It wasn’t his only trump card, of course.

Ryan hadn’t been so cavalier as to bet his life, and that of his whole town, on a single hail mary.

Which is why he’d actually brought three trump cards. Each sealed within separate compartments and covered internally by their own specially-designed protections. The outer shell of the casing was also made of the same kinetically absorbent material he’d created back in the forest. On the not-so-off chance someone tried to bash it or him to pieces.

The editor activated the first of those three compartments now. Though ‘activated’ was probably a loose interpretation of the term. There wasn’t a single switch anywhere on it.

Because he didn’t need one.

Ryan’s power melted a hole through both the case’s outer shell and the lithium-composite walls inside. The compartment of now-ruptured energy cells inside sparked to angry life, and he felt a brief surge of adrenaline-fueled victory flow through him. Followed closely by an actual surge of crackling electricity as his finger on the case acted as a conductive funnel straight to his core.

Percival and Meatfist had only the briefest of instants to show surprise as blue-white arcs shot off the case in all directions before wrapping around Ryan’s arm and sinking into his chest. The editor’s energy capacity soared by well over thirty thousand points, bringing the customary over-capacity warning that he summarily ignored.

And what Ryan had been waiting for this entire fight finally happened.

Two enormous fists crashed into his chest, cracking his ribs in more places than his brain could make sense of. In response, Ryan slammed his left arm down on the pair of them - making physical contact with both twins at once for the very first time.

Would you like to remove the “Under Influence” status, the effects of the ‘Escalation’ superpower, and any negative effects from status removal for the next hour from both touched individuals? Cost: 32,420 points.

The editor winced. That… was a much higher cost than he’d been expecting.

Ryan had known since he’d first scanned Percival that if he was going to take the big man down for good he would have to find a way to bag both copies at once. Just killing or absorbing one of them wouldn't benefit him much more than the points Ryan had gotten last time. Points he could probably get elsewhere.

If he was going to take this city and hold it, then Ryan needed allies. And as far as his list of potential selections went, these two were about as capable as they came. This fight and Ryan’s extremely fractured ribs could attest to that. Not to mention what Meatfist had done on his own the last time they’d tussled.

It had also not escaped the editor’s notice that, despite being the mayor’s closest bodyguards, neither were doing so by choice. Ryan could only imagine Marcus had invested heavily in keeping them under his power.

Sheila, after learning about how Meatfist’s powers worked, had guessed Ryan would have to remove the status from both copies if he wanted to free them completely. Otherwise one might kill the other and simply clone themselves to renew it.

What a waste of points and effort that would be. In all likelihood, a mistake like that could get him killed. The pair were the most formidable fighters Ryan had ever encountered, bar none.

Which had left Ryan and company wondering just how formidable they might be on their side. Just how motivated might one be against their former captor?

The answer, at least in the editor’s own experience: Pretty fucking motivated.

Problem was, Lucas had been fairly shaken up after being freed from his own bout of mind control. It had taken time to calm him down. Time Ryan really couldn’t afford to give his hopefully-new-ally right now. Not with the mayor himself finally within reach.

These thoughts and more went through Ryan’s head in the fraction of a second it took him to accept the prompt… and be slammed a solid foot deep into the stone below by his attackers.

Blood sprayed out of Ryan’s mouth involuntarily, coating the two Percivals as solid rock fractured beneath him. Pain erupted from every inch of the editor’s chest and was heightened even further when both of the massive men fell atop him in a heap. The damage to his body was overwhelming as Ryan fumbled mentally to pull up a prompt.

The list of his injuries was too extensive to even bother reading.

Unfortunately, the costs were extensive as well. Even using almost everything Ryan had left from his trump card he still didn’t have enough to fix it all. Gritting his teeth, Ryan took two of his broken ribs off the list and all of the bruising that he could see. Then he healed what injuries he could afford to.

Next step: pushing these bastards off so I can breathe.

As Ryan began to strain his tired muscles to do just that, Percival and his twin copy seemed to wake up. Stirring quickly and realizing the situation, the pair gently extricated themselves from atop the editor and stood, both staring wide-eyed at Ryan with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

“You…” Meatfist began, his deep baritone giving the word an almost threatening rumbling sound. Like a grizzly bear growling from deep within a cave.

“You actually did it. You freed us” Percival continued, his voice a perfect match to that of his twin. Despite that, Percival’s expression was grateful, if puzzled. “Why? … You could have easily killed us.”

