ERA of Challenge #1: Xanatos

[Xanatos]

PART I: THE FORGOTTEN ROGUE
Three Weeks Before the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown

Deep within the Ziggurat Penitentiary, Nicolai Furst sat stewing in his cell. It was located in Delta Wing: a section of the Ziggurat that housed the least dangerous criminals Paragon and the Rogue Isles were capable of producing. Its population was full of has-beens, wannabes, and almosts. They were the villains who never quite made it, and more often than not relied on cheap gadgets and gizmos rather than genuine superpowers. Unlike his peers, Nicolai had genuine super powers. They were just incredibly weak; He was a speedster, but could top out at 60 miles per hour on a good day. He was able to control electricity, but only with the aid of his Zappo-Gun. To top it all off he also had a ridiculous supervillain name: Baron Blitzman.

He wasn't even a real Baron. Although he was German.

To be fair to Baron Blitzman, he was not the worst rogue in the Delta Wing. Some of his peers truly were incredibly pathetic. Had things turned out differently he may have been a successful career criminal in the King's Row circuit. He had more than enough cunning and wit to stand toe-to-toe with most street-level heroes. He'd fought the vigilante Charon several times and had lived to tell the tale. (Albeit with a few bruises and broken bones to show for it.) However, despite all of this, Baron Blitzman had fallen into the sights of one of paragon's more powerful heroes: Xanatos.

Xanatos. Oh how he hated him. That insipid boy scout with his stupid garish blue and yellow costume. Baron Blitzman had first met the ice-wielding superhero back in 2004 during a bank heist gone wrong. It wasn't his plan that failed, it wasn't the bank in question that was too difficult to break into, nor were his henchmen unable to follow his orders explicitly. Rather it was one unfortunate fact that Baron Blitzman could not have anticipated: The bank was empty…it had no money inside. When Xanatos arrived on the scene he found it hilarious. The only thing more hilarious was that it took him less than ten seconds to subdue Blitzman, before carting him off to the Zigg.

"Ten blasted seconds!" shouted Baron Blitzman as he threw a steel chair across his small prison cell. It bounced off the far wall, creating a loud clanging sound that would no doubt disturb the other inmates, "That imbecilic iceman DARED to attack me when my back was turn..."

"Ah put a sock in it Furst, you never had a chance." came a metallic voice from the cell next to his, cutting his rant short.

"Yeah man pipe down, you got taken out like a *****. Just accept it." said another voice, this time from a further cell.

Laughter followed as the inmates of Delta Wing began describing, in detail, how much of a ***** they thought he was. As can be expected, Baron Blitzman flew into a rage, spluttering madly as he ranted against his fellow inmates. Cursing their mothers, fathers, sexual preferences, and ethnicities as he did so. Despite the genuine intent to cause offense, Blitzman's comments did little more than encourage the banter from his fellow inmates. It was 1:34 AM and Delta Wing was wide awake. Admittedly at the expense of the faux-baron.

Before long, the bellowing sounds of two security batons striking steel metal doors could be heard as two tired-looking prison guards ambled their way into Delta Wing. The inmates settled down, none of them wanting to gain the ire of the Ziggurat employees. Delta Wing fell silent; it's long bland hallways as devoid of the sound of life as they were the spirit of it. As the two security guards vanished behind large steel double doors, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but wonder if this place was more like a zoo than a prison.

Shuffling across his miniscule cell, passing the obligatory newspaper cuttings, hit lists, and plans for world domination pinned to his walls, Baron Blitzman picked up the steel chair he had thrown and set it upright. Had it truly come to this? The infamous Baron Blitzman throwing temper tantrums while surrounded by primates? He let out a large sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. Who was he kidding. No-one knew his name. He wasn't infamous. He doubted Xanatos even remembered him.

A twinge of anxiety shot up his back as the image of Xanatos crept into his mind again. Dammed hero. Even in Delta Wing, years after the arrest, Baron Blitzman was still inexplicably angry towards the man that had subdued him. As he moved to his small bed, and fell in a heap pathetically, only one thing burned through his mind.

He would have his chance.

***

Nicolai awoke to the sound of explosions. As he rose groggily from his bed, he could hear and feel the explosions in the distance getting increasingly louder. It was most likely an Arachnos raid. They tended to invade the Ziggurat on a regular basis for fresh recruits. It was something to do with Lord Recluse's "destined ones" programme. The incursions never made it to Delta Wing. Apparently such gems as "The Luddite King" and "Bad Penny" weren't destined one material.

As a groggy Nicolai sat there berating himself, another explosion shook his cell. It was much closer than the last. Confused, he moved under his bed. It may have been a misfire, but Nicolai wanted to be ready in case of any more explosions. As if on cue; a large explosion wracked his cell - tearing the large metal door from its hinges, throwing it across the room and into the wall opposite. The cell now fully exposed to the sounds of sirens and rioting in the distance.

Now buried underneath a pile of rubble, it took what little strength Nicolai had left to pull himself to his feet. As he did so, and as the smoke surrounding the open doorway to his cell began to clear, Nicolai looked upon the image of his would-be saviour. Clad head-to-toe in a suite of demonic-looking power armour, and standing over six feet in height, was the most intimidating man he had ever laid eyes on.

“My name is Sebastian Kain," said the armoured figure, "And I have need of you Nicolai Furst."

[Havok]

great read.

[Xanatos]

PART II: WHO FERRIES THE FERRYMAN?
Two Weeks Before the Attack
King’s Row Cemetery, King’s Row

King's Row Cemetery is not a pleasant place. The graves are largely abandoned and in some cases have been looted, the identities of the deceased long having been forgotten. Foliage grows unchecked, government expenditure not covering those on the lower end of the social spectrum. Even the makeshift iron railings are worn and rusted with age, never having been replaced despite their many years of service. In spite of all this, and undeterred by the terrible weather, a small group of people were slowly shuffling their way out of the graveyard. Though you could not tell from the cheap black suits the majority of the funeral-goers wore, the people leaving were all heroes. Some with super powers. Some with special abilities. Some with mere martial training. All of them here to pay respect to a fallen comrade. In some circles…a fallen icon.

The protector of King's Row was no more. Charon, the bone breaker, had been murdered.

The typical vigilantes had come to pay their respects, clad head to toe in all black and sporting sunglasses at night. (With a few more serious individuals looked on from the shadows and from neighbouring rooftops.) A few more colourful heroes had also had come to pay their respects, still in costume – the praetorian invasion not giving them a moment’s rest. Mr. Mud was there, a long-time foe of Charon’s, more out of duty or obligation than any real compassion towards the fallen vigilante. By his side were two men, one old and sporting a dusty suit, the other wheelchair bound, and wearing a look of pure despair. In the distance, just outside the gates of cemetery, the head of the Paragonian Mafia watched on and smiled. Sebastian Frost was happy, Charon’s antics had cost him a small fortune over the years.

