“They're on their way,” Meleko reported.

The group tensed. They could all hear the sounds of movement from Becenti's communicator, the sound of running water, of the occasional murmur of one of the two brothers. Becenti himself made little noise, and though the Brothers Corpo had stated they preferred not to kill, Broon was still unnerved.

“We have our plan,” he stated, “We know what to do. We just have to trust each other.”

He turned towards the group, giving them a smile.

“I couldn't have a better team for this.”

It was a false ovation, and they all knew it, filled with the grim bravado that dead men sometimes swagger, an attempt at normalcy in the face of abnormal circumstances. Still, the fact that Broon said it, that he was taking on such a role, still raised their spirits. Just a bit.

“Alright, get to your places,” Broon said, “I'll see you on the other side.”

They scattered, going to their designated positions. Only Ezel and Broon were left.

“You too, Ezel,” Broon said.

“You're sure you want to be out in the open?” Ezel asked.

“I'm the distraction,” Broon stated.

“We could've chosen someone more useful for such a thing,” Ezel said, “Meleko, for example.”

The half-orc let out a laugh. He drew Kilnriv.

“It's fine, Ezel. Now get out of here, I think they're almost here.”

Ezel gave a sigh, before the water rippled around her and lifted her into the air. Her eyes were set on Broon as she rose up to the fallen statue of Iresine.

“Be careful, Wildarm.”

“Same with you, Atalar,” Broon replied.

And he waited.

One way or another, things were ending here.

***

The Brothers Corpo were twins, despite the fact that one was quite thin and one was quite large. They had been raised in Venice, a city on the water located on Prime, born the day after the war's end. Both of them went meta at the age of fifteen, and were among the first supervillains to arise after the Dark Age of Heroes that came after the death of Silver Arthur.

Brother Bone was thin, and could control bone – his own, and others. Brother Brain was a telekinetic, though he could only move whatever he could theoretically lift. This drove him into the incredible world of bodybuilding, growing in muscle, to the point that he began using illegal steroids to drive his strength far past the normal human limit.

For he was a metahuman, and not consigned to such barriers.

For the last fifteen years, they had been supervillains, operating in Venice in their early years before emigrating to the Mecca of Supervillainy: Horizon City, New York State. There, they had cut their teeth on the new generation of superheroes, facing off against the likes of Acero, Durandal, and Seismic while robbing banks, playing bodyguard to the underworld, and stealing candy from babies.

As such, they were experienced. They knew the limits of their powers.

They would be tough customers.

And right now, Shimmer was trailing behind them. His arms still pulsed with a ruthless sort of heat, and he could feel Brother Bone's power pulling his legs forward despite their protests of exhaustion. They had spent the last few hours pushing forward, searching the first few towers of the lopsided island before finding the Silver Tower and the hole that had been carved into it.

On any other day, Becenti would have loved being here. The Silver Tower was a powerful icon in Epochian history, having stood tall against all who opposed the metahuman nation. Chliofrond was a traveling kingdom, one that had seen some of the most terrible battles in the distant wars of history, and yet the Silver Tower stood unblemished, the wounds of time having been cleaned from its surface.

Evidently whatever power the Tower had possessed was gone now, as the hole that had been cut into its surface still shown jagged on its side. Even with all the Shard of the Imagination’s influence, the Tower could still be wounded. Shimmer supposed that Broon must have been the one to do this. Not that he could blame him. The half-orc probably didn’t realize the Tower’s significance, its place as an idol of history.

“After you, sir,” Brother Brain said to Bone.

“Why, thank you,” Bone gave a mock bow to his brother, before jumping down through the hole. They heard a splash below.

“Brother!” Bone's voice was distant and tinny, “There is water down here! Salt water! We'll need a raft!”

Brain gave a single nod. He turned to Shimmer.

“Sorry about this,” he said.

Shimmer felt a tug in his back as Brain lifted him in the air with his mind. The large man lifted himself as well, floating down into the hole like a feather.

