Captain Steel Dead!

Perished in defense of our colony brothers!

Dateline Drusula-For decades now Captain Steel, also known as Michael Masterson, has met all problems with a punch and a smile. He was seen by humans and aliens alike as The Greatest Hero in the Verse and no problem was too big for him, until now. Drusula has been a colony under constant siege by the alien crime lord known as Gray Grimm. When Captain Steel arrived to face the man, the two fought and nearly ripped the colony apart. For once our hero had met his match but he was battle-tested and hardened and gave as good as he got. Both collapsed—succumbing to wounds and broken bones—upon each other having beaten one another to death. Captain Steel’s body will be transported back to Saint Century City for funeral services. His sister, who was also off-world doing humanitarian work, will be arriving alongside his body. Although nothing specific has been stated, officials are considering shutting down the entire city to mourn.

-BleedNet news flash from 8 years ago, 3117 (solstan).

Robotic personnel zipped around the round room, performing debris clean-up and wall repair. Azonne stared ahead blankly, lost in newly unmoored trauma. They must be both destroyed; Yes both, we can’t let Ganlomb fall to the darkness; Yes, destroyed; Indeed. As a child, she heard the whispers on the other side of the wall but couldn’t recall it until now; frustrated, she went inward to confront The First.

The mind palace could be anything the ring-bearer wanted, for Azonne it was nothing but white space.

“I’ve only just now realized I’ve never seen her memories of meeting me, I want to see them.”

D’Grav thought it best you never see them, The First’s voice boomed in all the nothingness, he was hiding from her.

“Well she’s not here, I am! Did she decide to block my memories too?!”

The white room faded away. In its place, the purple and green fields of Ganlomb where she and the Tar-Colored Rabbit played. She watched them both run up to the large tree with black leaves.

“Everyone was mean today,” The younger Azonne said.

“Oh no, again?” Replied the tar-colored rabbit. The thing shapeshifted and looked, briefly, like an oily square before becoming a formless, constantly moving, shape. Young Azonne nodded slowly, mesmerized in particular by the way the creature's whole body moved. The blob sat further formless for a while, until finally:

“You should kill them.”

The girl blushed; her cheeks became only a slightly brighter hue, almost pink. She smiled and looked away. Older Azonne cursed and squeezed her fist.

“You’re funny mister,” she said. “Do you want to play?”

“Always,” the creature said and morphed its shape again, this time a big black oily kitten. The two chased one another around the tree trunk and all the mean words melted away.

Off in the distance, a figure watched. Older Azonne’s attention was instantly drawn to them. Their head was wide and flat and funneled down into a thin humanoid body clad in bright orange padded and segmented armor.

“D’Grav…” She whispered; it had been so long since Azonne had last seen her, and she was certainly older than this at the time. Her skin color was a pale green, framed with solid black tattoos under their chin and mouth. Empty white eyes blinked as they watched the sometimes formless creature—now a bipedal creature they didn’t recognize—play with the young Azonne. D’Grav was flanked by a being that looked like the child only noticeably older with gray strands of thinning hair, long canted ears that were so heavy they almost touched the floor, and almost about 3 feet shorter than she was.

“It is true,” she had whispered.

“See?” The smaller one had replied. “It has bonded; we wouldn’t lie.”

“I didn’t think you were lying,” D’Grav replied, annoyed at the insinuation.

“But you see now don’t you?” The armored one nodded to the question imperceptibly.

“Both must be destroyed, yes?” The taller of the two glanced downward and said nothing to this. Their duties dictate that yes, both must be destroyed. But this felt different—different yet somehow familiar. They continued to watch the little girl roll around with an oily snake, her laughter floated upwards and crossed the few yards that separated them all.

“I’m not so sure.” The scene melted away, replaced by the white room once more.

“Hey!” Azonne shouted.

Lady Steel is trying to get your attention. Azonne, please understand that that is when D’Grav knew you were her successor. Because you were so young she figured your memories would fade and she didn’t want to risk it coming up while you served. She, we, meant well.

Azonne said nothing to this, instead she returned to the real world.