Meatfist nodded at his twin and rumbled again. “As you have done before.”

Ryan winced at that and tried to answer, but there was apparently more blood in his lungs that needed coughing up. After that blockage had been suitably expelled the editor held out his hand, and Percival helped him to his feet.

“Phew… Thanks.” Ryan managed. He paused for a moment, checking to see if air was flowing properly again. Then he cleared his throat and stood as tall as he dared with his still-broken ribs.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve uh… got enough people to kill tonight without adding to my plate.” Ryan said, gesturing towards the train where the mayor was currently hiding, then at the mist-covered man still standing off to the side. “Was hoping you guys might be down to help a body out with that, actually.”

Reaching into his pocket for an energy bar, Ryan found there were none left. Or at least, none that hadn’t been pulverized to crumb status. Figures… should have packed some marshmallows or something. Those would probably survive getting crushed a few times.

Meatfist smirked at that, though Percival looked pensive. The ‘primary’ twin watched Ryan carefully, studying him as if looking for something while the other rolled his giant shoulders.

Weren’t they supposed to be clones of one another? Ryan wondered. I expected something like Michael, but these guys seem… different.

“Funny you should mention that.” Meatfist said, his eyes turning and locking on the train like a bull’s might a red cape. “I was just thinking about killing someone.”

Percival interjected before his twin could leap off. “Perhaps we should let him pay that favor back for us, brother. There are more pressing concerns.”

Brother?

Ryan followed Percival’s gaze, which hadn’t gone towards the train at all. The primary twin’s eyes were locked on the mist-covered figure from before. It was difficult to tell through the haze, but Ryan got the feeling the figure was staring back just as intently.

“Shadowman over there on your list too then, I take it?” Ryan asked.

“And then some.” Meatfist said, cracking the knuckles of both hands by simply flexing his sausage-sized fingers.

“What’s his deal?”

“His name is Silva. He’s the go-between for the mayor’s backers. A… dealer of sorts. Food, weapons, people...” Percival said coldly, before adding. “He’s also the only one who knows where our family was sold.”

“And before I’m done with him, he’ll either tell us… or I’ll pull his head off.” Meatfist swore. “Maybe both. I’m sorta feeling both.”

“Go-between?” Ryan asked with interest, deciding not to comment on Meatfist’s evening plans. He’d gathered Marcus hadn’t risen to power by himself - this storage room alone was proof of that - but just how many people were profiting off of his hometown? And to what end?

“I’m afraid we will have to speak at length some other time.” Percival said as Silva’s misty outline began to brighten. “Thank you for your aid. We will not forget what you’ve done for us.”

“Wait, wha--” Ryan began as Meatfist’s knees bent like metal coils. The enormous man’s entire body tensed, his heels digging into the earth, and then he leapt across the room at Silva with the same blinding speed he’d tackled Ryan with earlier.

There was no boom of sound as he passed - but the editor could feel wind rush past him to fill the gap Meatfist had left behind.

As if he’d been waiting for it, the mist surrounding Silva flared like a tiny sun. The light around him becoming so blindingly bright Ryan had to hold up a hand to shield his eyes against it.

Seconds later, the light faded to manageable levels. When the editor’s vision finally readjusted, he could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Where a blurry man had just been now stood a roughly ten-by-ten foot silver-blue portal crackling with electricity and shimmering just off the ground. There was no sign of Meatfist. Ryan guessed the big man had sailed through the portal as it opened, disappearing entirely as if he’d been swallowed whole.

Ryan blinked. The scene didn’t change. He blinked again.

What… How did… there are portals!?

Before his mind could process what had just happened, Percival clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “The portal will not last, so I must go. I am sure we will meet again...” Percival glanced towards the train. “After you take care of our… mutual friend.”

Shaking his head clear of all the possibilities that had begun springing into his mind, Ryan gave a resolute nod and clapped the top of the big man’s hand with his own. “Definitely. And maybe next time we can spar without you pulling your punches. I somehow doubt you were giving me your all back there.”

Percival grinned broadly. “Nor me yours, my little friend.”

Then the man-mountain of muscle lifted his hand, tensed like his twin had, and leapt across the room at the portal like a living cannonball. Percival vanished as soon as he crossed the silver-blue threshold, without a trace of what was on the other side. Seconds later, the portal collapsed in on itself like water swirling down an invisible drain.

Ryan took a moment or two to compose himself, promising to come back to that whole deal later.