As the assembled heroes began to make their way out of the graveyard, quietly nodding and paying their respects as they did so, two lone figures remained glued in place by the graveside. Their eyes not moving from the headstone in front of them, their fists clenched, their chests rising and falling heavily in the soaking rain. One man stood clad head to toe in a gaudy costume of yellow and blue. The other, almost impossible to identify, stood enveloped by a large billowing brown trench-coat, his face obscured by an oversized duster.

These two men were Xanatos and Joe. Arguably the two closest allies Charon, the bone breaker, had ever had.

They stood side-by-side in silence for what seemed like hours. Neither man could believe their friend and ally was truly gone. Charon had become such a fixture in King's Row, almost to the extent of becoming part of the neighbourhood itself. His tenure as the guardian of the Row was not uncontested, many vigilante's often laid claim to such a title. But none had done so with such selfless sacrifice. Many would-be vigilante's often graduated from the Row, moving on to bigger and brighter things; flashier enemies, bigger stakes, greater rewards. So many of these vigilante-turned-heroes had forgotten the streets that forged them. Not Charon, he could never forget. It didn't matter how many aliens invaded or supervillains tried to destroy the world. He had remained a man of the people. He had remained a man of the streets.

Their minds lost in nostalgia, the two remaining men didn't notice that they were now alone at the gravesite. Alone, save for one another. Eventually one of them spoke, albeit not verbally.

"I can't believe it..." signed Joe, the silence all the more apparent in lieu of his hand movements, "We all knew this day was bound to come eventually. But I still can't believe it..."

"They never found his body Joe." replied Xanatos, his eyes not moving from the tombstone. Apparently his peripheral vision picked up Joe’s signing.

Joe fidgeted nervously. He didn’t like awkward situations. In truth he didn’t really like any social situation.

"No I guess not..." replied Joe, absent-mindedly checking his police scanner with his spare hand, "Did you and Charon make up in the end?"

"No Joe we didn’t,” beneath his mask, Xanatos smiled, “He never forgave me for marrying a reformed villain."

"He was a hero to the end, despite himself." signed Joe. The look in his eyes an odd mixture of spite and respect.

"He was more than that," said Xanatos, now finally turning to face Joe, "He was a role model. It's easy to think you're a god when you have the power to rival Zeus himself. Charon may not have had any super powers but he fought alongside those that did. He trained countless heroes in the Bone Squad over the years. Makis, Icelander, Sable Phoenix...all of these guys and gals with more power than him. Yet he kept them all grounded….“

Xanatos paused, before turning back to the headstone, a strange look in his eyes.

“…He kept me grounded."

Joe smiled as he heard the golden age hero eulogise their departed friend. The rain having long since stopped, he crouched down and placed a gloved hand on the freshly filled-in grave. Almost as if he was searching for a heartbeat.

"He's part of the inspiration behind me retiring from active heroing and forming the Old Guard Academy back in 2009" continued Xanatos, turning and looking towards the exit, "I knew someone had to teach the youngster heroes of today what it means to be a hero. Not just flying high in the sky or travelling to the depths of space, but here in the streets as well. There's a whole generation of heroes with bright futures ahead of them now."

Joe frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his notebook. With his spare-hand he lazily scribbled Xanatos a note and handed it to him.

"Lucky for them. I just buried my best friend."

Once again silence struck them. The two men waited, their eyes affixed on the headstone, their minds withdrawn. Neither man wanted to be the first to say something, nor the first to leave. Pride kept them there. Not mourning, not guilt, not respect. Pride. Pride for their friend borne of anger against his untimely passing.

Eventually Xanatos spoke.

"Be well Joe." said Xanatos as he turned to leave, "I very much doubt we will meet again."

Joe didn’t move. He just let him leave. His right hand, now shaking, still pressed against the mound of earth where his friend now lay.

***

One Day Before The Attack
The Mashu Bridge, Brickstown

Baron Blitzman had never felt so alive. While he had not saved his life in the strictest definition of the term, Sebastian Kain had certainly given Blitzman a new lease on it. And now, as he tore through the streets of Paragon, Baron Blitzman truly felt like he was living for the first time in years.

Baron Blitzman had never been a powerful villain. He was a speedster that could not top sixty miles per hour. He was a man that could control electricity, but only with the aid of a mechanical device known as a zapp gun. Sebastian Kain had changed all that. In only three weeks, Kain had shown him the true extent of his powers. According to Kain, Blitzman had been holding back all these years. His lack of confidence in himself, and him believing he was only a small time crook, led to him subconsciously limiting his own powers.

…But no more! With the help of Sebastian Kain and the many laboratories he owned in Paragon and beyond, Blitzman was now fighting at full strength. He could control electricity and lightning like never before and without mechanical assistance. He could clock in at around 200 million miles per hour - roughly a third the speed of light. The speed was glorious, and Baron Blitzman often found himself in two places at once due to his impressive speed. The increase in power brought with it certain downfalls however, the increased heat due to friction created a build-up of thermal radiation within Baron Blitzman - a power source he was still learning to control.

While he seemed like a guardian angel at first, it soon became apparent that Kain's assistance was not entirely altruistic. Although the bargain was a simple one, and one that Baron Blitzman was more than happy to entertain. Kain was forging an army - a collective of the greatest and most powerful villains in the world. For this he would need a messenger. Someone loyal. And, more importantly, someone fast.

As he sped through Brickstown, the gargantuan form of The Ziggurat looming in the distance, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but smile. He was going to send a message alright.

[RedSwitchblade]

He had more than enough cunning and wit to stand toe-to-toe with most street-level heroes. He'd fought the vigilante Charon several times and had lived to tell the tail

Saw you made an edit or two, but missed that one. Good read.

[Xanatos]

Thanks red, edited it.

[Xanatos]

OOC: Here's part three. This should introduce the last of the main cast of the story. I'm really liking the other "ERA of Challenge" stories that have cropped up. I'm still working my way though some of them, and I must say I'm really liking where all this is going. It's great to see this sort of thing still takes place here.

IC:

PART III: SPAR THE ROD
Day of The Attack
Old Guard Academy, Steel Canyon

The Old Guard Academy is one of the largest buildings in Paragon City. It towers over the majority of the surrounding buildings in Steel Canyon, its large steel exterior an ominous sight for any hero or villain. It was originally constructed in 2009 by Xanatos based on his desire for a building that was grand enough not only to train new heroes, but also to act as a bastion of hope for the entirety of Paragon. While it operated as little more than a school for aspiring heroes and vigilantes, the academy was nevertheless built and designed very much like a modern-day fortress. Reinforced walls, bomb-proofed foundations, impenetrable impervium doors, and bullet proof glass windows were the academy's way of keeping its students safe. And on those rare occasions where the building itself was not sufficient enough to protect its students, there was the security detail. Two hundred heavily armed guards, each one personally trained by ex-Malta espionage veteran Fox Masters. Each one more than an equal to their counterparts in Longbow or Arachnos.

