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antics-pedantic · 1 year ago

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DYNAURA EPISODE 5: THE CASUAL CLASH

Everyone but the surgeon was present in the hospital operating theatre. When the surgeon finally arrived, he did so swiftly. Clad in green scrubs, and getting to work immediately. His aides asked no questions, they only responded as quickly as they were used to doing. During such procedures, there was usually a sponge to wipe sweat off the surgeon’s brow when requested.

But no such order was issued. Not until the very end.

And it looked like it was mostly for show. The head surgeon walked away cleanly. Discarding the hospital scrubs and facemask under the gleam of a freshly-installed fluorescent tube light. Back to a silken suit and tie now: Custom made by an Italian tailor spoken of in whispers, with the trade’s highest honors. Nothing less than exceptional, every seam could be assumed victorious. And everywhere they were worn, people assumed the same of the man boastfully wearing the esteemed fabric.

“Congratulations, Dr. Crossmoore! Another life saved, sir.”

As the hands of those around him began to clap, the surgeon produced a fine comb to fix his platinum blond hair after wearing his surgical attire, the cap that kept it all in having mussed his finely styled locks as he set the strays back into their place alongside more complacent hairs kept in place by designer brand gel.

“Any plans for tonight, Errol?” asked a nurse, holding a clipboard to her chest with such longing in her lonesome arms. “RSVP at Chercheur de Graal? Enforcers’ Room at Needle Tower? Oxenhouse overlooking Bullpen Avenue?”

There was a boisterous, perhaps even sinister-sounding laugh as Errol stepped a little closer, offering a touch. The nurse hesitated—not of fear, but absolute surprise as she nodded and let him caress her cheek.

“Nurse Kennedy, you’ve always had such an imagination. But you forget that past these walls, I am lower than the dogs… an agent of nothing less than pure evil.”

The nurse leaned into his touch, holding his hand back.

“But you’re so dependable. It’s natural for anyone to want someone as loyal as you, sir. And with such skill!”

Errol pulled his hand away slowly, pressing ever so gently so Nurse Kennedy wouldn’t look up to him all the way. She supposed he was sparing her from having to look at him directly, to spare her from any further stress. It took such confidence just to speak to him now, as he produced his checkbook from a suit pocket.

“Nurse—be a dear and tell administration to add my patient to the Crustte Foundation list, they’re to be treated as another esteemed member of our ‘miracle’ patients. The breakthroughs we’ve pioneered battling to save their life will have all the other institutes racing to catch up to our gold standard.”

“How generous! It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

Errol waved goodbye, and paraded his way back to the parking garage, before stepping past his car and looking out upon the rest of the land, as ambulances raced to his workplace— the VitaSoon Holistic ProCare Center, speeding past ordinary commuters native to this part of Delta Bay. It was there he realized what he wanted to do today. Something he relished, but hadn’t had the time to check in on as of late.

“I could use a step down from Olympus!” said Errol with a vigorous guffaw, uncaring as to who heard him. For he could sense a very familiar energy signature.

Outward from the density of Delta Bay, where establishments were built in a scatter, stood the large and aged multi-suite shopping center, Honeycomb Mall. It was mostly known for its hexagonal décor. Much of the old neon lighting was still in use, and not all of it was strictly bee-themed either. But over the years the arrival of newer vendors meant each occupied storefront unit would be customized to the more minimalist modern look, or to limited arrangements in the rustic style. Only the longtime residents of Honeycomb Mall held onto their original fixtures, since it cut back on costs and kept things familiar for customers.

The Earthborn alien Rex resembled a young man of some South Asian descent, closest to Nepali. One that had thrown on an open button-up over a t-shirt and comfy pants, kicked on his favorite white (with red trim) sneakers before taking to the shopping center. He’d been here before, ever since he was a kid growing up near Delta Bay, on its outskirts. Now he had begun to enter adulthood and those days were memories. Like ‘King Sting: The Busiest Bee,’ Honeycomb Mall’s old mascot. There was a child trying to activate a coin-operated ride molded after the character, but like Rex in days long gone, lacked the funds to do so. The child’s mother had been off in the store for quite some time now. While Rex counted his spare change to see if he could offer anything, the mother shoved her purchases into the arm of some store staff. Although the kid hadn’t even noticed Rex, their mother apparently had and glared daggers at him in recognition, dragging the protesting child along with her. She knew an excommunicated, unofficial superhero when she saw one. And Rex had the extra misfortune to be deemed some sort of invasion scout by his former hero industry acquaintances.

It wasn’t the most promising start to things, but it was one thing, and he could speed-walk away briskly. There was still the whole rest of the place to go through. There was a small section with a cookie shop that he swore he’d buy from on the way out, to regain some confidence as much as to snack on something. The last time he’d been here he couldn’t bring himself to buy anything except a couple of new clothes like he’d planned, and hurried along home after that. But not this time.

The next stop was one Rex hadn’t been sure about. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that an older salon-barbershop combo was still in business. The first time he went there before, he had to divert his energy powers so that they could clip his hair more easily. The process itself wasn’t difficult, but being a small anxious kid at the time meant he had to warm up to the place. About an hour later that day, he’d finally walked out with a clean cut and a lollipop in hand—every subsequent visit went by much quicker, and far smoother. Other places weren’t so lucky: A bookstore with the widest magazine rack he’d ever seen had been replaced a few years back by a new shop that only stocked a few periodicals and novels that had received ‘bestseller’ reviews. The rest of the place mostly stocked an excess of calendars and series merchandise other stores couldn’t sell right away.