“I appreciate that you can bench your bodyweight, at least,” Shimmer said.

“Same here,” Brain said, “I love doing this.”

They were engulfed in darkness. Bone was below them, treading water. Evidently he had not expected to drop into the drink, as his weasel-like face was scrunched into a pinched look of annoyance.

“Hurry, brother,” Bone said.

“Of course,” Brain said. He gestured towards one of the statues. Shimmer's heart fell as the statue wrenched itself free of its base, dipping into the water and skimming along it. Brother Bone climbed on.

“Better,” Bone said, “Well done.”

“Shameful,” Shimmer said.

“Probably,” Brother Brain said. He said nothing else as he gestured forward, and the statue began sailing the dark waters. They spent the next few hours going through the tower, past the various shrines and ritual rooms of the Silver Tower, past the laboratories that had housed the greatest minds of Chliofronds and their works. Most of it had been picked clean – the Chliofronds seemed to have had quite a bit of time on their hands, able to take whatever wasn't nailed down and leave their floating cities forever.

“Where do you think they went?” Brother Brain asked, turning to Shimmer.

Shimmer glared at Brain.

“Come on,” Brother Bone said, “You've got to be curious. You don't have to keep secrets from us. We're kin.”

“They left,” Shimmer growled, “Went every which way. Let the wind pull them across the multiverse, though this time without cities. Without targets.”

“Why leave 'em?” Brother Brain noted, “They seem cool.”

“You've watched Bruce Lee, haven't you?” Shimmer said.

“Yeah, martial arts guy,” Bone said.

“'Be like water,'” Shimmer quoted, “That's what the Chliofrond did. That's what all metahuman kingdoms did. The Federation had designs of genocide on metahumanity. They had already annihilated several metahuman kingdoms throughout Epochia's old territories.”

“So they spread out,” Brother Brain said, “Absorbed themselves. Hid themselves.”

“What better way to survive?” Becenti said, “Without any population centers, metahumanities could survive. Thrive, in some places.”

“Thrive…” Bone whispered. The Brothers were both quiet at the thought, the statue pushing through the tower in darkness and silence.

Neither of them, despite their excitement and work, had ever felt like they were thriving.

***

There was only a bit of light as they approached the room before Chronilock’s domain. It was a tall room, now long with the Tower's fall. The water here dribbled down so that it only reached to one's knees, so Brother Brain jumped off of the statue and released it from his control, the statue plunging fully into the water with a great splash that sprayed the back of Shimmer's neck with warmth. Iresine looked down from above, his face serene, his blood, carved in rich detail, running from his cut palms down his arms and drinking into the potted bonsai that had been set at his base. The cities that had floated around him in Chliofrond's past had crashed into the water, makeshift stone islands that one could use to stand above the shallow salt pool.

It was Broon who was the main source of light in the room. He stood on one of the islands, Kilnriv fully drawn, blue runes shining like the moon in the darkness. The half-orc's face was set.

“I wish to speak, before we get this started,” Broon said.

For a moment, Shimmer's gut set, and he was sure that Brother Bone would point at Broon and wipe away his world. But then he took a breath. The Brothers Corpo were supervillains. The interpersonal relationship they built with the other side was just as important as the act of combat.

“You have the right,” Brother Bone said.

“Myron, are you alright?” Broon said.

“As well as I can be,” Shimmer said, “I'm afraid they've nearly disarmed me.”

The half-orc gave a smirk at that.

“This doesn't have to be violent,” Brother Bone said, “We've already dealt with one group in the expedition, and they went down quick.”

“Are they alive?” Broon said.

Brother Bone was quiet.

“They're not,” Shimmer said, “At least, their city sunk.”

“We don't... We don't kill,” Brother Bone said, “It's just business.”

“And yet you broke that code, here,” Broon's voice was dark.

“We did,” Brother Brain said, “But that doesn't mean we have to do it again. Don't make us fight you, Broon.”

“We'd win, and you'd be twisted as a pretzel,” Brother Bone pointed a finger, “One twitch of my finger, and I break your spine and close your ribcage up like a bear trap.”

