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Chapter 29
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Striga Island had its own share of trouble, off to the east of Paragon’s mainland, but it was nothing compared to the city most days. War Lagoon knew this. He counted on it about as much as being able to find a few smalltime heroes on patrol who were willing to help out with the increasing efforts across the sea.

He met two sibling heroes chatting at the docks who looked bored. It didn’t take much convincing to ask them to come along before he left.

Nothing reached the earpiece he wore. That wasn’t too surprising since the Alpha Signal required a central point somewhere in Paragon City. The city had three such locations in case of an emergency. Striga Island and Nerva didn’t have either, and they were both out of range of the beacons hidden around the city, even though the Event had barely touched the edge of Striga’s docks a few months ago.

Once they got closer to the mainland, however, whatever was going on was going to reach War Lagoon’s ear. He knew to expect it once they were in range.

The sibling heroes went off in their own direction to help out around the city, and War Lagoon listened to everyone reporting across the channel while he scanned the streets and alleys in Founder’s Creek. Something didn’t feel right.

However, he saw the ambush too late. A muscular man jumped out of a window at him, and they fell the better part of two stories. War Lagoon crash landed on top of a closed dumpster. He recognized his attacker before the man could sprout a body full of thorns and stab War Lagoon with them.

He kicked Bloodthorn away, as sore as he was from the fall. One question he had was how the villain knew he was there. War Lagoon tried to push it to the side of his mind, but he heard what sounded like a hero being killed while calling out the location of another villain.

“This is War Lagoon,” he said into his earpiece. “I have found one of them.”

Bloodthorn shouted, “Prepare to die, hero!”

The villain’s spikes and thorns were full grown now. War Lagoon would have stated his location, but Ohm Wire was reporting that the enemy was surrounding City Hall. And then the fight truly began between him and Bloodthorn.

Or it would have if not for the fact that they were in a dark alley at night. War Lagoon used his power to intensify the shadows and use them to hold Bloodthorn’s entire body in the middle of the air. War Lagoon shook his head while he felt the villain struggle inside of the darkness.

As the struggling weakened, perhaps a little faster than expected, a man’s voice echoed from the unknown:

“Fight, little ants. Fight as long and as hard as you can. I told you, tonight is your night of reckoning. We will show you how hopeless it is to resist before I, Nervaeus, crush you.”

The struggling stopped, and War Lagoon released the shadows. He heard the body drop, but now he was facing away, looking to see if he could spot the source of the voice. It was annoying, and someone had to bring down those Vanquishiri as he was sure Nervaeus was certainly one.

Something stung him from behind. Stabbed, even. It hurt. The low, rumbling laughter caught War’s ear.

Nervaeus said, “Tonight, darkness falls forever upon this world. See even now as the sky darkens, signaling the end.”

War Lagoon stumbled forward after he swung back with his right arm, which was closest to the stab wound. He barely hit Bloodthorn, who withdrew. War Lagoon fell to his knees as the lights appeared on the ship overhead.

Adamast Cross stomped on the ground, not really sure she needed to, and extended her ice armor powers across the pavement until it hit and encapsulated a number of undead foot soldiers. She could have gone longer and harder with it, but there were plenty of villains and banished gods to fight.

This simple trick and her melee combat with the parasol would have to suffice.

More heroes joined to take down the ring of foot soldiers that surrounded City Hall while the alien ship above made itself more pronounced with those lights. It looked like the ship covered more of the east side of the city than the west.

“Dock,” Adamast shouted out to one of the heroes, “Get your ass on the Alpha Signal.”

“Serious? On it, thanks.” Dock backhanded a foot soldier that came after him, and he tinkered with something on his cybernetic arm while observing the heroes on the scene. Adamast could hear a few snickers before Dock’s voice joined the radio channel. “Hello, can everyone hear me?”

“Crystal clear,” said Ohm Wire, and others had a few variant words.

“What started these guys off?”

Adamast said, “It’s a long story. Let’s just put these undead creatures to rest and head inside to check on Mayor Oldman to make sure he’s safe.”

“Undead?”

“Pieced together from multiple bodies, all of them. Their leaders are gods who were banished from their pantheons. Oh, and we have a half dozen villains out here who escaped from the Asylum the other night. Any questions?”

The alien ship took another potshot, this time at a building to the north of City Hall.

The Rhakians made it to this planet, and, judging by the state of the city below as well as the absence of every other ship that came before them, the others had failed to beat these irksome creatures as much as they deserved.

[“Sir,”] the ensign said, [“our chronometer is showing signs of malfunction.”]

[“Priorities, Ensign!”] the commander said. [“Prepare to fire at their buildings to test for integrity and instill fear in the enemy. Fire!”]

Moments passed swiftly. The people of Earth were in no condition to fight back. The commander ordered for another shot. Then, half as long later, he ordered a third.

The third shot didn’t come. The weapons officer tried again and again.

