Author's Note: The final conflict of the trilogy begins, not to overshadow one scene in this chapter...

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Chapter 27
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That half a dozen of the Asylum escapees were here with the Vanquishiri Bahitians did not bode well. Mortar Mage tried to put names to their faces, but only the big man Bloodthorn, the woman with the vulture wings Carrion, and the other woman Needlepoint, came to mind. He had to assume the other three were just as bad, not just for where they had been locked up.

Bloodthorn leaped for Mortar, several long thorns sprouting from his body, but Mortar threw down a gadget and stepped aside. He let the gadget explode into a taffy-like substance to hold Bloodthorn a moment while Mortar walked forward.

“I’m not here to fight you assholes,” Mortar said.

The hovering woman with the spider mask said, “With my sight, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

“Precognition, is it? Good. I don’t like being watched when I work. It ruins the surprise.”

“Who are you? How are you able to elude my sight?”

The muscular member of the Vanquishiri said, “This one’s just a mere mortal.”

“I’m both a scientist and a high-level magician, wizard, sorcerer . . . whatever you wish to call it. It just so happens that my father is a demi-god.”

“Pfft . . . Still a mere mortal.”

“I am using a spell that misaligns my presence within the timeline. Psychics have difficulty reading me, people with full awareness of the present regardless of location can’t see me unless they use their own eyes, and precogs of any sort are unable to watch me or any object I am directly working on. It’s a spell I learned during my time in the eternal realm.”

The one with Stone’s face said, “That cannot be possible, not unless a god or a demi brought you into the eternal realm.”

“For a time that was true. Then, one day, in a not-so-strict sense of the time, a number of banished gods returned to the eternal realm and used the plot of a mad scientist to their advantage. The Earth, this one, was pulled little by little into the eternal realm until the fighting amongst the gods during their war touched down on the mortal realm. Then a little more until it drove people mad with trauma no mortal could withstand. Then, finally, they threw this version of Earth into the End of the Universe. The androids used to start this mess were again used to close the rift between us an nothingness. You can try it now, but you’ve probably noticed you can’t go back to that realm.”

Mortar turned his head harshly at the one called Devon Tartakovsky. “And you. You had to pry into the truth, into my family’s records. I hope you’re happy with the result. Now, what do you lot suppose will happen if I open that rift? Who among you is ready for absolute nothingness?”

“We can kill you now,” said the muscular Vanquishiri.

Bloodthorn, who broke free of his restraint, said, “I can agree with that. Tear him apart.”

“If you kill me now,” Mortar said, “the rift will open on its own and do worse than kill you. You won’t even be a memory. It is timed to do just that.” He saw the woman with the spider mask come down, and Mortar walked toward her. “I can let it go unless you give my friend back her body.”

“Impossible,” she said.

“She already came back from the dead. Don’t tell me what is or isn’t possible anymore. I want you to give her back her body, take your friends, and leave. You have eight hours, or I will make sure you never get to see even the burning of an insect. None of you will see anything. Consider this my only warning.”

“That’s enough,” said Devon. “Look, I don’t know what is wrong with you people, and I don’t care. I came here to study the facts because this city is a hotbed for the unknown. This is the city of Paragon!”

Suddenly, there was a sound from above of metal and wood twisting in ways it wasn’t meant to. A billboard fell from the top of a building, and it crashed in the middle of the gathering of metahumans and bodysnatching gods.

Mortar Mage formed a portal with his magic, and tackled Devon into it while everyone else was still reacting to the falling billboard. The portal closed behind him. Mortar stood while Devon crashed into the ground.

They were on the edge of town where a cliff overlooked the city. This was a common spot for tourists to enter the area. Fitting, Mortar thought.

He pointed forcefully at Devon. “I hope it was worth it. Some things people are just not ready to know. The metahumans in the nineteenth century and earlier, the things people with powers had to do to be safe, the reason I kept so much knowledge of the events four ago to myself; all of it!”

“I know. I know.” Devon held up a hand.

“My mother’s family held secrets that were dangerous. The average person, whether here or out there,” he pointed outside of the city, “can become mad or dangerous with that knowledge. Do you know how metahumans were treated in the 1800s? Imagine that, but worse. Now, because you had to find the answers, many good heroes have to face a half dozen highly dangerous criminals in addition to the banished gods.”

