Ryan hadn’t known what he’d been expecting when he’d run down a few flights of stairs, pushed his way through two sets of windowless double doors, and reached the next room. This entire section hadn’t even been on the map. He’d briefly considered what to do if he found another medical wing. Or a bunker filled with machine guns pointed right at him.

Perhaps even an evil lair filled with chemical vats and the mayor in the middle of some winding monologue. Would it be too cliche or just cliche enough?

Instead, he found none of those things. What awaited the editor on the other side, on the ‘final stage’ he’d been rushing towards… was a train station.

Huh?

In the center of the massive cavern Ryan had just burst into was an honest-to-god train on an honest-to-god set of metal tracks leading directly from one wall into the opposing side.

The conductor’s segment at the front was visibly empty, but the rest of it was packed full. Internal strips of fluorescent lighting and external floodlights welded to the top of the locomotive clearly illuminated its occupants along with the rest of the room.

Outside of the train and just off to the side was a being Ryan had never seen before. Shrouded in a hazy silver mist, the individual's features were impossible to pick out. He (or she) looked like someone had filled an x-ray rendering of an adult human with semi-solid mist.

Charity Oxford stood next to her still-comatose husband who was laid out on a medical gurney. Her eyes were glazed over, staring off in the distance in a way Ryan had gotten used to identifying. A severely burned and glossy-eyed Jessie Black lay on a stretcher beside him. Jessie’s wounds must’ve been extensive, as he was covered almost entirely in white bandages.

Both Meatfist twins were currently dragging a small crowd of people with black motorcycle helmets into the train via ropes bound to each of their hands. The ropes were tied to one another as well, whether to make them easier to pull or make it harder to escape Ryan couldn’t tell.

Stacked high next to the train were several piles of what looked like industrial supply crates from an Amazon warehouse. Next to those were a dozen or so large red-and-white boxes of what Ryan guessed were medical supplies due to the large painted cross on each. Dark green crates of thick plastic stacked four high and three deep with “U.S. Army'' emblazoned in white on them, followed by pallet after pallet of food, took up the rest of that section of the room.

Canned goods, rations, bread, water and even a few pallets of booze could be seen wrapped in thick plastic from where the editor stood. There had to be hundreds of them, stacked nearly to the ceiling. Ryan had no idea where they’d gotten so much food, but it went a long way towards explaining his enemy’s firm grip on Arborville.

Small wonder he could afford to bribe whoever he wanted if he’s got supplies like this hidden away.

Inside the train, next to a black-haired, severe-looking woman in a white lab coat, was the mayor himself. The pair were surrounded by dozens of the very same helmeted patients currently boarding the train and appeared to be chatting about something on a tablet when Ryan entered through the swinging doors with a loud bang.

Though Marcus appeared to be unharmed at this distance, the editor noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his left arm was missing at the elbow.

Everyone save those in helmets turned towards Ryan as the doors slammed outward. The rest simply stood in place once the pulling stopped.

Charity and Jessie continued to stare off into space while the Meatfist twins armed themselves. One drew a long rifle from a sling across his back while the other - who Ryan had tussled with before - cracked his steel gauntlet-covered knuckles.

Undaunted, the editor slowed his sprint and moved forward at a leisurely pace. He swung his briefcase around his back with one arm like he was headed home for work after a long day and faced his sea of opponents with a look of casual calm.

“You know, for someone afraid the entire world is after him.” Ryan commented dryly as he approached, projecting his voice a bit so that it echoed around the cavern. “You have a bad habit of making enemies every time you meet someone.”

“Mr. Reynolds.” Marcus said carefully, taking a step towards the train doors and steadying himself against the inner wall. If the mayor was surprised that Ryan had survived his own explosion, the older man’s face didn’t show it. “Am I to assume you mean yourself?”

"Oh, not me. I don't make enemies with dead men." Ryan said, stopping a few dozen yards from the start of the crowd. He doubted he’d be able to keep them out of this entirely… but it was worth a shot.