Once bustling, the BuzzOff arcade was cleared out and the space had been on-and-off for lease to a chain of other businesses that couldn’t keep up with the bigger brands. He had memories of trying aerial simulators, fighting games, lightgun rail shooters, and skee ball after watching others play and trying it out for himself. An alternative entertainment shop opened a second location in the same building under another, trendier name, pivoting away from selling music and subculture fashion to graphic tees with dubiously sourced artwork and pop culture collectables that were more about owning the item than what it represented— the Synco Pats figures all looked the same, save for one or two details that set them apart and the labels on their boxes. Actually, Rex was pretty sure he saw a shop exclusively devoted to selling Synco Pats when they already dominated entire walls and shelves at other stores.

Some of Honeycomb Mall’s other changes weren’t so bad: A stuffy clothiers of old was replaced with a shop selling artwork. Painting replicas, odd little metalwork statues, and he could notice a local artist trying to feature some of their work here. Some new restaurants and snack joints graced the food court, and in places across the upper and lower levels. People still met up here and there was a resurgence of spots for hanging out. Not always successfully, but they were trying.

“Heh heh heh.”

The sound of that snicker made Rex whip his head around sharply in the direction it came from. The crowds doubled in density suddenly as people exited the shops. And for a fleeting glimpse, Rex could have sworn he saw a familiar head of platinum blond hair in a specially imported silk business suit. But the fellow went out of view already. Rex tried to keep moving, assume that was a fluke. But the glimpses started up again, until he was out of the crowd and the area cleared up.

“What an excellent watch. Wouldn’t you agree?”

In an instant, Errol had appeared next to Rex, observing a jewelry store display and speaking in his booming voice, with a mocking tone reserved for foes like the cosmic contender. Watches made from things like gold, silver, or even titanium plating and fine wrist-strap leather whose costs would set Rex back considerably—but Errol looked at them all with the confidence of someone who could purchase them as though they were merely different flavors of candy.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask which one I mean? Respond already.”

And swiftly. Rex let loose with a lightning jab that was deflected immediately by a forearm of equal strength, in a quarter-circle motion.

“Hahahaha!”

Errol nodded to the side. It looked like people were starting to notice. Some moved along more quickly, too afraid to intervene in a superpowered altercation. Others offered a stink eye for Rex—he threw the first punch, after all. And they weren’t opposed to verbally chewing him out at this stage. No one was going to run away until it became a full-on, explosive fight. Something Errol wouldn’t allow if he could stretch out the afternoon’s ‘entertainment’ a little longer. Rex relented and pulled his fist back.

“Happy?” said Rex. Errol just snorted and nodded, before continuing to survey the jewelry shop. Rex proceeded to walk through the store and around through to its other exit in something of a hurry.

“What’s the rush, Rex? It’s not every day you run into someone in public. Like a former teacher, a co-worker, or your arch-nemesis!”

Rex scowled as he sensed Errol clear the distance walked, with one great stride. Of all his enemies, Errol had little issue keeping up with him, even when Rex was fighting at his best. Turning sharply on his heels, Rex angled to grab Errol and drag him outside so they could have a proper brawl. Or he would have, had a few admirers of his not startled Rex by squealing, and hurrying over to swarm around the seraphim of slaughter.

“—Guys I TOLD you it was him! It’s Errol!”

“What’s it like being a captain in the Mantle honor guard?! Are they from space like your pig-headed nemesis? A secret fantasy world where you’re heir to the throne? Which rumor is true?!”

Errol just let off a chuckle. Warmer than the cackle moments ago. Wordlessly, they held onto pens and things for him to sign. Even a villain could rise to overwhelming acclaim in this day and age, as Errol instinctively, but also patiently, took each pen one at a time and signed for each fan.

“Please, I’m just here to treat myself, same as you all.” said Errol, oozing with confidence as he gestured to Rex with one hand, and held the other over his mouth as if telling secrets—but still speaking audibly.

“And to keep an eye on this one. There’s no telling what he could do—he thinks he’s the good guy after all. Not that I’m much better…”

“Nooo! You carry yourself with so much honor. That’s why you’re Emperor Fumerole’s right-hand man. A real exemplary human warrior, super tragic that you’re evil… but also it’s soooo romantic!”

While that discussion was had, one of Errol’s fans stuck a tongue out at Rex, followed by a bold neck-slicing motion. In that moment, he wanted to crawl into a hole and shrivel up. It was no use defending himself against people this intense in their opposition. He thought he could just avoid them and mind his own business. Security was nowhere to be seen for the fan crowd, if not to deal with Errol himself.

“You may have cut ties with the Enforcers, but next to me you’ll still get plenty of attention. Speaking of the exalted one— Fumerole sends his regards.”

Rex was gritting his teeth.

“How did you even know to show up here today?”

“Mantle emphasizes loyalty: Whether you’re dutifully sorting things out at a desk, or on the front lines, they respect their superiors.”

Errol gestured aside, and Rex paid him a suspicious look before spotting a couple of chalktroopers in plainclothes outfits. These chalktroopers’ battalion had been allowed some time off. And all too thankful for a day or two out of the week, they dialed one of their trusted overseers to report their findings right away for further rewards.

“You son of a—”

“Manners, manners. We are in public. You already seem quite uncouth to these people. Go any lower and you’ll practically be digging yourself a hole here.”

That was the last straw. Though careful to control his body and aura, Rex accelerated towards Errol right then and there, faster than the other mallgoers could perceive them. But rather than creating the massive shockwaves of a more open battle, Rex did his best to channel more of that kinetic force through his strikes to silence them as much as possible. The heavy swings still let off a smaller ‘BOOM’ though, and gusts would travel outwardly. Perceived as the air conditioning activating or gusts from entrance doors remaining open too long.

“Heh!”

