Name: Jake Granitol

Status: Deceased

Name: John Stone

Status: Deceased

The prompts kept repeating themselves in Ryan’s head as he walked towards the base entrance and away from his fallen people. Even though he’d dismissed them, the messages continued playing in his mind as if they were still there.

They’re dead.

They’re both… dead.

Would you like to remove the ‘deceased’ status from Jake Granitol? Cost: 100,000 points.

Warning: Insufficient energy. The 'deceased' status cannot be removed.

And I can't bring them back. It’s just… too many points.

There was no way for him to get that much energy at once. Short of shorting out the power grid for an entire city block.

Even being the epicenter of an explosion that had taken down a building hadn’t been enough. Not to mention the fact that he’d only been able to hold on to that much energy for a handful of seconds before his entire body had started literally breaking itself apart. A hundred thousand points? I doubt I'd even survive trying to hold all that in. And who knows how long it'll take to get to where I can.

Breathing in slowly, Ryan reordered his thoughts. Just… focus on who you can save. See about putting their bodies on ice once this is done… and maybe you can bring them back later. He told himself, trying to push the pain of their loss into the back of his mind.

Ryan clenched his fists tight to keep them from trembling as he walked. He wasn’t as sad for the two he knew who had died as he felt he should be. And on some level that bothered him. Mostly he just felt… angry.

Murderously so.

These thugs had taken his friends' lives over… what? Because they had refused to submit to Marcus? Bridgette had sworn up and down none of the mercs were under control - at least as far as she knew. So there'd be no using that as an excuse.

Because they had defended themselves against their former captors when attacked? Had resistance been what had gotten them killed? Or was it because his people had followed Ryan, who Marcus apparently saw as a potential rival?

It's just so… pointless. Ryan thought with frustration. Jake and John trusted me. Everyone here trusted me to keep them safe. To get their families back. And to make things right.

And now they're dying for it.

Pushing the unhelpful thoughts from his mind, Ryan ducked inside the half-destroyed steel vault door of the base’s entrance. Not wanting to glance at the whiteboard where Jake had kept faithful track of who was where, the editor descended to the first floor. Booted feet causing the steel ramp to reverberate loudly as he went.

Ryan heard someone leap for him the instant he passed Jake's old position. Turning before the man had even reached him, Ryan saw a form wreathed in solid stone diving towards him with a fist the size and shape of a bowling ball.

For the briefest of moments, his attacker’s appearance reminded him of the dead rock giant now laying in the dirt above.

Name: Jake Granitol

Status: Deceased

Ryan knew the 'hero' move here was to incapacitate the man and move on. Take the hit and paralyze the guy. Maybe put him into a coma. Or turn him over to the police whenever they stopped being the mayor's lapdogs. Wetwork had obviously deserved his fate, but maybe this particular prick was just a victim of circumstance. It felt unlikely… but possible.

Except several of his people were already dead. And for all Ryan knew there were more dead or dying waiting for him down below. More lives he’d failed to protect.

A part of him still wanted to be the hero. To do the right thing even in a bad situation. But for the rest of him it was just… too much.

The man struck Ryan impotently across his chest, stopping cold against his kinetic skin and faltering when his momentum was stolen. His foe looked up with surprise at Ryan only to see the editor standing stock-still, glaring down at him with a savannah predator’s eyes and not an ounce of mercy left.

He didn't even bother to pull up the man's name. All Ryan could see was a shadow of his dead friend. Someone he’d barely gotten a chance to know thanks to people like this wannabe imitation.

I’m done with this. Ryan decided firmly. Done giving chances you bastards never give anyone else. You don't want to play nice? Then neither will I. Fuck this, and fuck you!

The editor reached out and grabbed the man's arm before he could even move. Activating his power almost as fast as the prompt appeared.

Seconds later, there was nothing but dust where the man had once stood. It hadn't been the most efficient way to kill him. But it had felt like the most appropriate.

Before the first chunk of his would-be attacker had even started to petrify, Ryan turned and began heading back down the ramp. The editor didn’t spare a glance for the crumbling man behind him as he stepped down towards the next room. Thanks to that, he missed the moment a cloud of falling dust was interrupted by an invisible form passing through it.

Just as he had missed the still-functioning cameras trained on him since he'd entered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ryan paused once he got to the first of the base’s built-in defenses.

