As the Newly-named Shadow stares down the twelve police officers, they raise their varying calibers of weapons at him, intent on putting him down for good. Shadow lashes out with his right hand, using the suits tentacles to snatch one of the officers’ pistols out of his hands. This causes the other policemen to react, squeezing their respective triggers. While pulling the pistol to his hand, Shadow raises his left arm in front of him, feeling it warp to suit his needs. It shifts into a circular protrusion, three feet in diameter, still attached to his forearm. It solidifies just in time for the bullets to slam against it, stopping their momentum fully. The bullets clatter harmlessly to the ground, the officers looking on in shock. Shadow looks over the shield at the officers, pistol in-hand.
“My turn.”
Shadow raises the pistol and fires off two shots, each one finding its intended target, ripping into two officers’ knees, sending them screaming to the floor, blood spilling from their wounds. This scares the officers out of their shock. They begin to fire upon Shadow yet again, this time not letting up. Shadow ducks behind his shield, crouching low to avoid the hail of bullets. After several seconds of the gunfire not letting up, Shadow grows tired of it. Gritting his teeth, he rolls forwards, right into the center of the group, standing up as he stops his momentum. He swings his shield around, slamming it against an officers’ body armor, knocking him to the ground. He fires a bullet into another officers’ knee, putting him with his comrades.
Shadow spins around, dodging several more rounds, and slams the edge of his shield into an officers face mask, shattering the protective mask, taking him out of the fight, before firing three more shots at the remaining officers. Two catch them in the knee, while the third goes wide, catching an officer in his shoulder, taking the three of them down. Shadow attempts to fire another shot, but hears only a click. He hurls the gun at his intended target, which slams against his face mask, knocking the officer backwards through the wall. Shadow suddenly feels an immense pain rip through his right shoulder, the suit immediately telling him that he had been shot. His anger rising, Shadow spins around to face the officer, sending a fist his way. His punch dents the officers Kevlar vest, cutting off his air flow, nearly caving his chest in. Shadow turns to the final two officers, his shield melding back into his suit. The two officers simply stare at him, their weapons lowered, immense terror gripping them. Shadow lashes out with both hands, using two tentacles to grab the officers by their helmets. He brings his hands together, slamming the officers’ helmets together, shattering the plastic and metal into bits, knocking the two men out. Shadow gazes down at his handiwork, retracting his tentacles. He looks down at his hands, brushing off bits of metal and plastic, before heading out of the house, but not before making a remark.
“Not the sort head banging I’m used to but….it’ll do.”
Shortly after leaving the house, Shadow recalls the Dragonskin, returning to his skinny teenager self, Evan Campbell. Evan looks down at his body, noting that he has returned to his self prior to ever being infected with Dragonskin. His messy brawn hair has returned, and gone are all of his muscles. He sighs, wryly looking off into the distance.
“Damn. I liked that look too.”
As he stares off into the distance, he spots the massive building that is Steele Developmental Industries, thinking back to the conversation he had with his dead father whilst unconscious.
---Flashback---
“…Dad?”
Robert Campbell simply nods his head.
“But…how?”
“Long story. Not enough time. I’m here because you need help, and if you don’t get the kind of help you need, bad things happen everywhere. We dead people see everything, every time, place, event, everything. For some reason, the possible future that would’ve happened if I never came here pissed off everyone dead. Don’t ask me, I didn’t see it, I missed that meeting. Overslept. Anyway, back to the help. Right now, you’re being devoured by an early version of one of my inventions, see-“
“Wait, hold the damn phone, what do you mean, your inventions? I got the suit from Steele Developmental Industries.”
“I was getting to that. The version of Dragonskin you’re infected with was unstable, it tended to become self-aware and take over its hosts, driving them completely mad. I had just made a breakthrough by adding the users’ blood to its chemical makeup, when the asshole supreme, one Thomas Steele, same guy that owns the company you got the Dragonskin from, decided that he was taking over. We couldn’t do anything about it. He decided that he didn’t want anyone else to know how to make the suits, so he had me killed, your mother jumped into the fray and died as well. You’re lucky that our killers didn’t want to be caught, so they left before they killed you. Fast forward sixteen years and we’ve got you, contaminated with my suit. Now, I can think of only one way to help you, and that’s for you to find the enhanced suit I made before I was shut out of the project. It’s in our hold house. You get to it; you’ll be in full control of everything the suit can do.”
“So, to sum up… Steele killed you and mom, got me contaminated with some psychotic goo, which in turn made me kill grandma and grandpa, and Jay, and put Amy in a coma, which in turn made me almost rape her, which in turn made her justifiably leave me.”
“Correct.”
“Sounds like a convoluted plot that some idiot with an overactive imagination came up with.”
“Indeed. Sometimes, life is stranger than fiction.”
“Back to the thing about the future being fucked if I don’t do something. What am I supposed to do?”
“Well, what would you do if you had access to a super suit that can do nearly anything, knew who killed your parents and ruined your life, and knew where he was for 90% of the day and had the means to get to him?”
“I think I might eviscerate him and use his gastro-intestinal tract as a condom while I fornicated with his skull.”
“You’re fond of that idea, aren’t you?”
“Very much so.”
“Okay, you have the information, you know where my suit is, and you know who killed us. Go. Maim. Destroy. Have fun. No killing though, killings bad. Figure I’d throw that in there, being the parent here, though, I wouldn’t exactly protest if Steele somehow winds up dead…wink wink, hint hint.”
“Subtlety of a hammer…”
---Present---
Evan stares at the massive building in the distance, quickly planning his next actions. Several seconds later, he gathers up the suits energy within himself and wills the change to occur. He feels the warmth of the suit cover his body, noting the difference in that he didn’t have to fight for control anymore. Feeling the change complete itself, Evan, now under his new identity, Shadow, launches himself towards the tower, the suit providing some extra lift that his human form did not. He propels himself in the air and lands on the house across from his former home. Deciding to forgo what was sure to be a slow process; Shadow lashes out with both arms, catching twin tentacles on the chimney of the house he was standing on, as well as the chimney of the house directly to the left of it. Keeping the tentacles taut, he leaps off the roof backwards, landing softly on the empty street. He walks backwards as far as he can, keeping the tentacles as tight as he could without ripping the chimneys loose. He backs up until he hits the outer wall of his former home, his feet dug into the ground to hold him in place.