He watched the air where the trio had just vanished through for a moment or two, half-expecting one of them to come tumbling back out of nowhere. When nothing of the sort happened, the editor sighed, reached down to grab his partially-melted briefcase, and then turned towards one of the supply crates.

Time for a quick intermission, I think.

He had just about reached the first pallet of plastic-wrapped bread loaves when Ryan felt a cool wind blow past him followed by a sharp knife pressing against the front of his throat. The editor froze where he stood, an ominous sense of deja vu settling in.

An amicable, and all-too-familiar voice whispered in the editor’s ear. “What did I tell you about armed insurrection, Mr. Reynolds?”

Yeah… no. Ryan thought. He’d had enough of this man on their last encounter time - and he had no more patience now. Ryan had been tossed around like a ragdoll, thrown into a wall, beaten half to death, and then blown all of his energy on a pair of allies who had stuck around for maybe fifteen seconds. Tops.

At least they took that Silva guy off the roster. Or off… somewhere.

Instead of answering the invisible would-be government assassin with his own banter, Ryan skipped straight to activating his second trump card.

Melting another, much larger hole in the second compartment of his briefcase, Ryan nonchalantly swung it behind his legs. The motion surreptitiously angling the hole behind him. To where the editor guessed this punk had to be standing.

Inside his briefcase a small sample of material that Sheila had enthusiastically assured him would ‘resolve any man-sized problem ye can point it at’ made contact with the end of a simple mechanism designed simply to touch the substance. Not ignite it - Sheila had been very clear about that - just… touch it.

Ryan didn’t remember the chemical’s full name - Azi… Aza… Azidoa-something - but the dwarf’s pure glee and wild, barking laugh when his power had confirmed he could make a safe container for it was something he wouldn’t soon forget. Like Dr. Jekyll meets Tolkien.

It was becoming something of a staple for Ryan to use explosions to get his point across. A staple he was sure would do his reputation wonders in the future.The dust explosion had been a good start - big and showy as it was - though it’d almost killed him.

When Ryan had asked Sheila for a similar solution before they’d left, the vengeful dwarf had cooked up just the thing. He would have to remember to thank her later.

A massive gout of fire exploded violently out of the briefcase behind the editor the very instant the mechanism touched it. The blast elicited a cry of pained surprise as whoever-that-was was thrown backwards at high speed. An instant later there was a sort of tumbling crash as they impacted the ground and skidded across the earth.

Ryan for his part was quietly thankful to still be facing the opposite direction. He marveled at how bright the room had gotten for the second time in as many minutes before deciding firmly that whatever that chemical was, Sheila had not been fucking around.

Despite the blast being mostly aimed in a single direction, it had still managed to shove its container into the back of Ryan’s legs with a solid crack. The pressure wasn’t anything like what Meatfist put out, so it wasn’t enough to dump him off his feet - but given all the shockwave-absorbing material lining the case, maybe it had been.

Note to self: Do not play with that stuff.

Agonizing moans rose up from behind him, interrupted Ryan’s train of thought. Instead of turning, the editor stepped forward. Carefully selecting a loaf of “Oven Lovin’' raisin bread from the pallet and ripping open the package without bothering to unwrap it. Ryan turned, leaning gratefully up against the pallet - happy to give his ribs a moment to rest - and began to restore some of his energy the good ol’ fashioned way. With food.

As he did, Ryan finally answered the man’s question, speaking through mouthfuls of raisin bread like a disinterested judge. “You know. I do recall you mentioning something about that, actually.” He almost leaned an elbow up on the pallet’s corner, but the pain that quickly flared in his ribs made Ryan quickly rethink that decision.

“And if I recall correctly…” Ryan paused to chew as the still-invisible man screamed and rolled around, his sudden immolation apparently having been quite painful. “I told you something about showing you how dangerous I can really be if you came near me again.”

He took another bite of bread, then swallowed. “Maybe next time you’ll listen instead of being all cocky, hmm?”

The editor took a few unhurried steps towards the failed assassin, who was currently huddled in the fetal position on the floor and groaning in misery. Again, Ryan’s power failed to bring up a hypothetical prompt on someone. Apparently if he couldn’t actually see them, he also couldn’t see anything about them. Which made sense, if he thought about it.

It did little to improve his mood, however.

Without his power Ryan didn’t know if this guy was simply one of the mayor’s lackeys, another mind-controlled thug, or actually a government-sanctioned hitman trying to enforce some weird black-ops version of justice. Granted, it probably wouldn’t have shown him that third part, but there were other ways he could find that out.

