Terror, the fear of the death coming to you with nothing left to stop it. It can break even the best, even the strongest, even those seemingly lost to it. It can tear people down to nothing. Or it can break the one thing keeping them lost. Buster’s terror, her fear of that on rushing death, the panic in her eyes as her own weapon came for her with just as much vengeance as she’d beaten through it. It broke her wrath, freed her of the spiral that would have consumed her. And opened her eyes to the plasma burn staring her in the face. A shielding arm, still shaking in inadvertent panic, could do little to block it out. Those burning blue eyes staring into her soul, demanding everything of her. But conveyed a message in line with the gleaming red sword that thrummed through the concrete placard at her back. A message that had gone unheeded to a fault, but would be spread regardless. That this road was not worth it. That her wrath was outclassed. That she couldn’t win this even if she burned herself through and through. This wasn’t hers to finish.

Message conveyed through the only medium left, Seth rose over her like the titan of metal and fury he was. His overriding grip on Buster’s sword released, the red shifted oscillations ceased and locked it back into the monument it had been freed from. Only a slight change passed along, a means and a structure, so it could finally be understood by its wielder. The moment of terror and the breaking of her spiral ended, and at least some of it came flooding back. Her shielding hand swiped at him, but only succeeded in finding her sword and slapping it blindly. But the flash of returning wrath in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by shock. A moment of reflection, of realization, of the true break that needed to be perpetrated. She finally heard her blade through its only medium, that subtle vibration shifted to and given means to connect like those still flaring fibers. And so Buster lost her moment of resurgence in the dull mirror of her blade given voice. Falling harder as she stared back up at the object of her revenge, conflicting emotion tearing apart whatever had been left of what stood between. And telling Seth that he was done here.

Without a word, without a hint of pride or arrogance, he turned away from her and the monument of his sins. Metal talons scratched the destroyed path carelessly, but without malice. Masking the sound of Buster struggling to her feet and trying to reignite her wrath and wrench her blade free, to no avail as it refused to allow her to fall again. Total disregard for the wailing demands she made, desperate attempts to reignite before the kindling she piled too high fell over and buried her in her own disregarded emotions. More care from the inanimate than the commonly living. That burning blue glare was lost to her now, falling on the still crowding bystanders as Seth walked away from the fight he’d won.

The throngs cowered back, unsolicited fear for what would happen to them now that there were no heroes left to stand against him. Selfish worry for their safety only stymied by the slow moving mob and the concern of what he would do if they panicked. All this in spite of the gradual dimming of that plasma blue glare. Seth just kept walking between recoiling halves, heavy metal steps the only sound beside the occasional unwarranted whimper. He wasn’t heartless, he was just done with this place, done with fighting if all it ever did was continue the cycle he’d fallen into. The guilt in his heart was gone, but the weight now fell over him in even pressure. The memories of what he’d done were front and center, practically out weighing the still present deprivation. The weight keeping him low, even as he walked high above the fear surrounding him. Fear mixed with betrayal and misfortune. The survivors, his former cargo and restored, the realization of their situation driving them farther back than the rest. Those brown brave eyes putting his crimes into high definition, even that little girl Tasha knew to hate him for what he’d done. But in all he was more annoyed by it than truly beaten down by it. An annoyance that flared as he saw his burned disguise scattered among the fearful.

He saw his hat clutched by a woman who seemed completely aware of what she held in her hands. The electron threads that had spread through it illuminating it through the crowd and her souvenir seeking grasp. An invisible pull wrenched it free to her surprise and reflexive screaming. Contagious and false panic that only made this more annoying. The cap flew into his clawed hand as the crowd’s fear hardened in response. Transitory leers fell on ignoring metal as Seth popped the cap open and skewered it over his head, remaining horn locking it in place, brim shadowing his dimming glare.

His coat flared bright over the no longer wounded unfortunate he’d draped it over, clutched tight to shield his body from the cold. But knowing glances at it loosened that grasp. Seth raised his other hand, pulled at the thread laden coat that had served its purpose. It flew free of the man’s relinquished hold and socketed right onto his armored arm. The other arm forcing into the other sleeve. It barely fit now, but it was his and his alone. The wounded and healed cowered away just like the bystanders. Mixed emotions in every face and coming through with every locked glare Seth ignored as he marched away. Most holding betrayal, skepticism, fear and anger. The implications of acknowledging them kept him stared straight ahead. The fear of igniting more misplaced bullshit!