Broon considered their words. His hand trembled slightly, and Shimmer could see fire in his eyes, a flame that glowed brighter than the runes on his blade.

“No,” he said, “You crossed a line. You killed my friends. Besides, I'm Amber Foundation. I'm never alone.”

And the water burst beneath their feet. It seized upwards in a wave, pushing the two brothers away. Broon dropped down behind the island, wincing in sudden pain as he felt Bone take hold of his spine, though that iron grip dissipated as the water crashed over the Brothers Corpo, pulling them under, rolling them across the shallow deep in a riptide. Broon grimaced. Ezel wouldn't hold this for long. Freshwater was one thing, saltwater was another...

Indeed, Brother Brain, through strength alone, pushed himself upwards, roaring in shock and rage, his eyes bloodshot from the sudden deluge of saline drink. He was glaring this way and that-

Broon struck, distantly aware that, far on the other side of the room, Brother Bone was pulling himself up from the water as well, spluttering and snarling. He had just a moment, a split second of time before Bone’s brother shook himself from his stupor.

Kilnriv swung. It dug deep into the supervillain's chest, slicing clean and through, red spraying out in response. But Broon knew it was not a fatal stroke – Brain was too smart for that, having pushed himself ever so slightly back with his telekinetic power. He also had enough mental fortitude to push through the pain, shoving a hand out at Broon. It was far from the half-orc, but the mental blowout was enough to send him flying upwards and backwards, careening through the air, tumbling towards the water.

***

Bone spluttered out of the brine, snarling and glaring this way and that. In the distance, he could hear a yell of pain from Brain. The half-orc must have moved in, though it would be over for him soon. He was but a man with a blade, and his sibling was...

Movement to his left. Bone's head turned sharply. He needed sight to be able to use his powers – and the being standing far on the other side of the oblong chamber was outside his range. Bone snapped to the side as the creature – who resembled a humanoid hammerhead, raised up a rifle. The chamber rang with rapid zak zak zak as plasma, bright green and hot as a sun, hammered towards the metahuman. They whizzed over his head, splattering and sizzling against the island behind him, welting deep holes into its surface...

He was out of range. Grimacing, Bone pointed his fingers, unstopping the bone caps he had covered and firing them as bullets towards the guildmember – Meleko, if Bone recalled, a name in a sea of names. Yes, now Bone remembered him.

Meleko dropped down, rolling to the side as the bone scraps shot overhead. The water parted with every movement. Somewhere, there was a hydromancer. Brother Bone pulled a face.

“Brother!” he snarled.

“Here!” came the grunt. But Brain knew better than to float into the air. Meleko was still at large, as was the rest of the group. Bone's mind raced as he tried to remember who had come here. Broon. Meleko. The demigod, yes. The daughter of the river. No wonder the water was their domain. Bone began to clamber onto the island with an almost frantic frenzy.

Then, if she had full control over the water, he supposed that he and Brain would be dead by now. No, she was in hiding. Support for the rest of the group.

Nearby, he watched as Brain thrusted an arm. One of the islands began to levitate.

“Brain, the alien!” Bone snarled.

Brain nodded, with a flick of his wrist cracking the island in half. Part of it protected him as Meleko unleashed another barrage from his rifle. The other sailed towards Broon.

***

Broon leaped to the side, hearing the world explode behind him and leaving his ears ringing as stone thundered against stone, marble against marble, as the islands broke against one another. The water receded with each step he took – high above, Ezel concentrated, her brow furrowed and her hair, little by little, graying with the effort of keeping her guild mobile. Already the Brothers Corpo were realizing the advantage the guild had over them – aside from this being a numbers game, the battlefield was theirs. Brain levitated over the water. Bone had jumped onto one of the floating stone cities, peering around for danger.

But the half-orc could do nothing. He was someone who preferred melee fighting – sword crossed against sword. Up close, he truly (and unfortunately) was the Butcher of Evukor, a whirlwind of steel and will, his single arm appearing as a blur with blade in hand.