"... Quite." Marcus's cold eyes narrowed. "You'll have to forgive my rudeness. I neglected to show you the proper respect due those who have demolished my property. Percival?"

Time seemed to slow for Ryan as the mayor snapped the fingers on his remaining hand. The twin who'd unlimbered a rifle that looked large enough to hunt tanks with immediately took aim at the editor’s head. A red dot sighting the bullet's path right between his eyes.

Dodging actual gunfire was, unfortunately, still a fantasy for now. At least without a superpower or two Ryan didn't have. Even with enhanced reflexes there was a limit. So there was relatively little the editor could do as Percival pulled that trigger.

Which meant he just had to make what little he could do count.

As the gunman squeezed the trigger, Ryan kept the briefcase behind him and extended one hand, placing it firmly in what he dearly hoped was the shot's trajectory.

Reeeaalllly hope I'm about to Matrix this shit. He thought, trying hard not to think about what might happen if he wasn’t. Ryan knew he could take some gunfire… but assuming he could take all gunfire - to the face, no less - was likely to get him into an early grave.

Percival fired without hesitation, sending a resounding boom echoing around the cavern. A round that was probably never designed to be aimed at humans sped through the air at absurd speed, landing directly…

… in the center of Ryan's palm. It hurt. A lot.

Luckily for Ryan, the round didn’t fully penetrate. It did lodge deep enough that he could see its point trying to poke through the back end of his palm though.

Before any blood could spill, Ryan activated his power and healed the small injury. Disguising the result before Percival could think to try again, he curled his hand inward around the round as if plucking it from the air. Pulling it up towards his face, he examined the bullet.

The damn thing was huge.

Schooling his expression to hide the pain and his own surprise at handling that so well behind a mask of idle curiosity, Ryan turned his gaze from the projectile to Marcus. He raised a single, mocking eyebrow.

A quiet fury washed over the mayor’s face that brought sparkling joy to the editor’s heart.

“Could’ve sworn I told you bullets were pointless, Marky.” Ryan said in a faux-friendly tone, dropping the expended round to the floor. He inclined his head towards the mist-covered figure. “Who’s your friend?”

Before the mayor could respond, Ryan called up his power again. This time using it to scan the man so he could figure out his or her identity for himself. And more importantly, what he or she could do.

Only… it didn’t work. For the first time ever, his power failed to do something he’d asked of it. There were no error messages, no prompts that told him what had gone wrong, nothing. Ryan tried again, thinking maybe he’d messed up the hypothetical somehow. But there was nothing.

Well that's… a thing… I guess. Ryan thought, his mind wrapping around the problem. Some sort of concealment power, maybe?

"And now you see what I'm dealing with." Marcus said, his eyes falling on the concealed figure. Ryan did not miss the respectful, almost deferential, tone in the mayor’s voice as he did.

"This is why I requested your assistance. If your deliveries are to continue on schedule and in the proper condition then this man--” The mayor gestured dismissively towards Ryan. “-- will have to be dealt with.”

Thaaat got Ryan’s attention. Deliveries? Assistance?

The editor turned towards the misty figure, who had yet to speak since he came in, as if rounding on a new challenger. He couldn’t see the man’s features, but he did detect a hint of hesitation in the man’s posture after Ryan’s little display. If he's backing the mayor… then I’ll have to take him out, too.

Crap. Ryan had not planned for running into two supervillains tonight. Even so, the editor let none of that show on his face as he responded.

“Oh by all means, come on in. Pool’s fine, water’s warm.” Ryan said in a tone of fake-kindness, kicking the bullet away nonchalantly with his boot. “Or you can wait until the other kids have had a go.”

The mayor’s jaw clenched. In a voice tight with frustration, Marcus quickly issued commands. “Charity, hold him. Jessie, wake up already. Percival, kill him. Now.”

Charity extended a sluggish hand forward, her formerly slack eyes focusing. Ryan felt his clothes begin to lock in place. Meatfist leapt for him with terrible speed, the force of his take-off shoving several of the helmeted crowd to the ground. Percival fired once, twice, then thrice more, each of the bullets once more aimed straight at the editor’s skull.