Not to mention...the place was absolutely teeming with super-powered heroes.

While The Old Guard Academy was one of the safest places in Paragon, its students were not averse to getting hurt when the situation warranted it. Because of this, the academy was full of dojos designed for all manner of super powered heroes looking to test their mettle against one another. And today was no exception. The main dojo of the academy, a room nicknamed “The Dungeon” due to the intense training that went on there, was open and humming with life. The dojo mats, dust free and warm in the intense summer heat, were now joined by two young heroes preparing to spar atop them. In the far corner of the room stood the head trainer of the academy; The Imperial. He was smiling.

The Imperial was one of the oldest heroes in the city and was one of Xanatos' closest friends. An aged hero, preserved in his later years by the potent and immortality-inducing magics of the Pearl of Gilgamesh. (An ancient relic he’d discovered many years before he became a superhero.) His battle experience and wisdom were second to none, and it is for this reason that Xanatos offered him the role of head trainer to the future icons of Paragon City. A role he graciously accepted.

Now the Imperial leant lazily against the warm wooden walls of the dojo, smiling to himself as he watched two new hopefuls square off with one another.

One of the heroes was Johnny Turbo, the enigmatic and egotistical speedster. Originally an enforcer for the Marcone crime family, Johnny Turbo later went on to become imbued with superhuman levels of speed after volunteering for one of Dr. Aeon's many experiments in Cap Au Diable. While originally a lone wolf, Johnny later became part of a family of crime-fighters. A family of superheroes that included the man he was now squaring off against. The man known only as...

Rave Spider. A fellow team-mate and ally to Johnny Turbo; Rave Spider is a principled martial artist with superhuman levels of power mimicry. Originally born a mutant, Rave Spider initially had poor control over his powers. After his younger brother was shot, things changed. The shooting shook Rave Spider to his core and set him on a path of self-discovery. A path that has, since the incident, granted him greater control over his superhuman ability to mimic other peoples' powers, and has granted him the level head to know when not to.

The two heroes glared at each other across the dojo. While they were close friends to the point of having a brotherly bond...they were nevertheless very competitive. They were going to spar. They both wanted to win.

"Okay heroes..." said The Imperial, his eyes giving each of them the once-over, "Xanatos was very impressed with what he saw in the two of you. He says you're the best of the new breed. And while I have never questioned his judgement, I'm not so sure I see it..."

Without warning Johnny Turbo interrupted. His usual wit and charm on full display.

"Maybe that's 'cause, like, you're old and you can't see ****."

The Imperial just stopped and glared. Johnny Turbo smiled at him, completely oblivious to the fact he'd just insulted one of the oldest heroes in Paragon City. Rave Spider, mouth hanging open in disbelief, slowly put his head in his hands. After an awkward silence, The Imperial continued talking.

"As I was saying", continued The Imperial, his eyes still lingering on Johnny Turbo, "You two are apparently two of the best this city's got to offer. But I haven't seen you fight." As he said this, The Imperial once again leant back against the wooden wall of the dojo, his hands beckoning them to move to the centre of the floor, "So let me see what you've got."

Johnny Turbo was halfway through yet another a witty retort, no doubt something to do with The Imperial saying "let me see what you've got", when Rave Spider's fist smashed into his mouth, sending him flying backwards into a nearby wall. To his credit, Johnny Turbo recovered well, ricocheting off the wall and leaping towards Rave Spider, his foot soaring through the air as he did so.

Caught completely off-guard, Rave Spider’s head snapped back as Johnny Turbo’s foot connected with his jaw. Surprised as always by the Turbo's speed, Rave Spider was thrown to the ground, the taste of blood thick in his mouth. The setback was only temporary. For as he fell, Rave Spider rolled, braced himself, and with a casual capoeira flip, was back on his feet.

The Imperial nodded in approval. Both men seemed evenly matched. And they hadn't resorted to using powers yet. He beckoned for them to continue.

The two men ran at each other, their arms raised. Rave Spider frowning, Johnny Turbo smiling. They came together like a thunderstorm - the two of them dancing around each other, fists flailing, looking for an opening. While Johnny Turbo was not as accomplished a martial artist as Rave Spider, he was significantly faster. For every punch that Rave Spider landed, Johnny Turbo was able to throw five. The only problem was that none of them were connecting.

The Imperial didn't say anything at first. He studied the two men as they fought. While he himself had no powers of superspeed, The Imperial had fought enough speedsters to know what telltale signs to look for when watching them fight. Sure Johnny Turbo was telegraphing his movements. (He was not a subtle hero by any stretch of the imagination.) But it did appear that Rave Spider was dodging his attacks before he'd even thrown them. The fight continued like this for a while, with Rave Spider wearing Johnny down defensively. It soon became apparent that Rave Spider was using one of the many powers he had collected over the years: clairvoyance. He knew what Johnny Turbo was going to do before Johnny even did it.

"HE'S LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE! THAT'S SO CHEAP!" Complained Johnny Turbo, suddenly angry. "STUPID GAY *** SPIDER! WHY'S THAT YOUR NAME ANYWAY YOU CAN'T WEBSLING OR ANYTHING!"

Apparently Johnny Turbo had figured it out also. Once again The Imperial shook his head in disbelief. Considering he was the fastest man in Paragon, Johnny Turbo could certainly be slow at times.

"Johnny, stop creating a future where he is able to dodge," said The Imperial, raising his hands in the air with exasperation, "You're a speedster. Limit him."

Realising the old guy might be talking some sense; Johnny Turbo decided to go for it. He pushed himself to his limit; as fast as he could go. Ten, twenty, thirty punches per second. Eventually his fists were moving so fast that the only future Rave Spider's clairvoyance was able to show was one where he was being punched in the face. While Johnny Turbo was not particularly strong, he was throwing his opponent around like a rag doll with pure kinetic energy. He was winning.

Eventually Johnny Turbo stopped to pose and deliver a witty one liner. This gave Rave Spider the split second he needed to compose himself. Closing his eyes briefly and inhaling deeply, Rave Spider used his powers of superhuman empathy to absorb and mimic Johnny's speed. When he opened his eyes, Rave Spider saw a very content looking speedster charging at him, leg raised, fully intent on knocking him out. It was only when his overly dramatic finishing manoeuvre missed that Johnny Turbo realised something was not quite right. When his second attack missed he went awkwardly silent and studied Rave Spider with suspicion. When his third attack missed his face became contorted into a mixture of horror and pure rage. It was most certainly not Turbo Time.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE IN THIS CITY HAVE SUPERSPEED? THAT'S LAME!" complained Johnny Turbo as he began to whirlwind around the room, tearing up the floorboards as he did so.