For every strike that Rex let loose with, Errol met with a defense of his own. Catching onto Rex’s tactic and accelerating to keep pace with him. The dexterity of their strikes was matched by their mobility, as they zipped around portions of the building trying to exploit openings on one another to strike. In a split-second intermission that felt like an eternity for the superhuman and the honed Nypardian, they hovered across from each other while the world raced past them both.

There was Errol. His hands held up not like a fighter, but more like a surgeon. Ready to deal out precision action, taunting his enemy into approaching before they were ready. On the other side, Rex had clenched fists raised like a boxer, gradually shifting into stance to launch a roundhouse kick to the side as Errol’s right hand shot out. Open, but deadly: For as it passed over Rex, a shower of sparks emerged in a line from the direction he attacked. And behind the cosmic contender, a wave of air pressure split a tray of free samples offered by one of the eateries, and the small shockwave of a channeled elbow from Errol launched the staff member onto their butt, terrified and halfway believing in ghosts.

Meanwhile, Rex felt an ache in his jaw as Errol’s forearm connected. But before he could pull it back, Rex grabbed ahold of it and judo-tossed Errol through an open maintenance door. Rex was rushing after to grab him again, looking quite forward to repaying that elbow to the face with a knee to the gut. That is, if Errol hadn’t grabbed on and started trying to break Rex’s arm. The both of them flew out of an open window, sending papers fluttering every which way and causing a fresh hot, new batch of coffee to fly up and out of a pot, before landing in an array of employee mugs on a nearby table.

The two were dashing through the street, having both broken off. But instead of coming to a halt, they carried on with their momentum. Racing past the traffic lights just as they hit red or green. Pedestrians and drivers could occasionally catch a blur or feel strong winds in their wake, but these were just after-effects, leftovers while the two combatants raced well beyond that point. Trading smaller strikes, and at intervals releasing explosive heavy hits. Errol raked his fingertips across Rex’s side, bringing about another shower of sparks. Rex couldn’t be stabbed or cut—but the magnitude of pain was still enough to send him back for a moment. Errol vanishing while he was trying to stabilize himself following that injury.

At last, Rex found himself stopping. Sneakers grinding to a halt against the gravel of a gas station parking lot by the highway, on the edge of the state lines into the neighboring region. There was no time to rest, knowing that a member of the Mantle Army’s honor guard was waiting to strike. There was mostly silence save for the functioning of vehicle engines, and the departure of a long-haul truck. And that was just immediately nearby: With his hyper-hearing, Rex extended his range. Cows grazed in a field some miles off. Honeycomb Mall even further off was still as calm as it had been before Errol appeared. Before he could listen in beyond that…

There was a noise. Only getting closer. Rapidly.

Rex turned in the direction he heard the sound. All he caught with his hyper-vision was a trail: Errol was zigzagging to stay out of his direct line-of-sight, but he couldn’t completely mask his energy signature. The source of his power still baffled most everyone at present, but Rex was just thankful he could still come up with ways to counteract it. And he’d have to do so quickly: Errol was angling to let off a wide slashing arc so forceful, it would travel through the air at range. More so to destroy the gas pumps, which would usher forth flames and explosions. Pedestrians be damned.

Racing to bear the brunt of the slasher wave. It was always Rex’s first instinct, to ‘be the shield.’ Bearing the brunt of an attack because he was nearly-invulnerable. Gritting his teeth all the while, because Errol knew this of him and used power in excess of whatever the minimum was to cause the gas station to explode. As such, Errol poured everything he had into making certain Rex would suffer for his choice.

“AAAAUGH!!”

Up until this point, Rex had attempted to take every attack in stride. But it was all starting to weigh down on him, the slasher wave lashing out where he’d been hit before and taking his physical form through a tumult of pain. Being nearly invulnerable, Rex was difficult to take out all at once. He could keep going—but that was also a funny way of saying he’d keep getting beaten up for quite some time, if he didn’t turn things around right away.

Then there was darkness. Rex lost consciousness at last.

The sight of the gas station exploding rippled through Rex’s mind while he was out of the waking world. It hadn’t happened, but he still couldn’t help but dread if it did. The flames, the gasoline spreading them out after spillage, things exploding. Shapes of people and animals in the haze that threatened to reveal the most visceral details of their doom. It was only then that Rex finally got startled awake. Found himself chained within some kind of a dungeon, part of an underground complex of some sort.

Mantle.

The exponentially growing underground empire Errol and every foe of the week served had a base here. Wherever this place was, at least. Rex tested at the chains that held him: He’d have to start at severing them at the weakest link, or to remove the spot on the wall where each was bolted to. As he did, he glanced past the prison cell bars: there were some chalktroopers on watch duty. But there were also some locked in the dungeon itself, along with some supervillains, monsters, and robots. Injured, punished, generally suffering for some slight against the throne. A few other more official heroes had also been captured fairly recently, but they were in no condition to assist.

“It’s YOU!”

Rex turned his head sharply. Just as he was trying to work the chains that restrained him, he was attacked by another prisoner: a cyborg sea-creature dubbed [NUTRITION HARVESTER FIEND] “Kelpsiphon.”

“Back off!” exclaimed Rex. “I don’t even KNOW you!”

“But I know YOU!” hissed Kelpsiphon. “And I’ll get my glory back after I bring your head to the emperor! They’ll have parades in my name!!”

Kelpsiphon latched onto Rex and tried to deprive him of whatever calories, salts, sugars, and other components of his last meal. Which didn’t last very long, for some reason. As Rex swatted away Kelpsiphon, a nearby monster-villain hurried over and bashed the nutrition harvester over the head with a metal meal-tray.

