Countless hordes moved through the caves, attempting to drown the Heroes with their numbers. After what had seemed a short respite from the Powered undead, this new attack came with full force. Such a throng was meant for one purpose and one purpose only. To bury the intruders alive in gore.

As the thirty-strong team of Supers and unPowered soldiers moved as one, they met resistance from all directions. The metro was dark despite their electric lights, and though it should have only been possible for attacks to come by two ways, the reality was far worse.

In a waking nightmare, pale and naked humans came pouring from the subway walls like roaches scattering from the light. The tiles fell away as they pulled themselves free in an endless stream, escaping from where they had been mummified just beneath the surface. The constant crack of gunfire burst through the tunnel, but it was only just enough to hold them back.

While these undead were easy to kill, their bodies piled up with claustrophobic alarm.

Even as they carved a path through the horde around them, the tunnel was becoming so densely packed that nothing else could be seen through the Lich's horrors. Only by a combination of the Elementalist and a matter-compacting Hero was such a tide kept back, and even then, it was a struggle.

Hidden within the mass of undead, like needles in a haystack, Powered Thralls blended in. Without the colorful costumes they'd worn in life, they looked no different from the rest. Yet every few seconds another would tear free of the pack, ready to rip into the Heroes. Only Avenger's careful watch managed to keep them back.

His precognitive sense of danger allowed him to perfectly prioritize his attacks at the front, watching back over his men. Without warning, a soldier would suddenly find heavy slugs bouncing harmlessly off an undead as it ran towards him. Then, just in the nick of time, it would fall dead at Avenger’s command, saving the soldier with no time to spare.

At the backline, the rest of the heavy hitters were equally occupied.

Ironbolt had found his element, here. There would be no more lost souls, not as far as he could help it. He kept an eye on every single man and woman in the company, making sure to take down those few threats which managed to slip through in Avenger’s blind spots. In any group of soldiers, no matter how well-trained, it was bound to happen. Someone's focus would briefly shift or a friend would get in the way. An area would wrongly be assumed to be covered. And out of nowhere, disaster would strike and claim a life.

Yet with Ironbolt filling the gaps, their team could both fire and move without slowing. He burned through magazine after magazine of ammo for his pistols and once again he cursed his missing energy-weapons. Very soon, a second disaster would hit them, he realized. With a quick check, he could see the empty pouches all around. He could see the mounting fatigue.

Half the team was composed of regular people carrying guns, and guns inevitably ran dry. Powers, for the most part, were not so different.

There was no respite in sight, moving down this tunnel. Just an unwinnable war of numbers.

"There!" Avenger shouted. He had a Blaster Type Hero at his side, methodically routing these black swans. Using dark purple beams, most could be put down in a timely manner. The rest were dealt with by his backup.

Just on cue, Ironbolt rushed to his side. Without any time to spare, he spoke at his full speed. "We can't keep this up! I have a plan to clear the field!"

Avenger could just barely process with help from his Power. He cursed the distraction. "Get back to the line!" God knew what was going on unchecked in the back without his second in command there.

Not taking orders from his friend, Ironbolt showed that he could easily shoot and talk. Multitasking was no stretch for his Power and he frequently checked back to take down any threats. "There's going to be millions more of them, Thomas." He went straight for the gut, using Avenger's real name. Something only he was entrusted with. "We have to put an end to this!" Every second counted here, so manipulation was not off the table. More would die without it.

He'd thought this situation through to its end. The horde would overrun them in under a minute now. It was a freight train barreling down the track at them. One link in their chain was bound to break and then, everyone died.

"Fuck!" Avenger roared.

Unable to both command his soldier and talk to Ironbolt, he was forced to use his one last knife. Even then, he barely stopped the Thrall he was aiming for.

"I'm taking charge!" Ironbolt told him.

Reluctantly, Avenger gave over command. "Fine!" He hated when Isaac always had to be right. "Just do it quickly!"

Without hesitation, Ironbolt blasted up to the front line and grabbed the Elementalist's attention there. He had to explain clearly and quickly, as they could only afford a moment's distraction from the frontward onslaught. "We have to bring down the Storm," he said.

Everything relied upon this one young man understanding what was meant. Without breaking concentration and without so much as a nod of acknowledgment, he had to be trusted. If he stopped what he was doing at the front, constantly opening and reclosing the Earth to crush the undead, they would be instantly swarmed. Yet if he did not execute the plan with complete confidence, the timing would fail.

"Everyone!" Ironbolt turned back to the team and shouted. They only had to see what was happening to know what they had to do. The change was obvious.

After so many nerve-wracking seconds, the Earthbender finally came through. He did what he had to.

In two heavy motions, he replanted his feet and shoved with both hands. Forming directly to their right, a passage opened in the rock; a dead-end that everyone sprinted into for cover. No deeper than fifty feet, it barely housed them. But it was enough to serve as a barrier. Fear flashed over the Elementalist's face as he stood alone in the tunnel behind them. A sole remainer.

There was a teleporter in the crowd, Ironbolt knew. "Leap!" he called, searching for them.

Resolve suddenly overcame fear and the Elementalist knew what he had to do. With the horde falling in on him, he swept his arms to reclose the side passage he had created, sealing his teammates to safety. Leaving himself to the horde.

Once again, louder this time, Ironbolt shouted for the teleporter. "Leap!" he bellowed, turning away from the closing door. Just two words followed. "Save him!"

