Matt’s heart leapt to his throat.

“…leaving and we… ladies and gentlemen I don’t know what to tell you, it’s unclear why but this is confirmed, the Black Death is leaving Chicago, I repeat, the Black Death is leaving Chicago and appears to be heading south-”

Even on the shack’s tiny, fuzzy screen it was visible – the missile stopped revolving, the dark figure frozen, then speeding away, a rippling trail in his wake. A cheer went up through the studio, crackling live through the TV speakers. Relief spread through Matt’s body and he stumbled backwards, grabbing the little table for support, his head suddenly light, his knees weak.

“…and we’re get… yes it’s confirmed, the Pentagon has re-established… re-established control of the missile and it is… auxiliary controls… going to touch down in Lake Michigan and-”

He didn’t understand it. There was seemingly no reason, it was impossible, Matt didn’t care. It was a miracle. He swore and prayed and thanked everyone and anyone, whoever or whatever had done this, all together at once – the words all jumbled, falling out in whispers beneath his breath.

“…unclear where Heydrich is headed, flying overland at supersonic speeds, camera crews attempting to follow-”

He needed air. Matt pushed open the shack door and stepped out into the blazing sunshine, his light-headed feet almost tripping down the single stair. He closed his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, feeling the wind on his face, his heart hammering in his chest.

Thank you, he thought. Not knowing who he was saying it to, not caring. Thanking them all the same, tears on his cheeks, with every fibre of his being. He opened his eyes, and looked up into the daylight, taking a long, steadying breath, blinking, as something up there caught his eye-

And without warning a dark shape hurtled from the sky and the world around him exploded.

Suddenly, he couldn’t see. Suddenly, the air was black with dust and debris, the shack obliterated into a million pieces, flying chunks of earth and metal, a sandstorm blotting out the sun. The ground shook, the force of the impact throwing Matt backwards, knocking him to the ground. He rolled onto his belly, his ears ringing, blinded, crawling, scrambling, trying to get up, trying to get away-

But before he could move an inch an invisible vice wrapped around his throat and Matt was lifted off his feet, choking, helpless, pulled through the whirling wind, towards the centre of the crater, towards a black figure, panting, crimson with rage-

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Heydrich screamed, demented, the instability in his voice tearing the very air asunder. His arm raised, three feet away, hand rigid, holding Matt suspended, his shoulders heaving underneath his coat. His dark eyes bulged, his face contorted into twisted lines of hate. Matt coughed, spluttered, his fingers clawing pathetically at the invisible bands around his neck.

“I… don’t…”

“YOU SAID IT!” shrieked the Black Death, and the force around Matt’s throat tightened, his legs thrashing, spots dancing before his eyes, “You said if I took your blood… you said I’d lose, and now…” On the other side of the crater, behind the Black Death, people were dropping from the sky –men holding cameras. But the Black Death didn’t notice, didn’t care. There was madness in his eyes and every ounce of it burned into Matt.

“My powers,” he whispered, and his eyes twitched to his arms, his shaking hand, “I can feel them… fading and there… there’s something inside me, and it…”

He pulled Matt’s helpless body closer. “What did you do?!” he shouted, eyes bulging, sweat streaming down his cheeks. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!”

And in an instant, Matt knew. Suffocating, his brain screaming, the world swimming before his eyes, he saw visions of a conversation with Ed, a lifetime ago – and in that moment, he knew. As he looked into the Black Death’s desperate, darkened eyes and saw panic, real, honest fear, Matt knew he had one card left to play. One final thing to do. Live, with cameras glistening in the desert sun, before the eyes of the entire world, his family, and four billion people, Matt Callaghan told the truth.

“I’m… not… a clairvoyant…” he choked.

And he smiled a weak, savage smile.

The Black Death’s face froze. The force around Matt’s neck slackened, though still held him, dangling in the air. And Matt kept talking.

“I… am… human...” he grinned, forcing his lungs to breathe, forcing his teeth to bear – in raw, trembling defiance. “You took… my blood… your body… absorbing… becoming human…”

And he looked down at the Black Death with vicious, triumphant eyes, as everything the man in black was came tumbling down, live, in front of the world he had broken.

“You…” hissed Matt, “…lose…”

For a few seconds, nothing moved.

Matt hung, suspended in the air, struggling for breath. The wind whipped through the desert, swirling grains of sand. The cameras turned, zooming in on the Black Death’s twisted face, his bulging, frozen eyes – standing there, unmoving. Unblinking. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, time stood still.

And then finally, almost too quietly to hear, the man spoke.

“I’ll kill you,” he murmured.

And suddenly there was a snap, a severing, sickening snap, and Matt screamed, screamed as his legs crumpled in half, the bones cracking and shattering, splintering like twigs.

“I’ll kill you!” the Black Death screamed, and suddenly there was an explosion, a storm of fire and earth and lightning, a hurricane of darkness rushing all around. The Black Death roared, spit flying from his mouth, his eyes bulging with unchecked insanity as his rage took form and split the sky in two.

“I’ll kill you!” he screamed, “I’ll kill everyone, I will BURN this WORLD TO THE GROUND BEFORE I LET YOU HAVE IT, I’LL KILL THEM, I’LL KILL THEM ALL-!”

And as the madness in his voice reached fever pitch, his eyes fell back to Matt. His open hand clenched and Matt’s body flew towards him, shrieking as the Black Death squeezed again, crushing his femurs, forcing the ends of the bone upwards through leg muscles and skin, holding Matt two inches from his crimson, twisted face and his raging, psychotic eyes-

“But first,” he whispered, “I’ll kill you.”

The Black Death raised his hand.

And suddenly there was an earth-shattering boom and a blast of golden light.

The Black Death launched back, rolling, tumbling, his hold on Matt extinguished. The boy dropped instantly as the man in black slammed down, crashing through the earth before skidding to a halt, one hand on the ground, one knee in the dirt, his shoulders singed and smoking. Every camera followed as he turned, as he stared, his eyes widening, his face whitening, his mouth forming a single, whispered word-

“Impossible.”

The cameras swung. Matt looked up.

And there in front of him, where the Black Death had been, stood a being of gold and white.

Gold boots.

Golden cape.

White body.

The symbol of breaking day.

Gloves curled.

Jaw clenched.

Face hard.

Eyes burning with golden light.

And golden light streaming from the mark on her cheek.

Jane, the empath.

Lady Dawn.