“Whoa! Thanks for the save. But who are you?” asked Rex.

“I’m [STONE EVOLVED BEAST] “Iggy Neos.” Why didn’t Kelpsiphon’s nutrient theft work on you?”

Rex thought about it for a moment, before having a light-bulb moment.

“I never got to sit down for lunch… and breakfast was very light today, the last waffle in the freezer.”

Iggy Neos looked concerned. But there was no time to attend to that, much less the supplies to do so with.

“I was banished here. The chalktroopers working in the mines found me hibernating and hid me—they were all crushed for that. Kelpsiphon had his rampage halted when someone hired a party of those gig-heroes, the Pithy Randos to stop him. Please help us.”

Rex nodded. Iggy Neos offered up some bread and some kind of protein slop in a bowl for Rex to regain some of his stamina with, and they protected each other from guards and other prisoners while resting. But as long as they were here, they couldn’t idle for too long without their fears and anxieties kicking back in. Eventually Rex was able to break his chains, and with Iggy Neos’s help, even coaxed Kelpsiphon into joining them on the promise of finding minerals and geyser water once freed.

Then finally, the moment of truth: Kelpsiphon feigned an illness brought on by malnutrition, before using that moment to jump one of the guards. Rex and Iggy Neos were not far off, preventing a couple more guards from intervening. If at the cost of Iggy Neo’s shoulder getting a chunk blasted off, and some concerning cracks on his cranium. With the keys to the cells, they started releasing people. Most focused on finding an exit, but a couple of captured superheroes lingered for a moment. Casting their malicious eyes in Rex’s direction.

“There’s no doubt about it.” said one of the captured heroes—a color-coded warrior in red, one of many freelancers for the Pithy Randos app. “He’s a no-good good guy. All that crap about common folk. He just wants to build up another kind of regime. This was just a damn recruitment drive.”

Rex started to grit his teeth. But Iggy Neos intervened, taking a chunk of stone from the wall, and kicking it like a soccer or rugby ball. This was his incredible technique, “Galena Goal.” The boulder bounced off of the ground between Rex and the elite heroes with tremendous force, and precision as only years of training could muster.

“Y-You’re just lucky we’re gonna call for back-up first.” spat the other elite hero, more of a spandex-clad masked figure, following the Pithy Rando as they retreated. “We’d haul your ass to Kodiakop and Shootsuit personally.”

Once the elite heroes left, Iggy Neos lead the way. Insistent on small talk, as well.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?”

Rex actually perked up at the question, finding himself turning to follow Iggy Neos out of there.

“I… I don’t know? Just go back to the usual.”

“What does the usual look like for you? In your home, I mean.”

Rex seemed to blank out for a moment. After the fighting earlier, and being stuck here being given one threat after another, his life seemed so miniscule. Pathetic, compared to everything else going on. And yet, when Iggy Neos asked, he felt he had to try and find it within himself to answer to his satisfaction.

“A meager apartment. I have the most incorrigible megafauna for a pet. And many neighbors, just trying to get by. I can always count on the shops nearby to have fresh hot food and they don’t charge too much. Movie theaters and arcades. A red plastic cup and strange parties I end up at—not sure how. Conversations with people I don’t really know, but walk away from waving goodbye and smiling. It’s not much.”

“It sounds wonderful just the way it is, Rex. What about you, Kelpsiphon?”

Kelpsiphon was peering around a corner, before facing the others again. He hissed at the thought of such small talk. But relented after something came to mind.

“I’m going to rob one of those shiny, pristine stores all the health nuts go to. The big jars of protein beverage powders. I want my own place upstate with a whole shelf of shakers full of sea salts. And… don’t you dare laugh at me. My own garden. Not an entire farm, but if I could have a patch of all my favorite vegetables to myself. I think I could keep it together.”

Iggy Neos nodded.

“I think I can help. With the salts at least.”

“… Thanks. You can have a cut of my take.” said Kelpsiphon. Then he looked over to Rex. “Once I’m all fed, I guess I could spare leftovers. Even to a chump like you.”

It was meant to be somewhat insulting. But Kelpsiphon meant it: anything he didn’t eat or re-use in some fashion, he would pass along. He wouldn’t stop being obtuse altogether, but it was a warmth that reinvigorated Iggy Neos and Rex, as they traversed the labyrinthine structure of this Mantle Army base, desperate for an exit.

But as they finally found what appeared to be the way out, they found themselves within a large antechamber with a domed ceiling, decorated with glass panels. The morning sun was in the sky. And a looming figure approached the trio, like a lesser giant.

“Kuuueeeh keh-keh-keh…”

“It’s Emperor Fumerole!” gasped Kelpsiphon. The great ruler of the ‘Exponential Underground Empire’, which commissioned the Mantle Army and its various branches. At his craggy feet laid the bodies of prisoners who had come so close to escaping, only to be cut down. His molten body draped in a cloak with pointed shoulder pads, and his head adorned with a helmet that had a series of vents on the front, thick smoke billowing out, as an orange-yellow light was emitted from behind the shutters. Errol was not far off, still clad in his own suit, but now equipped with a prestigious cloak of his own: He was after all, head of the imperial honor guard.

Rex was coughing, trying to stand firm in the face of this evil foe. Iggy Neos had an easier time since he too was of the underground world, and he stood beside his fellow inmates with newfound dignity and poise.

“It wasn’t enough you tried to hibernate all through our expanding rule over the planet.” growled Emperor Fumerole. “You had to try and break out of prison before you came back to your senses!”

“I regained my sense only today.” said Iggy Neos. “You have the dust of countless troopers on your hand. Your most dedicated monstrofficers and supervillains lay dead in this chamber, alongside your enemies.”