“I’m sorry, OK? You can’t tell me what I did was wrong. You can’t just stand there and tell me that everything you say and do is right.”

“No. I don’t care what you do now, just so long as you leave Paragon. Tonight.”

“Is that a threat?”

Mortar opened another portal. With an exhalation of relief, he smiled. “It’s a warning. The world could very well end. You don’t want to be here when it does.”

It might be better to be blissfully unaware.

“It’s like,” Wyatt said, “I ran into ol’ Exspira the other day. He passed through me on his way to the bar.” Tatiana gave him a smack upside the head. “Worth it.”

All Mary could do was shake her head and continue to drink her water. She heard Quentin utter a small groan to her right. Perhaps someone, either she or Kyra, should have warned him about Wyatt’s bad jokes.

“Welcome to the family,” she said. “Oh, there he is!”

Warren entered the general vicinity of the long table where the whole group sat. It had been a long time since the whole League sat together in a public restaurant like this, Mary realized, not to mention it was about time that Warren arrived.

“Sorry I’m late,” Warren said. “Hello, and you are?” He stuck a hand out toward Quentin.

Quentin shook it. “Quentin Sullivan. I’m a friend of Mary’s.”

“Boyfriend,” Mary and Kyra both chimed in.

“And that.”

“Are you that one hero I saw her with last night?” Warren asked.

“That would be, uhh . . .”

“Congratulations. Fair warning, though, Mary is one of three people in the universe I consider to be a sister. And Mary, save some for the rest of us.”

Kyra laughed while Warren walked over to the only empty seat at the table. The waiter came by with food and a drink all ready for him. Warren thanked the waiter, and again for Peter. Peter must have ordered for Warren some time ago.

She didn’t want to jinx anything by saying that this was a relaxing evening, but she then saw Walter examining his phone with a sigh. It was the sort of sigh that often came with bad news of some kind or another.

“Mortals, hear me!” a voice boomed from out of nowhere. It stirred various reactions around the restaurant as people wondered where it was coming from. Was it the stereo? No, the subtle music was still going in the background. “Your night of retribution has come. A few of your best have already threatened us, but I am Nervaeus. We are the Vanquishiri Bahitians. And you, even your strongest, are cattle.”

Everyone around the restaurant stared silently. Everyone except for Warren.

“I hate it when my warnings don’t take,” Warren said.

“Warren,” the party around the table said.

“Here I was thinking we could have a few hours at least. I guess I’ll have to box this up already. Has everything been paid for already?”

“It has,” Peter said.

“Walter, I think we need to go Code Alpha on this one, the works.”

Most of everyone at the table nodded immediately, though slowly. Mai grimaced with a deep breath and nodded too eventually. Quentin asked, “What’s a ‘Code Alpha?’”

Mai guided her daughter into the mansion from behind. “OK, go change and grab whatever you need.”

“What about you?” Judy asked. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes.” As her daughter climb the stairs with her new costume in hand, Mai turned to Walter. “What will you be doing?”

Walter said, “Directing as much as I can while helping people to safety. Curious, did Judy’s new costume come with new boots?”

“No, but I ran to the store to buy them and sneaked them into her room before we left here to go to dinner.”

“Holy crap!” Judy shouted from upstairs.

“See?” She noticed a peculiar smile coming from Walter. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that tonight would be a good night for even older heroes to appear, including lost idols. I’ll be in the living room while I wait, I think.”

That was not something Mai wanted to hear. She spent years resisting the urge to go out and be a hero. She spent years shaming herself for letting the unthinkable happen. Being on the other side of the country at the time was still a terrible excuse in her mind. Tonight, her daughter was going out again. Tonight, her daughter might not be ready for it, but there was no more waiting. She always was a girl who made her own miracles.

Mai touched the wall on the side of the stairway, and looked up. She remembered a “boy” parading around in a mini Swan Diva costume, her sister pointing out the “boy’s” favorite color, and the baby girl coming out. She remembered one fateful day when her own hands were forever changed by a single action, and Judy was there to defend her. She remembered when her baby girl set out to follow a path that she might have known too well herself.

She looked down, and noticed that her feet had already carried her to the top of the stairs. She could have turned back, but no. She was done running.

Alright, I’ll do it. I’ve put this on for too damn long.