It was over before the rock slammed shut.

The man vanished into thin air just as they were sealed into a living coffin. At last, a blast shook the world. It was a cacophony of lightning exploding just beyond the barrier. Going on without pause, like rapid gunfire, it shook the breath out of every lung. It burnt fractal scars through the dirt like veins of pure energy. Their door was barely enough to hold it back.

Ironbolt couldn't stop himself from saying a prayer. If just one step was missed now, they would all be dead. Buried alive.

The moments stretched on into eternity. Then finally, the noise stopped.

In the complete silence that followed, breathless anxiety filled the room. Only the Speedster had any idea of what had just happened. But he made it clear enough.

Ironbolt cried out, "Yes!" He threw up his arms in triumph, stretching out every muscle in his body. Just as quickly, his head fell with a shaking exhale and he let his excitement speak for itself. The feat was done. The opening had been closed, no doubt by the winds and fire collapsing it.

The field had been cleared.

Out of their crowd, the Elementalist emerged and shifted the door open once again, reconnecting it with the metro. The Teleporter was close behind him, her face white as a ghost.

The margin had been razor-thin, but they had done it. Faster than lightning…

Outside, there was nothing but a black and red sludge, stretching as far as the eye could see. The Thralls had been completely liquified, and the burnt singe of their flesh was beyond wretched to smell.

"What the hell just happened?" one of the soldiers demanded.

Avenger answered. "They let in the Great Storm from above and it boiled 'em down to soup." After turning to his friend, he nodded. "Good job." He was never one to argue with results, but it didn't stop his voice from being tight with anger.

"It was far too close. Even for me," Ironbolt replied. And for the name, he could only apologize. "I'm sorry." It had crossed a line.

Dupe couldn't contain himself in the back. He moved to the subway wall to brace before emptying the contents of his stomach. Even with passive healing, he couldn't hold back his reaction.

Ironbolt had already activated his air filtration. Always two steps ahead.

Besides the boy, it was just the Technicist who vomited. The rest were simply eager to move on, though there was some dry heaving in the crowd. They were more acquainted than most with the stench of burnt decay, however.

And so they did go on without delay. The Heroes trudged through the marsh of steaming hot corpses with haste, and no sign of further resistance showed itself.

The subway transitioned after another mile to a tangle of open scaffolding and insane ropework. All of it was suspended above a chasm with no visible points of attachment. Still, they marched on without sighting any Thralls. Just stench and corpses.

Eerie winds moved through the abyss below the platforms. Among the creaking suspensions, there were lanterns lit which wavered in the breeze. Far in the distance, they could make out what looked like a pale fire. If they hadn't known better, they would have thought it was a sign of civilization. But nothing lived in these tunnels.

"It's too quiet," Ironbolt said.

Avenger's eyes roved everywhere. "My danger-sense would tell me if something was up."

"It doesn't work on secondary or long-term scales, though. We could be walking into a trap."

"Is there something you want me to do about it?" Avenger sighed at his friend, clearly still trying to get over his frustration from before. "There are only two bloody directions for us to choose from."

"I'm aware. I was just hoping you might have sensed something."

"You'll be the first one to know," Avenger said. Beyond that, he had nothing to add.

The group was still on edge from their last encounter. The constant expectation of attack did little to soften the atmosphere of doom. With speech restricted only to what was necessary, their walk was a miserable plod in silence. Each was left to brood and worry.

But relief did come.

As they approached what had seemed like a fire from the distance, they instead saw that it was an illusion. The tunnel bottlenecked to return to a singular passage. This hall was painted bright red with blood like so many others; a disturbing sight, but rapidly overwhelmed by the realization of the light's true source. An opening to the surface rested ahead after a short incline. And so, it was the sky which shone down.

Through all their distraction, not one of them had noticed the change. Far above, the storm had ceased. They had reached the end of the line and freedom from this underground hell.

Moving at full speed up and out, the team of Heroes rose into a clear field of grass at once. The tunnel ended abruptly on a section of the city all but completely swallowed by nature. The stench soon subsided and all was clear and bright. The hills rolling in the distance did not show a single enemy.

It was as if they had awoken from the nightmare but entered into a dream.

Always one to look for trouble, Avenger didn't believe it. "Where the fuck are they?"

"They should be here," Ironbolt agreed. It was passing beyond too good to be true, and there had to be an explanation. Something which had pulled the Lich's forces away from the area.

A bigger threat, he thought. Could that possibly be true?

"Whatever the case," their Technicist said, "we ought merely to be thankful. This is the best-case scenario, gentlemen. We have a straight shot to the gate now."

It tempted fate, but he was right. As had already been said, there were only two directions. Forward and back. And Ironbolt would be damned if they let a single drop of these soldier’s blood go to waste.

Weeks of careful travel behind enemy lines remained before they could arrive at the Moscow Rift Gate. At least on the surface, there were far more tactical options. Stealth became viable again.

If they succeeded here, the balance of the game would shift in their favor. They might have a chance of succeeding in the North. And, although he was certain it was never so simple, his guiding star always remained. Ironbolt followed his conscience. He would do his best and accept responsibility for the consequences, no matter what they were. Because that's what it was to be a Hero.

Whether he saved the world or not, judgment always came. His actions spoke for themselves and no matter what, the truth would be known. That one true authority would speak.

Time judged and history awaited. Forward unto the end.