“And for that, I still reap the victory!” cackled Fumerole.

“Unforgivable…!” grunted Rex. Errol was not far off with laughter.

“Listen to that, sire. You’ve been terribly unfair.”

Rex scowled. He glanced over at Iggy Neos, who looked to be preparing his Galena Goal attack again, while Fumerole raised a hand to project his own lava powers forth at range. Kelpsiphon nodded towards Errol, intending to attack him alongside Rex.

“Pathetic!”

Errol raised a hand, preparing to bring it down diagonally to slice Kelpsiphon in half. But not before Rex pulled him into a full nelson wrestling hold, kneeing him in the side a couple of times until an opening could be created for the bionic aquatic to start sapping him of his essential nutrients. That allowed Iggy Neos to keep Emperor Fumerole at bay, ideally until Rex and Kelpsiphon could rejoin him. Iggy Neos matched the emperor strike-for-strike, using the boulders of his Galena Goal kicks to tear into the subterranean tyrant’s openings.

“BWFEUUAAH!” gasped Fumerole, his bellow echoing through uncarved tunnels and halls of discipline and dominance. “As to be expected. You had the seat of a general, and yet you threw it all away—to run off with these good-for-nothing layabouts?!”

Iggy Neos hissed. Rex and Kelpsiphon looked up from their own battle against Errol—who was smirking all the while. The stone-evolved beast seemed ashamed that his fellow prisoners had learned this.

“Yes… it’s true. In a time when I thought every battle would be honorable. That losses weren’t just counted, they were felt. But after the sands of time passed, you denounced them as failures! Used their good name to scare everyone else into line.”

The boulders were launched, two at a time now. Emperor Fumerole smashed them apart eventually with swings of his arms, but not before Iggy Neos pulled forth three more: He was trying to deal out a killing blow at last!

“They’ll drop down from the heavens to receive you in hell, Fumerole!! Even if I have to drag you there myself!”

Emperor Fumerole put his hands out and fired jets of flame. The first two boulders were halted, but the third one was going to smash right into him, as Iggy Neos hovered there in mid-air, winding up for the biggest kick of all. If his stone-beast physiology had some equivalent of muscle and tendon, he was on the verge of tearing them just to expend as much of his inner strength as he could.

*THWOOOSH!!*

But it was quickly brought to an end. The more renowned superheroes from earlier had arrived! The spandex-clad one was using strength enough to change the course of a mighty river so as to throw off Iggy Neos’s kicking stance, while the Pithy Rando blasted the boulder apart with a large shoulder-mounted cannon. It shattered just inches from Emperor Fumerole’s helmet-clad face, as his panic turned to giddy, gruesome delight.

“BWUUU-KAH-KAH-KAH!!”

There was a loud and terrible ‘CRACK!!’ as Iggy Neos landed on the ground. Kelpsiphon pulled away from Errol, running to sweep up Iggy Neos into his arms and run away. Although he had lost some energy, Errol was not lacking for sustenance or comfort, unlike Rex who was overworked, hungry, and his body battered to June.

“NO!!”

Rex had to keep his hands up. He couldn’t go to check on Iggy Neos either, as Errol and the two so-called superheroes ganged up on him.

“It’s so funny, isn’t it?” said Errol. “Mantle isn’t from space, or some magical realm, you know. It’s absolutely homegrown, right here on good old Earth. Just like how I’m 100% human nobility!”

Rex was absolutely shocked. Emperor Fumerole unveiled jumbotron video screens all around the chamber, the unerring Errol kicking Rex’s face repeatedly until he looked at least once in every direction. Each carrying images of arson, warfare, greed, and other examples of mankind’s cruelty towards itself and others.

Including glimpses of a younger Rex, in a metallic teal form, with three bulbous eyes. He used this alternate Nypardian form to conceal his secret identity. At least, when that was still his secret, before those he thought of once as peers took that from him.

“I’ve had a hand in a few of these… but not all. Just look at those bastards that left you for dead, Rex: Human kindness is a FARCE! No matter what they say or do, you have to put them in line with power, earn their admiration by entertaining them. Errol is living proof. I’m sure the Enforcer and the Pithy Rando you encountered on the way here can testify to that!”

Rex looked frantically to the spandex-clad superhero. Although they were almost certainly elitist, the Earthborn alien attempted to appeal to something in him.

“Don’t look at me, space invader.” said the Enforcer. “We’ve got it all worked out with guys like Emperor Fumerole. There’s order! Yet you want more without going up the ladder. Of all the selfish, inconsiderate slackers I’ve ever seen…”

And then, Rex looked to the Pithy Rando.

“You can’t seriously be buying this. You’re freelance!”

“Uh, nah? I’m gonna win it big after I bring *you* in!” said the Pithy Rando. “This gig’s turned out even better than I thought. All it took was a little initiative, hustle from sun-up to sunset! Not that you’d get it, quitter.”

That just about did it. Rex tried to force the spandex-clad Enforcer off of his arm, while the Pithy Rando summoned a drill-sword, driving it into Rex’s solar plexus in a shower of sparks and a yowl of pain from the cosmic contender. Errol swerved around to put him into a stranglehold as payback for the full-nelson earlier.

“YOU’RE ALL FULL OF IT!! PEOPLE ARE BETTER THAN THIS!—THEY HAVE TO BE!!”

The spandex-clad superhero noticed something: there was a large arc of static at the same time Rex winced. And there was a seafoam green glow in his eyes starting to obscure the pupils, as their light showed off the widening eyes and sweaty brow of that lone Pithy Rando, through the helmet’s nearly tinted visor. Twin laser-jets beamed out of Rex’s eyes as he started shouting swears and screeching like a wounded animal. Energy crackled through his forearms as well, as two more beams erupted from his palms, the elitist superhero in spandex singed away and the Pithy Rando trying to use the drill-sword to push against the quadruple beams. Errol held on, trying to constrict Rex from breathing properly.