***

“Hey, are you listening?” Corina Kyle had snapped her fingers in front of Azonnes face, who simply blinked twice before life returned to her nerves.

“I apologize, what were you saying?”

Corina huffed, “I said, we can't just evacuate the whole planet just like that. Were you seriously tuning me out?"

“No, I was just simply…checking something,” Azonne said, not particularly convincing either.

“So, like a better plan than just leaving?” Corina felt herself getting hot; Chill girl, she’s freaked out as it is.

"You don't seem to get that once darkness takes hold on a planet, it doesn't survive; am I speaking your language wrong?" Azonne asked, with a bit of exasperation. "A purely corrupted world is a husk of itself. Black shadow creatures roam where society once lived and drain the planet of all its energy and life, leaving these places as little more than floating dead rocks."

"Just what the hell is this darkness, anyway?"

Azonne scratched at the black arrowhead tattoos above her eye. "It is simply the Nameless, but it has existed since before the start of this universe. The 'Big Bang', as you call it. What brought light into this universe forced the Nameless into a role it has detested ever since."

"Which is?"

"It is the source of all hate and pain in the universe," Azonne replied. "Both sides exist to serve as checks for one another. That is called The Balance, and my purpose is to preserve it as ring-bearer. I’m sure it works better when things aren’t kept from me." She cursed under her breath, frustrated over, well, everything.

Corina ignored the small tantrum, there wasn’t time. "We can't just run, we have to fight," she said.

"All we can do is keep the main mass occupied while you work to get your people away, I can do that much," Azonne answered. "After that...I may have to go into exile, away from civilization while I figure out what happens next."

Corina grabbed Azonne by the collar and lifted her off the ground effortlessly. "You're so damn nonchalant about this and it's really pissing me off!" She snarled. Azonne was too startled to do anything, but once that feeling passed she stayed still because she knew where this anger was coming from and she understood it. She too was so mad she could scream. "You bring this-this plague to my world and then say there's nothing you can do? Bullshit!"

Azonne adjusted herself in Corina's grip. "I-I understand. But it's the truth—your world is dead just like mine! I'm sorry!" Corina raised her fist, her eyes twitched and her nostrils flared. She pursed her lips and scrunched her eyebrows so hard she looked ready to pop; her face softened suddenly and she let Azonne drop. Azonne landed on her butt with a loud slap but was otherwise unhurt; she got up to one knee but said nothing.

“Damn it,” Corina hissed and turned her back on Azonne, beyond frustrated; atypical for her, and jarring. She collected her emotions and turned back to face Azonne. “Screw it, I’d rather have evacuations going than not, but I’m not giving up; give me something to punch.”

Azonne felt ashamed for being so defeatist in front of her; here, after being told it was over, refusing to give in. Azonne smirked, it was infectious. “You can help me keep it busy," Azonne told her. "Maybe you can do what I had hoped your brother would!"

“And then some,” Corina said with a wink. A part of her wished her brother were here, as she so often did. Mostly because she still missed him greatly, but also because he always seemed to know what to do or what to say; she has been at this for 8 years and still found finding the right words wanting. Some would say that was his true gift, not the incredible feats of doing the impossible, but his good easy-going nature. Captain Steel viewed the world as one based on everyone's best intentions, he saw the inherent good in people and advocated for it in even the worst of us.

Lady Steel, at least in private, was endlessly cynical. She constantly questioned her place in this world and didn’t always like the answer. Michael was also a bit of a big dumb jock sometimes in that he solved almost everything with his fists, but that was often part of his charm. Corina preferred more indirect ways of making someone's life better; she used to at any rate.

Before he died, she was off-world lending her strength and talents where it was needed: housing projects, workers organizing, setting up farming communes, and other things of that nature. Typically, the further one got from Izanami, the less direct control the corpos of the ICG had which often made colony living more simpatico with her lifestyle. Corina hated the spotlight and preferred a much lower profile in those days; now she could only yearn for it.