Ryan was immensely grateful for his earlier preparations. He had fought Charity before, and as she had been instrumental in his capture, the editor had made sure to prepare a countermeasure. It wasn’t what someone might call an ‘elegant’ solution… but it should work.

Activating his power even as Marcus was still talking, Ryan disintegrated his own clothes. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the mayor’s eye twitch in response.

As the dissolving remnants of his sleeve floated off, Ryan was able to move his arm in front of his face to block the incoming shots once again. With his other hand Ryan pointed his index finger like a gun and released energy he’d stored from the initial sniper shot at Charity.

Unfortunately, either his aim was off or Meatfist was too fast. The shot intercepted the big man mid-leap, slamming into his shoulder. Had the massive man been standing when it hit, Ryan doubted the shot would have done all that much to stop him.

Seeing as Meatfist was mid-air however, physics had other ideas. A thick beam of energy slammed into the man with concentrated force, sending him careening backwards in the air and dragging his head across the concrete walkway.

All three of Percival’s shots rang out, one after the other. Ryan managing to catch each in the forearm. He could feel the impact of each one as the bullets pierced into him. None went through however, and his power made short work of the relatively minor wounds.

Taking careful aim in the slow motion allowed him by his enhanced reflexes, Ryan sent another shot at Charity.

This time, he nailed the woman dead center, right in the forehead.

Charity Oxford did not have Meatfist’s dense skin, nor Ryan's own diamond kinetic version. Outside of her power she was no more resilient to trauma than a vanilla-bean human had been. The woman crumpled like a ragdoll as the burst of condensed energy shot her brains against the train behind her in a wide splatter pattern. She was dead before she even hit the ground.

Another expenditure of energy brought Ryan’s clothes back to him.

It probably wasn't the best defensive-minded move he could make right now, but then again, maybe it was. The idea of fighting Meatfist with his own meat dangling out brought several potentially horrifying scenarios to mind. None of which Ryan was willing to risk.

Before Meatfist could recover from the whole pavement-face thing, Ryan's sharp eyes noticed another pair on him. The woman on the train he'd taken for Marcus's doctor was staring at him. There was no anger or fear in her expression, only a look of absolute shock.

The editor pointed a finger at Percival, who he'd decided was probably the original twin, and fired another shot. The gunman tried to duck out of the way, but Ryan hadn’t aimed for him. Another concentrated beam of energy blasted Percival’s rifle apart.

Knowing he had only a few seconds before he was beset again, Ryan returned his gaze to the train and tried to call up his power on the female doctor.

Only she was nowhere to be seen. Steel plating slammed down to cover all the train's windows. As he watched, both entry doors on either side of the train closed rapidly. The last view Ryan had was that of Marcus’s furious glare sliding behind a wall of reinforced metal.

Guess he decided to not jump in the pool after all. Ryan thought. The ‘escape’ didn’t bother the editor. If anything, it was a relief. At least Ryan would know where to find his quarry when all this was done.

Casting a last glance in the direction of what he guessed was a man despite his little cloud cover, Ryan tried to get an idea of who was still in play. Unlike the mayor, the figure hadn't retreated to the supposed safety of the train after Ryan had killed Charity and started slinging his own ‘bullets’.

The figure hadn’t advanced, either. He simply stood off to the side, leaning against the cavern's wall with his chin in his palm as if watching a show.

That… irked Ryan to a degree he hadn’t expected. Whoever that bastard was, they were clearly backing the mayor - and they were treating this like a game! It was enough to make him want to ghostbusters vacuum-pack on the ghostly prick.

Ryan’s offended thoughts were interrupted as he heard Meatfist begin to growl. Turning, Ryan saw his opponent was…

Flexing?

The enormous, overly-muscled man-mountain was half-squatting, armed pulled into the elbows and fists clenched, while a low roar emanated from his mouth. It built slowly, without even a pause for breath, rising into a booming yell as Meatfist stood up sharply.

The man had somehow acquired even more muscle than he’d already had! His entire body looked like it had changed to become something… Angrier, maybe? Why do I feel like he should have blond hair?