Then a man in a flame-colored hood and a mask appeared on several screens. He wore a ridiculous smile as well. The commander ordered the translation software to go to work when the officer was already on it.

“Hello,” said the Earth man. “Sorry to commandeer your ship’s main weapons and communications array, but I’m going to need them in a moment. You can have your silly little toys back when I’m done, or you can leave. Your choice.”

Once the screens went out, the commander said, [“I hate this planet so much.”]

“No, wait,” War Lagoon said in a hoarse voice, only too late.

Another hero flew in to fight Bloodthorn. The hero was ranged in terms of power, but he wasn’t quick enough. Bloodthorn jumped the hero and slashed his neck with one spike protruding from his arm. The hero was tossed like a doll into the nearby canal.

War Lagoon hammered a fist into the ground as he got up. He called on a shadow to patch up the hole in his lower back so that it wouldn’t bleed out. Then he summoned a tentacle from the dark abyss to rise up from the middle of the street and smack Bloodthorn sideways at full force.

Yeah, he hurt like hell. That didn’t mean War Lagoon didn’t have a ton of fight in him. He could have tried running off to get help, but there was no telling how much damage the villain would have done then. War Lagoon shot multiple short bolts of darkness at the villain. The villain grew extra thorns to block the attack.

Bloodthorn threw a handful of bone-colored spikes his way. War Lagoon opened a dark portal between them and himself, and a second one behind the villain. The spikes were long enough for a railroad, but if they hit Bloodthorn he didn’t show any level of concern for it.

Both men charged at one another. War Lagoon formed a pole with his shadow energy and pulled it back for a swing. Bloodthorn threw something and dodged to the side. War Lagoon wrapped the item on the ground with a heavy dose of shadow energy when he recognized it, but the grenade will threw him backward when it blew.

Great, now his vision and hearing were disoriented to go with the pain. Where the hell did Bloodthorn even get a grenade? He steadied his senses as best as he could rather than dwell on that question.

“You’re one of the tougher ones to beat,” Bloodthorn said. “Killing you means the whole League can be beat. I look forward to my revenge!”

War Lagoon got up using his flight. He redid the patch on his back now, realizing that holding it required a small amount of concentration, but now there were enough bruises and scratches forming on his body. There was only one way to deal with this fight.

He wrapped his whole body in energy, and flew at the villain as fast as he could. Bloodthorn parried against the blow, and War Lagoon parried against his counterattack. They went back and forth for a few seconds, during which time their powers raised from kittens to beasts of a jungle, fists turned from the slamming of car doors to the collision of freight trains, and breath transformed from a gentle sea breeze to the turbulence of a tornado. Every attempt the villain made to stab him burned like the coldest ice against his skin. He took a couple punches, expecting to win because he knew he could end this storm if he acted quick.

This was a terrible idea, but it was the only one he had until, by the end of the same brutal moment, War Lagoon managed to attach the first cuff of a power suppressor on the villain’s left wrist. He kicked inward at Bloodthorn’s right leg and held the pressure as his knee buckled in pain. War Lagoon whipped the second cuff around a streetlamp, and attached it to the other man’s right hand.

As the thorns and spikes disintegrated, War Lagoon said, “Nighty night,” and punched the villain one last time across the jaw.

They both collapsed. War Lagoon felt woozy. His own power felt like it was slipping away. Parts of him felt numb now, but he couldn’t count where or how many spots. Someone ran to him with a device. He knew this device. He thought he did. The dark, messy world slipped away. And then, he was somewhere brighter and spinning.

Adamast Cross led four other heroes into City Hall. A desperate criminal held a gun to the mayor’s head while they marched forward. Ohm Wire went ahead and used her faux invisibility to release the clip and put the safety on. The only hero in the room that Adamast didn’t recognize was the one who charged in and took the criminal down.

Adamast took out her earpiece and turned it off. It was a habit as much as it was a show of respect when walking into most places.

“Thank you,” Mayor Oldman said. “That damned fool held me here since those people appeared outside.”

“They’re not people,” Adamast said. “They’re someone’s idea of a bad joke.”

“Well, still. Please follow me to my office. We need to discuss what to do about this situation that’s going on.”

“I’m not sure how much longer these plants can keep the freaks out of Talos,” said one voice. “We’re giving this spot everything we have, but we need more people to help evacuating.”

Another said, “I just gave my emergency teleport device to another hero. He was bleeding everywhere when he was sent to the hospital. I think he took down Bloodthorn!”

“Oh my god,” a third said, “how many of these things are there?”

“I’m pinned down by Peregrine Labs. Send help!”

“They’re coming up through the sewers.”

Their voices came from the radio set up in one corner of the lab where Mortar Mage was working. The only break he had away from his work in here was when he took a portal to board the alien ship and apply a device to their computer controlling the core. Any attempt to remove the device would give those extraterrestrials a nasty shock.

“. . . War Lag . . .” Static. “. . . critical condition. Hand me . . .”

The name stole Mortar Mage’s attention for a brief second. If he heard what he thought was just said, then things had already gone too far.