He quickly lifts his feet and immediately feels the tug of momentum propel him up and outward, his tentacles acting like rubber bands. He flies over the houses he attached himself to, releasing his hold at just the right time, now soaring freely though the air towards Steele’s building. After several seconds and hundreds of feet, he feels his momentum begin to slow, his body being dragged to the ground. He looks down at the street below him, thinking about what to do next.
‘Gotta time this just right…’
Just as he hits the ground, he kicks off, his legs seemingly spring-loaded, propelling him back into the air just long enough for him to lash out with two more tentacles, catching on a roof. He pulls his arms back, using the same technique he did not five minutes ago to keep himself flying through the sky. After several more repetitions of this, he lands with a slight thud at the base of Steele’s building. Without a thought, Shadow enters the building, the automatic doors providing him easy access. He looks around the atrium and finds that it is empty, not even a guard. Deciding to take the direct approach, Shadow walks to the elevator and presses the Up button. Thirty seconds later, the doors slide open with a slight ping. Shadow enters the small room as the doors shut behind him. He presses the button for the 66th floor, correctly assuming that Steele’s office would be at the top floor. As the elevator begins its ascent, Shadow takes a look at himself in the reflection of the doors, finding that what he sees isn’t to his satisfaction. He begins to design a new look for himself in his head. Once he decides, it is only a quick thought for him to change his suit to match its specifications, leaving him in a similar suit, though with red outlining his white eye coverings, as well as covering most of his chest, coming to a point at the center. As he grows more and more anxious, he hears the guitar slide from before begin to build up, rising in volume with each passing floor.
---Thomas Steele’s Office---
“—and he can form things out of the suit, like tentacles, or even blades.”
Thomas Steele, having just finished hearing everything Evan was capable of while using the suit, looks up at his elevator, noting that it seemed to be rising. His ears suddenly prickly, having picked up on an odd sound. It almost sounded like…an electric guitar slide. With every floor, it rises in volume, prompting Thomas to hurry along his next move.
“I appreciate the information you have given me. Unfortunately…you are now quite useless to me.”
Thomas reaches into his desk and removes the pistol used to kill Ronnie, leveling it at Amy’s head, the guitar slide growing to deafening proportions. Amy bounds off of her chair and runs towards the elevators, the doors opening just as Thomas fires, a quick drum beat silencing the guitar slide, blocking out the gunfire, the doors opening all the way, revealing the room to Shadow. Thomas looks up at him, hardly surprised. He aims his gun at Shadow and fires off another shot. Shadow takes the bullet in his gut, not even attempting to block it. Despite having an Adimantium weave, the bullet tears through the suit, boring a hole straight through Shadows midsection, spraying blood on the wall behind him, causing him to drop to his knees, the suit slowly draining off of his face, blood gurgling from his mouth. Quite pleased with himself, Thomas steps around his desk, calmly walking closer to Evan, watching with glee as his blood pools all around him. He bounds up to Evan, kneeling down in front of him, sticking the barrel of the gun under his chin, raising Evans head.
“Silly child. Surely you didn’t think you had a chance against me?”
Evan mumbles something incoherently in response.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Speak up, will you?”
With a cough, Evan spits out a bit of blood, slowly getting to his feet, holding his left hand over his wound.
“I said… Hello. My name is Evan Campbell. You killed my family. Prepare to die.”
Thomas looks on at him, a bored look on his face. He raises the pistol and fires another shot, this one catching Evan on the shoulder, ripping through his suit yet again. The shot causes him to slam back against the wall of the elevator. He begins to slide down it as Steele starts to chuckle. His laughter is cut off, however, when Evan rises back up, his eyes glinting with fierce determination. He steps out of the elevator, still holding his wound. He repeats his earlier words, putting more force behind them.
“Hello. My name is Evan Campbell. You killed my family. Prepare to die.”
Steele glares at Evan, firing off another shot, this one ripping into Evans remaining shoulder. This blow, however, appears not to phase him. He simply steps forwards, repeating his words yet again.
“Hello! My name is Evan Campbell! You killed my family! Prepare to die!”
“Stop saying that!”
Steele fires another shot at Evan, only to have him dodge the bullet, lashing out with both arms, tentacles forming out of them. He impales Steele in both shoulders, repaying two of his wounds to the man. Evan quickly reels the tentacles in as Steele stumbles back, leaning against his desk now, gun at his side, his hand nearly limp. Stomping forwards, Evan yells his repeated words again.
“HELLO! MY NAME IS EVAN CAMPBELL! YOU KILLED MY FAMILY! PREPARE TO DIE!”
“Wait, please! Spare me!”
Evan grabs him by the throat, and stares into Steele’s eyes, growling out his next words.
“Offer me money.”
“Yes!”
“Power, promise me that too.”
“All that I have and more! Please…”
“Offer me anything that I ask.”
“Yes, anything!”
Evan suddenly lunges forwards, stabbing Steele in the stomach with his right arm, still holding him with his left, growling his next words in Steele’s ear.
“I want my family back you son of a bitch!”
Evan pulls his arm from Steele, letting him fall to the floor, his blood spilling out at an alarming rate. Breathing heavily, Evan stumbles forwards, barely catching himself on the desk. He steps around Steele, clutching his stomach in pain, attempting to use the suit to heal himself. He leans against the window, looking out at the city. He rests his forehead on the glass, the cool surface helping him control the suit better. He hears a rustling sound behind him and quickly turns. He spots Steele on the ground, using his last bit of energy to raise his gun at Evan. He fires off a shot, but it misses Evan by a wide margin, shattering the glass behind him.
Evan steps away from the open hole, feeling the wind attempt to drag him out. Finally, he regains his footing, only to hear another gunshot ring out. He feels the bullet slam into him, the pain not even registering, the impact knocking him backwards out the shattered window. He attempts to grab the edge, but his hand slips off. He lashes out with his hands, trying to use the tentacles to catch himself, but finds that the suit won’t respond. He looks down at his body and attempts to call the suit forwards, only to have it slide off of him, dissolving as it touches the air. His breathing becomes erratic as he falls faster and faster, heading towards the hard concrete. He clenches his eyes shut, hoping that the impact will kill him quickly, knowing that, if it didn’t, he was in for a world of pain.