As the two heroes continued to fight at superhuman speeds, each one trying to outthink the other at many hundreds of miles per second, the doors to the dojo swung open, causing the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Thinking they were under attack, and with all pretence of competition and complaint swiftly forgotten, the two heroes stopped fighting. They stood side-by-side, eyeing the tall man now wading confidently into the room. Despite their exhaustion, the two young heroes were ready for a fight. However, when they saw who it was, they breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Xanatos.

Judging from the expression painted across his features, he was not happy.

"Heroes, suit up," Said Xanatos, looking at each of the three heroes in turn, nodding sternly as he did so, “There's been an incident at the Ziggurat."

The Imperial nodded and reached to his belt, his hands hovered over the buckle for a brief moment, before his entire body disappeared with a blinding flash. Another flash later and he was clad, head to toe, in his trademark purple and gold spandex. His famous war mace, The Sceptre of Kings, firmly clenched in his right hand. He stared at Xanatos, his deep voice echoing around the now heavily damaged dojo.

"Who's broken out?"

Xanatos exhaled and turned towards the door, his footsteps pounding against the wooden floorboards of the dojo as he did so. Reaching the doorway, he glanced back over his left shoulder, clenching his fists. He didn't meet The Imperial's gaze. But he did respond, coldly.

"Everyone."

[Xanatos]

PART IV: BLITZMAN’S BIG BREAK
Day of the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown

It had taken Baron Blitzman a full twenty minutes to overcome the Ziggurat security detail. While that may seem like an incredibly short time, to a speedster it is a lifetime. Blitzman had been playing carefully. Sebastian Kain had given him a layout of the security systems in the Zigg, and Blitzman had stealthed his way past them all. Cameras he disabled, guards he silenced, and computer systems he simply shut down. By no means was the Ziggurat was an easy place to break into. Indeed, it often took entire fleets of Arachnos fliers just to break out half a dozen inmates. But when you combine the speed of Baron Blitzman, with the cunning of Sebastian Kain…anything was possible. And right now, the faux Baron was proving that point oh so clearly. Blitzman was breaking out everyone he could. And he was loving very moment of it.

Stood, triumphant in the foyer of Delta Wing, Blitzman couldn’t help but let out a wry grin as he gazed around his former home. All around him lay the burnt and smouldering corpses of prison staff, policemen, heroes, and a couple of inmates that he didn't like the look of. They had tried to stop him. He had killed them all dead in seconds, his powers of electricity and lightning frying the poor suckers. He hadn’t forgotten. For seven years he'd rotted in his cell here. Seven dammed years. And now here he was; Fires blazing around him, inmates running amok, prison staff being slaughtered, store-rooms being raided. It was glorious.

The low class villains of Delta Wing had finally taken flight. And it was a marvellous site to behold.

Feelin sad at having to leave Delta-Wing for the first time in his life, Blitzman turned tail and sped deeper into the prison. He smiled again, noticing the rioting inmates and general chaos they brought with them had spread to the rest of the Ziggurat. All around him sirens blared and bullets fired as the hastily retreating prison staff tried desperately to get the situation under control. Unfortunately for them, Baron Blitzman was the situation. He had been sent to the Ziggurat with a specific list of people he had to break free. They were an odd bunch; they varied in power levels, names, and even themes. But they all had one thing in common: they were enemies of Xanatos.

As he reached his destination, a wing of the Ziggurat so secretive it didn’t even have a code-name, Blitzman cackled evilly as he noticed nearly every cell door hanging open. It appears the “big bads” had wasted no time in breaking free.

Baron Blitzman looked down the list and smiled. Checking off each empy cell as he passed them.

Emperor Xanatos...Check
[Classified]...Check
Showtime...Check
Powerlaser...Check
Vegas...Check
Lord Morcalivan...Check
Paniac...Check
Devil...Check
Professor Ape...Check
Revolver II...Check
Face-Lift...Check
Water Wizard...Check
Daggeroth...Check
Kid Vamp...Check
Galacton...Check
Cable...Check
Cackle...Check
Chimera II...Check
Tactic...Check
The Harbinger...Check
Rakescar...Blank

Baron Blitzman looked up from the list to the cell now in front of him. On the door was written "Tyler Preston". Inside was what appeared to be a frozen demon of some kind. Its skin looked to be made of solid stone. About its hulking body was a tattered prison jumpsuit, stained with blood clearly not belonging to the creature. Blitzman didn't like the look of this inmate...he'd heard rumours about Rakescar. He was unstable. Incredibly powerful. A liability. A demon. A god. A sick ******* from all accounts.

"I don't think we need you," Said Baron Blitzman, crossing Rakescar's name off the list "ERA isn't a halfway house for freaks like you."

Rakescar said nothing. Frozen as he was by the sub-zero temperature of his cell. But despite his immobility, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but notice the Golem glaring at him.

"So creepy,” Said Baron Blitzman as he went back to checking the list.


***


"We'll take it from here officers."

The steely words of the ice-cold avenger caused everyone in the Ziggurat courtyard to pause for a moment as Xanatos touched down. Following behind him was The Imperial, another icon of the city, his gold and purple costume inspiring hope in the tired looking men around him. The presence of these two heroes almost certainly assured the guards that the prison riot was over for the most part. It would be contained. It would be controlled. The belligerent prison guards would soon be able to go home and rest.

Xanatos and The Imperial’s arrival clearly sparked pangs of desperation in the remaining escapees. For no sooner had the two heroes' feet touched the ground than one hundred convicts erupted violently out of the prison entrance towards them. The desperation in their eyes matched only by the pure verbal rage they spewed towards the prison guards. They moved like savages. Slaves, finally free from their masters and anxious to enact just retribution.

The makeshift barrier the prison guards had erected outside the main entrance of the Ziggurat was unlikely to hold the inmates back for long, despite how well armed the guards were. The Imperial knew this, and he knew that lives would be lost if he did not act fast. Without a second thought, the golden age hero leapt into the air with the grace of a free-flying bird, soaring over the small criminal army. As the mob looked up, they could not help but admire the hero in his elegance. The admiration turned to fear however, as the bulky form of The Imperial began to plummet towards them.

Xanatos smiled as his friend touched down in the centre of the crowd of convicts. His landing creating a small explosive shockwave that knocked each of them from their feet. As the familiar sight of Orange jumpsuits flailing through the air met his gaze, Xanatos decided it was time to enter the fray. He moved quickly to The Imperials side and, wordlessly, the two men adopted a classic fighting stance back-to-back. They had fought alongside each other for so many years that they hardly needed to communicate when in battle, least of all for something as small as a prison riot. Both men were armed. The Imperial with his magical war mace The Sceptre of Kings. Xanatos with a makeshift ice-sword.