He checked the progress on everything while thinking to himself. The aliens wanted to trigger the alarm? Fine. The Vanquishiri wanted to move up the time table he’d given them? Fine. Everyone was entitled to their decisions, and now he had made his.

His radio wasn’t the only device for communication he had, however. There was a camera, and a few screens showing off the many security feeds around the city. Most of them were outdoor feeds. That was where the fight was, across Paragon’s mainland area.

Mortar looked at a clock. It had been four hours since he told the Vanquishiri his terms. Their forces and many villains alike were now tearing through the city. Heroes were exhausting themselves in a citywide effort not seen in close to five years, except this time was more dangerous. More costly. Even now, as more heroes were being hospitalized.

Tears didn’t come. No matter how hard that part of him screamed for what was happening, Mortar did not cry. He did not yell. He did not let himself frown for what he was about to do, as serious and as risky as it was. His fury was unbridled if not for his will to do what was now necessary. Mortar Mage forced himself to smile, and he turned on the camera and the microphone.

They were linked to every channel of every audio device or physical display in the city. It was time.

“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else of Paragon City! Hello, can everyone hear me right now? Enjoying yourselves in all your glory, I see,” said Mortar Mage, knowing that his face could be seen and his voice could be heard by all if only the city were quiet. When was it ever? But he had prepared for this.

He clicked the first button on a remote, and whispered a few words.

Like a boiling kettle of arcane energy, the first of ten runic symbols—each one large enough to fit a pair of cars on its space—screeched, and it shone gloriously from the ground to the now-occupied sky in the northwestern corner of Paragon’s city limits.
Then the second did the same in the northeastern corner, followed by a third south of the first, and so on until the first eight surrounded the vast majority of the city. This caught the attention of people everywhere, regardless of whether they were in the city itself or on the other side of the world, and it did so in time for the ninth to appear in the undesignated zone in the north and the tenth to the south where Shiva Bay once thrived.

Mortar’s voice filled the air as the screeching died down, “That, my friends, is the sound of silence crashing down on all of Paragon.” The runes hissed.

He knew that no one with the sight, whether by god blood or mutation or other origin, could see Paragon’s future or pinpoint where he was. None of them could see past this moment. If Mortar Mage was bluffing, no one would be able to call him on it.

Not that it stopped anyone from trying. Mortar could feel those runes tingle out there, as well as on his back.

This was the moment Halah saw. The Vanquishiri woman saw it too. It has to be.

“Now,” continued Mortar Mage, “first question, to all you gods, you demi-gods and quarter gods, you wannabes and could-have-beens: Who here remembers the war fought over four years ago? Better question: Who wants to wake up tomorrow? Because it’s time we had a talk.”

The mobs of abhorrent minions belonging to the Vanquishiri stopped, ceased by a single hand belonging to none other than Nervaeus. The whole trio was listening.

Just like the rest of the city. Just like the entire world.

“In the last seven years, can anyone tell me what’s changed? What’s different? You’ve all pushed and you’ve prodded since before then. I used to think this city was ripe for change when I took up my moniker as hero. I used to think my hand alone could tip the balance for the better.”

Too many variables, not enough constants. Mortar thought to himself.

“Four years ago, when a seal was made holding back a place called the eternal realm, everyone on the planet went about their business as if all we had was a simple gang war spanning random cities and streets across the globe. It was another day, another headache.”

He used the hacked feed to show images on all of the televisions screens and smart phones in Paragon. They were the surviving images of the eternal realm bleeding into this world, and the gods fighting at random places around the globe.

“But take a good look. Let these images seep into that corner of your minds you’ve all forgotten. Let it stir the fragments of your memory you seemed to have lost ever since we drifted too close to eternity and nothingness. Take a good guess what may happen when I open the seal.”

The final image was alike to an explosion north of Siren’s Gauntlet. In the same place where there remained a “mysterious” crater. No, it wasn’t an explosion, or an implosion, but an erasure of a space. A single point in which the mortal realm had been consumed by pure oblivion.

Had the seal been activated even a second later, half of Paragon would have been sucked into the end of the universe. The trauma of that time was too much for everyone alive. Mortar had no idea why he remembered it so well when no one else he knew did.

Mortar Mage said, “On the other side of this seal is the eternal realm, home of the gods, and final resting place of everything as we know it; and I am going to open it and close it again because it needs to happen if we are to survive. So, to all of you with the blood or ego of a god, or the power to face one, enjoy your final moments before the rift opens around this city and you get sucked in. You remember the little good every last one of you has ever done with all of your petty squabbling. All of your deeds. All of your words. When the seal opens, and you are sucked into the eternal realm, leaving everyone else behind, remember how little it all mattered in the end because that memory will be the last thing you have.

“If you value your time, as well as those around you, then start running. If you think you’re big and bad, and are done listening to me, then fight to your heart’s content. Either way, remember, you have one hour. So start packing. We have a one-way trip to make.”

He ended the transmission at last.