He suddenly hears a loud and obnoxious beeping emanating from his wrist. Evan opens his eyes and looks at his arm, finding his watch beeping and flashing. He presses the button that should’ve stopped the alarm, but the screen continues to flash. Evan looks at the watch face, trying to tune out the rushing wind, knowing he had only seconds left. What he sees on the what, thoroughly surprises him. Instead of numbers telling him the time, he sees only blackness, swirling and moving. The glass shatters and the black envelops his watch, transforming it into a black band before his eyes. Evan immediately feels familiar warmth emanating from his wrist and attempts to manipulate it like he did the Dragonskin. A dark tendril shoots out from the former watch face, speeding towards the building, latching onto one of the many windows. Evans weight snaps against the tendril, shattering the window. The tiny tendril was able to do its duty though, it slows Evans fall.
After nearly sixty seconds of freefall, Evan slams back-first into the hard asphalt of the street, the tendril from his watch having saved his life, the fall only causing minor injuries and severe bruising. Evan attempts to get off the street, but finds himself unable to move more than a few feet without his entire body screaming in protest. Evan manages to sit up; he looks down at his watch, finding that it had returned to normal, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing. If that was the case, then how did he survive the fall? Before he manages to answer that question, the brunt of his adrenaline runs out, and the combined forces of the fall and his three gunshot wounds send him into a world of darkness.
---Unknown, December 26th, 2008, 12:00 PM---
Evan opens his eyes, his vision blurry and dark. He tries to move his hands, only to hear the clanking of handcuffs and chains. Suddenly, bright lights snap on, nearly blinding him. After several seconds, his eyes adjust, revealing the room to him. Mirror on the wall, tiled floor and walls, metal table with two chairs, one on either side. A police interrogation room. He looks down at his body, finding that he is missing his shirt. The three bullet wounds are heavily bandaged, though a smear of blood stains each one. He looks down at his feet and find that his shoelaces have been removed, his belt as well. Looking for one more thing, though he knew it would be gone, He glances at his wrist, his watch missing. Just as he begins to formulate a plan to escape, the only door in the room swings open, and two officers enter the room. One black man, whom Evan immediately recognized as the same officer that came to Amy’s house, and the other, a white male, the same officer that questioned Evan at the hospital. Evan sighs, his head falling, knowing that his day just got worse.
The two officers shut the door behind themselves and step up to the table. The white officer, Officer Fleihr, takes a seat and removes his hat, revealing his slicked back bleach-blonde hair. Officer Huffman, however, remains standing, arms crossed over his chest, his long hair, beads at the end, hanging from under his hat, glaring at Evan. As Officer Fleihr is about to speak, Evan interrupts him.
“Before you even start, let me guess. You’ll be doing the good cop/bad cop thing, with the Angry Black Man over there playing the bad cop, right?”
His comment is met with silence, until Officer Huffman speaks up.
“Tell me…you didn’t just say that.”
“Easy now Booker. Let me handle this.”
“Yes Booker, let Blondie over here handle this.”
Officer Huffman makes to say something again, but Officer Fleihr stops him. He looks at Evan and starts to talk to him.
“Kid, you know why you’re here, right?”
Evan shakes his head, outright lying. He had a good idea why he was there.
“Let’s not play this game. We have video evidence that you murdered eight to ten people, attempted to murder dozens more, raped a teenage girl and her mother, and attempted to rape another teenage girl, your girlfriend to be exact. Right now, you’re looking at life in prison if you’re lucky, the death penalty if you’re not. If you cooperate with us, tell us how you did it, who gave you the weapons you used, and I’ll see what I can do about getting an insanity plea for you. I’m sure you want to see the outdoors again, I love the outdoors myself, can’t get enough of nature and all its beauty, so, for your own sake, work with us.”
After his speech, Officer Fleihr stares expectantly at Evan, who stares back at him, refusing to speak. After thirty seconds of silence, Officer Huffman grows tired of the waiting game.
“Okay Nature Boy, let the pro handle this. You have to know how to deal with psychos like this one.”
Officer Fleihr gets up from the chair, allowing Officer Huffman to take over. Huffman walks up to the table and begins walking around it. Just as he reaches behind Evan, he grabs Evan by the hair and slams his head down against the table, a loud crack echoing in the room, a grunt of pain escaping from Evan. After several seconds, in which Officer Huffman has moved to the front of the table again, Evan looks at him and speaks up.
“Never start with the head, the victim gets all…fuzzy, and doesn’t feel the next shot.”
Almost immediately, Officer Huffman slams his fist down against one of Evans hands, which was resting on the table, producing no reaction from Evan whatsoever.
“See?”
“You little shit!”
Officer Huffman reaches out and grabs Evan by the hair, yanking him backwards, pulling him out of the chair. He slams him against the mirror, breaking it, the safety glass not allowing it to shatter fully.
“Tell us where you got whatever it is you used to kill those people, or this’ll only get worse, you dig?”
Evan chuckles a bit, and, while imitating Huffman’s voice, responds.
“Tell me…you didn’t just say that.”
As Officer Huffman starts to strangle Evan, trying to force him to talk, his anger getting the better of him, Officer Fleihr rushes over and pulls Booker off of him, Fleihr's slight lisp evident in his yells.
“Booker! That’s enough! He has to be alive for his trial!”
Booker relents, releasing Evan, stepping behind Fleihr, his breathing heavy.
“Fuck a trial, I say we kill him right here right now. Nobody’d blame us.”
“You know we can’t do that Booker. Take him to the holding cells. The trials tomorrow and after that, he’s out of our lives for good.”
Officers Fleihr and Huffman leave the room, Evan smirking at them. Before he shuts the door, Booker looks back at Evan.
“I knew you were fucking crazy the first time I met you, you and that bitch of a girlfriend. Why didn’t you finish her off? Too much for you?”
“…What do you mean, finish her off?”
“Oh what’s the matter, angry that you don’t have another to add to your body count? Yeah, that’s right. She’s alive. Right here in the station, the second floor to be exact. I dare you to try and escape.”
“You better hope I don’t, otherwise you’ll be number 11 in my body count!”
“Yeah, that ain't happenin any time soon, you’re gonna be locked up for life if I have anything to do with it, now…can you dig that? Sucka….”