On Izanami, she was simply 'Captain Steel's little sister’; out in the black she was just a regular Jane and she was fulfilled by it. 20 years ago she was just Corina Kyle, half-sister to the Greatest Hero in the Verse; 20 years ago she buried him. The breaking news of his death sent a shockwave throughout the galaxy that was probably only just reaching folk out on the outer edges, people like Azonne, she thought.

She resisted it at first, taking over his whole enterprise. First and foremost, he was a brand; he was a legacy and an ideal, things she thought were both stupid and counter-productive to her ideals. But she was hounded by it from minute one, from his team of marketers, publicity agents, and even his now widow. That was the tipping point.

Before he had died, Captain Steel had fathered twin children but had kept the news from her; devastation would undersell what she felt. Ask her at the time and it was because she had been such a massive bitch and often let her resentment get the best of her. She used to hate how easy he had it, how easy she assumed he had it. Most of his career up to that point had been in defense of both our outer colonies and other alien civilizations; his door was, so to speak, always open; If someone needed help in some manner or another, Captain Steel was always there to listen.

Danielle, the mother of her now new niece and nephew, convinced her that there was value in that. Izanami seemed most vulnerable, especially since it was his home base. He had plenty of enemies who would have—and eventually did—crawl out of the woodwork, all in attempts to test out this new normal. There was also the argument that having an OverHuman that was such a public and celebrated face did a lot of good for the community. Any time one used their abilities to hurt people, it would suddenly, maddeningly, reflect on the group as a whole. She couldn't really ignore that, it was one of her big-time triggers.

So, Corina relented but refused the name. She would not have felt right parading around with it because there was only one Captain Steel. Eventually, the marketing team settled on the simplest moniker: Lady Steel. Once she made her debut, her approval ratings were already through the roof thanks to the sympathy from her brother's passing and the still-talked-about speech she gave during his public funeral.

Lady Steel had hit the ground running. The uniform was similar to her brother's but with a more muted color pallet. It was a gray thigh-length coat with a large collar and an asymmetric zipper; burgundy-colored seams and accents helped her pop along with burgundy-colored compression stockings and cuffed gloves. The team had even talked her into a small cape that buckled to her left shoulder and she didn't completely want to die.

All told, she didn't hate the suit but she tried to wear it as little as possible, much to her inherited marketing team’s dismay. She wanted to be more than just a suit and a symbol; again a modified version of her brother’s with an “L” in place of a “C”. Corina would rather people love the woman behind it more so than the symbol itself. So far it had been working; she’s been told that she had eclipsed her brother's scores years ago, not that it ever mattered.

"Okay, Central One will handle the evac," Corina said. "What do we do?"

Azonne considered for a moment, "The main body will be at one of the corruption points, hang on," she closed her eyes. Every ring bearer had access to The Sight, a function of the mantle that allowed them to see across the entire electromagnetic spectrum simultaneously. Azonne struggled with this the most and using it never felt right; knowing why didn’t make it any easier and she had never felt less a part of it than right now. It was the lingering corruption for certain but now? Was it any wonder she had never felt comfortable using it?

Azonne resolved to find some other way to track it. It had a modus operandi, of course; the Nameless showed in young minds first, it loved to watch them tear each other apart. She started to scour the bleed, the First sadly silent while she checked maps and records; she had a hunch it wouldn't stray far from her current location. They were connected now and far beyond their original purposes. There; something promising popped up.

"There's a school nearby?" Azonne asked.

"Yeah, The Century best and brightest," Corina answered.

"It's there. Right now."

Trembling hands touched her wide open mouth as Corina realized exactly what Azonne just told her; all those kids were likely dead. The look faded as she set her jaw and tightened her gloved fists before she said, "Then I'll lead the way."

Both she and Azonne ripped into the sky, banked sharply around the Central One building, and angled themselves downward toward the school. Thoughts raced in Corina’s mind at an intense pace as they picked up speed; always back to hope. Hope that she wasn't too late; hope that she could save at least some lives.

Hope destroyed when she saw the festering crater at the center of the campus.

***

20 minutes earlier.

