolievna Snezhnaya. The Cryo Archon.” 

“Indeed. For I am the God of Love,” the Tsaritsa agreed. “Let them know of my titles.”

Yelizaveta didn’t straighten but blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the last. 

“You are surprised I claim Divinity?” the Tsaritsa asked. She stepped forward, cupping Yelizaveta under the chin and drawing her slowly up. “Do not be so shocked, my Witch. Here. Let me give you but a taste of that which you crave.”

With her other hand, the Tsaritsa conjured up an apple of frost, which she then proffered to Yelizaveta. 

On seeing the crystal fruit, Yelizaveta began to salivate, and she licked her lips, trembling in anticipation. “Is…is that the Fruit of Knowledge? As in…as in the Garden of Eden?”

“I am unfamiliar with your mythology,” the Tsaritsa said. “But yes. I read a little of your Christian scriptures. He guarded his tree of knowledge. I offer a taste. But know this: Those who eat of my fruit will not surely die. Instead, if they are of great Vision, they may become gods, and live forever.”

Yelizaveta took the fruit greedily. “Say no more, sweetie. I’d risk everything for a bite of that.” Eagerly, she bit into the apple, which suddenly dissolved into a puff of frost. For a brief moment, Yelizaveta looked betrayed and devastated. 

Then her eyes turned a glowing blue.

“AHHHH!” Yelizaveta screamed, clutching at her head and falling to her knees, her eyes staring blankly up at the sky. “AAAHHH! OH GOD! I see…I see…oh merciful heavens. I see it all…”

Frost began to grow from Yelizaveta’s eyes, covering her whole body, until she seemed encased in ice. Anatoly thought she was dead for a moment, until the ice suddenly flowed away from her skin, and into a glowing gem. It looked like a Vision, but it pulsed with an alien light. 

“I name you The Witch of the Apple of Knowledge. Arise, Baba Yaga, and go forth into the world to find forbidden fruit,” the Tsaritsa said. 

Slowly, Yelizaveta got to her feet, a manic grin on her lips, her eyes very wide. One was still pale blue, the other her natural green. “At once, my lady. My god. I will serve you eternally. And love you forever.” 

“Forever is a very long time, my beloved player,” the Tsaritsa said, caressing Yelizaveta cheek. “But I shall hold you to that.” 

With a half manic, half joyous cackle, Yelizaveta kissed the Tsaritsa’s hand, then staggered off to conduct her work.

Anatoly watched her go, his face schooled to careful neutrality. What had just happened? And what service had Yelizaveta done to deserve such a gift?

“Do not be jealous, my Thief. Even if it is in your nature to be so. I am yet growing you a fruit that will open your eyes to the Delusions of this world,” the Tsaritsa breathed into Anatoly’s ear, making him jump. He hadn’t even seen her move across the room. 

“I…I have faith that my work will be rewarded,” Anatoly stammered, shaken by this bold display of divine power. The Prince looked awed as well, his expression full of adoration and worship as he gazed lovingly upon his queen. 

“Never fear that I do not reward service richly. But the fruit I gave to little Liza would not suit you. You do not crave knowledge, do you, my Thief?” the Tsaritsa asked. 

Anatoly swallowed, and shrugged. “Knowledge is power, as they say.”

“Ah, but you do not crave power either,” the Tsaritsa laughed. “When you truly know your own heart… then, perhaps, you will be ready to taste of my power. But not before.”

With that, the Tsaritsa extended her arm to Anatoly, which he quickly took. He escorted the Tsaritsa back to the grand hotel she had claimed as her domain. 

“Tell the rulers of this city I will see them shortly, that they might pledge fealty to me,” the Tsaritsa told Anatoly. “And send word to the mercenary captain as well: Those who are not with me are against me. And those that are against me have no place in my empire.”

He nodded, and fixed his eyes towards the future. What… what, he wondered, was the fruit he truly craved? 

One thing he did know: He would do anything for that sort of favor from his god. 

Eidolon stood at the back of the room, arms folded across his chest as he watched in disbelief at the little play unfolding. The sound quality was subpar, but the visuals were clear enough. Why on earth was one of the most powerful parahumans in existence taking the role of a childhood storybook villain for an alien demon? 