Regardless, there was no way a transformation like that was possible. It wasn’t in the man’s powerset. Unless… Ryan called up his power and scanned the man for any changes to his status. As it turns out, it was possible. It just wasn’t due to a status change, but something much… much worse for him.

Name: Percival “Meatfist” Timmons

Superpower (new):

Escalation: Enhances the effects of other super powers. Prolonged use will cause irreparable damage to the user’s body.

Ryan began to have Dragon Ball Z flashbacks.

Every muscle Meatfist had bulged out like he'd swallowed a barrel full of roids. His skin went hard and taut, as if pulled too tightly over too much space yet unable or unwilling to break. The overgrown man's eyes locked on the editor with unhinged rage.

Oh. Ryan thought, simply. Fuck.

The man-mountain leapt at him. Meatfist crossed the distance in a blink, driving his gauntleted fist right into the editor's stomach in a brutal uppercut that blew dirt and dust away from the both of them.

There was a brief instant after the initial impact where Ryan thought his kinetic skin might absorb the force -- before he was blasted backwards like a ragdoll. He crashed into the rocky cavern wall above the entrance as if shot there by a cannon. Dirt flew away in a small cloud as the editor’s body was lodged several solid inches into the packed earth.

What in the absolute f--

Meatfist leapt towards Ryan again, only slightly slower than last time. With great effort, Ryan concentrated his still-addled mind on stopping him. If that big bastard got free reign to whale on him now, there wasn't a chance in hell Ryan would survive.

Lifting his arm like it didn't weigh a thousand pounds right now, Ryan let loose every iota of kinetic force he'd managed to absorb from the blow. He put everything he’d just gotten into one, massive burst.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he mixed the energy he’d absorbed from impacting the wall with the two sniper shots he had left and fired those together as well.

The ensuing blast sounded like a battleship had fired its main gun. A shockwave tore through the air with an echoing boom that rolled over everything and intercepted Meatfist right before arrival. It blew all of the helmeted patients to the ground, knocking them over like human bowling pins. But that was nothing compared to what it did to Ryan’s attacker.

This time, it was the big man's turn to crater into the fucking rock.

A questionably man-shaped hole dug itself into the far wall of the cavern. There was a sound like the grating screech of metal dashing against rock as Ryan’s second shockwave impacted and speared Meatfist deeper into the earth.

Ryan shook his head to clear it, lifting his upper body halfway out of the earth he'd been pushed into. His feet wobbled a fraction, but the few inches of 'platform' he now had to stand on appeared sturdy enough.

Sweet mother of Poseidon’s salty trident that hurt. Ryan thought, before forcing himself to take stock of his situation.

His briefcase was nowhere to be seen. His diamond skin was now cracked in who knew how many places, and blood was soaking through his uniform from his now-indented abdomen. Ryan took all this in… processed it… then hacked up and spat out a mouthful of copper.

Gods above, he felt dizzy. His ears weren’t helping either, ringing like a damn orchestra was playing its final encore.

Ignoring the pain he was sure adrenaline was doing its best to play down, Ryan brushed his bloodied lip clean with one hand. Activating his power to heal his injuries, the editor leapt the twenty or so feet back down to the ground. His feet absorbed the impact easily. Which was a relief, because he’d been hit so hard just now he hadn’t been entirely sure his body was up to the task of absorbing more.

By the time he’d landed though, Ryan’s wounds were healed. His mind cleared and his ears popped. As his normal hearing reasserted itself, another booming yell sounded a short distance away. A booming yell that gave the editor a very ominous sense of deja vu.

You have got to be kidding me. Ryan thought in half-hearted disbelief, his eyes focusing on Percival who currently had his back to the editor. A spark of hope rose within Ryan. At least if this one tries to hit me, it’ll be with his bare ha--

Percival whipped around, heaving a massive wooden crate in Ryan’s direction like it was a baseball.