As the inmates groggily found their feet, eyed the two heroes, and ultimately charged towards them, Xanatos couldn't help but grimace. The inmates were hopelessly outclassed. These criminals possessed no powers. They were the thugs, the mooks, and the henchmen of the real villains. They were little more than pawns in the game of crime within Paragon City. While they fought with all the vigour and courage they could summon...tey lasted less than five minutes against the combined might of Xanatos and The Imperial. For two men used to fighting cosmic villains and battling hordes of Nazis, a hundred or so escaped convicts were little more than simple sport.

As Xanatos froze the last of the escaping inmates in place, the leader of the prison guardsmen ran forward, his radio abuzz with static from the Ziggurat's interior.

"The supers are all in there..." said an exhausted looking prison guard, pointing into the Ziggurat, "...s-someone is teleporting them out from INSIDE!"

"Maintain your position friend," said The Imperial, before gesturing to the the large groups of unconscious inmates around him, "And get these prisoners somewhere safe."

"Leave the capes to us, son" said Xanatos, before giving the prison guard a thumbs up, "Good job!"

Again, without a word, the two heroes flew full-pelt into The Ziggurat.


***


"That's the last of them," said Baron Blitzman as Showtime stepped through the makeshift portal. Blitzman's benefactor, the infamous Sebastian Kain, had managed to hijack several of Portal Corp's interdimensional portals. Baron Blitzman was now using them to tunnel Xanatos' Rogues Gallery out of the Ziggurat. Well, all of them save one special person. An old enemy of Xanatos. One he had not seen for many many years.

As Baron Blitzman stepped into the portal himself, he risked a glance backwards to admire his handiwork. Sure enough in the distance, barely visible, were the iconic forms of Xanatos and The Imperial hurtling towards his position. While he was a powerful villain, Blitzman knew he couldn't take both of them at once. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to. With a wicked grin and a casual wave, he closed the portal behind him.

Xanatos and The Imperial arrived on the scene mere moments after the portal snapped shut, taking with it Baron Blitzman and the rest of the escapees. A loud electrical *POP* resonating around the solid steel interior of the superhuman prison, as Blitzman’s grinning face was burned into the two heroes retinas. Glancing around the silent prison, Xanatos noticed nearly every cell door was swinging wide open, with the bodies of police officers, and lesser villains that had died in the escape, strewn all across the hallways.

"Stars and stripes!" said Xanatos, his face awash with anger, "We're too late!"

The words barely out of his mouth, two steel doors slammed down shut behind him. Locking him and his closest living ally in place.

"It appears we have walked into a trap my friend," said The Imperial as he tossed his war mace, the sceptre of kings, idly from hand to hand, "Be on you guard."

A loud, deep, bellowing laugh lit up the eerie silence of the prison hallway. Resonating as it did so, with all of the empty cells.

The laugher died down. And Xanatos heard a voice that chilled him to his very core.

"Hello old friend."

"Who goes there?" bellowed The Imperial, clutching the sceptre of kings in his right hand and raising his left in front of him defensively.

From the darkness of the decrepit prison lurched a giant of a man. Each of his footsteps causing the hallways to tremble slightly against the raw magnitude of his power. After what seemed like a small age, the gargantuan man spoke, stepping into the flickering light as he did so.

"I go by many names hero," said the fiend, his all white eyes burning with furious energy, his muscles taught and ready for combat, "But you may call me Sovereign".

[Xanatos]

PART V: When Giants Collide
Day of the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown

Eight years. It had been eight years since Xanatos last saw Sovereign. No mere name. More a title, a birthright. A being of pure evil. A time-travelling terror from the year 5404 AD. Sovereign was, without doubt, the most powerful villain Xanatos had ever fought.

The two had first met in 2002, not long after Xanatos founded a supergroup known as The Defenders of Paragon. The group had been in action a mere year before Sovereign first came into conflict with them. He killed them in droves. The likes of Tomorrow Man, Titan, Eagle-Eye, Magestar, Toxin, Wildfire, Garbage-Man, Shadow Star, Shrike, Godly-man, and many others. The monster had his motives. Time-travelling villains always do. But rarely do they matter in the present moment. And in this present moment, all that matters is that the barbaric behemoth, capable of butchering battalions of brave heroes, now stood face-to-face with Xanatos and The Imperial. Two of the most powerful heroes on the planet. Two men hopelessly outclassed.

The first blast happened in an instant. The taunts of the wicked warrior turned to whispers in the wake of the resulting explosion. Xanatos was thrown backwards as the blast connected with his chest - slamming him into an empty prison cell. That old familiar pain; the burning and despair that came with it. A hole in his costume. The first of many to come.

"Imperial get down!" Roared Xanatos as another beam hurtled towards his oldest living ally. In the distance Sovereign remained stock still, a sadistic smirk lighting up his fearsome features.

The Imperial did not dodge however. He was one of the old school. The ones who liked to take a licking and keep on ticking. With a manoeuvre one part skill, one part experience, and both parts superhero, the golden age grandpa met Sovereign's beam with a weapon of his own: The weapon of legend renown enough to rival the old man himself: The Sceptre of Kings.

Mace met beam to the thunderous applause of prison cell doors, as they rattled back and forth on their hinges in the dark empty prison. Empty, save for the two icons now fighting for their lives against a monster more than capable of taking them.

Xanatos, now having found his feet, once again joined Imperial's side. Together they stood as one, and charged, pale faced, into death's open arms.

Sovereign responded in kind, slamming his hands together violently; sending a shockwave of energy towards the two heroes. Xanatos reacted first, using his powers of flight to soar above it. The Imperial reacted slightly slower, dodging under it, his gray whiskered face inches from the shockwave of destruction.

The two heroes continued their charge unabated. And with momentum on their side, they crashed into Sovereign.

This was going to be their one shot at ending the fight on their terms.

This was going to be their only shot.


***

Day of The Attack
Old Guard Academy, Steel Canyon

"Rave Spider?"

Sat, exasperated, in the damaged dojo of the Old Guard Academy, were the two superheroes known only as Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo. They had been told to stay behind. To watch over the students. To house sit. Despite all of their collective power and ability, they had been placed on monitor duty. It had been tremendously boring. But if the buzzing from Rave Spider's comm-link was any indication, things were about to get interesting.

"Rave Spider are you there?" said the monotone robotic voice at the other end of the line.

Without turning away from the card game, Rave Spider pressed the receiving button on his comm link.

"This is Rave Spider, who is this and what do you want?"

"This is Joe,” said the robotic voice. It sounded almost panicked in tone despite being obviously synthesised, "There has been a breakout in the Ziggurat."