But if he got close, he was dead. He had gotten lucky before – Brother Brain had been disoriented, toppled with surprise. But now the supervillain was standing at full attention. He floated towards Broon over the waters. Broon retreated back, step by step, gauging where the telekinetic field ended.

He could barely see it – light rippling on the water. Not enough to control, Broon realized. If Brain could, he would have.

And the weakness of Brain's power came to light. Broon gave a smile. Anything solid, anything that Brain could hold in hand, was his to control, so long as he could lift it.

Anything else was a different matter.

***

Pain, aching and dull, crept up and down Brother Brain's chest. The cut was deep, but not enough that it would be fatal – especially not for one of Brain's size. He had toughed out worse before. The half-orc was keeping his distance, well aware of his power. Brain resolved to crush him flat as soon as he was cornered and in range. The two of them played their slow game of cat and mouse, Brain advancing, Broon retreating back…

Towards the top of the tower, in which there was a final room. Brain's brow furrowed. There had been no sign of the Shard thus far. Yet there was still a room left. The guild had not gathered around any particular object, presenting themselves as physical barriers to a physical goal, but rather had scattered and separated into an ambush, one that was in a large room. Broon did not glance this way or that. Did not seem to be pulling himself from any particular part of the chamber.

So either the Shard was in that final room, or it was not here at all.

Brain couldn't stomach the latter. If he and Bone had just murdered six people, just to find that the half-orc had been lying...

No, it had to be in that final room.

Then why was Broon guiding him there?

Brain stopped. Broon gave no indication or reaction, keeping his stance, blade held in front of him, legs spread apart, a look of utmost concentration painting his face.

“You're a good actor,” Brain said.

The facade broke for just a moment. Broon grimaced.

“So are you.”

“We were theater kids,” Brain said.

Bone was off dealing with the alien. Brain squeezed a fist. The other half of the island split into pieces. With an overhand throw, he sent them flying towards Broon, an aerial avalanche of stone. Broon leaped to the side-

***

And Brain did as well. Broon's heart sank as Brain rushed forward, a muscular specter. The broken island roared past them both as Broon brought up his sword to slash, but he knew the game was up. Brain punched down, the telekinetic power forcing Broon down into the water, keeping him down there. The weight was immense, a thousand tons pressing down on the half-orc all at once. Water rushed into his nose and mouth. The distant, detached part of Broon's brain wondered where Ezel was, why she hadn't made the water recede back. Perhaps she was losing control of the pool, or something had happened...

And then there was movement just above the brine, and the weight released. Broon floated for a brief moment before his mind snapped back into place. He sat back up, head breaching the surface like an exceptionally handsome green whale. He turned to see Brother Brain wrestling against a wall of water, an amorphous blob of salt and sea that was tumbling and pushing him back, over and over again. With a snarl, Brain twisted an arm, a gaggle of marble heeding his command, slamming into the wall, which dispersed in a spray before reforming.

Of course Brain was too smart to be led so astray. He was far from the dumb lug he espoused himself to be. Indeed, he had placed himself on one of the larger pieces of debris, just big enough to hold his weight as he levitated it upwards – perhaps to save energy instead of lifting himself into the air. Away from the water, which rose up in an attempt to grab at him. But Ezel was fading fast, and the ropy arms dissolved as they reached towards the roof.

They were losing their advantages.

***

On the other side of the room, Meleko took a deep breath. He had noticed, on the faraway planet of Galern's Blue, that he always held his breath during firefights. It was an unhealthy habit, one that he had tried to break many times. Protracted battles like this were rare for him – but like Galern's Blue, this one was starting to run a bit long for his taste. Shoot first, shoot fast, and by the gods, shoot true. That's what Meleko had been taught.

But he hadn't shot first, shot fast, and he had missed every shot, so truth be told the Jugdran was starting to get pissed.