Instinctively, the editor threw up his hands and braced himself. As impressive as it would have been for the thing to shatter around him - the result was decidedly less dramatic. Whoever had built the thing had clearly used solid materials as the crate simply slammed into him, lost its momentum, and fell crashing to the floor. It was, surprisingly, mostly unharmed.

Thankfully, so was Ryan. And Percival had just given him some energy to work with. Energy he planned to use. At least, after pumping it up a bit.

Looking around, Ryan formed a quick plan.

“Hey, big guy!” Ryan called, stepping out from behind the crate and facing Percival. “That’s the best you got? Thought you were supposed to be tough?”

His taunt had the desired effect almost instantly. There was a roar of outrage and then another crate flew across the air, slamming into Ryan.

Then another. And another. Each time he stepped out from one, another giant box of supplies would sail through the air at obscene speed to meet him - and Ryan would meet it with his arms raised. Each time he gained an extra heap of kinetic energy… and got a little bit closer to his goal.

After the fifth box failed to turn the editor into a human-shaped stain, Percival lost his patience. The man-mountain wrenched a 2x4 wooden plank off one of the boxes with one hand and leapt at Ryan, closing the distance with murderous quickness. His improvised bat swinging down in an overhand strike like that of an angry giant.

Even with his kinetic skin, based on how ludicrously hard Meatfist had struck him earlier, Ryan held no misconceptions about what would happen if he tried to block that. Percival’s blow could almost certainly end him if it hit.

Assuming it did hit, that is.

The editor dodged to the side at the last second, avoiding the blow by inches. Ryan had made the mistake of underestimating Meatfist’s speed earlier. He would not be making that mistake twice.

Percival’s ‘bat’ shattered into useless splinters, having landed on nothing but unassuming rock. The big man abandoned his plank immediately and pulled a machete from a sleeve around his waist. It was such an obnoxiously logical move that was so obnoxiously unfair that Ryan almost called Percival out on it before remembering the man was still under his enemy’s control.

Instead of wasting words on someone who wouldn’t appreciate them, the editor simply leapt backwards and prepared to dodge the next swing. His massive opponent followed, charging forward like a roided-out bull.

For the next several seconds, a deadly dance played out. Simply staying alive as Percival swung his machete like a storybook madman took every ounce of Ryan’s concentration and strained his enhanced reflexes to their limit. The big man didn’t have enhanced speed, but it sure as hell felt like he did whenever Percival jumped at him.

Sweat poured down Ryan’s face as the stress of trying to dodge every lethal thrust, slash, and swing Percival could throw at him began to sink in. Exhaustion threatened to weigh his limbs down as he strained his enhanced body to its utmost.

Somehow, Ryan managed to keep himself alive… but not without cost.

A misstep that he quickly corrected still bought Ryan a four-inch long gash down his right arm. A slide across a slick section of rock he hadn’t seen brought with it a line of angry red fire across the editor’s chest as he leapt backwards a hair too slow. A roar from across the room cost Ryan his attention for the briefest of instances - and then cost him his left thumb as he was forced to sacrifice it, turning Percival’s sharpened blade away from his face.

Dozens of near-death experiences converged in that one moment as Ryan made his strategic retreat backwards. A series of thundering booms through the cavern heralded Meatfist’s approach to join his twin. The sound changed the look in Percival’s eyes from one of rage… to one of resignation. A strange fact the editor did not have the time to ponder at the moment.

It also slowed the big man’s attacks by a fraction of a second. Not enough to let Ryan go on the offensive, and even if it had been when Meatfist arrived soon, well. That would probably be the end of that. But it was enough time for the editor to make one final leap towards his last resort.

It cost him his footing, and he fell hard, but Ryan manded to land his sweaty, blood-covered hand on his briefcase. Sharp steel rang as it hit solid rock in the space Ryan had just left, then shattered as the edge of the blade exploded into shards.

Unfazed, Percival dropped his weapon and both twins converged on their fallen target with inhuman super strength propelling them forward. Both intent on pounding Ryan quite literally into - and possibly through - the very rock.

With a wild, triumphant bellow of his own this time, the editor activated his power…

And his trump card.