Would you like to reduce the height of this train by half, dropping its ceiling and bending it around any obstacles? Cost: 454 points

Ryan accepted the power use, then immediately activated it again. Dropping the ceiling by another half for only 228 points.

Steel groaned and screeched in harsh protest as the editor's power rapidly took effect. The train's ceiling fell to a quarter of its former height as quickly as if it had simply been dropped. Glass windows shattered to pieces, unable to support the cast weight as metal walls crumpled in on themselves.

When it was done the remnants of the train looked like the whole thing had been squashed by the hand of an angry god.

Except for the steel-encased passengers and cargo that had remained inside, that is. They had not been squashed. Instead, as his power had directed, the metal had merely bent around them as it fell. Rapidly enclosing each of them in individual prisons that resembled statues outlining who was held within.

Most of these statues had nearly bulbous metal heads. No doubt enshrining the mind controlled patients in motorcycle helmets from before. Ryan ignored those ones, resolving to free them later when the battle was over. For now at least, they should be relatively safe.

Several more metal casings formed stacked square boxes. The supplies from earlier, no doubt. Ryan ignored those as well.

Only two of the statues he could see held Ryan's attention.

Both shapes lacked the distinctive helmet-bulge of the rest. One had a slender feminine outline that Ryan recognized as likely the mayor's earlier assistant, and the other…

Was missing its left arm.

Marcus. Ryan thought with grim satisfaction.

He hopped up onto the train’s now-shorter roof and made his way over to the mayor’s new chambers. Standing directly in front of him, Ryan rapped the statue on the head with one fist.

He may have done so a little harder than might have been absolutely necessary. A loud, hollow ringing sound vibrated through it as Ryan brought up a prompt.

Would you like to open four 3 inch by 2 inch slits in this statue’s chest? Cost: 24 points.

Ryan positioned his sword carefully in one hand, taking aim. As the change began to take effect however he rapped the statue one more time. He wanted to see Marcus’s face.

Would you like to transform the face portion of this statue into a grate with half inch bars? Cost: 18 points.

Though it cost Ryan almost all of his energy to set this up, the editor couldn’t deny that the look of surprise on Marcus’s face as his sword slid inside the man’s ribs made it worth every point.

“Unnghh…” Marcus grimaced in pain as the blade penetrated easily, tearing through cloth, skin, and bone as if they weren’t even there.

Steam rose along the sword's edges as it began hungrily consuming its victim's bodily response to the injury. Icy blue eyes glared at Ryan as blood welled up in the mayor’s mouth and spilled past clenched teeth.

“That’s for Carrie.” Ryan whispered. He pulled the blade out, glistening red-hot metal evaporating a trail of blood as it came out. Marcus groaned and buried a scream.

Then Ryan stabbed the bastard a second time, using another of the openings he’d made.

“That’s for Lily.”

He withdrew, the editor’s face impassive as stone. Unreleased emotion welled up against it, threatening to spill out of him, but Ryan kept himself calm. His sword arm as steady as a surgeon with a scalpel. Despite his effort, white knuckles still gripped the hilt as he stabbed in again.

“That’s for my friends.”

Marcus' scream went unrestrained this time, spraying blood around him - but Ryan barely even noticed.

The editor leaned in for the final stroke, bringing his face close to the mayor’s own. His voice shook with rage as the mask of calm he’d been wearing fell away.

“And everyone else you’ve hurt.” Ryan growled.

This time, Ryan left the matter-consuming blade firmly inside his enemy. Blood gushed out of the statue from Marcus’s multiple injuries, and it was only then that the editor realized his mortal foe had been trying to say something.

Ryan tilted his head, trying to listen through the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. Focusing on the mayor’s face, he willed himself to pay attention to something besides skewering the man like a kebab.

As he did, Ryan realized something.

Marcus wasn’t trying to talk at all.

The bastard was laughing.

Crimson red and frothy white bubbles poured out of Marcus’s mouth as he tried to laugh, but mostly choked on his own fluids. The glare from before slowly changing into a look of wild disbelief. Marcus chewed, then spat out a glob of pink mist at Ryan who covered his face with an arm.

“Hah...hahhah… the power to ‘shape the universe’... to change the world to ‘suit your desires’... and you made… a sword?” Marcus threw his head back as far as the metal encasing him would allow and let out a barking laugh.