The twin machine gun nests placed down this hallway were both completely destroyed. Melted into slag down to the base behind torched and torn bags of sand. Where the slits along the walls had once been - vantage points for hidden rooms of defenders - now there were only enormous gashes. Gashes ripped into and out of the metal barrier as easily as if it were aluminum foil covered both walls. The walls looked like they'd gone through a blender.

At least fifteen bodies - some of his people and more he didn’t recognize - littered the hallway. None of them were moving. A quick check with his prompts confirmed none were alive.

John’s killzone worked. Ryan noted as he stepped past the aftermath of the enclosed battlefield. Just not well enough.

Next time… bigger guns, and better defenses. The editor promised himself. The next time I put up walls, nobody is getting through them.

The elevator at the end of the hall was, to his surprise, still working. Ryan went to hit the call button, but the display light above was ticking from floor to floor indicating it was on its way up already.

Perfect. Ryan thought as he stepped just to the left of where the doors would open. Flicking the lights off and tapping a finger to the wall the editor activated his power.

Would you like to close the entrance to this room by extending the metal from the hallway, then changing that metal into translucent glass? Cost: 65 points.

Accepting the prompt, Ryan moved to the right side of the elevator and then readied himself for action. If his people came out of that door, they’d go for the lights. If his enemies came out, then he imagined they'd either leave immediately - and run into the glass - or at least be confused.

Either way, works for me. The dark tunnel may as well still have had lights on to his enhanced sight. Greys of various tones replacing the room's colors.

The indicator light slowly ticked its way to the top floor before making a dinging sound. A moment later, the elevator doors slid open. A short, stocky man with sleeves rolled all the way to his shoulders and singed forearms stepped out first, squinting down the hall with one hand above his eyes.

Name: Phil Tucker

Superpower:

Flamethrower: Grants the capability to shoot forth gouts of flame from one’s hands.

“Damn. Someone must’ve busted the lights up here, boss.” Phil said in a gruff voice. "Probably that klutz Rodriguez."

“That’s alright.” Responded a tired voice stepping out from the elevator next to Phil. “Not like there’s more than one way out of here anyway…”

Name: Erik Moore

Superpowers:

Double: All physical aspects and attributes are doubled.

Power Mimicry: Grants the capability to mimic the power (or an aspect of) any biological creature the user touches for a short time. Mimicked powers cost additional energy to use. No limit to the amount of powers the user can mimic at once.

Jackal. Ryan thought with grim satisfaction as the thin, wiry man followed Phil out of the elevator. Jackal's hands were in the pockets of his cargo pants, his expression one of utter boredom. Like he hadn't just broken into Ryan's base and murdered a bunch of his people.

Found you.

Neither man appeared to have noticed him. Which suited Ryan perfectly.

Ryan waited until the elevator doors had fully closed, then he leapt at Jackal. All it would take is a single touch. Then I'll only have one more 'miniboss' to deal with.

As if he'd been waiting for it, Jackal grabbed Phil, turned, and threw the man bodily at Ryan as easily as if tossing a doll. Phil only had time to exclaim in surprise… before exploding into dust as the editor burst through him like a desert pinata. Sand and earth spraying all over the room.

"Woah-ho-ho!" Jackal said, dodging backwards out of reach with a wide, enthusiastic grin. "That's quite the power you've got there! Finally someone in this place has something cool. Mind if I borrow it?"

"Where are the rest of you?" Ryan asked in a low voice as he straightened back up, shaking the dust of Phil off one arm. "You can't be the only ones sent down."

Jackal grinned wide. "You been hiding or something? There's like two dozen of us up top."

"Not anymore there aren't." Ryan said, his cold eyes never leaving his opponent.

Jackal's confident grin deepened. "Oh? Well then allow me to thank you for taking out my competition. Here, a reward!"

Placing both hands together with fingers splayed out, Jackal unleashed a torrent of flame at Ryan just as the editor started to advance again. Sweeping his hands and the flames back and forth across the room, Jackal forced Ryan to back up.

"Not so tough against fire, are ya dust-boy?" Jackal cackled as he moved his hands apart, widening the stream of fire to cover half the room.

Sweat poured down Ryan's face as the temperature in the room skyrocketed. He backed up further, putting an arm up against the heat. The fibers in his gear offered up some protection, but it wasn't enough to cover him.

Why is it always fire? Ryan wondered.

He'd been burned so much in the last 24 hours Ryan felt like he'd never get the scent of his own burnt flesh out of his nose.