“I’m—I’m wired into the grid, just like everybody else good enough to run gigs!” said the Pithy Rando. “It won’t let you kill me! Not when it’s reinforced by a hundred teams’ worth of vault archived might!”

“A stolen power WON’T protect you!”

The service and its app had greater numbers waiting on the surface. Not all were so greedy, but regardless they all shared the fact that their power source was on a loan, and distribution regulated fiercely. The Pithy Rando gear halfway disappeared after taking too much damage, including the helmet and weaponry, leaving the color-coded combatant to fall to their knees. The spandex-clad superhero was trying to dial for back-up before rejoining the fight, still shaken by the cosmic energies of Rex’s blasts.

“That’s enough!” exclaimed Emperor Fumerole. “Errol, show him the heights of your natural nobility!”

Errol released Rex so he could rush him with a knife-hand strike, intending to try and overcome the alien’s near-invulnerability to try and rip out whatever passed for a heart. Instead, Rex weaved past and yanked on his wrist and shoulder, tossing him aside. When Errol finally wheeled back around to attack again, he was stricken in such a way that Emperor Fumerole was shocked.

“It can’t be…!”

But it was. Although Rex’s effort was not as refined, he had still carved out a boulder for himself, and performed a shaky kick akin to that of soccer or rugby with a force just shy of the move’s inventor: Iggy Neos! The projectile knocked Errol down, as Rex did an elbow drop onto the Mantle honor guardsman, followed up with a backflip-kick that launched the boulder faster than Emperor Fumerole could realize it was headed his way.

“Impossible. That a whelp could even conjure a fraction of General Neos’s advanced technique?!...” thought Emperor Fumerole, as he stumbled backwards, trying not to fall onto his back and show weakness. Errol was still getting back up, when Rex dashed forward to hover face-to-face with Emperor Fumerole.

“How?!” thundered Emperor Fumerole, swinging madly. “General Neos was in a league of his own when it came to power and skill! No one could match him!”

“You never let ‘em. And I couldn’t start slugging you without paying Iggy Neos my respects at least once, and freaking you the hell out in the process!”

And with that, Rex hovered backwards a bit, before accelerating in that small gap between them, and sending Emperor Fumerole crashing through the walls and back to the surface world, where they were airborne for a time, landing in the heart of Delta Bay: Rhymes Square.

*WHAM!* *WHAM!* *WHAM!!*

Rex was tearing into Emperor Fumerole. But as they came to a skidding halt, it was only after a few more hits that Rex noticed Emperor Fumerole stopped fighting back. In fact, he’d allowed one of Rex’s swings to damage him a bit, and then made the wound even worse with swipes of his hands across the spot in an ‘X’ formation, lava gushing out. Superficially so, but onlookers would still get the right pitiful impression.

“Why are you so vicious?...”

Rex tensed up. They were both surrounded by people. Turning their heads, starting to film with their cameras. Rex had no qualms about attacking the ruler of the exponential underground empire, supreme master of the Mantle Army. And yet, there was something painfully familiar about being in this position. It made the celestial terrestrial bite his lip.

“What’s he doing to that old guy?”

“I don’t know—doesn’t seem fair at all though!”

When Emperor Fumerole coughed, people stepped a little closer towards the proceedings. He even took it a step further and started blubbering. Now his smoky vents gave way to streaming tears with a thick volcanic ichor.

“I surrender.” rasped Fumerole “Please, no more of this savagery. I could never fight like that.”

Then came the murmuring. So many voices at once, in every direction, Rex heard them all around. Trying not to pay attention, but he was frozen there with one clenched fist, wound up for a haymaker that never came. A random person would spit in Rex’s direction, and someone else finally spoke up:

“Makes you feel reeeaaal big, don’t it? Jerk.”

Rex tried to speak. A larger part of himself knew that these people wouldn’t listen—they wouldn’t care. And yet, there was still some part of his spirit, the very same that let him fight on. A part that wanted to thrash and refuse this scene.

“He commands the Mantle Army. He’s… he’s a tyrant.”

A large soda collided with Rex’s head. Ice cubes flew every which way. A few people started shouting at him. Curses and put-downs about being an honorless, joyless, walking waste. Someone even stepped it up and swatted at him with an umbrella—Rex weakly raising his forearm to defend himself. They took that as a cue to call the cops. Nearby squad cars pulled up, offering visual confirmation for a couple of mecha to enter the scene, flashing red and blue lights over snow-white hulls adorned by black markings for the unit number and factory code.

“It’s going to be okay now, everyone!” exclaimed the spandex-clad Enforcer from earlier, who finally arrived on the scene, waving his phone. “The situation has become so dire, even the Mantle honor guardsman Errol and I are working together! With those police robos, we’re gonna show this intergalactic knucklehead a true taste of humanity! Who’s with me?!”

The crowd started to cheer. The only thing Rex could liken it to was having a knife jammed into his side, phased in and digging into him at the molecular level.

He had to leave now.

But on his way out, as he spun on his heels, he waved one hand—throwing a burst of small lights into the air the same way that fighter jets released a chaff to throw off enemy radar. The police robos’ targeting gear was thrown off, and Rex kicked backwards into a run. He saw the smirking face of the Enforcer, and swung his arm forward in a lariat to knock him down, Rex crouching slightly next to him.