It wasn’t exactly the reaction the editor had been expecting. Ryan stared at the man, wondering how he was even still managing to breathe let alone talk.

The mayor, apparently, was not done. He brought his head back down, eyes wide and accusatory. “You… you unimaginative fool! You--”

Yeah, no. Ryan wasn’t about to let whatever this was continue. He didn’t need the sword to work to finish this. The editor thrust his hand into one of the open slits in the statue, intending to absorb his hated enemy and finally eliminate this pain in Arborview’s collective ass once and for all.

Except his hand found… nothing but empty air.

Marcus’s form shifted into hazy azure mist right as the editor reached for him, his entire body becoming gaseous and literally floating up and out of his steel-plated prison through the grates.

Ryan couldn’t believe what he was seeing and, for the briefest of moments, was too stunned to respond. The mayor took that time to reform a short distance away, the bleeding, gaping holes in his body rapidly healing over. A wild grin plastered across the man’s smug face as his injuries simply disappeared.

Though not all of them. Ryan noticed that his enemy’s left arm was still missing as before… but everything else? How?!

Frustrated, Ryan activated his power to figure out what was going on. Blessedly, his ability to scan others appeared to be working again.

Unfortunately, it appeared Percival wasn’t the only one who had picked up new powers.

Name: Marcus Hamilton

Superpowers:

Mental Influence (Touch): Grants the capability to influence the decisions of others towards a set goal or mindset via touch. Influence strength is commensurate with energy expended and heavily depends on the will of both the user and target. Once affected, influence lasts until the target’s will overcomes it.

Mist Guise: Grants the capability to temporarily shift one’s physical form into self-propelled mist. While in this form one’s body is composed of individual particles of mist, though senses are retained. Remaining in this form drains energy at a slow pace.

Regeneration: Injuries sustained heal at a rapid pace. Energy consumed for healing is commensurate with damage restored.

How in the tear-stained abyssal hell did Marcus have three powers?! It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense!

First Percival, now Marcus… Ryan resolved to figure out exactly who was boosting his enemies at some point in the future and either free or kill them as appropriate. He hadn’t been so arrogant as to assume that he was the only one capable of adding superpowers, but still. Not exactly the best news to get mid-fight.

Kneeling down, Ryan picked his sword back up. Marcus watched him, disapproval written plainly on his face.

“You have… the most remarkable power I’ve encountered thus far, Mr. Reynolds.” Marcus said, greed and envy thick in his otherwise cultured voice. “In time you could propel our race to unknown heights, catapult humanity’s evolution single-handedly, solidify our position in the--”

“That all sounds great and all, but whatever I choose to do in the future will be up to me. And you--” Ryan lifted the edge of his sword to point threateningly at Marcus. “-- won’t be around long enough to see it.”

Marcus scoffed, flicking a hand dismissively as if to bounce the threat harmlessly off. “Please. Enough with the petty threats. With these gifts I have nothing left to fear from you any longer.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed and he began advancing towards Marcus. “Oh yeah? You’ll forgive me if I feel like testing that.” His regeneration said it costs him energy, so we can play this game. I’ll bet he runs out of healing before I’m done swinging.

Marcus raised a hand as if to indicate Ryan should stop -- and the editor lopped the top half of that hand clean off. Four fingers fell to the ground as Marcus gritted his teeth, pulling his arm back and holding in another scream. Wasting no time, Ryan lunged forward with another swing intending to lop off the mayor’s head - his enhanced reflexes making the second attack nearly instantaneous.

Again, the mayor’s form split into hazy blue mist. Ryan swung his sword rapidly through it - intending to carve the man to pieces - but to relatively little avail. Some of the mist vanished as it touched his sword, but the majority of what made up Marcus’s new ‘body’ flew backwards unharmed.

Ryan gave chase.

It wasn’t terribly hard for him to keep pace with Marcus as the mist form didn’t appear to increase his speed nor give him the ability to fly very far off the ground. But it did mean he had to keep moving to do so. Which gave Ryan plenty of time for trash talk.

“What happened to ‘nothing left to fear’?” The editor mocked as Marcus continued to retreat. “Is this how you show it? By running away every time I get close?”

Mist-form Marcus apparently tried to respond, his hazy mouth twisting to form words, but no sound escaped.

“What’s that?” Ryan asked, raising his non-sword hand and putting it to his ear in an exaggerated fashion. “I can’t hear you over all of the fear you’re showing.”