At least there's no smoke to choke on this time. He thought. That always makes it impossible to brea--

Insight flashed through him, and Ryan looked around the room again to see if his sudden plan would work. Glass still sealed off the entrance, the elevator doors were still closed, and Sheila hadn't yet installed an air vent in here. She'd reasoned it was close enough yo the surface that she didn't have to.

He would have to thank her for that later.

Ryan jumped back as another swath of hot fire swept towards him. Behind it Jackal was babbling on about something-or-other. Ignoring him, the editor brushed his fingers against the floor, activating his power.

Would you like to vacuum seal the rest of this room so that air cannot enter? Cost: 24 points. Would you like to recycle the carbon dioxide used by your lungs for the next five minutes into breathable oxygen? Cost: 50 points.

Accepting both prompts, Ryan clamped his mouth shut and gave Jackal a cocky grin followed by the universal "That all you got?" gesture with his arms open wide. His opponent's eyes widened and the monologuing stopped immediately.

Jackal growled. Actually growled. Then he braced himself against the wall and shouted "I'm going to melt you, motherf--"

Ryan lost the last word as a wall of flame covering the entire length of the room came barrelling towards him. Ducking into a corner of the room, the editor covered his head with his arms. Squirming into as small a ball as he could, Ryan tried to minimize his exposed skin. The rolling wall of fire hit him like a collapsing tide.

Flames seared all the hair off his skull for the third time in what felt like as many hours. Flesh blisters sprang up and popped along his arms. The heat-absorbent fabric on his back and neck protected him from the worst of it, but the patches that weren't thermally conductive began to melt onto his skin. Patchwork areas of plastic bubbling like pitch poured on his shoulders and legs.

Ryan clenched his jaw tight as he screamed. The pain was agonizing - burning always was - but he knew it couldn't last forever. He just had to outlast Jackal now.

Once the air in the room runs out, he'll--

The flames rolling over Ryan flickered and abruptly cut off - the sudden loss of heat almost as jarring as the fire itself. Ryan quickly healed his injuries and tried to stand up. Staggering to one knee as the pain relief took effect, he pushed himself back up again with heavy effort. Then he glanced over at the pyromaniac mercenary to see what had happened.

Jackal stood there, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. "Come on… come on … burn you stupid--" The mercenary leader flicked his hands in Ryan's direction. A spark appeared, and a flame extended briefly before flickering out not six inches away.

Ryan started towards the man again, slowly this time. Warily. Watching to see whether this was just a trap. Jackal saw him coming and immediately slammed both palms together as if the impact itself could restart his firehose. "Bring it on yo--"

Painful choking interrupted Jackal's proclamation. His hands went to his throat and he began gasping for air. Looking wildly about, he started to dash for the glass.

Ryan intercepted him with a fist to the temple, using the left cross Kevin had taught him. Jackal crashed to the ground, his face contorting as his body struggled for air. For the oxygen he'd just burned out of the room.

The mercenary tried to force himself up again, but his body failed him. Falling back to the ground in a heap, it wasn't long before Jackal stopped struggling. Ryan waited for a moment, then pulled up his enemy's status.

Status: Suffocating. Unconscious. Brain is deprived of oxygen and shutting down.

No need to waste more points then. Ryan thought as he stood there.

It was hard to not breathe as his lungs refilled themselves. Keeping his mouth closed and nostrils from breathing in was counter-intuitive. The sensation felt similar to holding his breath, but without the impending doom feeling that he meant he would be choking like Jackal had.

Over the next minute or so, Ryan found he could feel it when the air in his lungs was refreshed. It was like a cool, minty breeze in his chest. Light. Airy, even.

The editor pondered how strange that felt as Jackal died. Once his status changed to deceased, Ryan tapped the glass he'd covered the hallway with and removed it as well as he the covering over the elevator.

Air rushed back into the room in a swift gust.

Reaching down for Jackal's corpse, Ryan felt a sharp blade press against the underside of his neck. The editor froze.

"Marcus sends his regards." Said a smooth, older male voice in Ryan’s ear.

Kinetic skin was great for protection from a lot of things. Blades drawn across it were not one of them, which is why he’d kept the diamond reinforcement when upgrading his skin. To prevent random acts of knife from ending him.

Logically, Ryan also knew that his neck was unlikely to be cut open by anything save for some unknown superpower or a weapon made especially to kill him.

But that didn’t mean he was going to risk it.

Before the blade could move, Ryan leapt backwards and thrust his elbows back to throw off his attacker. To his surprise, he felt nothing but air. Stumbling only briefly, he readied himself.