For a moment, Rex crouched down and held him by some of the bodysuit’s cloth, over the collar. But rather than following it up with another attack, he realized he had to escape now and recover from the damage he’d suffered just moments ago. The ache of those injuries was starting to kick in, catching up with the brazen, bitter fighter. And instead, Rex used his crouched position to spring up over the city skyline in a great leap. Soaring away from there in flight before he could be hunted again, while he was on the verge of physical and mental burnout.

Errol arrived not long after. But instead of giving chase, he accompanied his emperor, pretending to console the lesser giant. Taking the time to reassure everyone in the square that it was going to be alright, even going as far as to help the downed Enforcer back up to his feet to shake hands. If with a subtly crushing grip.

“H-Hey, what was that for?!” whispered the Enforcer.

“Get out of my sight. Tell Kodiakop, Shootsuit, and all the rest to rein in Prizefighter Shine, or whatever you’re calling that space trash now.”

The Enforcer affiliate gulped, before promising the crowd he would make this a top priority with the rest of his supergroup, with all its celebrities and premiere government agents.

Kelpsiphon could feel the boost from Errol wearing off. He felt sick to his stomach—not just for that, nor simply for the damage he’d taken. But because he’d opted to run away. His first instinct hadn’t been strictly to save Iggy Neos, but simply to escape the oncoming tide of death. It was not a selfish thing to want to live. But in this world of superpowered aristocracy, it was, and would continue to be reviled.

“Kelpsiphon…”

Kelpsiphon found a spot under a tree, setting Iggy Neos up to sit against it. They had to rest for as long as they could. The next stretch was going to be searching for food and shelter.

“Where are we, Kelpsiphon?”

“I don’t know, Iggy Neos. But I’ll keep going. I’ll carry the both of us forward. Until we find the things we dreamed of.”

Iggy Neos tried to get up. But Kelpsiphon forced him to sit down.

“No… just take what’s left of my minerals. Gather vitamins from the fruit growing in this land. Go on.”

Kelpsiphon shook his head.

“You keep yourself together, damn you! I’ll find something. I swear.”

The bionic aquatic searched, bringing back berries and nuts, and sharing them with Iggy Neos, despite any protests. He even went as far as to gather wood for a fire.

“Someone might spot us.”

“I’ll put it out in a few more minutes. After we feel nice and toasty! That’s how we know we’re still alive, general.”

Iggy Neos scoffed at being called a general again. He was just a sack of withered old rocks, now more than ever.

“I know we’re alive… by another mark.” said Iggy Neos.

“Ehh?? Whaddya mean by that?”

Iggy Neos looked to the stars in the night sky.

“They tried to starve you, rob you of your dignity the same way they maligned their own surface world protector. And yet you saved me, he stayed and fought. Your wills press forward into the future.”

Kelpsiphon didn’t know what to say to that. In the end, he looked up to the stars as well. And they hoped that wherever he was, Rex could know some brief respite. So that he would be rejuvenated enough to fight on once again. To find and warm the hearts of yet more kindred spirits. Even as the world wore them all down. They had to believe in that, do what they could to make something kinder come about.

Don’t give in, Rex!!

SO LONG FOR NOW.

#Web Fiction #Dynaura #Dynaura EP5

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antics-pedantic · 2 years ago

Text

DYNAURA EPISODE 4: THE ENFORCERS STRIKE BACK!

The crowd had been waiting with great anticipation. The entry fee was hardly a small sum: This was after all, a red-carpet event for Delta Bay—nay, the Earth’s ‘Most Prepared Heroes’ ever. These were the heights one could accomplish when they were ready and willing to defeat any foe, take on any challenge, and always showed off their good sides for paparazzi photographers. Of which, countless cameras flashed in that moment. Whether truth or lies, tabloids or the esteemed outlets, any news press was good press if they spun it just right.

Standing at the front of the line in a semi-security role was a veteran Enforcer, clad in an imposing helmet, and Kevlar body armor themed after a bear: KodiaKop. Career super-soldier, these days counted among the most feared agents among law enforcement. To his right, his apprentice Grizzly wore a similar suit, hands raring to grapple or squeeze the trigger of a firearm. To KodiaKop’s left was a tall figure in designer leathers with professional stitching meant to make it look reckless, despite receiving some of the fashion industry’s finest hand-tailoring work. Several sheathed blades adorned this uniform, and an improvised sporting mask was strapped to his head alongside a few strips of bandaging cloth that covered very little of his skin. They called this one…

“Socket!” bellowed KodiaKop, maintaining an overly rigid posture while the slasher known as Socket lurched like stop-motion to address the senior member of their group. “Where’s the prissy miss gotten off to this time?!”

“Nyeheheh!” snickered Socket. “Chill out: She’s around here somewhere. Basking like the rest of us! YOOOOOLOOO!”

“She’s freakin’ lost!” said Grizzly, elbowing Socket with great familiarity. “You couldn’t find a needle in a haystack, you dead dipstick!”

“I could! And then I’ll poke out your miserable eyes!”

“We’re wearing helmets!” said Grizzly. Just as Socket was about to retort with another threat, KodiaKop scowled at the both of them, before waving to the cameras again. This was going to be the basis for yet another lengthy memo to the PR department to sort out the gossip fodder. As for their missing member, she was not far off: Her tawny bob haircut blowing in the breeze along with her similarly shortened cape, clad in a bodysuit that was colored silver. And it was accented by a few pieces of lightweight armor including shoulder pads, boots, and gauntlets in a cerise hue. Adorning the front of her suit was a titanium crest fashioned after a ghost reaching outwardly with two hands, as if in pursuit.

“Ectoette! Over here!”

“Tell us what you’ve been up to now, Ectoette?”

The young woman just offered a hearty laugh.