A pair of glowering eyes were the only response to that statement as the misty form of his enemy flowed behind yet another statue on the train. Ryan was just positioning himself for another thrust when Marcus solidified.

“Wait, damn you!” Marcus called out, sounding somehow out of breath. “Or I promise everyone you care about in this miserable little town will be butchered by month’s end!”

“By you?” It was Ryan’s turn to scoff. “You won’t be a threat to them any more. Not when I’m done with you.”

“No, you insufferable fool. By him!” Marcus said, jabbing a finger behind him towards the wall where the front of the train might have headed… if it could go through solid rock.

The editor raised an eyebrow, leaned to the side, and made a show of side-eyeing the wall. Track had been laid up to its edge, sure. But it was still just a mass of rock and earth. Ryan wasn’t an idiot, he’d seen the portal earlier and guessed the train was set up to do the same sort of disappearing act.

But he was pretty sure Marcus hadn’t seen him see it… so Ryan decided to antagonize the man a bit more.

“The… ghost of Christmas past?” Ryan guessed, angling the tip of his sword. “If that was your best attempt at a distraction…” He let the statement hang.

Marcus looked at him with enough scorn to whither a grown man back into childhood. “Who do you think I have been supplying all this time? Who do you think buys the men and women I provide once their minds have been scrubbed clean of everything but obedience? Who do you think sold me all these supplies?”

Considering most people had experienced precisely zero contact with the world outside of Arborville, save for the occasional rumor, as the town was effectively a dead zone for signals - most likely because of something the mayor himself had done… there was little chance of Ryan answering that question.

Or being intimidated by whatever name it was Marcus was about to drop.

A fact that seemed to occur to Marcus at the very same time. The mayor sighed, running his remaining hand through his hair as if praying for strength. “You see, this is the problem with small minds. You get a taste for power and act as if you are the first in the world to ever hold it.”

“Get to the point, Marky, before I give mine to you.” Ryan said, wagging the end of his sword meaningfully. “Permanently, this time.” He was actually interested in what the man was saying now, though he kept any sign of that from his face.

The town mayor’s cold eyes narrowed once again. “Fine. At our last meeting you proved unexpectedly astute, so perhaps you will again. You have a bounty on your head, Mr. Reynolds, you and every other individual who awoke with a unique power.”

“I’m aware.”

How could he not be? That had been literally the first thing Marcus had ever told him - though it hadn’t been directly at the time. It’s what had started this whole thing. The mayor had been on the hunt for superhumans like Ryan from the very moment he’d woken up.

After learning of the man’s power, it hadn’t been much of a logical leap to figure out why, either.

Although… Maybe it had never been about Marcus’s own power to begin with. Maybe--

Puzzle pieces began to fall in place within Ryan’s mind.

Pieces like:

A single man taking over an entire town’s worth of superhumans seemingly on his own. The lack of any cell or internet signals from the outside world. Massive research labs hidden in public schools and beneath large public facilities like the hospital and library.

The editor stole a glance at the many boxes and crates stacked up in the cavern not far away from where they now stood. There must have been hundreds of them.

Military arms and supplies by the pallets, traded for the lives of brainwashed citizens who - if Ryan’s hunch was right - would now follow any order given to them.

Ryan’s eyes flicked over to the burnt body of his earlier attacker.

And a would-be government assassin who’d threatened him with retribution for ‘attempted insurrection’... but who’d also been perfectly willing to just let him go.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

“You’ve been building an army.” Ryan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This whole time. That’s what all of this has been about.”

“Not an army.” Marcus corrected, holding up a single finger on his right hand. “His army.”

“Whose army?” Ryan demanded. There was no way the US government he’d known - flawed as it certainly had been - would have approved of something like this. Not openly. And not on American soil.

“The Patriot’s.” Marcus responded cooly. “He controls every town in this state and what remains of several others. Soon, he will own them all. It’s inevitable.”

Marcus shook his head, his eyes distant as if admiring the very man himself from some memory. “The Patriot has taken out every threat, every obstacle, and every challenger that has arisen to oppose his crusade to reclaim and reshape America, Mr. Reynolds. Every. Single. One.”

Returning his gaze to Ryan, Marcus added softly. “You are simply the next.”