Officer Huffman slams the door, leaving a fuming teenager in his wake. Evan gets up from the floor, shaking bits of glass off of him. He walks around the room and, after several times tripping on his laceless shoes, he kicks them off, continuing his pacing in socks. Evan glances at the safety glass, an idea suddenly coming to him. He grabs the chair he was sitting in and drags it near the glass. He lifts it into the air and swings it with all his might, slamming the legs against the shattered glass. It buckles, but doesn’t break. He hits it again and again, finally pushing the glass through to the other side, knocking the panel out, revealing the empty surveillance room behind the mirror.
“Stupid cop…gave me a way out.”
Evan hops into the empty room, gingerly stepping on the safety glass, not wanting to cut his feet. He hears someone approaching from outside the room and ducks behind the door, hoping to surprise them. The door swings open, hiding him from view and a lone officer steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. Evan springs into action. He steps behind the cop and loops his cuffed hands over the cop, drawing the chain back around his neck, pulling back with all his strength. After several seconds, the officer begins to change colors. Evan feels him sag and releases him, not wanting to kill the officer. Evan lets him drop to the ground and begins to fumble with the officers’ belt, quickly finding his keys. Evan unlocks his cuffs, freeing his hands. He removes the Officers nightstick and gun, tucking the gun into his pants, while keeping the nightstick hefted, holding the long end against his arm.
Evan opens the door into the hallway and steps out, being as quiet as he can. He carefully walks down the hallway, looking for an evidence locker of some sort. He turns a corner and nearly runs smack dab into officer Huffman. Before the man can utter a sound, Evan swings the nightstick around, slamming it against Huffman’s temple, knocking him to the ground, as well as unconscious. Evan kneels down next to him and, while looking down at the man, decides to get one last remark in.
“Now can you dig that…sucka?
Evan stands back up and moves on, knowing that he doesn’t have long until his path of destruction is discovered. He stumbles upon a sign that points him to a set of stairs, leading to the evidence lockers. He starts down the stairwell as quickly and quietly as possible, nightstick at the ready incase he runs into another cop. Luck is on his side, however, and he runs into no one else. He reaches the bottom of the staircase and looks around the room. Behind a wall of fence, every wall of the room and even some of the floor is littered with confiscated paraphernalia. Guns, knives, grenades, books, bikes, and even beakers of inky blackness adorn the walls. Giggling like a kid in a candy store, Evan grabs an empty duffel bag and begins loading it up with anything that catches his eye. Several boxes of ammunition are loaded into the bag, along with their corresponding firearms. He grabs about a dozen small daggers and stuffs them in the bag, shortly before finding a very out of place sword, which he straps to his back. He spots something that makes him drop the bag of stuff, shocking him to his core, yet filling him with an immense giddiness. Hanging from the wall is something straight out of a videogame.
Labeled ‘Bag of Holding’, the nondescript black messenger bag, seemingly barely big enough to hold a laptop, is nearly ripped from the wall by Evan. He unzips the bag and opens it up, staring upon the swirling vortex that the bag held. He reaches inside it with no fear. He rummages around for several seconds, before pulls is hand out. In his grasp is a cylindrical metallic device, resembling the hilt of a sword. He turns the thing over in his hands several times, until he finds a switch, dark red in color. He presses it and from the hilt exhumes a pearlescent white blade made of pure energy, a red glow pulsating around it. Evans eyes widen in surprise, not believing what he held in his hands. To make sure that it was real, he lightly swings the blade at one of the chain link fences separating the room and watches as it slices through it without hesitation, Evan barely feeling any resistance at all. Almost immediately, the blade draws back within the hilt. Confused, Evan looks at the bottom of the hilt and, written in tiny print, is a warning.
“WARNING: ONE USAGE ONLY!!! DO NOT USE TO TEST IF DEVICE IS REAL! SAVE FOR SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!”
Feeling like a complete tool, Evan tosses the hilt aside and sticks his arm back in the bag, continuing to rummage around. After more than two minutes, he pulls his arm out, disappointed that he didn’t find anything else. He quickly gets over it. He unloads the duffel back he had begun packing into the Bag of Holding and begins the arduous process of loading up every single thing in the evidence locker into the bag. Just as he crams the very last thing into the bag, the door to the room is kicked in. Evan quickly reaches into the bag and grabs the first thing he touches. He pulls it out of the bag and looks at it. Three feet in diameter, his arm is grasping a circular silver shield. He fits his right arm through the two metal rungs attached to the back of it and hefts the heavy shield, keeping low to the ground to provide a smaller target.
Several officers rush into the room, scanning it for potential danger. As soon as they spot Evan ducked behind the shield, they begin to open fire, unloading their clips, though the bullets simply bounce off the shield. Knowing that, without the Dragonskin, he didn’t stand a chance against the officers, Evan reaches into the Bag and pulls something else out, hoping that, whatever it was, it would help him somehow. He grasps a circular object, barely as wide as his hand, and pulls it out. He looks down at it, noting that it is just a medallion of sorts. Emblazoned on it is a picture of a bulbous head with many tentacles where its mouth should be, its eyes narrowed in anger. Around the medallion are dozens of hieroglyphs. Evan stares down at it and is about to toss it aside, when the creatures eyes flash red, the hieroglyphs glow gold. The medallion begins to grow warmer in his hand. All at once, an inhuman scream explodes from the medallion, knocking the officers to the ground with its power, nearly toppling Evan over with them. Evan quickly recovers, steadying his shield, studying the medallion. Upon further inspection, one of the glyphs appears to have been scratched out, replaced by a dark smudge. Deciding to worry about whatever just happened later; Evan tosses the Medallion back in the Bag. He reaches in and grips something else, hoping it would be of more use to him. He removes his arm and gripped in his hand is a crowbar. He sighs, deciding not to waste time on searching further.
“Guess I’m doing things Gordon Freeman style. Okay then, to the second floor!”
Evan gets up and switches weapons, moving the shield to his left arm and the crowbar to his right. He steps up to the downed officers and finds that they have blood running from their ears, eyes, noses, and mouths. He shrugs his shoulders and moves on. He rushes back up to the main floor and glances left and right, looking for further threats. Finding none, he looks for a way to the second floor, quickly finding a second staircase. He sprints up the stairs as fast as he can without any shoes, running into no interference along the way. He crosses the threshold into the second floor and, almost immediately, an alarm is activated. Spinning red lights and a loud siren activate, causing his ears to start ringing. Attempting to block out the pain, Evan runs down a nearby hallway and begins throwing doors open, looking for Amy. Finally, after a half-dozen doors, he opens the right one, finding Amy at a table similar to the one he had been at not thirty minutes ago. She immediately gets up, putting the chair between them, a frightened look on her face.