His scarf broke his intensive disregarding. A hand, the arm it had been wrapped around, held it out into the gap. A fearful boy he’d only seen as another tally to the wounded, lost in the triage of his guilt. His eyes broke the mix surrounding him, clear silent thanks for saving him from the pain. Other hands tried to shield him back, tried to dissuade and teach him the same fear they held, but he ducked away from them and continued his solo crusade. As Seth stopped right in line. A dim blue glare fell on him and him alone, and a metal claw extending to take back what was given. A gentle pull enacted to keep the distance between from closing and bellowing the fear surrounding. An errant fluttering, horridly nostalgic if only so recent, but refuted as the cloth ended its flight in his hand. A shared warmth clung to it, despite the armored separation, and that glare abated and returned to the long path ahead. The scarf tied tight over the metallic neck and left flowing only just above the coat’s collar. A more pleasant nostalgia to ease the weight.

A pitiful disguise, but a return to what was before. An admission to the lie he’d lived even for such a short time. But still a small amount of cover to live under. A talon cracked the asphalt below it, stanced him down, and launched him away from the fear he’d created. Not an escape, just a moving on from it all. Buildings flew by as he retraced his steps with far more weight pressing down. Coped roofs dented as he reapplied his inertia. The cold still air rushing by his helmet, a small grace felt at last against the consequences of his own speed. The city was only just starting back up, his drain had kept it quiet for too long already. But… But he still felt a flash of guilt as the glare of his hunters rose over the hill ahead of him.

A new flight of VTOLs, extras escorting the last load of survivors delayed by the EMP. A swarm of flyers surrounding, breaking off as the state of the city came into view. A hero’s work was never truly done, and Seth had given them far too much to do today already. He landed down, trying his best not to shatter the asphalt before the bridge. The same bridge he’d crossed getting out of the city, retreading ground a little too much. But it was the only cover left to him. The footpath was also covered, and empty.

‘I think these people are getting too used to living without power.’

Seth… didn’t know why he still tried to talk to himself. Like he used to with the Garkah. He just… felt like someone was still listening somehow. Calmed thoughts and heavy steps clashed with the drone and whistle of his pursuers overhead. A harmonizing metronome he’d gotten used to, a better thing to focus on than his doubly stained memories. A helpful focus to dissipate and alleviate despite the tension only separated by corrugated metal. The talons fused together, solid metal feet keeping the rhythm simple. The spine receded the barely noticed tail that peeked below his coat and disappeared. The claws retracted inside his straining coat pockets. The maw fused shut again, and the remaining horn tried to fold back into the helmet. The hat brim bunching into the hinge, stopping it from hiding. Seth interceded before chewed his hat apart, pulling it away and letting the suit finally hide its terrifying true form. He replaced the cap, now a little torn but stuck fast, a consolation as threads held it down.

The last of the foot path’s cover drove him into the waning sunlight, the skies now as empty as the streets. Save for a familiar whistle of powered flight greeting him in the light. He didn’t dare tempt fate and look up to its source, his armor only just fitting in the shadow of his disguise. But the sound was unmistakable, as Aegis’ path ran parallel with his. Whether by delays or just one last check, she was the last of the flight missing their mark because of more pressing matters. But the moment still chilled Seth to the bone, he couldn’t face her after everything that’s happened. Not yet. But that didn’t matter right now, all that did was getting distance and… and closing shop with his hideout. Whether the Zors hear him out or not didn’t really matter either, he’d rather they know something rather than nothing. He’d rather not leave them burned for thinking he was a hero. Because he sure felt that burn.

The forest road left him with his thoughts, calmed by the metronome of another long walk ahead, but depressed by the guilt that weighed down everything now thoroughly lost to him. He wanted to be a hero, wanted to atone for surviving where countless didn’t. For being given power when all others were denied their humanity. For living a lie all these years to even earn the chance to start. But now those dreams were shattered, stained with the blood of people who didn’t deserve to die and hung around his neck like a sinner’s mark. He’d lost his family, his old friends, his new friends. His new family had abando…

‘No! They did not abandon me…!’