The editor was not afraid of the man in front of him, but Marcus’s words sent a chill down his spine. Because a part of him knew that, regardless of what happened here tonight… The mayor was right.

“... And?” Ryan asked, trying not to sound as impressed as he was. His own battles - tough as they’d been - had only been for Arborville. His hometown may be great, but it wasn’t exactly topping the state’s population charts. Ryan couldn’t imagine trying to take over an entire state. In just a few weeks, no less.

“What does that have to do with a bounty on me?” Ryan asked. He could already guess of course, but he’d rather have it confirmed. Better to know the goals of a rising super-powered warmonger than to wonder, after all.

“The Patriot collects those with unique powers. He pays most handsomely for them to be either recruited, removed, or…” Marcus rapped a finger nonchalantly on one of the metal statues holding a brainwashed citizen inside. “Re-educated.”

The mayor held Ryan’s eyes to ensure the meaning of his statement had come across before continuing in a tone as light as if the pair were discussing fine art. “The more exotic the power, the more he’s willing to pay. And while the price I’d negotiated for you before was luxurious, now?”

Marcus’s open hand closed into a fist, looking at Ryan as if he were a precious jewel for his collection. “For the price to shape reality itself? You can’t even begin to imagine the value you hold. I will never have to see this pitiful, backwoods town again for the rest of my soon-to-be immortal life.”

“Uh-huh…” Ryan uh-huh’d with what he felt was a suitable mixture of scorn and disbelief at that grandiose statement. “Still planning to ‘re-educate’ me then, are you? And how exactly do you plan to do that? I don’t know if you noticed, but Percy is gone. The mercenaries you hired are gone, and your flunkies are, too.”

“You’ve got no more minions left, Marcus.” The editor said, narrowing his eyes and preparing to lunge at the mayor once more. “It’s just you and me.”

The mayor’s grin touched his eyes for the first time Ryan had ever seen, his smile wide as the Cheshire cat’s. “Oh, is it now?”

Marcus placed his middle finger to his thumb and snapped them together with remarkable vigor. Once. Twice. Three times in total, at a pace that set an easy rhythm. Each of the resulting snaps echoing around the cavern like gunshots.

They were quickly followed by howls of rage coming from dozens of different voices in a dozen directions at once. All around Ryan metal statues vibrated, pulsed, melted, or shattered to pieces as their occupants began to free themselves. Men and women who had been stuck in stupors on the ground not a moment ago stood upright like marionettes in a play.

“Because I do believe it is you versus us, Mr. Reynolds.” Marcus said with the kind of smug self-satisfaction that comes from playing the winning hand at the end of a long game.

Ryan berated himself internally even as his lunging thrust forced Marcus, laughing, back into the mist. This is right here? This is why you don’t let the villain monologue.

Rookie move, Ryan.

Rookie move.

Even as he told himself off for falling to a cliche, Ryan dashed after his target. He kept up a steady stream of lunges and slashes wherever Marcus’s hazy form seemed to linger in place.

Glancing around to check his surroundings, he noticed with no small amount of relief that none of the helmet-heads were actually attacking, despite that little show. Most had gone back into a sort of standing-stupor. Even when he nearly shoulder-checked one of them trying to get a good shot at Marcus, the man just stared off into the distance as if Ryan wasn’t there.

Insight flashed through Ryan’s head once again, followed by a surge of hope. They’re still waiting for his command. All he did was wake them up!

Which meant Ryan could not afford to let the mayor take a physical form again. Even a single word from the man could sick this entire crowd on him.

Seeing as how the editor’s energy reserves were nearly bottomed out already, and doubting he’d have time to reach any of the literal mountains’ worth of food nearby… Ryan figured that particular move would almost certainly be the end of him.

As he was trying to puzzle out his next move, Ryan bumped into one of the helmet-heads that’d just broken out of its shell. The man stumbled on his feet in a way that reminded the editor of his first day in the hospital… and then Ryan had a thought that made him sick to his stomach.

Technically… those supplies weren’t the only sources of energy he had. There was another option. It was just…

Unpleasant. Possibly cruel. And not something any superhero would ever consider doing.

In the few seconds Ryan had before Marcus found a way to send a horde of brainwashed supers rushing after him, the editor found himself with a moral decision to make. A quandary that would define him from this moment until his very last.

He could be the good guy… and either die or be enslaved into that madman’s new world army…

Or make the hard choice.