There was a pause.

"According to reports from Paladin and other heroes operating in the Steel Canyon district; every single one of Xanatos's enemies are heading in your direction."

In unison, both Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo dropped their cards.

"What's their ETA?" Said Rave Spider as he hauled himself to his feet. He began to crack his knuckles as he checked around the room idly.

A sudden loud bang answered Rave Spider's question. The explosion was so loud and so powerful that the Old Guard Academy had actually started shaking. Apparently the rogues had arrived, and they were already causing havoc. Despite this, Joe continued to answer in his robotic monotone voice:

"Five minutes ago,"

Rave Spider narrowed his eyes. This was not good. He looked over to Johnny Turbo. Despite the gravitas of the situation, Johnny had taken the opportunity to pick up Rave Spider's cards and look at them.

"Johnny?" said Rave Spider.

"Sup!" Said Johnny Turbo mock-innocently, slyly putting the cards back down on the ground. Etched across his features was a poker face Sonata himself would be proud of.

Rave Spider shook his head, smiling. No matter how grave the situation, Johnny could always make him laugh.

"Take my hand Johnny." said Rave Spider, offering it.

There was an awkward pause as Johnny Turbo eyed Rave Spider with as much contempt as he could manage. The look on his face reminiscent of a child not wanting to eat his vegetables.

"Dude…gay." Said Johnny Turbo, who placed his hand, hesitantly, in his friend's regardless. As he did so, Rave Spider's eyes glowed a dull orange. He was able to mimic powers, and he would need Johnny's superspeed for what was about to go down.

"Okay Joe," said Rave Spider as he and Johnny Turbo sped out of the dojo and into the Academy proper, "What do we need to do?"


***

Day of The Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown

The police line outside of the Ziggurat was still in position, guns trained on the single entrance to the prison. No-one got in or out except via this entrance. (Or at least, that is what was usually the case.) Today was going to be an exception. High above the policemen, three super powered beings blasted their way out of the side of the Ziggurat; showering the area with rubble as a hole roughly the size of a wrecking ball was blown outward through the thick prison walls.

The three beings slammed into the concrete streets of Brickstown with a thunderous crack. Each of them rolling as their bodies made impact, carried forward by the momentum of their descent. Xanatos was the first to his feet, turning briskly to the policemen. Policemen that were still watching, guns trained, completely dumbstruck.

"Run!" roared Xanatos, all pretence of superheroics gone from his voice. It was pure survival at this point.

As if to prove his point, a loud laugh echoed from behind him, as the gargantuan form of Sovereign raised itself to its feet. His eyes burned a bright red, little fires dancing in the rapidly approaching moonlight. The Imperial was unconscious somewhere, though Xanatos couldn't see him.

"Impressive hero," said Sovereign as he walked slowly forwards, "But not nearly impressive enough."

With speed deceptively quick for a beast of his size, Sovereign was upon Xanatos, his right fist connecting with the golden-age hero's chin like a freight train. Xanatos was thrown backwards by the indefensible attack, his body slamming into, and through the wall of, the nearby Architect Entertainment building. His body continued to be thrown backwards through the foyer, before crashing into the reception desk and coming to an abrupt halt.

"R-run..." Xanatos managed weakly as the Architect Entertainment staff looked on in horror. In the distance, Sovereign was swatting aside police drones as he lumbered forwards towards the fallen hero.

The pitter-patter of footsteps flooded Xanatos's ears as the AE staff began to scramble for their lives. Within minutes the building was empty - not a single person had stopped to help him or see if he was okay - collapsed as he was on the broken remains of what had once been the reception desk. The building now evacuated, Xanatos pulled himself to his feet, ice already forming around his hands and arms as he prepared to take on Sovereign by himself. As he finally found his feet, the lumbering form of the demi-god was standing there before him. A wicked snarl painted across his features.

"Die," said Sovereign simply, as he fired a beam of pure dark matter at Xanatos's chest from point blank range. The blast struck home, sending the hero flying backwards. Not wanting to prolong the fight, Sovereign immediately created a wall of solid energy behind Xanatos, causing the hero to collide into it and come to a crashing halt.

Xanatos fell to the floor weakly. He was undoubtedly one of the most powerful heroes on the planet, but he was little more than a child compared to Sovereign. As he pulled himself to his knees, another energy blast struck his shoulder, laying the hero flat out on his back. He blacked out for a moment, it was only seconds, but it was seconds enough for Sovereign to close the gap between them. As he came to, Xanatos felt a large boot connect with the side of his ribcage, cracking several bones, and sending him flying into another wall. As brick, mortar, and glass showered the broken hero, Sovereign looked on unimpressed.

He was growing bored.

Sovereign sauntering over towards Xanatos, a hero so broken he could barely stand. And with the nonchalance of a demagogue, he picked the hero up by his neck, holding him aloft with one large hand clasped tightly around his throat.

Xanatos's body began to shake and convulse as Sovereign began to squeeze...

[Havok]

awesome

[Xanatos]

PART VI: The Icon
Day of The Attack
Seven Gates District, Brickstown

Xanatos's vision began to blur. He was losing focus. Sovereign had the strength to snap the hero's neck in an instance. Why was he killing him slowly? Ah of course. It was simple; He wanted to watch him die. He wanted to watch the very essence of his soul slip away from his body piece by piece. He wanted confirmation that the blue-eyed boyscout was gone. That the iced wonder was no more. That the hero himself had ceased to be.

Unfortunately, Sovereign had forgotten about the OTHER blue-eyed boyscout: The Imperial. And as Xanatos slowly went limp in the grasp of his enemy, the burgundy and gold form of The Imperial hurtled towards Sovereign at breakneck speeds. His war mace, the Sceptre of Kings, held firmly in his right hand. His left hand clenched so hard that calluses had begun to form. The Imperial was out for blood.

The old man collided with the beast with the force of a freight train. As he did so, he wrapped his arms around him, carrying them forwards together. Sovereign was not prepared for the attack and, dropping Xanatos idly, he was thrown backwards by the force of the assault. The Imperial kept a hold on the demon, his arms forming a vice-like grip around the demi-god's midsection, as he flew the two of them forwards - ploughing through wall after wall of building after building. The attack began to weaken Sovereign, but not by much.

The assault slammed to a halt as the two superhumans ploughed into the Rikti War Wall. The powerful bristling energy field immediately sending them both cart-wheeling downwards into the unforgiving concrete streets of Brickstown. Two small craters formed as The Imperial and Sovereign crashed into the ground. The force of their impact shaking the Seven Gates district. Yet, no sooner had they touched down, than they were back on their feet again. Trading blows that would have killed lesser men, their costumes hanging in tatters, their eyes glowing with the raw magical and otherworldly energy that each of them was throwing back and forth.