“Is that seriously Sleeper, or just an illusion?” he asked as the Tsaritsa made her little speech.

“That’s really him,” Contessa said, not turning around from her place at the front of the room. “My Path confirms it, as does our aerial surveillance footage and everything else. He doesn’t look anything like Ivan Petrov, but his original body was completely destroyed. Seems like the Tsaritsa made him a new one.”

“Is it a mechanical puppet, like Tsukoyomi is?” Becky asked in turn. 

Contessa waved her hand back and forth in a ‘sort-of’ gesture. “He’s made from a crystalline structure formed of Elemental Energy and the corpse of a shard. He’s a really odd blend of parahuman and Vision Holder now, even if he doesn’t appear to actually have a Vision.”

“Armory agrees,” Hannah said, spinning her shard through her fingers in the form of a knife. “He doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that one of his siblings was killed to form Sleeper’s body.” She paused, cocking her head to one side. “Or, no. He said that Sleeper’s shard was ‘not on the network.’”

“We suspected that Sleeper had one of Eden’s rogue shards before,” Doctor Mother said with a nod. “This confirms it. Now watch.”

Eidolon continued to observe as the Tsaritsa turned the roads to ice and snorted derisively. “It’s a neat trick, but how long will this ice last?” 

“Apparently as long as it needs to. We collected a sample and tried heating it up. It has a higher melting point than asphalt at 100 Celcius, or 212 Fahrenheit,” Doctor Mother said, glancing down at her notepad. 

“You could have just said water’s boiling point,” Eidolon muttered, but jerked a nod. “So she wants to go into construction. Most of the Archons seem to have their own little building projects.” 

“It bodes well that she’s investing in infrastructure. She’s here to build something, not just tear things down,” Wyatt opined. “So far, she seems to be practically ideal for the situation in Russia.”

“As long as she doesn’t want to bring back the Bad Old Days,” Eidolon pointed out. 

“I’m not ready to get into bed with her yet,” Hannah agreed, though the others looked skeptical.

“We’re writing up a threat assessment on her as is standard procedure, but I’m cautiously optimistic,” Doctor Mother said with a shrug. “At the very least, she’s the first Archon to openly confront our opposition. Even if she was forced to submit, she seems to bear a rather significant grudge.” 

“Just be careful you’re not inviting in a snake to chase off the lion,” Eidolon stated, then turned for the door. “I’m heading out on patrol. We’ve got S9 activity again.”

“Oh, David?” Contessa called, and he turned to her. 

“I’ve been Thinking,” she said, and pulled out that stupid eight ball to emphasize the point. “We’ve collected Grey Boy. The only one we really need now is Manton. The others are disposable. And deplorable. Gloves off.”

A slow grin spread over David’s face. “Well. Why didn’t you say so earlier? What changed your mind? No, wait, don’t tell me. It’s your new girlfriend, the ice queen.”

“Not just her. All of them. I think we can do with pruning the garden a bit to get rid of some weeds,” Doctor Mother said. “The Nine are more of a liability than they are anything else, and frankly we don’t need to have them as a blight on our soil. You can take care of them.”

“Glady,” Eidolon growled. He looked around. “Anyone with me?”

“Me,” Hannah said instantly. “I haven’t fought them before, but I’d gladly rid the world of them. I understand the need to compromise, but not with people like that.”

“You two have fun. Call us if you make contact, and we’ll come,” Alexandria said, winking at Eidolon. Wyatt even whistled at him as they left, making Eidolon hunch his shoulders reflexively and stare straight ahead. 

Hannah pursed her lips and glanced behind them, then looked over at Eidolon. “So, where are the Nine right now?”

“Activity in Phoenix,” he said. “Change into civvies. Don’t want to spook them.”

Hannah nodded, and stepped away to the locker room. Eidolon did the same, changing into jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie. It wasn’t exactly cold in Phoenix in the winter, but he wanted to blend in as much as possible. He completed the ensemble with dark glasses, the better to obscure his face. 

Hannah was wearing something similar, though she had on a ball cap with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Interestingly, she had Armory on her hip in an open carry. When she saw Eidolon frown at it, she grinned at him. “Arizona is an open carry state. No one will look twice at a dark skinned woman with a gun. They’ll all assume I’m Latina.” 