Roxanne sat utterly bored in the guidance counselor’s office and she did her best not to show it. The room was of decent size and the counselor had opted for no furniture aside from some couches and lounge chairs. He claimed it made the students more comfortable but Roxanne just thought he probably thought it made him look cool. Most women on campus regarded him as something of a creep and, although he'd never done anything untoward regarding her, the rumor was very strong and colored her perception of him. It wasn't fair, but reminding herself of that did not do much to quell her dislike of the man.

As usual, she was being dressed down for another subpar score on a criminally boring test. Brilliant but lazy was how it had been put to her many times, something she fundamentally disagreed with fervently. She studied sure, for the most part; hard and often. But Humanities class? Ancient governments? Who could care honestly?

She tried, for sure she tried, but Roxanne found it impossible to find the motivation to even be bothered. It was a useless subject that only served to fill time; why did it matter that the score was low? At least she passed.

"Your placement tests are in two months," he stated. His brown hair was quaffed upward and drowned in hair gel, he really thought he was connecting with his students looking like that. "These scores could make the difference between continuing your higher education or having to just become a worker, you understand that don't you?"

She did. High marks meant you continued to learn, a one-way ticket to a lucrative career in a field of your choice and usually in government. Poor marks sent you to be a worker drone; a regular laborer with no real prospects, future, or even a chance at advancement. Neither option appealed much to Roxanne but she guessed that a working-class life was probably more interesting.

"I know." She replied. "I've been studying."

"Well, we both know your problem isn't whether you study or not. It's engagement," he told her. "But life isn't about engagement, or even loving what you do, life just doesn't work that way. You're gifted, but you're wasting it on daydreams."

Roxanne silently seethed. Of course, she dreamt; sometimes she dreamed about being a musician; others had her living off-world and working with a colony. Things that made a real, tangible, difference. Sometimes it was just about living her life however she damn well pleased. What was wrong with any of it? Everyone was so concerned with trying to fit her and her peers into some box that no one actually gave a crap about what she really wanted. That was probably what galled her the most, the fact that no one actually really cared about anything. It was performative.

It was, and seemed to always be, a matter of how can we fit you into this machine; how can we plug you in to not upset the status quo? Then again, it wasn’t like she spoke up for herself or others. Roxanne was always ready with a stock answer; anything to get her out of there.

"A lot of people have high hopes for you, Roxanne. Don't throw it away."

"Yes, sir. May I go now, sir?"

"You may, I see you have a 2-hour block of study hall coming up and I suggest you make use of it."

"I will sir."

She did her best not to visibly roll her eyes as she stood up and grabbed her bag. Roxanne considered cutting that 2-hour block, maybe go catch a movie with Wes as he was always game to skip class. She decided against it as it didn’t feel right since it would cause more problems than it solved. The Century school was first built 20 years ago as part of making good on an ICG Promise to the People, made when they had first taken on the reins of power in the world. It was just one arm of a jobs and education guarantee that had a ton of asterisks behind it but overall it kept the elites happy and most kids busy.

It was meticulously maintained by a subroutine spun off of Central One acting as both janitor and security for the building. The idea was that it kept most bad behaviors in check because it was always watching. However, lacking the processing power of Central One, it was possible to trick the systems using sophisticated hacks if one wanted to leave the campus with little issue. Roxanne just wasn't in the mood to mess with any of that right now. She opted to go right to study hall instead, no one said she had to study anyway.

Roxanne had her nose buried in her slate when she was bumped the first time; nothing unusual there. She got bumped often, a consequence of being so short. But then it happened again, and again; people were rushing past her at all manner of speeds. Something was up; she locked eyes with Wes who was emerging from a bathroom with a wide grin pasted on his face. He cut through the current to reach Roxanne on the other side; her eyes had been following each new body that passed her by.

"What's up?" Wes asked, hands in his pockets.

"I was hoping you knew."

They both caught wind of someone they recognized and stopped the guy in mid-stride, pulling him over. He was a waifish kid with a messy mop of red hair; annoyed but chilled once he saw who it was.

"What's going on?" Roxanne asked him.

"Central One got attacked!" He exclaimed before returning to the sea of bodies.