The Garkah had suffered their own guilt and could no longer bear him taking the blame for them. His friends now hunted him, were jelou-

‘No…! They’re afraid… but I’m not going to feed that fear anymore.’

They hated him…

‘Because of what I did.’

Because he had no choice…

‘Because I couldn’t control myself…’

Because… of… him…

“What the hell happened?”

That question was perpetually running through Aegis’ mind as the heroes returned from one controversy to another. People were crowding the base of The Hill, what police and security that could make it holding them at bay from ascending wantonly. The city was slowly coming back from yet another blackout, one that had been missed completely in the hunt and clean up. But now floating over it all, it was undeniable. A bait had tempted the city’s heroes away, and its grand villain had reclaimed his suit. But not without making things harder and harder to understand. Aegis knew full well that Buster’s trap would be next to useless, she’d only fought a burned out husk of what Seth had been. But…

“What the hell happened?”

Alex had been stunned by the sudden new abilities, something driving her fear higher than her duty to report. Razor… well he was just plain old unhelpful. Both were late to tell Aegis that Seth had escaped, that the city was blacked out again, that something more was happening that they couldn’t understand. They were afraid of it. And lucky that only Aegis heard them out. Not that Seth’s sudden reconstruction abilities made much sense to her. Nor the sudden EMP attack on the city he was still miles away from. But she understood why he ran back to Kadia. He still wanted to be a hero, but something was adding a cost to his actions.

Aegis had rallied what she could, Seth’s wish to be a hero was still not enough to atone. But cleaning up the mess he left them still had cost them time. Time enough for everything to be said and done, and resentment to fester on both sides of the periphery. Their stay in Eagleville was too long and too much to bear. And the security not enough to keep the rising tide at bay. So she had to be their rear guard, and keep the exponentially dying peace. The only thing she could return to was another said and done battlefield… and more questions.

The healed sang both conflicted and staunch praises, the bandwagoned screamed for reassurances and retribution, the recently dead… were just thankful their suffering was over. But they feared scrutiny and blame by association. The city was at a loss and demanding answers no one could give. The Hill was left in the lurch, most of its power fried and everything falling on heroes that could only work so fast, only understand so much. And in the middle of all of this… was a defeated Buster, huddled next to her twice trapped sword at the base of her once proud monument. It was like that day all over again, graduation night repeated in its calamity. Just not in its casualty. The city’s once great heroes were losing their stature… and dropping lower and lower.

Aegis touched down at the base of The Hill’s stairs, police line staunch in the face of too many questions and too much yelling. The anger, the fear, the entitlement and sincerity. The faces people were making at her as she looked over the crowds demanded more than she could give. It tightened her hand too much for her skin to take. But she had to take it, it wasn’t their fault all this happened. That blame fell partly upon her. And drove her away from the accusing yells. She turned away and started climbing, a penance to bear for her failure, and some time to think without more directed accusations. The yells lessened in their resolution as she gained height, but their conglomeration hardly lessened their effect. The cacophonous din muddling her last vestige of peace. But she still worked through it all over and over. Tried to make sense of it all. More and more paradoxes rising and falling with every step. And more and more urgency rising in line. Seth had his suit back, was displaying more power than he had before, was repairing damage he… he had done. Repairing what damage he could, repairing what needed to be repaired. Yet still it all boiled down to that still all-encompassing question.

“What the hell happened?”

But a shadow rose above to meet that question as the stairs ended ahead. A stoic glare asking in retort what needed to be questioned.

“What will happen because of it?”

The trees faded into dilapidated sprawl as the sun disappeared and the neighborhood surrounded. The street lights that worked retained some light, but only enough for disparate pools that could only be transited by the bravest of shadows. But tonight seemed different, disquiet. A sound, a rhythm, discordant but congealed. A light deeper into the sprawl flickering more than it should. The air had a grit nothing could escape. And the shadows all flowed in one direction, more angry than bravery in their step. Few noticed the largest of these shadows as he lumbered toward his rented home, metal reflecting below dark cap and under concealing coat. His heavy steps belying nothing though, only fear keeping the other shadows at bay as he walked among them.

A haze clouded Seth’s mind, the metronome of his steps too effective and another overly long day pulling at his eyes. He was tired, his hideout would have to harbor him one last time before he packed it away and disappeared for good. But something agitated his sleepy senses. A counter rhythm being beaten into the ashy grit in the air. It was annoying, noisy. But he was almost back to his bed, even if it was only ever going to offer a partial rest. He just wanted an end to this day already, no matter how much more past he had to fight to get it.