Eidolon nodded, then rummaged a bit for a transport power. He grimaced when he found it. “I’ll need to put my hand on your shoulder to teleport us, take a few hops too, this is a weak one, but I don’t want to try again for another.”

Nodding, Hannah stepped in close, putting her arm around Eidolon’s waist. “You know Phoenix well?”

“Well enough,” he agreed, and tried to distance himself from how close she was. He tried not to think about matters of the flesh too often, but it was hard to ignore a beautiful woman this close to him. 

It took them a minute or so to jump to Arizona, with Eidolon slipping between the fabric of spacetime while holding on to Hannah. She didn’t comment, just waited patiently until they reached their destination, a back alley in the downtown area. Eidolon made to separate when they did, but Hannah slipped her arm through his. 

“Better cover if we move as a couple,” she told him. 

There wasn’t much to argue with in that, and besides, it did feel good having her next to him. 

They strode about the city for the rest of the day, Eidolon monitoring local police and cape chatter. There weren’t many people on the street, though Eidolon could see broken glass that was still being picked up, a surefire sign that the Nine were in the area. 

“You know, it’s funny we call them the Nine,” Hannah opined. “They have what, six members at the moment? Jacobs and Greyboy were killed by Glaistig, and they still haven’t replaced Nyx.” 

“It’s easier than trying to remember how many freaks they have at any given moment,” Eidolon said with a grunt. “But they seem to be laying low at the moment.”

Nodding, Hannah glanced around, then pointed to a nearby restaurant. “How does Mexican sound for lunch? I’m starving, and Contessa has the worst taste in junk food for snacks.”

“It sounds…good,” Eidolon agreed, and they walked over to the restaurant, which was open despite the broken windows. Most businesses were closed, but the owners here were willing to brave the Nine. Well, six. 

Despite her comments about junk food, Hannah ordered a pair of chimichangas. Against his better judgment, Eidolon got enchiladas with green sauce, and they sat down with a free order of house made tortilla chips to eat. 

“Mmm, this is much better than what we have in Brockton,” Hannah commented, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Though I bet you have good Mexican food in Texas.”

“We do,” Eidolon agreed. “You know how to tell if the food’s good?”

“If they failed their safety inspection?” Hannah asked with a teasing smirk. 

Eidolon coughed, surprised at the slightly racist comment. But, then again, she just looked like she could be Mexican. “Ah, no. They hand paint their sign. This place did as well. It’s a tradition, and it shows the food’s authenticity.” 

“That makes more sense, but it’s not as fun,” Hannah laughed. 

They ate and made small talk after that, mostly about baseball of all things. Eidolon was an avid fan, and Hannah had fully embraced the sport. The food was surprisingly good, which Eidolon commented on. “This place isn’t bad, we should come back here some time.”

“I’m free most nights. You’re a Noctis too, right?” Hannah asked, even as Eidolon realized to his horror that he’d effectively just asked her out on a date. 

“I…yes. And admittedly, I don’t tend to spend much time finding good places to eat. It’s mostly just working out and fighting crime,” Eidolon admitted. “I’m…not much for socializing.”

“How can you?” Hannah looked down at her mostly clean plate, running her finger through the sauce absently. “We know and see things you can’t talk about with normal people. And Armory isn’t much of a conversationalist. It’s…lonely. I’ve tried dating other capes as well, but…”

“Ah,” Eidolon coughed into his hand awkwardly. He’d never known how to talk to women, even with Thinker powers. “It can be a challenge. You, er, know about-”

“That the others are trying to set us up?” Hannah asked, sticking her finger in her mouth and licking the sauce off. She sighed. “Not the first time I’ve had that happen. Though I admit, the Fuck or Fight drive has worn off on me since Armory started playing nice with my psyche.”

“I never experienced that to the same degree. My Shard is…quieter,” Eidolon admitted. 

“Well, I’m not looking for a date just at the moment, or a fuck. But I wouldn’t mind either down the line. I’d just prefer to get to know you better, and prove myself first. I don’t want to be the girl who rose to the top because she was sleeping with Eidolon,” Hannah said bluntly.

That impressed Eidolon. He’d had more than a few capes, mostly female but a few men, preposition him over the years, and not just heroes. He’d been sorely tempted more than once, and to his shame, more than tempted a handful of times, though never with villains. 