He had been forced into cover by the endless barrage of bone shards from the metahuman. The marble islands were perfect for that, only chipping slightly from the hailstorm of bullets. Meleko wondered how soon Brother Bone would run out of ammo – after all, he was using himself as the clip. He gave a glance upwards, wincing as a shard of finger glanced off of the stone right by his good leftmost eye. Brother Bone had positioned himself on top of one of the islands. This particular city was somehow still standing upright, miniature towers rising and pointing towards the roof. It was remarkably similar to the island they were in now, actually. Brother Bone was taking cover behind these towers, arm sticking out between the cracks to fire on Meleko's position.

Well then, time for a change of pace. Meleko took out a communicator.

“Ezel,” he whispered into it, “I need a wall.”

“A-alright,” Ezel's voice was hoarse and whispering. Meleko almost winced at how weak she sounded.

“Never mind,” he said, “Just clear the pool for me.”

“You wanted a wall,” Ezel said, “I will give you a wall.”

The water rose upwards around him. Meleko didn't say no twice, running out from his island, the bone shards flinging themselves at him, stopped in midair by the mass of seawater that rose around him in a protective shield. Brother Bone stopped firing, aware of how useless it was as Meleko ran towards another island. He watched as Brother Bone scrambled to a new position on his own marble sphere. Meleko could see the thin man grimace as the water receded and the Jugran pointed his rifle at the now-open metahuman.

Plasma rained forward, dancing and dazzling and oh-so-beautiful, bright green neon flying and flashing against stone, white-hot, one of the shots splashing onto Brother Bone's shoulder as he let out a shocked howl and dropped all pretense of offense. With a pained look, his left forearm exploded, bone rushing outwards and forming into a marbled, jagged shield. It was strong enough to block the remainder of Meleko's barrage, despite how brittle it looked.

And then the bone cracked and fired forward.

Meleko let out a whoop of shock and ducked back into cover, two hearts pounding in unison as Brother Bone renewed his assault.

“Come on, Heyma,” he growled, “Where the hell are you?”

***

“I want him in the water,” Heyma said.

“Easier said than done,” Ezel whispered, “He's got himself locked down tight on his island.”

“The more advantages, the better,” Heyma said, “I'm the one going in. And this Brother Bone fellow has quite the abilities.”

“Most of which don't affect you,” Ezel said.

“Doesn't matter,” Heyma said, “He's still got his own bones to pick.”

The two of them were positioned above the battlefield, perched upon the statue of Iresine high above. The battle seemed distant up here, mere flashes of light and the electrifying, hair-raising bangs of plasma fire. Ezel looked worn-down, deep rings creasing beneath her brown eyes, her hands shaking with effort. She had expended much of her energy to protect Broon from Brother Brain's approach.

“The trap is failing,” she said.

“We knew it probably would,” Heyma said, “He just needs to get him inside.”

Ezel stared at Broon for a long time. Heyma put a hand on her shoulder.

“He's Broon. He'll find a way. Let's concentrate on taking out Brother Bone.”

Ezel nodded, turning back to observe the firefight between Meleko and the metahuman. They were in a stalemate, launching wave after wave of bone and plasma at the other.

“I can overturn the island he's on,” Ezel gasped, “After that, you're on your own.”

“You've done enough, Ezel,” Heyma said. She made to rise, only for Ezel to shoot out a hand and stop her.

“If they see you before I'm ready, it's over,” she said.

“When will you be ready?”

Ezel was quiet however. She pointed with a single hand, the veins popping from her arm, her eyes momentarily flashing a wild, cyan blue that almost seemed to glow. Below, the water beneath Bone's island rippled.

And here Heyma needed no prompt. She positioned herself, armor creaking slightly as she moved. No breath, for she had none. No pounding heart, for she had lost such a thing long ago.

The island tilted and rolled, the water churning beneath it. Heyma heard Ezel let out a small whimper from the effort. Below, Brother Bone let out a yelp of surprise as he lost his footing, the entire island tilting into the pool.

And Heyma dropped like a stone.