She made her way to the attic. Judy might have noticed her heading this way, but she didn’t follow or call out to her. Mai knelt over by the chest full of so many memories. She opened it. At the top, there were two costumes. The one on the left was the old Pixeletta costume. The other . . .

Mai kicked away her heels, slipped off her dress, and reached for her hero’s uniform.

Her full-facial mask and wig went on last, just as it always did. The mask allowed for the essentials—sight, breath, speech—but it covered her full identity as a mother and a hostess at a restaurant. It felt good to be her other self again. She turned, and at the doorway stood a stunned young woman in a costume.

Pixeletta, at long last, put her new boots on. They were styled a little different from her old ones she used to wear, but she liked them. Perhaps, given time, she might like them more. Having this small, light cape on her back, reaching barely past her bra, however, that was an entirely new experience that left her a little giddy.

She had to show her mom. More than that she needed to see her once more before the evacuation went underway, or things got too crazy. More than that, she really had to show off her new look to her mom.

The hallway wasn’t necessarily a long one, even before counting the turn she had to make to reach the stairs leading further up. Pixeletta climbed, somewhat curious as to why her mom would have come this way.

Once she was at the doorway, she stopped. Her eyes widened just in time for the only person in the attic to stand and turn. It was Swan Diva.

Many feelings exploded inside of Pixeletta. They wanted to erupt all over. She walked so slowly to her lifelong idol, who stood only as tall as she did now. Pixeletta reached with one hand to adjust the shoulder on Swan Diva’s costume. Tears flowed into her eyes, but Pixeletta held them.

Then, after an eternity, she threw her arms around her mother. Of course it was her. Of course she knew. And, of course one tear broke free while her greatest hero hugged her right the hell back.

[“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,”] Swan Diva said in Japanese. The same feelings flooded her own voice.

[“I wanted to hear you say it for longer. We’re both here now.”]

[“Thank you, Judy.”]

“Let’s go save the world.” Pixeletta took her mother’s hand, and they walked down to the first floor.

Princess Undercut teleported into the living room with her husband. She knew that talking right away sometimes unsettled people when they still only saw her sparkling teleportation—something she had only ever seen on video—but she didn’t care. There wasn’t much time to care.

She said, “We’re here. Who’s got the suppressor cuffs, in case we need them?”

Walter tossed her a pair. “Here you go. The alpha frequency has been tested, and we’re good to go on that end.”

“Perfect. Is Judy gearing up? Whoa!”

Her answer came faster than expected, yes, but Princess Undercut did not expect to see Swan Diva walk into the room with Pixeletta.

“This is a little awkward,” Swan Diva said, “but do you have a couple of spare earpieces for the two of us?”

“Yes, right here, Mai,” Walter said, heading over to a drawer where the extra masks and earpieces were kept. He clicked another device in his hand while two earpieces here in the other. “There we go. Everyone in the League who’s working the field will be able to talk to everyone within range across the city. We’ll be passing the frequency along to team leaders as we find them. Here.”

The two heroines put their earpieces inside of their ears. Swan Diva said, “Well then, let’s get moving. Ju—Pixeletta, would you like to fly with me?”

“Yes,” Pixeletta said.

“I’ve been waiting twenty years to hear you say that.” She ruffled up Pixeletta’s hair.

“Mom!”

They laughed as they walked out of the house. Princess Undercut stood there, gaping. This was more surreal than that time a satellite crashed down and injected her with tiny robots that altered her body to allow for superpowers. It was far more surprising than when Wyatt proposed to her.

“Computer,” Walter said, “turn out the lights while we’re away, would you?”

A tin voice said, “Right away.”

Somewhere in Paragon City, there was a sound of boots marching. Then they appeared. Men in skintight black outfits and smaller versions of tiki masks entered the city. They marched through the city streets, their mere appearance unnerving or outright scaring a number of witnesses.

One unit with an organized number of these men stopped once their number stretched past a few buildings. The flanks checked the doors, and a handful of the troops marched into the buildings carrying something on their backs.

The unit proceeded in its march, and explosions burst from those same buildings that the troops broke into seconds before.

Now people were screaming. Now they were running.

A reporter sat waiting when the broadcast began. Countless homes, not just in Paragon City but also the world, were watching her.

“Could the world be ending as we know it? Find out. Here, at eleven.”