“You stay the fuck away from me!”
Evan sighs and rolls his eyes, the scream of the siren giving him a headache.
“We don’t have time for this Amy, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m here to rescue you and I haven’t been too ninja-like in my quest to do so!”
“Yeah right, you came here to finish what you started before I knocked your dick in the dirt!”
“Let’s think about that for a second, shall we? I have a weapon in my hand. You, on the other hand, are unarmed. I f I wanted to, I could’ve already killed you. Now, I’ve decided to let you telling that asshole Steele all about me, in lieu of you being scared shitless and confused out of your mind. Now if you don’t mind….Move your ass!”
“I don’t believe you. This could all be some elaborate ruse to get me to leave what little safety I have here so you can torture me.”
Evan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to get his anger under control. Suddenly, he thinks of a way to get through to her.
“I know how I can get you to trust me. The necklace. I can’t lie to it. Grab it; think about what I’m feeling.”
Reluctantly, Amy grabs the chain around her neck and pulls the necklace out from under her shirt. She grips it in her hand, feeling the swirl of emotions coming from it. She deciphers them in her head, trying not to show any emotion, though her eyes betray her.
“What do you feel?”
“Anger…frustration…panic…”
“What else?”
“…Love.”
“See? How could I still love you if I wanted to kill you? If you don’t mind…lots of cops, with lots of guns, and trust me on this, getting shot hurts like a motherfucker, so…let’s go!”
Amy bites her lips, not knowing what to do. Something in the back of her head tells her to go with him, to trust him. For once, she listens.
“Okay.”
“‘Bout damn time...now, getting out will be the fun part.”
Amy’s jaw drops, her eyes widen in surprise.
“You did all of this…WITHOUT AN ESCAPE PLAN?!!”
“Pretty much, yeah. Why? That a problem?”
Amy attempts to reply, but finds that she hasn’t the words for what she is feeling, resigning herself to shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Evan manages to catch snippets of her muttering, sounding suspiciously like ‘idiot’ and ‘un-Batman-like’. Choosing to ignore her, Evan sets his Bag on the ground and flips it open. He opens it as wide as it will go and takes a breath. He sticks an arm in, and then another, and then his head. He manages to sink up to his waist into the Bag, managing to keep his footing outside it. Once inside, he looks around, finding a vast open space, all white, and, in comparison to the actual size, his pile of weaponry and gadgets lies in a tiny pile directly under the portal. He pulls himself out of the bag and looks at Amy, who has begun pacing the floor, still muttering to herself, completely oblivious to Evans actions. Evan turns back to his Bag and searches a side pocket, finding a length of rope. He ties an end to a nearby radiator, and then drops the rest down into his Bag. Grabbing the rope, Evan, shimmies down into the bag, disappearing from the room altogether.
He drops into the Bag, landing on his feet in the midst of his collection of things from the evidence locker. Hoping to find what he needed quick enough; Evan begins to rummage through the piles, throwing things that he didn’t require immediately off to the side. Back outside the Bag, Amy comes out of her reverie and looks around for Evan, finding the room empty. She looks down at Evans Bag, and the rope trailing from the radiator into the bag. Curiosity gets the better of her; she looks into the bag and sees Evan sorting through a pile of assorted things and stuff, her mind telling her that it was impossible, though her eyes were seeing it. The door to the room is suddenly kicked in, and she clenches the Bag shut in a hurry, looking up at the doorway in surprise. Standing there, gun in his hand, is Officer Fleihr. He swiftly enters the room, nearly strutting. He turns around in a full circle, looking the room over with obvious dramatic Flair. When he finds the room seemingly empty, save for Amy, he lets out a sigh, which sounds more like a loud exclamation, a…Wooo, if you will. He lowers his gun and looks down quizzically at Amy, who is still kneeling on the floor.
“Your boyfriend escaped. He took out half a dozen officers. We figured he’d come here to make another attempt on your life. Guess we were wrong.”
From the Bag, comes Evans voice, magnified by something he discovered in the bag.
“Only half!”
An arm, clad in a silver gauntlet of sorts, is suddenly thrust out of the top of the Bag, with Amy scrambling backwards away from it. Another arm, clad in a similar gauntlet as the other, appears from the top. The two arms pull the rest of Evan out of the bag. He steps out of the Bag, his feet covered in boots matching the gauntlets, loud clunks echoing in the room as he steps onto the floor. Black spandex covers his body, save for his torso. Similar armor covers his chest and back, while the gauntlets run up to his elbows, and the boots to his knees. Covering his eyes is a colored lens with silver on the edges, similar to sunglasses. He brings the left gauntlet up, a loud mechanical whir exhuming from it. He pushes several buttons, activating each piece of armor, trails of electric blue light run up and down the armor, adding details to the formerly plain silver. He looks over at Amy and grabs the device from his face and tosses it to her.
“Hey Amy…what does the Scouter say about his power level?”
Amy fiddles with the device, finally figuring out the proper way to wear it. She presses several buttons, finally figuring the system out. She focuses on Officer Fleihr, allowing the device to read him. After several seconds and several loud beeps, the device beeps a final time and flashes a number on the screen.
“Its…1100”
“Surprisingly good for a normal person with no discernable abnormalities. You are to be commended, Officer Fleihr. Now…what does the Scouter say about My power level?”
Amy focuses the device on Evan this time. It begins to beep again, this time taking much longer to get a proper reading. It finally beeps its last beep, flashing a number on the screen.
“Well?”
“Its…its…it’s…”
“Get on with it!”
“It’s…one thousand and six.”
Officer Fleihr chuckles at the low number, then raises his gun, firing a shot at Evan. Evan chooses not to move, allowing the bullet to come at him. It seems as if it will penetrate, when a shield springs into place, electricity crackling at the point of impact as the bullet drops to the ground.
“Oh I’m sorry, I misread that, it’s actually…OVER NINE THOUSAAAAND!!!”
Evan and Officer Fleihr stare at Amy, their eyes wide in surprise, slight fear in both of them. Evan manages to find his voice first.
“A bit over the top, don’t you think?”