There'd been no physical contact with whoever it was, and his attempt to pull up a prompt had failed. What sounded like metal went skittering across the floor behind him, no doubt the knife his would-be attacker had dropped.

Casting his eyes about however, Ryan saw… noone. And nothing. The room was empty, save for Jackal's still-warm corpse and the scattered, heated dust of Phil littering the floor. He couldn't even see where the blade had fallen.

"You're fast, Mr. Reynolds." Said a disembodied voice from a distant corner of the room. "But I'm not here to finish you off."

"You've got a funny way of showing it." Ryan said, checking his neck with one hand. Looking down, he was relieved to find not a single speck of blood. Apparently his skin was up to the task.

That’s a relief. He thought. Especially since this prick is invisible… or at least, the next best thing to it. Incorporeal maybe? Is that a thing?

"What are you here for, then? Trying to peep on the ladies room?" Ryan asked.

A soft chuckle came from the opposite corner of where the voice had been last. Where the knife had skittered towards. Ryan whirled in that direction… yet still nothing had changed. Not so much as a footprint in the sand.

"No, no. Nothing so… juvenile. I'm simply here to extend an offer on behalf of our good mayor." The voice said amicably.

"Pretty sure I showed Marcus where he can shove his 'offers' the last time we spoke." Ryan said evenly, retreating slowly until he had his back to the wall. Hopefully preventing any more surprise attacks.

"That you did. And yet, he sent me anyway. You've proven yourself quite dangerous, Mr. Reynolds."

"Come near me again and I'll show you just how dangerous I can be." Ryan gestured at the fates of the two mercs in front of him. "Or you can poll the audience, if you want. Fair warning, they're not as talkative as they used to be."

The voice came from the hallway exit this time, sounding slightly amused. "That... won't be necessary. I've proven I can reach you or any of your friends here, and that should be enough for now."

"If you've so much as scratched--" Ryan said, taking a step forward in spite of himself.

The voice sounded almost mollifying this time. "Hey, now. I haven't killed anyone. Here, at least. Not yet. Not like you did to those men up top."

"... out with it then. Before I add you to my list."

"Feisty." Breathed the voice, almost directly in Ryan's ear. The editor whirled again and swept an arm out… hitting nothing once more.

"The offer is simple. Leave town tomorrow morning. You can even take everyone here if you'd like. You won't be pursued."

"Uh-huh." Ryan said around clenched teeth. "At least until the mayor can round up enough brainwashed goons to try again."

"If you leave." Continued the voice from across the room as if Ryan hadn't interrupted or tried to hit him. "Then all prior animosity is settled. Scout's honor. Whoever stays behind can even live peacefully in town wherever they like - so long as you do not remain here. If you stay, or return to Arborville... then you and everyone here will be put to death for the crime of attempting an armed insurrection against the United States government."

That last line was delivered as matter of factly as the weatherman announcing rain.

"Armed insurrection?" Ryan snorted. "You tell your boss that when I come back to see him there isn't a doctor or healer alive that will be able to put his humpty dumpty ass back together when I'm done with him."

"I was hoping you'd say something like that." The voice said with what sounded like a measure of approval.

What's with this guy? Ryan wondered. And what's with the government callout? Does Marcus really think he's the legitimate power here? That the state would actually back him up?

Ryan tensed when the voice didn't speak again. I didn't think the state, or the States, were still… a thing.

For a lingering moment, the editor expected another blade at his throat. When none came he looked around carefully, trying to find the fallen knife or some upturned sand, or… something.

Instead there was nothing. Again.

"Creepy son of a…" Ryan muttered, heading back over to the elevator. Pressing the call button to open the door, he noticed the display light for the bottom floor was already lit. Then it started ticking towards the top floor.

Someone must have called it while I was distracted.

Not wanting to wait around when there might still be an invisible assassin lurking in the room, Ryan checked the cost to add thermal vision to his eyes. Finding it too expensive for his reserves, he used his power to generate and fling more sand across the room several times.

None of it impacted anything. The sand falling normally in broad arcs as if he were painting the floor.

Ryan hmphed. His little trick didn't rule out the possibility of whoever that had been hiding somewhere between this room and the trucks… but it did make him feel a little better.

The elevator dinged and the editor felt a strange sense of deja vu. Stepping quickly to the side of it once more, Ryan looked at his fist. Clenching it tightly, he stared at the elevator entrance with only one thought on his mind.

Next up, Mundus.