“Sounds good to me. To be honest, I don’t know that the end of the world leaves time for romance,” Eidolon said, and tried not to sound bitter as he thought of Becky and Wyatt. 

“Maybe, but I don’t want to burn out and turn into a bitter old man like Armsmaster, he-

Something twigged at the back of Eidolon’s mind. He always had some sort of ‘Danger Sense’ type power on. It wasn’t telling him he was in immediate danger, but he spun about, eyes fixing to where he sensed a threat coming from. Hannah slid out of her chair and dropped to a knee, her gun flying into her hand as armor suddenly spread up her arm and covered half her torso. 

“That’s new,” Eidolon commented. He didn’t recall her ever being able to conjure up armor before.

“Uh, yeah. New to me too. What the fuck, Armory?” Miss Militia whispered, drawing a stars and stripes bandana out of her pocket and quickly tying it about her face. 

“They’re a mile or two away, but capes are throwing down. Let’s move,” Eidolon said, pulling his mask out of a pocket dimension and slipping it on. It was a waste of a power, but it did look cool, and he didn’t feel right going into battle without it. 

This time, Eidolon flew, with Miss Militia catching a ride on his back, Armory at the ready. They were at the scene of the fight in moments, where several obvious members of the Nine were fighting with a group of local capes. One of the local capes was down already and bleeding, and several buildings were have destroyed. 

“I’ve got a shot,” Miss Militia suddenly announced, aiming Armory in the form of what Eidolon swore was the sniper rifle from Halo. “Hold steady.”

Eidolon obliged, and Armory barked with a report that was definitely the sound of the Halo gun. He’d have to ask about that later. But there was a scream, and Eidolon saw Crimson jerk away from the body, a massive hole in his chest. 

“Finish him off!” Hannah shouted, and Eidolon summoned up a beam weapon. A laser blast took Crimson full in the back, vaporising the rest of his upper torso. Even then, he was regenerating, so Eidolon swooped down. Hannah hosed the villain down with a flamethrower, while he fired more laser blasts. By the time they were done, there was nothing left of Crimson but ash. 

“Well, well, well. That’s now how the game is played at all,” an all too famliiar voice called. Eidolon swore and threw up a barrier, even as he felt a searing pain in his side. He swapped flight for regeneration and fell to the ground to let his wound heal, turning to face Jack Slash. 

“We’re done playing games with you,” Eidolon snarled. Hannah was moving away from him, a carapace of black and green armor covering her body now, and an M16 assault rifle in her hands. Too bad, Eidolon had liked the sci-fi look. 

“That’s too bad, because I’m not done playing with you yet,” Jack laughed. “How about a game?”

“Mister! Mister Eidolon, please, help me!” a girl’s voice wailed, and Jack turned to the side to reveal a young girl with blonde hair and a blue gingham dress. She was tied up, her face streaked with tears and her clothing stained with blood. 

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Hannah said firmly. “Let the hostage go and drop the knife, Slash.”

“Oh, that’s not the game at all! It’s the girl…or your friends,” Jack gestured, and the Siberian appeared with two local Protectorate capes. One was Cachina, a Master with a life sized doll he could control through dance, and the other a Dendro Vision Holder called Saguaro. Both and their heads wrapped in the Siberian’s arms, and were struggling slightly and whimpering as the black and white stripped woman grinned through bloody teeth. 

“Save the kid,” Saguaro rasped. “It’s our job.”

Cachina just looked at Eidolon with dazed eyes, apparently too hurt to give a response. 

Eidolon swallowed, glancing between the girl at Jack’s knife point, and the two capes at the Siberian’s mercy. In all reality, they were both probably already dead. 

“Quickly, quickly. I’m sure you’ve called your friends in,” Jack purred. “I’ve got mine as well, but we got what we wanted here already. A beautiful new art display here in the valley of the sun. I like working with red, you see.”

Eidolon didn’t bother with the banter. He glanced at Miss Militia. She nodded back. The girl. 

Taking two strength enhancing powers to compliment the barrier and regeneration, Eidolon bull rushed Jack even as Miss Militia fired and he put up a barrier between Jack and the girl. 