Amy grins at him, winks, and then tosses the device back.
“Maybe a little.”
Evan catches the device and places it back on his face, obscuring his eyes once again. Evan clenches his fist, bones in his knuckles cracking. He raises his right arm, his palm facing Fleihr. A circle in the center of his palm begins to glow electric blue as a sound that can only be described as revving up is heard.
“You have two choices: Move, or I Move You. Make your choice now.”
For several seconds, it appears as if Officer Fleihr is going to stand his ground, but, finally, he steps aside, lowering his gun. Evan grabs his Bag, slinging it over his shoulder by the strap. He looks at Amy and nods his head at the door, motioning for her to follow him. Evan walks towards the door, his every footfall making a loud clunking sound. He stops as he reaches Fleihr. Evan glances over him, the lenses on his face reflecting Fleihr's face back at him.
“You made the right choice. Booker didn’t. It is worthy to note that he isn’t dead. I didn’t kill a single person in this building. I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it, and even when they did, it wasn’t by my choice. I prefer not to kill. Remember that.”
Evan opens the door and clunks through it, Amy hot on his heels. She gives Fleihr a passing glance, shutting the door behind them. Almost immediately, Evan starts shrugging off the gauntlets and boots. He tosses them aside, not caring where they land. Naturally, this confuses Amy. To her, he is throwing away valuable weapons that could be used to escape.
“What the hell are you doing!? Put that shit back on, we still have to get out of here!”
Evan yanks off the chest piece, sighing with relief as it drops to the ground with a heavy thunk. He kicks off the boots and pushes the device that resembles sunglasses up into his hair, leaving him in black spandex. He takes several deep breaths, glad to be rid of the heavy equipment, before replying to her words.
“None of that junk works. I threw something together that looked cool and had flashing lights. The only real piece of technology are these sunglasses things. I don’t even know what it’s actually reading; still have to find the manual for them. I’m amazed my bluff actually worked, but, I’m glad it did, and none too soon, that stuff was heavy.”
“So how’d you stop the bullet?”
“Dunno. I was hoping it would just kinda bounce off the big metal thing I had strapped to my chest, but that electrical field or whatever the hell it was stopped it before that could happen. I know it wasn’t the sunglasses, and I didn’t have anything else on me…wait, what’s that?”
Evan reaches down and grabs something off of the inside of the chest piece of his fake armor and lifts it up to eye level, examining it. It was the medallion from before, the one that screamed several officers down and out. He looks at the glyphs and notes that a second one appears to have been rubbed out, leaving a black smudge in its place.
“Okay, this is getting too creepy…”
“What? What’s that thing?”
“Well…when I first found all this stuff, down in the evidence locker, a bunch of cops showed up and had me surrounded. I didn’t have anything too useful on me at the time, save for a shield, and this thing. I was looking at it before they showed up. Before they could do anything, it started getting hot. A loud screech came from nowhere, knocked the shit out of them, and me too, but not as bad. I noticed that one of the glyphs on it was smudged and didn’t think anything of it. Now, a second one is smudged out, and I’m positive that it wasn’t like that before. And now, having put two and two together, which somehow managed to make seventy-five, I’m going to go ahead and assume that this thing somehow has magical powers related to these glyphs, magical powers of the one-time usage kind.”
“Nifty.”
“Indeed. And now…to the Batmobile!”
Evan starts towards the stares, but stops short when Amy questions him.
“I thought that crazy fucker blew it up?”
Evan lowers his head and sighs, hating to take the time to explain himself.
“Figure of speech this time. Just follow me; I have what could be called a plan.”
“I have a bad feeling about this…”
“And so did Obi-Wan Kenobi, now let’s go.”
Evan rushes down the stairs, with Amy behind him, rolling her eyes at his reference. Evan leaps down the stairs, skipping several at a time, nearly crashing into the opposite wall. Amy takes the stairs slower, choosing to merely skip every other step, instead of several. She catches up to Evan as he rounds a corner, reading signs on the wall. She catches a glimpse of one that reads ‘Parking Garage’ and pieces together his plan. He opens the door leading to the garage and sticks his head through, looking for any opposition. Finding none, he continues through, heading straight for a nearby squad car. He tests the door and finds that, miraculously, it’s unlocked. With a slightly triumphant whoop, he climbs in and looks for the keys. He finds them tucked against the roof and drivers’’ side visor. He starts the car, nearly bouncing in the seat as the engine roars to life. Amy climbs into the passengers’ seat, shaking her head at Evans antics.
“You know how to drive one of these?”
“Cant be too hard, I never crashed us in the Batmobile.”
“That thing drove itself and you know it.”
“Maybe so, but...okay, this probably wasn’t the best thing to do, but it was all I could come up with at the time, so, unless you’ve got a better idea, buckle up.”
Amy immediately reaches for her seatbelt and fastens it with a click.
“That’s what I thought.”
Evan puts the car into gear and backs out of the spot, heading towards the exit. He swerves as several officers jump in front of the car attempting to stop him, narrowly missing a pillar in the process. One of the officers presses a large button on the side of a wall, which activates another siren, and begins to close the exit door. Evan pushes the gas pedal all the way to the floor, pulling as much speed from the car as he can, with the door closing more and more. Amy and Evan clench their eyes shut as they barrel towards the rapidly closing door, narrowly managing to make it past before the door closes, though the door knocks the police siren off the top as it scrapes along the roof. The two teens open their eyes after they don’t smash into a door, just in time for Evan to slam on the brakes, stopping short of smashing into another car. Evan ignores the cursing driver and makes a left turn, stepping on the pedal once more, regaining his previous speed, wanting to leave the area as soon as possible.
“What’s next in this plan of yours?”
“Wish I knew. I’m making it up as we go.”
“Wonderful…”
Evan scans the streets, dodging cars left and right, attempting to go anywhere in a hurry, when a spotlight is suddenly splashed upon their car. The roar of helicopter blades fades in. Police sirens accompany them and in no time at all, Evan and Amy find themselves involved in a high speed chase, being pursued by half a dozen police cruisers and at least three helicopters. Evan turns down several side streets and alleys, hoping to lose them, but no matter where he goes, the other vehicles always manage to find them. It quickly hits him as to how.
“Fucking hell, I forgot that these things are Lo Jacked, all government vehicles are. They’ve been tracking us the entire time. We need to ditch this thing.”