***

She slammed into the water and hit the ground running. Brother Bone could hardly register her before she was upon him, gauntleted hand tightened into a fist that rushed into his stomach, the second thundering into his chin, an uppercut that sent Brother Bone flying upwards from the sheer force. Bone ragdolled for a moment, shock and panic overtaking his entire form, before his mind kicked back into place. He willed himself, pulling at every bone in his body. He did this rarely, for the controlling of his own skeleton was painful – already he knew his left arm would be aching for weeks after pulling and manipulating his radius into a shield.

He stopped in midair, forcing himself around as though he were floating in space until the water was beneath him and the statue of Iresine above. The woman in armor stood below, stalking closer and closer to the metahuman. Brother Bone floated back into the water, nose curling as the warm sea surged around his knees. Any other day, he would be at a disadvantage.

But this armored woman, this... Heyma, was in his range.

A smirk curling to his lips, Brother Bone reached out to the world, searching for her endoskeleton.

And he found nothing.

His heart fell. The woman charged. She brought her fist downwards, connecting with Bone's shield in a blow that had shocks running up and down his spine. She let loose a savage kick, one that Bone ducked. He let out a wince as he began molding the ulna and radius on his right arm, sharpening them and thinning them into a blade that shot just above his hand in a splatter of blood. He gave a swing. Heyma parried with a flick of her wrist, though the shot was enough to make her retreat.

She had no skeleton! The thought horrified Brother Bone. She had nothing, nothing to hold her together and upright, nothing human, anyways, and she sounded plenty human.

The two circled for a brief moment.

How?

Heyma closed the gap once more, the two of them whirling in a dance of metal and bone. She was good – all guildfolk were good, he had been warned, though Heyma had obviously been trained in hand-to-hand combat. She knew how to position herself, bobbing and weaving. She knew the weak points in her armor – when to block Bone's blade, when to let it slide across the metal plates and chainmail weave.

She was also far too fast for Bone's taste. Almost as though she were completely unhindered by the bulky platemail she wore.

And she had no skeleton! No bones! No vertebrae to snap, no ribcage to close into a jail. Not even a stapes...

Heyma whirled beneath Bone's guard and landed another shot into his side. Bone split away, spluttering and snarling, feeling like a lame cow as he splashed this way and that in the dark water. He turned back and resumed his fencing stance. Heyma raised her fists again.

For the first time in a long while, Bone felt a thrill of fear. He could hear, far on the other side of the chamber, his brother still facing Wildarm. He should have been finished by now. Should have crushed the half-orc into a smudge.

Why was this still going on?

He needed to end this quickly. Bone gritted his teeth.

This last exchange would end it.

He ran forward. Heyma braced herself for a moment, parrying his first light swing. Then his next. A third. He wouldn't give her a chance to counter. He was smaller than her, and only by his blade could he match her reach, the two twirling around the other like awkward swans across the shallow pool.

And he released his trick. He collapsed the ulna of his left arm into a thin blade that matched his right arm's, surging forward and past Heyma's guard. She was not ready.

The blade sank deep into her chest, rending through metal and running her all the way through, skewering her like a pig.

The two stood there in mute silence for a moment. Bone's triumphant smile melted. That had been far too easy. He felt no flesh beneath the iron. The blade had punched through metal, then punched through metal.

Heyma was hollow.

And, at last, Brother Bone knew what his opponent was.

“You're a Dullahan,” he said.

“Ghost in armor, spirit in a shell. That's me,” Heyma wrapped an arm around Bone's still outstretched arm, “Took you long enough.”

She reared back, before slamming her helmeted faceplate against Brother Bone's forehead, and his world became one of red pain and dazzling light.

***

Brother Brain caught up with Broon soon enough. It was a gamble, Broon realized – he heard a sudden, high-pitched scream echo from the cavern, and the water rushed back in around his knees. Ezel had made a choice. Inwardly, he felt himself wilt. No doubt something had happened that had made her force an advantage for Meleko and Heyma. They all knew the cards, if Heyma could bring down Brother Bone, then they were in a good spot. It was a logical move, one devoid of the emotions of sacrificing a guildmate.

