CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO

The Return of Crow-Man, Part 1

Sam was lying on his back while the rest of his body ached all over. His head was also hurting to the point that it took several precious seconds for conscious thought to return to him.

“Yow…” he groaned.

Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear the screams of pain and indignation from those villains who’d been swept in the same kinetic explosion that had knocked him down.

“Where… am I?”

He turned his head left and then right to discover that he’d fallen into a wide, circular space that seemed like the kind of administrative wing one might see inside a government building after a catastrophe; cracked stone walls and a ruined parquet floor littered with broken furniture and debris from the ginormous hole he’d created in the ceiling.

Sam struggled to his knees. “Where is—”

He heard footsteps, which, weirdly enough, drowned out all the other noises around him. Tap, tap, tap, tap—they were the self-assured steps of someone who didn’t seem bothered by the chaos around them.

“Thunder…?”

Through the dust cloud that hovered over him, Sam could see a figure approaching. Although he couldn’t quite make out who it was as his sight remained impaired with black spots hovering at the corners of his vision.

ALERT! You have been affected by a [Concussion]. [Regeneration (Δ)] is already working to heal you. Please refrain from moving too much until the debilitating condition has been removed.

At the same time as Triple-A’s warning, Sam heard a panicked voice from inside his head. You’ve got incoming, Kid!

Chiron’s warning cry forced Sam’s focus to reboot just in time for him to roll away from the kick that had been aimed at his head.

WARNING! [Concussion] has yet to heal. The regeneration of your health and stamina is slowed while this condition persists. It is recommended that you refrain from overt actions and ability usage until [Regeneration (Δ)] has healed you enough.

“I wish I could…” Sam sighed. “But Thunder—”

“Isn’t as banged up as you look,” said the man who just stepped into Sam’s field of view. “But I doubt even one of this country’s top heroes will stay standing for much longer now that the sub-level three prisoners have begun to come up to this floor.”

He was a tall, wiry man with wavy, dark red hair framing an extremely pale and thin face with pointed features. He wore the same white prison outfit as those around him, but this new villain to cross Sam’s path had an air of confidence about him that made him stand out from the pack of hardened criminals who were beginning to surround the hero.

“Sub-level three?” Sam repeated.

“Yes… it’s the prison wing where they keep the truly depraved—the mass murderers, the serial killers, and even some fools driven mad by the gods,” The man answered. Then he frowned. “Honestly, with my reputation, I’m surprised I only merited the second sub-level treatment as if I was some common villain who hadn’t terrorized an entire city when I was free to commit the despicable acts I was imprisoned for.”

“Styx…” Sam got up on shaky legs. “You’re Mr. Crimson…”

In his mind, Sam recalled Barbelle’s last moments; a terrified, wide-eyed look with tears streaming down her bronze cheeks as she begged him to save her.

“And you’re Herculean.” Mr. Crimson eyed Sam up and down with the gaze of one who was scrutinizing a piece of artwork. Or livestock. “I’ve read that name repeatedly in the Herald… the vigilante with the incredible strength who causes mayhem wherever he goes.”

Mr. Crimson’s gaze briefly went up to what remained of the Crucible’s rooftop platform and the double titanium doors that had escaped the suicide bomb he’d manufactured from Barbelle’s forced sacrifice.

“Could you be strong enough to break through those?” As Mr. Crimson’s focus shifted back on Sam, a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “Either way, you’ll make an excellent puppet in facilitating my escape.”

Sam’s brows knotted together. “You read the Herald…?”

Seriously, kid, the villain just threatened to turn you into his toy and your family’s newspaper is what you’re focusing on? Chiron sighed.

Sorry, but it’s a little shocking to hear that the Crucible subscribes to the Herald, Sam grumbled. I mean, the Post, the Times, and The Guardian are way more truthful than the Herald these days…

Worry about your reputation later, lame-brain, Chiron chided. Now’s the time to focus on the guy who can turn you into a walking bomb with a single bite!

Chiron didn’t need to tell him that as Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off the manic look in Mr. Crimson’s gaze which reminded Sam of the crazy, bald villain that had nearly killed him and Thunder a few months ago. Still, he couldn’t just let it go. The Herald was that much of a thorn on his side these days.

“Um, you really shouldn’t believe everything you read in that newspaper.” With Onus lost among the rubble on the floor, Sam’s hand drifted instead to the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. “I’m not entirely sure why they’re so biased against me but they are.”

Sam knew the Herald’s publisher was against him becoming a hero again but he didn’t think it was enough for his grandmother Marie to work so hard to ruin his image despite her raising him for most of his teen years. It was, in Sam’s perspective, one of life’s greatest mysteries, and one he needed to sort out with her soon if he was truly intent on going legitimate. Assuming Sam survived the Crucible and its denizens, of course.

“Oh, I tend not to believe everything I read or hear in the papers. There was a lot of fake news about me too, you know.” Mr. Crimson’s smile widened, revealing the two sharp fangs protruding from his upper lip. “Besides, I’ll be able to see your strength for myself once I’ve made you my plaything.”

“Dude, men don’t call other men playthings,” Sam complained.

Don’t let the vampire wannabee bite you or he’ll compel you to do whatever he wants, Chiron reminded Sam.

“I know…” Sam answered.

ALERT! [Concussion] has been healed. You’re free to go crazy again.

With that notification came relief, and Sam’s pounding headache finally subsided along with the few black dots at the edges of his vision.

“About time,” Sam whispered under his breath. “But where’s—”

Despite the looming threat of Mr. Crimson before him, Sam’s gaze was drawn to a scene on his left; Thunder, relatively unscathed but for the streaks of hair clinging to her sweaty brow and the smudges of dirt blemishing her white suit, was fighting off a small tide of villains desperate to get past her so they could climb back up to what remained of the platform above. The sight of her tripping them up like a professional dancer in the middle of a crowd of amateurs filled Sam with courage and hope. The hope that he and Thunder might just live through this crazy episode they’d found themselves in.

“Well, shall we begin?” called Mr. Crimson, drawing Sam’s attention back to the deranged grin plastered on the villain’s face. “I have a reunion with a certain Crow I’d like to keep. And I can’t wait to see his face when I force his little sidekick to kill herself in front of him.”

Mr. Crimson got his reunion much earlier than he expected though. For no sooner had he lunged toward Sam when a feather-shaped throwing knife stabbed Mr. Crimson in the shoulder, causing the villain to pull back from his attack in surprise.

“What is it now?” he complained.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, a thick pillar of ice shot out of the gaping hole in the middle of the parquet floor that the third sub-level villains had been climbing out of. Riding on top of this pillar were several people; injured security guards in various states of recuperation and a bunch of familiar faces, one of whom caused a wide grin to appear on Sam’s face. “Crow-Man!”