Ryan made the hard choice.

After his next thrust, the editor reached out to grab a helmet-head’s shoulder and used it to catapult himself forward. Before he’d leapt fully away, Ryan activated his power and began absorbing the man. Brushing past a woman to slash at the mayor’s rapidly forming mouth he used his power on her as well.

Flesh melted and flowed towards him in streams as the editor blurred around the top of the train. Precious little of Marcus was visible, but his blue eyes widened in shock and horror as he saw in person for the first time what happened when Ryan consumed another being.

Ignoring the change in his enemy’s expression, Ryan weaved his way through body after body as he kept the pressure on his foe… and tried to ignore the bits of bodies weaving towards him in turn.

A wealth of energy poured into Ryan as the flesh was absorbed, followed by the expected rush of pain and prompts as he quickly went over his own capacity. Gritting his teeth the editor pushed on and ignored them, touching five more bodies before he judged he’d had enough.

If this doesn’t do it, nothing will.

Just as Marcus reached the edge of the train and looked ready to float off into the cavern below, Ryan stopped. He dropped his sword and thrust both hands together, palms out and facing towards the mayor as Ryan activated his power - mentally accepting the prompt the very instant it appeared. Let’s see you try to dodge this.

Would you like to create a continuous vacuum of air in one hand and pour all of your remaining energy into a series of explosions emanating from the other palm? Cost: Total incoming and received energy. Yes, or no?

‘Explosive Palm’ had been one of the first super powers Ryan had actually seen in person when he’d woken up, and the impression had stuck. It’d been flashy, dangerous, and effective all at once. But the goon who’d possessed it then hadn’t been playing with the level of power Ryan now had.

Thankfully.

A swirling vortex of sucking force sprang into being from Ryan’s right hand just as the first of several violent explosions began emanating from his left. Air shot towards the newly created vacuum immediately - dragging both Marcus’s misty form and the expanding gout of fire with it.

The result created a rolling storm of burning flame and searing hot wind that spun ever faster and ever hotter with each explosion. Brilliant white and blue flames tumbled over and over as heat poured out of it, evaporating the mayor’s mist-like body as it was sucked inside the maelstrom.

It looked to Ryan like Marcus tried to scream at the end - his hazy eyes bulging wide in horror - but whether or not the mayor managed to firm himself enough to do it Ryan would never recall.

He was too focused on the unbelievable pain at the ends of both arms as his fingers melted away due to the heat and were subsequently sucked into and consumed by the spinning, red-hot death-ball. A scream rent its way from Ryan’s throat - but he persevered, straining to wait until every possible drop of Marcus had been incinerated.

With an iron determination and will tempered by the days of suffering he’d already endured… the editor continued channeling explosions until the very last point of energy left him.

Falling to his knees, Ryan could only groan in miserable agony. His hands had been scorched completely off, only stumps remained just above the wrist on both sides. It felt like his entire face had been seared to the bone - as if someone had pressed white-hot cooking pans against his cheeks and held it there until they saw white.

A part of him was also pretty sure his nose had melted off - it was hard to be sure though, as his vision was too blurred to tell. Ryan’s eyes felt drier than desert sand. He found himself completely unable to blink - whether because his muscles refused or his eyelids were gone, Ryan didn’t know.

Tears flowed freely down the cracks in his skin, bringing both a cooling sensation and a trailing sort of salted pain with them. If he weren’t already crying, that sensation alone would have made him.

Even through all of that though, it was clear from both the scorched everything in front of him and the lack of Marcus’s smug tone that the bastard was finally dead.

Still... as the adrenaline surge of victory at that thought rushed through him, Ryan could already feel his mind retreating from the pain. He could feel the physical and mental exhaustion of the day’s events flooded up from within. A part of him still resisted, shouting at him to find more power and do… something.

But Ryan could no longer hear it. Or much of anything, really.

Crumpling to the train’s roof like a man falling into bed for the last time, Ryan closed his eyes.

There was a sound trying to penetrate the fog that rose up to greet him, but it came from further and further away each time… To Ryan it felt as if the train below him had started and was now happily carrying him away into the dark.

His world was unimaginable pain… but he was leaving that pain behind. With Marcus’s death… at least it was safe for the others now.

As Ryan’s vision faded to black, he had only one final, satisfying thought before the darkness swallowed him whole.

He had won.

He’d finally… won.