"This ends now villain!" said the Imperial, as his fist connected with the monster's jaw with a sickening crack.

"I believe you are correct old man..." replied Sovereign as he lashed out at The Imperial, tearing at his costume with one beastly hand, while the other ripped off his belt, "Ah, what have we here?"

The Imperial took several steps backwards; Sovereign had done his homework. His belt contained a magical item known as the Pearl of Gilgamesh. It granted him his immortality, healing factor, and immunity to most forms of physical damage. He had originally found the Pearl in a deep catacomb underneath Salamanca back in 1942, and it was said to have granted those that could unlock it the powers of Gilgamesh himself. It was one of The Imperial's most treasured possessions.

Sovereign cared little for the item’s prestigious history, and with the indifference of a god, crushed the Pearl of Gilgamesh into dust. It’s pure white essence devoured by the brutal dark energy that pulsed through his hands.

The effect was instantaneous. The Imperial began to glow a dull white as the powers of Gilgamesh slowly seeped away from his body. Long term exposure to the Pearl over the years had allowed him to retain a lot of its powers internally, but now that the Pearl was destroyed he was fighting on borrowed time. His reserves could only last him so long. He could feel his healing factor slip away, the wounds he had sustained so far suddenly becoming more apparent and more real. His immunity to physical damage was also leaving him, and for the first time in years The Imperial could feel the wind against his skin.

But all was not lost. For while most of his powers now fled his body, he still had one more trick up his sleeve: The Sceptre of Kings. It was not only a weapon of magical renown, but it was also the source of his superhuman strength. While his now very human hands might break from the contact, The Imperial was still able to punch as hard as he ever had. And he was betting that Sovereign didn't know this.

"Do not be disheartened old man, you fought well..." said Sovereign as he cockily sauntered over to The Imperial, "...certainly better than that imbecile Xanatos."

As Sovereign moved closer and closer, The Imperial grabbed the sceptre all the more tightly. He was crouched down low, feigning defeat, feigning injury, luring Sovereign to him. He couldn't survive a direct assault from the monster; finesse was the name of the game now. While it would almost certainly destroy him to do it - he only needed one shot. Just one shot to end this.

"I do not know why Baron Blitzman chose to break me free from the Ziggurat," said Sovereign, suppressing laughter as he said the rogue's name out loud, "But I am certainly very grateful."

The Imperial said nothing. His eyes faced the floor but in the corner of his vision he spied a weak spot in Sovereignl the demon had no fighting stance. His arms hung by his sides lazily as he strode forward. He was completely unprotected. The Imperial waited patiently until the shadow of the beast enveloped him entirely. He looked up, feigning weakness, into the eyes of his enemy.

"Consider your death at my hands an honour," said Sovereign, as he raised his right hand, now pulsing with raw cosmic energy, above his head.

"And the same to you...villain"

The world stopped as The Imperial leapt, with what little stamina he had, at the beast. His right hand holding the Sceptre of King's aloft. He seemed to glide through the air for an eternity, his tattered gold and burgundy costume draped about him as he did so. His sceptre sailing through the air, every bit his last chance at victory. His eyes closed, his teeth grit, his heart in his throat. This was The Imperial's final play.

And it was to be his greatest. For the sceptre connected to Sovereign's head, followed thereafter by a sickening "crack" as the force of the attack snapped the creature's neck instantly. As he died, Sovereign's face was a mixture of confusion and fear. He had thought himself invincible. But The Imperial, weakened now more than ever, had beaten him. As the villain's large hulking form slumped inelegantly to the floor, one thing became apparent.

The beast was dead.

The Imperial fell to the floor, exhausted. His mind dizzy with relief. Beside him, The Sceptre of Kings rattled across the concrete as he let it go. His injuries were many, and his vision was blurred, but he was alive. As he sat in the ruined Seven Gates district of Brickstown, The Imperial felt a strong hand firmly grip his shoulder. It said all it could. It was approval, despite the apparent murder of the beast. It was support when he most needed it. It was a friend in a City of Villains. It was Xanatos.

"Good work my friend..." said Xanatos as he eyed the deceased supervillain that lay unceremoniously on the concrete, "You did what I was never able to."

No words were exchanged. The death of any creature, no matter how evil, was not something these heroes took lightly. And as the two heroes stood in silence, reminiscing over the battle that had very nearly claimed both their lives, Xanatos' comm-link began to burst with life. Reports from all over the city were coming in thick and fast. The escaped convicts, united behind a mysterious leader, were wrecking the city. And at the heart of their campaign of terror was Xanatos' HQ - The Old Guard Academy. Even now, as the two heroes stood and caught their breath, many young heroes were fighting for their lives in the hallowed halls of Xanatos' school for heroes.

"Go to them," said The Imperial as he leaned backwards against a nearby building, his injuries masked by a disarming grin, "They need you."

Xanatos said nothing. He clearly did not want to leave his friend in such a vulnerable condition, but the city was falling to pieces and he had little choice. Still, he hesitated. His eyes met The Imperial’s.

"Go!" said The Imperial as he pushed Xanatos fiercely, "I will be alright, you needn’t worry about me old friend!"

Xanatos nodded solemnly and, without looking back, shot upwards into the night sky.

***

Throughout The Old Guard Academy siren's blazed. The powerful front gates had been torn apart by explosive devices, and the few remaining members of the security detail were doing their best to hold back the horde of villains and rogues that now descended upon the fortress-like school. Young heroes hid in dojos and classrooms, holding each other and fearing for their lives. The few remaining teachers; experts in their areas of superheroics, but rusty when it came to in-field action, did what they could to protect their charges. Though they too were scared witless.

Xanatos's Rogues gallery had arrived. ERA had arrived.

And leading them was perhaps the most dastardly rogue of them all…Baron Blitzman.

As the last of the security detail was cut down by a villain wielding a wicked looking Katana, the villains began to pour into the academy. Their savage grins matched only by the gaudiness of their costumes. Too many to name individually. Too many different powers and gimmicks to even hope to recall. Far too many to defeat.

And stood before them, the last hope for the academy, was Rave Spider. In his ear, as ever, was Joe. Informant to the heroes of Paragon City.

"Okay guys this isn't going to be as tough as it looks. Other than Baron Blitzman, none of the big name villains seem to be here." Said Joe into the comm-links of Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo as they stood, side by side, against the oncoming horde, “Longbow, S.E.R.A.P.H., and Portal Corps are all trying to lock onto your location to teleport you out…but it’s going to take a while.”

Rave Spider said nothing. He just clenched his jaw shut and prepared for battle. Johnny Turbo on the other hand, was looking in the opposite direction.