He would have felt proud, but instead he felt cold dread as Brother Brain levitated a full foot over the water. The watery blob had receded, and now there was nothing standing in the way as Brain advanced. Without the advantage of Ezel's manipulation of the water, Broon was at a loss.

The game was up. And both of them knew it. Brain was smirking, despite the fact that his chest and robes were fully drenched in red from his chest wound. How he was even still standing was anyone's guess, and yet he still smiled, still swayed like a marionette in the air, still bore down on Broon.

And the half-orc came into range of his power. Psychic energy was like a heat permeation, rippling in the air as Broon felt an invisible hand close over his neck and jerk him into the air. Broon, to his credit, simply gritted his teeth as he felt his windpipe close up.

Brain let him hang limp in the air for a few moments. There was a relative silence as the metahuman's smirk fell away as Broon began to struggle and kick, feet just barely scraping the pool's surface, kicking him light splashes like a child at play. Perhaps it was the act of killing that got to Brain, or perhaps he knew Broon was better alive and as a hostage than dead, for he dropped Broon, who collapsed into the water, coughing and wheezing. He had dropped Kilnriv, and with his one hand caressed his throat, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes.

“You fought well, Wildarm,” Brain said, “Now rest. It is over.”

Broon glared up at the large metahuman.

“All is silent,” Brain said, “My brother has no doubt seen to your companions-”

“Wrong on that account, pal.”

The voice was Heyma's. Broon and Brain looked over to where her voice came from. Heyma stood a ways away, Meleko perched on an island apart from her. She held Brother Bone in one gauntleted claw, hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Make a move, and pop goes the weasel,” she said.

Broon realized just what role he would play in this moment. He leaped back, trying to scramble out of Brain's range, water sloughing around him as he splashed lamely away, almost crawling away. Brain reached out and plucked him upwards once more, pulling him back. The muscular man wrapped one tree-trunk sized arm around his waist, the other under his arm, sausage fingers resting on the top of his head.

“Same with you,” he said, “Looks like we're at an impasse.”

“Perhaps,” Meleko said. He was pointing his rifle at Brain. It was much larger than the one he usually used, “Or I shoot through Broon.”

“You can do that?” Brain said.

“This is a Fortian's Arrow 39th class, used predominantly by colonists in the Untamed Reach,” Meleko said, “It's predominantly a militiaman’s weapon, can’t damage the homestead too much, but it cuts through flesh just fine.”

“Drop Broon, or we drop you through him,” Heyma growled, “And I break your brother's neck.”

“You would do this?” Brother Brain chuckled, “Willingly kill one of your own?”

“Yes,” Meleko stated.

Brother Brain sneered, “Your guild could survive without Broon Wildarm?”

“Yes,” Heyma's voice was cold as the middle of winter.

Brother Brain's heart fell.

“You're bluffing,” he growled, “You have to be.”

“Release Broon,” Heyma said, “Let him go. Or I kill you brother, then Meleko kills you.”

“Last warning, mate,” Meleko said, “This shot goes through your heart.”

“B-brother...” Bone gasped.

Brain's eyes fell on Bone. A deep, purpled welt bloomed on his forehead, though he otherwise looked alright, aside from the usual wounds of battle that cropped up with his abilities. Blood flowed freely down both of his arms, testament to his willingness to destroy himself so utterly when it came down to the money.

Brain had always hated that.

He turned his attention back to the guild. Would they go through with it?

Could they?

He saw Heyma's hand squeeze. Meleko licked his lips. Bone, however, was staring at Brain.

Finish this, he was saying.

Brain gave a nod.

Life was a gamble, especially a supervillain's.

He lunged forward, dropping Broon to the ground. Meleko, for all of his front as a cold-hearted mercenary, hesitated with pulling the trigger. The shot rang out, but the split second of time was enough for Brain to move out of the red line's path. He slammed a boot into the ground. Beneath the water was metal – reflexive and strong, the very building blocks of this silver tower. The floor warped as it pulled itself into a barrier.