The door to his building was open, the dim entrance cluttered like it had been abandoned. Though it’s not like that was unexpected for Eagleville. But something felt off even through the sleepy haze. The grit in the air increased. His hazy mind tightened up in the familiar sensation. The smell of smoke, of fires both distant… and near. The stairs up creaked under his returned weight, the sound mixing with the slight pop of dying burn. His door was wide open despite its permanent lock, a blackened frame broken through. Smoke wisped its last dregs onto the ceiling. The wallpaper wasn’t yellow anymore at least, though it was curled and smoldering like abominable incense sticks. The floor was black in a splattery patch, the window shattered and leaking those smoky dregs free. But worst of all… his bed and couch were mangled torched husks. Someone had firebombed his room. And he was denied his restful sleep.

They… they were afraid of him…

“Afraid of you…”

That invasive presence, thoughts gone rouge returned, but found only worn resistance and battered will.

They had seen his power…

“You are more…”

They wormed their way through him from every angle, even as he scrunched his hardest to refute them.

They knew what they had done…

“They are nothing!!!”

Seth’s power flared without reason, the burned floor of his apartment creaked and tore as talons split into it. He hated what they’d done to him…

“They will suffer!!!”

The armor cracked as the claws reextended, griping tight as they could to stave off everything. He… couldn’t stand them…

“You will show them!!!”

The horns popped up, knocking his cap away and revealing straining eyes that could do nothing but blare this rising stocked fire. The maw cut open yet again as the glow returned. He deserved better…

“They deserve nothing!!!”

The thoughts encased him like a smothering prison, dragging him down. Dragging him away… again…

The shadowy streets lost their only lights, the wandering and congealing shadows retreating as best they could as their pools emptied and left them wanting. The flickering in the distance rose high in triumph. As its chanting became louder. The world was dark around the edges, half swallowed like blinders focusing a beast forward. As the chanting became clearer. The people of Eagleville were riled into a frenzy by the League’s intervention. No care for the victims saved amid the fires raging outward from the docks. As the chanting became physical. Surviving Dockers in orange and rubber, spread about mobs inciting and driving this seemingly only recourse. Bloodied shadows fleeing in the wake, anti-super sentiments becoming pogroms of malice. The popping and crumbling of torched ruins, the celebrations that these demolitions flared, the rhythmic chanting that ordered the chaos toward more destruction and tainted will. All of it… all of it was undershadowed by heavy steps approaching from the darkened streets yet to be scorched.

The flair ahead was little more than a candle, those blinders focusing everything away but that throng massed at the edge of it. The potholed streets, the rubbled and ramshackled buildings, practically the Earth callously locked away beneath all this disregarded concrete and asphalt. All of it rumbled, echoed as another step was taken with only a single purpose left. A purpose that faltered as a single shadow against that flair appeared in spite of those blinders. It was low, small, had a limping gait and… and a horse whimpering quack. The Zor's duck, their mascot with better standards, it was half waddling through the dark away from the fires burning deeper in. Half of a small black mask hung from its eyes and a makeshift cape draped over its white... and red back.

Something had happened, something that fought the demand of those pressing blinders, that encroaching darkness. Those echoing metallic steps stopped, distant light little help in illuminating the shadow now towering over this injured outclassed yet desperate hero. It looked up, tried to look up at the inevitable end to its search. Someone to help his friends, to save them where he could not. An uninjured eye shadowed in the dark, barely reflecting as it watered and shook in fear. A fear it could not avoid as he looked up into that empty, hollow visage. But, despite the blinders pulling Seth away, he looked down in kind, felt the pain in this little hero's snapped wing. And felt the rising of a more powerful draw than the wrath of his sleepless edge. That shadowy helmet turned up, back to the flair, those metallic steps returning to filling the air and to break the already broken silence. The poor defeated hero left to wait as a terror stomped toward his failed battlefield. His fear following along as best it still could.