“That’ll be a bit difficult with all of them following us, dontcha think? Got any more bright ideas?”
“Gimme a minute, I’m thinking.”
Evan turns down a side street, only to run headlong into a SWAT mini-tank. The force of the impact deploys the airbags, wrecking the front of the cruiser, slamming the two teens against the hard white cloth, nearly shattering their shoulder blades against the seatbelts. The airbags deflate moments after the crash, leaving the two of them slumped down in their seats, shattered glass all around them. Evans hand has somehow found its way into the Bag of Holding, but lays limp. In the midst of all the junk, something stirs. As blood drips down Evans hand, landing on the stark white floor of the bag, the pile stirs again. With each passing moment, more of Evans blood drips into the bag, and the pile stirs more. Finally, most of the pile is hurled aside, leaving a black oddly watch-shaped band in its wake. Black tentacles sprout from the face of the watch and march it towards the blood. Slowly but surely, it reaches the puddle and seemingly draws the blood within itself, taking sustenance from it.
The black tendrils grow thicker, stronger. They reach up towards Evans limp hand and grasp onto it. The watch climbs onto his arm, strapping itself into place. The black tendrils extend up his arm, covering it in inky blackness. The tendrils delve into the cut on his arm, fully integrating itself with him once more. Almost immediately, the inky blackness begins to spread over his entire body, healing his many injuries in the process. Evan slowly opens his eyes, the pain he expected to feel surprisingly absent. He notices that his vision has taken on a strange tint. He looks down at his hands and finds them covered in Dragonskin. He clenches his fists, feeling the power flowing through him, with none of the previous control issues. A voice in his head startles him out of his reverie.
“Guess whose back! Back Again! Nightshades back! Tell A Friend! Guess whose back, guess who's back, gue—“
“Jeebus Crisp, he’s found Eminem…”
Nightshade continues to repeat the lines, while Evan can only put his hand to his face, glad that only he can hear the idiot in his head. Evan glances over at Amy, finding her in a similar position that he was, slumped in her seat, eyes slightly closed, blood dripping from her forehead irregularly. He reaches out and grabs her hand, using the suit to run a full diagnostic scan on her. Several seconds pass, the suit takes its sweet time reading her. Finally, it gives Evan the results.
Injuries
Fractured Ankle (Right)
Bruised Rib (4)
Separated Shoulder (Right)
Gash along Forehead
Immediate Attention Required
None
Recovery Time
Six Weeks with Proper Medical Care
“In other words, she’ll be fine for now.”
Evan releases her hand, allowing it to drop limply at her side. He pushes the door open, forcing it a bit, the crash having crushed the frame slightly. He forces his way out of the car and looks around, trying to regain his bearings. Surrounding the crashed car are several more police cruisers, all with their doors open, and the occupying officers crouched behind them, their guns drawn. From the top of the SWAT mini tank are three SWAT Team officers, each in extensive body armor, and automatic weapons aimed at Evan. He clenches his fists, preparing to take out each and every one, when a voice he thought he’d never hear again speaks out.
“Lower your weapons.”
The person belonging to the voice steps out from behind the tank, crisp white suit in perfection. In the dead silence, his shoes click as he makes his way towards Evan. He stops several feet away, hands behind his back, staring at Evan.
“Hello, Mr. Campbell. It is…somewhat odd to see you again.”
Evan stands, gaping at the person he thought he killed, mere hours before, not wanting to believe his eyes.
“H-how?”
“I would like to know the same thing. Seeing you before me, the way you look now, makes it painfully obvious. I feel you should know…you are not the only one with such thick skin.”
With a dark smile, a substance, resembling liquid paper, begins to spread over Thomas Steele’s body, completely covering him in the stuff. Once he is covered, his body appears to change, to mutate, growing into a much larger form, resembling the one Evan took when he lost control, with its colors inverted. The beast lets out a loud roar and strikes one of the officers, sending him flying into a building, wrecking the side of that building. The creature focuses on Evan and begins to stomp towards him, leaving Evan to utter two words.
“Fuck me…”
---Elsewhere, December 26th, 2008, 6:27 PM---
“Finally, we have the required amount of Corpses, now we can finish the ritual!”
“But Boss, don’t we need the Medallion too?”
“Imbecile, that’s what the bodies are for. They circumvent the necessity of the Medallion. Now, begin the ritual!”
The Grunt rolls his eyes and walks away from his Boss, heading over to a nearby wall to begin the ritual. He pulls a switch labeled ‘PULL’, opening the roof of the building they are occupying, revealing a dark and cloudy sky. The Boss begins to laugh maniacally; The Grunt merely shakes his head in embarrassment. The Boss moves to the center of a Summoning Star engraved into the floor, the corpses surrounding him, positioned in their proper spots. The Boss raises his arms to the heavens and begins to chant.
“Grandis Cthulhu! EGO advoco in vos! Orior oriri ortus ex vestri dormio quod actum iterum!”
Lightning strikes as he finishes the chant, the clouds begin to swirl, forming a vortex, spiraling down into the open roof of the building. The vortex of clouds comes down over The Boss and his pile of corpses, completely enveloping them. After several minutes of watching the vortex spin, growing brighter with every second, The Grunt turns the switch to its OFF position and the roof closes, cutting off the vortex. In its place, the corpses have been reduced to bone, and The Boss has…changed. While he used to be at the peak of vitality, now, he is but skin and bones, his youth having been sucked away by the vortex. He drops to his knees, his breathing ragged. The swirling vortex has reformed at the top of the room, tapering down to a point, which touches down on the ground, near The Boss’ skeletal frame. The vortex clears up, turning into a swirling vortex of water. The water forms a shape, a humanoid form with wings on its back, its head larger than normal, dozens of tentacles where its mouth should be. Its eyes open, a demonic glow in their place, his arms end in massive claws. The creature, easily identified as The Great Cthulhu The Boss spoke of, glares down at him, obviously pissed off about being awoken. He speaks to The Boss, his madness inducing powers cancelled out by his watery form, his voice filled with evil.
“Why have you disturbed my slumber?”
The Boss stares up at his incredible form and finds a reply, his voice gravelly with age.
“Great Cthulhu…I summoned you to assist you in wreaking your vengeance on humanity for sealing you in the sunken city of R’lyeh!”
“Pitiful creature…I need no assistance.”