Where to get to?

Meleko’s shots rang out, a series of zolting gangs that hammered against the wall and made Brain’s head spin. It was also starting to burn through the metal. Evidently whatever enchantments protected the Tower’s exterior did not extend to its insides.

Where to get to?

And then Brother Brain knew there was only one option.

The last room, which was no doubt a trap.

Yet he was already trapped here.

He had to take his chances. Brain scooped Broon up, dashing him against the metal wall for good measure, before running. His telekinetic power was in a frenzy, pulling up the floor to protect himself as Meleko's barrage traveled with him.

“This is for Phin, you bastard!” the alien's voice was harsh and shrill, tinged with an angry sort of grief that made Brain's heart pound even harder – the feelings of guilt were beginning to return.

But he couldn't think of such things now. He forced the emotions down, and ran towards the last room, levitating himself upwards and launching towards the door.

***

The observatory had been untouched by the battle. It was also upright and tall, standing to observe the world high above. The fact that the rest of the tower was laying on its side while it stood upright made Brother Brain's head spin, but he ignored it as he slammed the door shut behind him. Brain glanced around, taking the place in, Broon still wrapped in his muscular arms. Were his heart not pounding and panic not gripping his throat, he would have loved it. Shelves of books, a beautiful telescope that dominated the center, maps pinned to the walls of distant planes.

But he had little time for that now. He threw Broon into the air, catching him mid-fall with a telekinetic snatch.

“The Shard,” he said, “Where.”

But the half-orc let out a hoarse, exhausted chuckle.

“Like... I would.... tell you.”

Brother Brain glared at the half-orc, adrenaline and fear turning into an unbridled anger as he let out a roar of frustration, throwing the Wildarm against the wall. Broon cracked against it, let out a groan as he slid down and onto one of the desks, crumpling and scattering papers and quills as he slumped back.

“A... trap,” Broon grunted.

“I know!” Brother Brain snarled, “That won't stop me! Nothing can! Nothing-”

The image of Bone flashed in his mind. Something in Brain snapped.

“If you hurt Angelo, it'll be hell to pay, Wildarm!” he roared, “The Shard! Tell me where it is! Or I'll kill every single one of you!”

But the half-orc just began to laugh his tired laugh, one born of exhaustion, pain, and the triumphant realization that the game was up.

Because steam was beginning to pour down the walls. Slow at first, like the tumbling mist after a day of rain on the mountain. Cloud-like in appearance, great and puffy and moving with a tectonic grace. Brain took a few steps back.

Where?

It was filling the room now. He couldn't see who it was who was making it. Couldn't sense her – was she out of range? In the room?

There. He felt her presence. Just in the back of the room, crawling out from behind the shelves. Yet as Brain's mind rushed towards her, attempting to grab her, the steam closed in like a vise around his extended arm. The metahuman let out a scream as it curled around it like a python, burning like the inside of a volcano. It didn't dissipate as he leaped back, instead seeming to latch onto him more, more tendrils of white-hot mist pouring in and surrounding him.

And he couldn't lift steam.

He was being forced back, a cloud covering his right arm, which had been burned so thoroughly he could hardly feel it. The room was filled with the stuff, a thick blanket that he couldn't see past. Nor could he think of finding the girl.

Through it all, Broon laughed. It had taken on a more jovial air, echoing through the small room and sounding more and more discordant in Brother Brain's head.

“Stop!” the metahuman screamed, “Stop!”

His left arm had caught on something. He turned to look. Nothing was holding him fast but empty air, yet he couldn't tear his arm away.

A null-point!

“Checkmate, idiot,” the girl's voice curled through the steam. Brain heard her footsteps as she ran forward and launched herself at him, a kick landing squarely on his chest, forcing Brother Brain further into the null-point, so far that his head collapsed into it, became stuck and frozen.

And Brother Brain's mind became no mind at all.