The chanting began to lower as that foreshadowing metronome filled errant ears, the celebrations deeper in following suit as this sudden silence spread. And filled with the crunching of their dilapidated street. That silence allowed the groans and whimpers of the beaten and lynched to be heard. A lucky few scrambling as their captors turned away. The unlucky looking up with bloodied eyes and as best they could from demeaning yokes. Rope, zip ties, nails even. Broken bones and split wounds, burns and slashes about their flesh. But not dead just yet, one even still smiling as his split lip healed from the- *crack* club beating away his hope. It was the Zors, captured and trotted around town as a reminder to never challenge, to never invite the League to our town. They…

“They were weak… You are stronger…”

The world dimmed more and more, the edges consumed by darkness… by an abyss. Seth slipped his reins as the familiar gravity finally came to him, the same feeling as graduation, the same sinking pull trying take control away. His left eye failed him, that scar projected through armor and skull, blinders still tight and bleeding the edges away. His right was forcibly focused on the hateful faces turned toward his shadowed figure towering in opposition. At the callously burned neighborhood they used to call home. At the broken faces that leered at him, accused him, saw him as their curse. As their-

“It’s okay.”

Zor, through clubbed recoil and bloodied features still smiled and mouthed his message against that forced focus’s intent. He could hear him even as the world drowned away, even as the yelling and chanting started back up and drowned out everything. Even as that abyss tightened its hold back upon him and ignited the hateful bonfire it sought to create.

“They will all regret what comes for them now…”

Even as he felt his power flare against his will, and even as that itching, burning left reopened and that red menace star returned in force.

“They will know despair…”

The fire darkened street was lit at last by that burning red eye. The mob recoiling as the half clothed hulk of metallic monster made itself known, but they quickly returned the glare with muted away yelling.

“Kill them…”

The leading edge, Dockers and bravely following sheep, waved around their instruments of prejudice. Intimidation or a claim of weakness. “Make them suffer…”

Sharp and blunt, all hanged over the heads of the pitiful weaklings that… didn’t…

‘Deserve any of this!!’

“Kill them!!!”

The grinding of the maw gave them confidence in their choices, that Seth was here to save his friends and was weakened by them…

“They know nothing of your power… Kill them!!!”

But all of it was moot, all of it was nothing, all of it was lost to the Seth they… were trying… to intimidate…

“They don’t matter… KILL THEM!!!”

Because despite this mental insurrection, despite that towering bonfire, despite the demanding call to tear them all to shreds. That eye shut tight against its burning glare, against the scar trying to burn its way deeper. Seth fought with everything he had, denied the urge to fall in on himself, to lose himself again, to fail his promise again, to-

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT US!!!”

All eyes turned as the Immortal Zor raised his head in defiance, as that left opened again to see him call out to the real Seth inside. The real monster that he was. The real hero he wanted to be. The real Seth beneath this abyss of resentment and hate that knew full well what he was!

“JUST KICK THEIR ASSES RA-“

“RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!”

A flash of atomized asphalt, a streaking red sun defying distance, a metal menace flying from the dark and into the fire lit hell he refuted. That maw that had ended lives roaring beyond the hate it felt. The cloaking coat flapped and torn against the sudden unstoppable velocity. And a clawed fist rounded over to the club of Damocles that tried its best to strike down Zor’s defiance. All the mob saw was their pitiful attempts as intimidation backfiring as the monster they prodded smashed a fist going way too fast into one of their solidifying leaders. But while their perception failed, Seth’s rose to a higher defiance. Contact drove that Docker's memories through him like all the times before, like too many times already. Will and focus, spreading corruption refuted in its destruction. A purpose, a denial, a real use for all this wanton power. Where flesh should have evaporated, pink and grey mist should have painted this callous mob, only a streak of plasma followed. The who-gives-a-shit Docker slammed into a rusted hulk left on the street, body shattering it to ring out this force for all to know. For all to fear, for all to see, for all of these callous assholes to understand the gravity of their fuck up!!

But not to splatter it all upon them to make this point permanent. Because despite the force of almighty annihilation brought down on him, that Docker would live to regret. Because Seth was not bound any more, not by the abyss, nor by his own strength. They will all live to feel the results. Because even if they broke, their bodies would be remade before they even felt their end.