Thing was, at this point, Ryan didn’t really care to try them. He also didn’t really care who this guy was. He was just tired of getting a blade to the throat every time he let his guard down and this prick seemed to have a penchant for it.

So Ryan watched and ate as the crumpled man tried to survive whatever nightmare substance it was Sheila had dreamt up. If only he could remember what it was called, maybe he could make some more later. A moment later, a name tugged at his memory.

Azidoazide! Ryan thought, snapping his finger triumphantly with a mouthful of deliciously soft, cinnamon-flavored raisin bread. That was it. Wait… was it two words? I feel like it was two words.

It wasn’t long before whoever-it-was fell silent as Ryan mused on the problem. His attacker’s mind apparently succumbing to the severity of his injuries and throwing in the towel.

Ryan knelt down - wincing at the pain in his ribs - and touched the man. Interestingly, his attempt to give the unconscious, invisible entity a coma worked without trouble. The editor still couldn’t see any information about his former opponent, but he supposed right now he didn’t really need to.

For a moment he wondered how, even burned, the assassin had managed to retain his invisibility - but ultimately decided to just chalk it up to superpowers. His own kinetic skin didn’t lose its properties when burnt - why should this guy’s?

A few more bites of bread later, Ryan finally had the energy he needed to heal his ribs. Doing so improved his mood considerably. He attacked the rest of the loaf like a man starving then popped open one of the water bottles from a nearby pallet and downed that as well.

His energy topped off, another enemy down for the count, and all of his injuries blessedly healed… the editor wiped his mouth on his sleeve, grabbed his briefcase, and strolled down the stone path towards the train.

Most of those with helmets on their heads hadn’t even bothered to pick themselves up after being caught up in the earlier fight. Ryan briefly considered giving each a coma, but it would take too long to replenish his energy the several times necessary to send them all to nap town. He also wasn’t eager to give Marcus any more time to prepare.

So, reluctantly, Ryan merely stepped past each of them as they milled thoughtlessly about.

Arriving at the sealed train door, the editor took a moment to consider the obstacle in front of him fully. After all, not paying attention to Marcus’s preparations might’ve cost him dearly earlier. If electricity weren’t more of a benefit than a threat to him, that is.

It had been a careless mistake at the time, but still not one Ryan planned on making a second time. He stared at the reinforced steel frame of the train’s exterior wall, looking for some hidden trap.

…….

I haven’t been on many, but this looks just like a normal train. Even if its windows are boarded up with metal.

After everything he had faced, Ryan found it hard to feel cautious about what looked to be no more than an extra sheet or two of steel plating. Sure, it was sort-of thick but...

What’s the point? Marcus has to know this wouldn’t stop anyone that could beat Percival - the man probably flosses with steel wool thicker than this. Is he prepping something or does he just have nowhere else to run?

The idea of his mortal enemy trapped in a steel box was… actually rather satisfying.

Given everything the mayor had put his hometown through, just thinking about the bastard sweating bullets while trying to figure out if the big, bad, unkillable demon outside his door was going to come knocking put a savage smile on Ryan’s face.

Especially because right now, Ryan felt like that unkillable demon. And why shouldn’t he? I’ve beaten everything he’s thrown at me. Some of them twice!

The editor decided it was time to end this. He couldn’t see any traps on the train door, and he doubted something small would bother him anyway.

He also decided to start this next fight with his final trump card in hand.

Quickly melting the third compartment of his briefcase open entirely, Ryan reached in and pulled out a forest-green blade with a silver-grey handle.

It wasn’t exceptionally long, about as much as the width of the briefcase. There were no fancy markings, and it also didn’t appear to be terribly sharp. But for Ryan’s purposes, it didn’t have to be.

The blade was Ryan’s first real attempt at combining the new materials he’d made into an actual weapon instead of just a stick to swing at people. His new sword would consume any edible material on contact, which felt distinctly Jedi despite the lack of any glowing parts. The hilt would also absorb kinetic energy almost as well as his own skin.

Really shouldn’t matter unless I hit something the sword can’t just eat, though.

Admiring it briefly in the artificial light of the cavern, Ryan tossed his now-empty suitcase off to the side and squared his shoulders.

It was time to end this.

Let’s see what you’ve got hiding in there, Marky. Ryan thought, tapping the train with his left hand and activating his power. Because I’m willing to bet mine is bigger.