There was a sick sound, like watermelon’s bursting, and Eidolon gritted his teeth as Cachina and Saguaro’s brains were splattered over the pavement. Somehow, Jack had seen him coming and got out of the way, dodging to the side and slashing at both Miss Militia and Eidolon at the same time, despite the distance. Sparks flew off Miss Militias’ armor and Eidolon grunted in pain, but he could regenerate. The innocent child couldn’t.

Jack was laughing, right up until Miss Militia blew a hole in his chest with her gun. It wasn’t a big hole, just 5.56 NATO rounds, but he didn’t have a healing factor that Eidolon knew of. 

Cackling, the Siberian charged forward, dropping the dead bodies and smeared in gore. Eidolon met her, and the impact was enough to crack the concrete at their feet. The two exchanged blows for a few moments, the violent psychopath laughing hysterically all the while. While Eidolon was certainly one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, parahumans on Earth Bet, what he wasn’t good at was this sort of direct confrontation. His power lay in his flexibility, and locking himself into a slugging match with a Brute like the Siberian was a losing proposition.

Unless, of course, he had back up.

Alexandria hit the Siberian at several times the speed of sound, hitting with all the impact of the sky itself falling. The massive spray of ice at the impact point knocked even Eidolon back, and he’d been ready for the hit, having been keeping track of Alexandria’s location after reporting in on the location of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

“Took you long enough,” he said, exchanging his Brute powers for flight and Blaster powers again, this time some electricity-based ones to work with Alexandria’s Cryo Vision. 

“How was your date?” Alexandria asked, floating up beside him as the Siberian dug herself out of the crater she’d been put into. 

“We had Mexican. And it wasn’t a date. Go,” Eidolon said, and hit the Siberian with a blast of electricity hot enough to turn the air to plasma. 

Alexandria obliged with a hit to the Siberian, fueled by more Cryo. Then it was a proper slugging match, though not one that lasted more than 30 seconds. To Eidolon’s shock, after a particularly earth shattering Cryo infused punch, the Siberian actually popped. 

“Was that you, or me?” Alexandria gasped, panting as the woman vanished, dissipating and reappearing wherever that asshole Manton was. 

“The reaction, I think. I guess her defense can’t handle Superconduct at that level,” Eidolon said, then scanned for Miss Militia. She found her kneeling beside Hero, who was providing first aid to the little girl.

“You alright, kid?” Hero asked. 

“I want my mommy,” the girl blubbered. 

“She’s mostly intact, I’ll take her to the hospital,” Hero said, standing.

“Let me,” Alexandria said, and picked up the girl gently. “You go look for the rest of the Nine. You’ve got better tracking gear.”

With that, Alexandria took off, leaving Eidolon and the others to look for Jack Slash. As usual, the bastard had vanished, with no sign of where he’d gone. They didn’t locate Shatterbird or any of the other members of the Nine, but at least they’d put paid to Crimson. 

“We’ll count that a victory, I suppose,” Eidolon said, and the others nodded.

That night, Eidolon got a call at his apartment. When he picked up, he heard only a laugh, and then two words. “You lose.”

It took him a moment to process it, but when he did, his blood ran cold. He didn’t even call for backup, instead teleporting to Banner University Hospital.

He was too late. Half a dozen horrors were rampaging through the hospital, with most of the staff dead, along with over one hundred patients. The final death toll was nearly 300 killed, and Eidolon took out his frustration by ripping apart the stitched-together horrors, conglomerations of corpses imbued with superhuman strength and durability. 

“Mama Bonesaw sent us to play!” the beasts chanted, formed of sewn-together corpses with forced smiles on their mangled faces. 

“Put out a new Kill Order,” Eidolon told Wyatt when he finally arrived. “That little girl was one of the Nine. Call her Bonesaw.”

He stalked away in frustration. Yet another defeat. How many lives, for just one of the Nine this time? How many more times would they have to do this? He spent the rest of the night hunting down whatever petty criminal capes he could find, and beating them to within an inch of their lives. 

He had to find a way to make this stop. Had to be the hero the world needed. He had to get stronger. Had to fight worthy opponents, so when the day came, he was ready. 

Worthy. I have to be worthy, he told himself as he beat a Breaker who’d been robbing a jewelry store in Austin senseless. 

But a part of him knew that as he was, he’d never measure up to the standard he’d set for himself.