Talons tore through the street cutting inertia as he rounded and back handed the next Docker in the execution line. Another stream of consciousness and bodily blueprint, another steak of plasma repair following them as they skipped across the ground head first. That same scrapping talon launching Seth into the line proper as they finally reacted, only to meet the business end of a plasma wreathed shoulder crunching and repairing their bones. The lineup no longer threatened anything and the reality of their transgressions set in, as perception folded to allow for an en mass realization. The mob’s recoil turned to terror, then to panic, then to stampede. The weak willed forced along, the stupidly destructive egged on, the downright sadists who saw their chance. All now feared the consequences of their actions as that red vengeful sun turned their way.

The once hateful chants turned to screams of abandoned rationality, bodies flooding away as fast as they could push against their fellow man. Seth didn’t doubt they would trample over each other in fear, but there was little he could do about that. A consolation to the abyss screaming for him to-

“KILL THEM DAMNIT!!!”

But that wasn’t what he wanted, and wasn’t who he was, that wasn’t how he foud his strength.

“Yeagggh!!!” *CLack*

What he found his strength in was the retaliation, not the condemnation. The idiot who just tried to beat through his armor with a hatchet was going to find out first hand as that sun tracked over to him.

The right seized his neck as what was left of his fellow standing agitators scrambled after the fleeing mob. That claw sparked with plasma, spreading threads and control to keep him whole, but refuse him the release from the pain he was owed. Seth stepped clear of the Zors, wound up a stymied throw just to make sure he landed in the same zip code, and rang his body out for all the info he needed. A taloned foot making sure to slam down-

“AAHAAAAAAaaaaaaaahahhhhh!!!”

And whip this fucker down the street, over the heads of the hesitant still thinking they were far enough away from the consequences! And for a last good measure, as the Docker missile ricocheted off a building ruin, that maw tore the air asunder for all in this self-actualizing hell to hear and know. That it was better to fear from him than the bigoted Dockers. And that this would be the last of this self-destructive bullshit!

The moment hanged as long as he could hold it, but still Seth slumped back as the last of the mob disappeared around ruined corners. This fire towering high was fading, fuel put in stymied, its heat used up and repurposed. And there wasn’t a lot of power to pull here, so he’d burned through his threads and was really feeling the effects. His suit was feeling heavy once again, but at least he felt it again. Crunching a bit more of the asphalt gravel, he turned back to the practically crucified Zors. They needed more help than the Dockers deserved, but he couldn’t have stood being a killer anymore. A still clawed hand sliced bindings and carefully disintegrated nails, a little freed power to use at least. Zor himself didn’t need the help, so he was going to stay tied up for now.

“That’s… that’s okay. I’m fine, just help the others… or whatever.”

Miss tooth armor seemed in the worst shape, armor shattered and bleeding. Glazor and Tazor helped pull her off as Seth focused on Scrapzor and Batzor. They didn’t have powers but were beaten all the same, with worse results. Thankfully he still had enough power to spare. Armored claws covered broken bones and torn wounds, wincing flesh from the heat but spreading threads to lattice up the damage. Processes sped up, material repurposed, all of it fed extra energy. All to heal what he could.. The mental trauma though… he couldn’t even help himself. So he had to just take the hateful stare he received with every action. Only Zor keeping a smile for him. Even as he was replaced over Scrapzor by a limping flappy waddle. The duck finally finding his chance to return to his friend’s side. A half healed wind wrapping around his knee and returned in kind as he knelt to hold his brave feathery friend. So at least two faces were bereft of ire.

Stumbling up, he moved over to fix Masticazor, replacing Glazor as he went to help Zor. He felt the glare on his back and over him as he went to work. The armor required a lot of power to lattice, connecting tissue complicated the process and forcing more expenditure. But he did it regardless, even as she became coherent and- *clak* lashed out pitifully.

“You bastard…!”

Her only healed arm tried to force his hand away.

“We thought you were god damn one of us…”

The fury in her eyes told him enough, but he didn’t care.

“But you’re a fucking hero killer!! Your a fucking monster!!!”

Seth took the accusations, no sense refuting the truth.