"Don't even think about running Johnny." said Rave Spider, his eyes set on the villains who were still moving towards them. (The Old Guard Academy foyer being conveniently large enough for drawn out exposition.)

"I'm not," said Johnny Turbo as he pointed behind him, "Rave...look..."

Glancing backwards, Rave Spider saw that the younger heroes and teachers had gathered behind him and Johnny Turbo. They were not running. They were not going down without a fight. Despite the fear in their eyes, they were not prepared to simply roll over to the first villain that came knocking. As Rave Spider glanced across a sea of young heroes he saw a few faces he recognised, a lot of interesting costumes, and not a single person with the slightest inclination to back down.

"Then it's settled," said Rave Spider, as flames began to dart around his arms, "Follow me newbies."

And with that, the heroes charged to meet the oncoming horde.

***

As Xanatos disappeared into the distance, his yellow and blue form engulfed by the dark grey rainclouds, The Imperial took stock of his situation. His wounds were not life threatening, but they were serious. He needed to get to a hospital. Fortunately Brickstown Infirmary was not far from his location. And so, with strength apparently from hidden reserves, the old man pulled himself to his feet and began to amble along the sidewalk. He staggered, leaning on the many damaged buildings for support as he journeyed onwards.

As he walked his vision began to falter. Without the Pearl of Gilgamesh his old age had now caught up with him. Everything was a blur, nothing was in focus. Perhaps it was due to his injuries as well? The Imperial was not sure. But within moments the solid architecture of Brickstown had transformed into ethereal and translucent swirls of energy. A dull ache began to pulsate in the back of his head. Suddenly strange colours began to wisp around him, through him, and beyond him. He felt like he was floating on air. The heaviness of his footsteps replaced by an unnatural lightness. The pain from his injuries replaced by a warm friendly numbness. He shook his head several times but it did not remove the sensation. Nor did it prepare him for what was about to happen...

"Hello my love"

The Imperial pivoted, as quickly as one can in a euphoric state, to meet eyes with Eleanor: His wife. As she stood by his side, that familiar smile on her face, that alluring look in her eyes, that reassuring hand on his arm, The Imperial knew what was happening. He had not seen Eleanor for many years. And his heart jumped at the sight of her. There was a great sadness in meeting her, but it was met with a great joy. Oh how he had missed her.

"I-is this real...?" said The Imperial, his strong hands shaking slightly as he tried to hold her. His arms passing through her ethereal form as he did so. "Oh how I have missed you..."

Eleanor just smiled. It was a smile that was just for him. It was a smile that was entirely his. As he looked on her lovingly, the surrounding swirls of colour began to take shape. Twisting and cavorting as they did so, until they formed bookshelves, desks, walls, chandeliers, and many various items from an era long since passed. The explosion of colour was surreal and wonderful. And it was only when the colours stopped that The Imperial realised where they were. They were in the library in which they had first met all those years ago.

Before he could say anything she was upon him. Her ethereal form suddenly tangible, her arms wrapped around him as they embraced. Ghostly tears streaming down her porcelain-like face. He closed his eyes, thankful for peace at last. He was ready to move on. All he wanted in the world was the woman he held, for the first time in decades, in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to be with her. The embrace continued for what seemed like hours, his arms around her, holding her, cherishing her. Eventually though, Eleanor's hands began to move. They rose upwards over The Imperial's arms, tenderly touching his wounds, careful not to harm him, but rather provide him comfort in his weakest moment. He smiled as she did so, as her hands came to a slow halt – each one placed daintily on the old man’s rugged and weathered cheeks. She cradles his head in her hands, and in his eyes she saw only love.

"I love you Eleanor," said The Imperial, the warm numbness returning as he struggled to stand. His wounds would soon get the better of him. But at least she was here in his final moments.

"Goodbye my love," said Eleanor, tears covering her pretty face, as she slowly, almost reluctantly, moved her hands around his throat. “I am so sorry…”

His eyes poured into hers as she began to choke him. Despair, upset, anger, but most of all pain. Why was she doing this? Had he failed her? Did she not want to be with him in the afterlife? Did she blame him for her death all those years ago and now, at the time of his death, was she finally exacting her revenge? All of these questions seemed plausible, and The Imperial would never know the answer to them, for try as he might, the numbness in his limbs forbade him from moving against her. His arms were heavy, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He fell to the ground, his aged mouth gasping for air as his lovers hands were still gripped, vice-like, around his neck.

But at that very last instance. As he felt his life force slipping away. As he felt the hands of his former lover finally granting him the freedom he had longed for all the long years of his life, The Imperial found a strange stillness. The great unknown threatened to engulf him, and in his own way he embraced it. In his own way, in the final moments of his life, The Imperial knew that the creature throttling the life out of him was not Eleanor. It could be any number of things. But it was not her. And for that reason alone; Alastair Victor Cromwell, The Imperial, was at peace.


***

Phanto crouched, straddling The Imperial, his gloved hands wrapped around the golden age hero's neck. He held tight, for fear of his life should he dare to let go too soon.

This had been an opportunity like no other. The Imperial, weakened and depowered after his fight with Sovereign, was not an easy target. But for Phanto, the master of illusion, it had taken little to persuade the old man that his time was up. All he had done was prey upon The Imperial's deepest desires and fears. The old man missed his wife. That much was clear. And from that point on, killing one of the greatest heroes Paragon City had ever known had been painfully simple. It was almost...textbook. Phanto felt cheated. Or was it that he HAD cheated? He wasn’t sure.

His gloved hands shook as he eventually let go of The Imperial. The gold and burgundy body of the aged hero falling lifelessly to the ground. Phanto looked down at the cold and still old man. In the moonlight he looked positively regal, despite the damage that had been done to him. Phanto, the master of illusion, was very much in shock. He couldn’t believe he'd killed him.

But it was shock that quickly turned to arrogance: He had killed The Imperial! His own hands had squeezed the life out of one of Paragon’s finest. Were he able to smile, Phanto would have been beaming. He slowly reared himself to his feet. Not due to weariness from the battle just fought, but for a much darker reason...

He was savouring the moment.

The rain began to fall heavily, the little droplets of water bouncing off-of the fish-tank Phanto seemingly now wore in place of his head. The dull patter of raindrops calming the illusionist’s mood. With an aloofness borne of victory, Phanto slowly raised one gloved hand to where his face should be, and spoke into his wrist-mounted comm-link. He tried to suppress his giddiness.

"Baron Blitzman, this is Phanto," said the master of illusion as he began to walk away from the scene, "The Imperial is down."

As he walked slowly through the heavily damaged streets of Brickstown, away from the scene of the battle, Phanto risked looking over his shoulder. Sure enough there, alone on the sidewalk, the body of The Imperial still laid stock still. The rain falling down hard against him as if he were nothing more than part of the scenery.

"I repeat. The Imperial is down."