The Great Cthulhu lashes out with his watery claw and grabs The Boss by his scrawny throat, lifting him into the air. He pulls him closer, The Boss’s struggles in vain. He glances at The Grunt and cries out.
“Help me you idiot!”
The grunt starts to slowly back away, shaking his head.
“Nuh uh, I know better than to screw with one of the Great Old Ones. You’re on your own here Boss.”
Cthulhu pulls The Boss up so that he is staring into his eyes. Cthulhu opens his eyes wide, as they begin to glow brighter. He forces The Boss to look into his eyes, immediately stopping his struggle. His body goes limp, as Cthulhu’s powers begin to take affect.
“Stare into the eyes of madness, feel my limitless power!”
Seconds later, The Boss begins screaming, obviously seeing horrible things. His screams continue as Cthulhu hurls him to the ground. His watery form glances at The Grunt, who has neared the door. Cthulhu narrows his eyes, before his watery form falls to the floor with a splash, thus resuming his eternal slumber. The Grunt blocks out his Boss’s screams and leaves the room, as well as the building, not at all downtrodden by what had just occurred. He begins to whistle a tune that sounds suspiciously like Metallica’s “The Call of Cthulhu” as he walks into the distance.
---City Streets, December 26th, 2008, 6:56 PM ---
Evan dodges a tentacle from Steele’s mutated form, still caught off guard by Steele’s usage of Dragonskin. He isn’t so lucky a second time thought. Steele catches him around the waist and slings him into a building, denting the bricks in the process. Evan falls to the ground, narrowly missing landing on a hot dog stand. He struggles to get to his feet as Steele picks up a police cruiser. Evan manages to throw himself out of the way as Steele hurls the car at him. It slams against the sidewalk, utterly destroying both the car and the concrete. Evan gets up quickly and attempts his whiplash maneuver he used to get across town. He springs into the air easily enough and comes down, aiming straight at the monster that was Thomas Steele. He sends a kick straight into Steele’s chest, but bounces off, his monstrous form much stronger than Evan. Steele lashes out with another tentacle and catches Evan before he hits the ground, reeling him in. Steele sends a massive fist into Evans gut, knocking the teen to the street. He pounces on Evan and begins raining blows down upon him, each one shaking the ground, Steele’s roars chilling the bones of the officers watching. Evan attempts to block out what is going on around him, attempting to talk with Nightshade.
“I’m getting my ass handed to me, do something!”
“Sorry pal, no can do. You’ve got control now, I can only offer advice. When I merged with you back at the police station, you got full control. I’m just a voice in your head now.”
Evan is ripped from his conversation by a particularly vicious blow, which is followed up by Steel lifting him into the air by his throat, holding him in place with a clawed hand. Evan hangs limply, barely struggling against Steels grip. Steele squeezes tighter and tighter, choking the life out of Evan, when suddenly a loud CRACK echoes all around them. Steele stumbles forwards, his back smoking. Evan manages to catch a glimpse of Amy, blood covering half her face, holding a weapon of some sort, the barrel smoking. Steele catches himself and turns around, lashing out with a tentacle to grab Amy around the neck. He reels her in, the force behind it causing her to drop the weapon. She manages to slip something into Evans hand without Steele noticing. He begins to squeeze the two of them, intent on putting an end to what he started over a decade ago. He forces the face of the monster down, his own face taking its place.
“Any last words before I crush the life out of you and your girlfriend?”
Evan barely manages to choke out a reply.
“Yeah…Why So Serious?”
Evan, using up his last bit of strength, raises his hand up and slams it down against Steele’s neck, driving the spike of The Shocker that Amy handed deep into Steele, sending ten thousand volts screaming into Steele’s body. Steele lets out a horrible scream, his Dragonskin bubbling in protest as it shrinks away, drawing back within him. Steele drops to his knees, his grip on the two teens long gone. Evan removes The Shocker, tossing it aside, not seeing a need for it. Steele looks up at him through bloodshot eyes, his neck red, already blistering. Steele attempts to speak, his voice a raspy whisper, warped by The Shocker.
“You think you’ve won…when in reality…things have only just begun…I am nothing compared to my employer. Sanctus Ira was but a mere stepping stone in his true plan…you shall see…”
‘Maybe so, but you wont.”
Evan raises his arm into the air, morphing it into a black blade. He slashes down, slicing into Thomas Steele, from shoulder to hip. The gash, clean through, leaves Steele in two pieces, one sliding off the other. Steele doesn’t die immediately; he feels everything, his organs sliding out, his blood leaving him, everything. Breathing heavily, Evan returns his arm to its previous state and feels the Dragonskin slide off of him, returning to his watch. He looks at Amy, a resolute look on her face, and then around at the police officers surrounding them, a steely glint in his eyes.
“Anybody else feel like taking me down?”
None of the officers answer. After having seen their former employer turn into some kind of monster and nearly kill two kids, they weren’t really sure that they were on the right side, especially after seeing Evan slice and dice Steele. They lower their weapons.
“You all made the right decision. Amy, I need a favor.”
Perplexed, she takes a second before answering.
“Yes?”
“Catch me.”
Before Amy can even register his request, bruises and cuts form all over his body as he pitches forwards, all of his strength leaving him. He had used the Dragonskin to hide the injuries that weren’t immediately healed to put on a good show, to make sure that the officers knew not to mess with them, and he had payed the price. Amy manages to catch him before he fully hits the ground, but only manages to get dragged down with him. She looks down at him, then back up at the officers, who stand there motionless, watching the two of them. Angrily, she shouts at them.
“Don’t just stand there you idiots! Help me!”
Almost immediately, several officers rush forwards to come to her aid. One officers in particular pushes to the front. The other officers make way, recognizing him by his rank and bleach blonde hair. Officer Fleihr grabs one of Evans arms and lifts him off of Amy, shrugging Evans weight onto him, holding him up by his arm. Amy gets up, throwing Evans arm over her shoulder, helping Fleihr support his weight. Fleihr, glances at Amy, forming a question.
“Where to?”
“Uhm…I don’t know. Neither of our houses are in too good of a condition…mine has all its walls intact, so lets go there.”
“Lead the way.”
As Officer Fleihr and Amy walk Evan to Fleihr’s squad car, no one notices the remains of Thomas Steele dissolve into liquid whiteness and slink away.