“You’re a fucking murderer!! Don’t fucking touch-“ *CLAk*

But he wasn’t about to let her die because of him. An armored claw pressed down on her plated chest, lattice spreading as far as he could manage. Masti’s anger turned back to fear as her struggles and rebukes were ignored completely. The damage was extensive, broken armor and bones, slashes between plates, sadistic fucks put a rusty knife in her side and left it. Just more fodder to sew with. He had to borrow a bit of destroyed plate to just fix what was underneath it, she wasn’t going to be combat ready for a long while. But he wasn’t going to be her death. The claw finally decoupled, trailing steam and loose plasma as the worst was mended. A stern hollow glare meeting her denied will as he pulled back up. Mediknight rubbing off too much. The glares at his back continued despite the small atonement, despite Zor getting free.

“That was fucking amazing, man! You kicked the fucking shit out of… those…”

His elation was not reciprocated. His fellow Zors were hollowed, put through hell, betrayed by someone they barely knew in the first place. They took the brunt of the punishment for what… for what they coerced Seth to do. Zor looked back and forth between his friend’s darkened beaten faces, but his smile could not be spread and died away. He did not join their quiet condemnation, but the message was clear enough for Seth to hear.

Armored talons stepped around Masti as she pulled herself away, the armored terror wasn’t welcome here and wouldn’t stay. But his confident withdrawal turned shaky as his expenditure caught up to him. A heavy metal slip tore the gravel up some more as he slumped over. No worthwhile sleep for days, constant fighting and expenditure, constant showings of strength, constantly fighting just to stay in control. He was tired, drained, and no one in this world really saw him for who he truly was. Just a metal terror that killed three beloved heroes and escaped, a super villain that made fools of everyone. Trudging back into the dark, the world seemed to fade away little by little again.

The dystopia calmed. The fires of fear and hate subsiding as their stokers dispersed and fled. The wounded and dead were carted away as the hours came and went, the hospital would be busy here as well. The new devastation was coming to light as the sun tepidly rose again. The smoke still hazing the neighborhoods and hueing them a blueish grey. But none of that mattered, none of that was what Seth cared about. All he cared for as he slowly walked the streets was seeing this day end, even as a new one came. He’d fought his demons, himself, his condemners, and his condemned. He’d pulled and pushed all the energy he had from himself and the cities around him. He’d been forced to relive his forgotten sins and accepted his failure as a hero. He just wanted to sleep for once without the nightmares of his past ripping him asunder. And for all he knew he’d at least earned that damnit!

But his too early a morning walk of shame seemed to drag on beyond his will. And a nag and glare at his back dragged his focus too far from his goal. The Zors, nursing their wounds and limping their pains in his shadow, seemed too clear in his mind. Their stares too bright in his senses. Their words too clear in his ear.

“Why… why did we have to stumble on to him?”

Masti was still being helped along, but her glare was just as strong on his back.

“What did we do to deserve this?”

Despite Seth fatigue, his mind flared at that word like it was a knife jammed into his back.

“Hey… we asked him for help. We chose to-“ “

You chose, boss!”

Batzor was speaking up, tone beaten flat and eking out with too much gloom.

“You chose everything for us… Our names, what we were, everything! All because you wanted to stay close to Razor.”

The knives weren’t all directed at Seth.

“Well what about us!? What the hell are we supposed to do now!?”

Her tears were clear as day even without the forced clarity.

“We can’t go back, we can’t live here anymore. Where are we supposed to go!?”

But for some reason those tears turned poison in Seth’s ears. A shifted glare from Masti and a hushed voice that tried to hide her intent, but was forced louder in his ears than it should ever have been.

“We could turn him in.”

“See how they betray you…”

That… thing… crept back in from the fading edges. Highlighting, twisting, forcing everything against him.

“What the hell are you saying? We can’t-“

“Says who? You? We listened to you and your stupid shit for too long. If we give him up we can earn a spot in the League and get out of this hell hole.”

“See how their weakness drives them…”

His stumbling fatigued steps refused him the calming metronome. Acidic thoughts burning through his head and refusing him even a steady peace. All as that abyss closed around his tarnished focus.

“See how they plot… See how they betray… See what the weak will do to become strong like you…”

Seth gritted everything just to keep moving forward, his shaky steps crossing from gravel to asphalt at last but refusing him hope. The thoughts were everywhere.

“See what they will do…”

They echoed in his ears over his heavy steps.

“See what this world will do to you…”

They smothered his thoughts, his feelings, ate at his will like caustic malice. A malice… That hated everything…

“See what this world has done to you…”

That resented everything…

“Now let me show you…”

That wanted…

“What they deserve!!!”