“The usual. Flying around town on patrol, cracking skulls, and setting a solid example for others. You know how it is!”

As she waved to the crowd, she also beckoned for a few others to come along—a batch of recruits picked from the Enforcers’ reserves. Many prospective members kept on reserve were often waiting for their chance to serve with the core team.

But just as they were about to enter the movie theater to partake in a special viewing of a film adapted from the memoirs of a longtime teammate, they received a call on their personal communicator devices. The multi-encrypted private line was being hailed by one Tommy Quark.

“Shootsuit. This better be good.” growled KodiaKop.

“Real good, Kody babey.” said Shootsuit, ever the smooth-talker. “Looks like we’ve got a temper tantrum on aisle 33rd and Colan street.”

“Put together a squad and have them sort it out.”

“Tsss! Ooh, see: I did! I totally did. And the thing is… Take a guess, why don’t you?”

KodiaKop wanted to groan. But Shootsuit was higher on the ranks, cutting most of the paychecks for the Enforcers. He had to endure this.

“They’re all down for the count.”

“B-B-Bingo! Hey: Better that you break the news than me, huh? Anyways! I want Socket, Ectoette, and Grizzly en route this instant. Send a few newbies with ‘em, tough ones.”

“Yeah, we’ve got some flyers with us. But why not just send them and Ectoette?”

Shootsuit just went ‘tut-tut!’ To which KodiaKop seemed to understand at last. They needed a certain personal touch.

“Copy that. I’ll have them sent in right away. If it’s to deal with—”

“REX!”

A familiar head of jet-black hair, and the hood of his hoodie blew with the breeze the selected Enforcers arrived with. Turning to face them was a young man, resembling some South Asian descent—most similar to Nepali. But while he grew up on Earth, his heritage was actually among the stars, by way of a planet called Nypardia. His back was turned on the newcomers, his hands still balled into raw-knuckled fists, and his white sneakers with red trim scuffed. Dusting off the front and back of his pants, Rex turned to address the call of Socket.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t the big cheese himself!” said Socket, the slasher superhero pointing a dagger in the cosmic contender’s direction. “How ya been, Wrecked? Oh, sorry. Just making observations about your past… maybe also your immediate future!”

No words from Rex. Just a glance backwards towards the group. Ectoette glanced down to see a number of other reserve Enforcers on the ground, unconscious and writhing in pain. Just hoping no one had perished.

“He’s high on his own ego!” bellowed Grizzly, shoving shells into an automatic shotgun. “Look at him. Smug after taking out our troops. He probably thinks he’s too good to talk to us. Ding-dong ditcher!”

There was a scowl from Rex, and scoffing from Socket and Grizzly. At least three reservists that had tagged along with Ectoette, Socket, and Grizzly. As KodiaKop had mentioned, they could fly fast. And they were fairly strong. But Ectoette held them back from attacking right away.

“It’s been a while, Rex. You know I don’t want this… Stand down, please.”

But that was the last thing Rex wanted to do. He turned to take a step forward, and that was when Grizzly charged forward, pulling his shotgun trigger repeatedly. The buckshot shook up Rex a bit as he raised his arms to instinctively shield his head. But having begun to brace himself a little more, he was not moved very far from where he stood. Then, Socket shouted:

“Okay, wiseass! Enforcers, ENGULF!”

The three reservist flyers were up first, hoping to prove their worth here today. One rocketed forward and lashed out with a right cross, aiming right for Rex’s cheek and to travel across his face with superhuman strength behind it.

*THWATCH!*

Of course, what the first flyer didn’t expect was for Rex to catch their punch swiftly, then raising his leg into an axe kick—the sole of his shoe imprinting itself onto the first flyer’s face, and then Rex’s heel dropping harshly into their upper back to slam them into the ground. Gravel burst from the street below in chunks as the second flyer circled around Rex with even greater speed, trying to create a vortex and simultaneously firing off lasers from his eyes to keep Rex from countering. The strong wind vortex took Rex off his feet-- up into the air above the smaller buildings. But not any higher before Rex cupped his hands together, and launched a light blue fireball into the second flyer’s flight path, knocking them off course.

Just as Rex attempted to swoop in to divebomb the second flyer, the third had made themselves known: By tossing an entire construction vehicle at him. A 40-ton front loader, by the looks of it. Tossed forcefully enough that it’d travel quickly, collide with Rex. In response, Rex found himself catching the construction vehicle as best he could, still pushed back though. And just when he thought he was about to land on his feet (if running backwards from the momentum), suddenly he was subject to a whole new attack!

“This is gonna hurt me more than it’s gonna hurt you, Rex!”

It was Ectoette. She’d shifted the density of her body so she could phase through the solid front loader. Once her upper body was sticking out of the construction vehicle, she selectively shifted—making her fist not only solid again, but incredibly dense. The force of her strike sent Rex backwards for a few city blocks. She knew exactly who she was up against, and wasn’t going to scrimp on her attack output.

“Errrgh…”

Rex got up slowly after colliding with a street lamp, and sliding down to the sidewalk below. He was still dizzy after that last swing, but the Enforcers didn’t let up.

“PEEKABOO!”

Socket cackled as he landed on the street lamp, hanging onto it upside down so he could get into Rex’s face. The familiar visage was both unsettling and irritating. Purple smoke shrouded the skies immediately overhead, arcane thunderbolts reached out like a nightmarish fusion between biting vipers, restricting chains, and the electric chair.

Rex grabbed the slasher superhero by the neck with one strained hand, while his other took Socket’s shoulder. And he pulled! Pulled until the limbs detached, starting with the arms that directed the cursed current. Even as the deadly magic set his muscles both aflame and into a bone-deep chill at the same time.

“How brutal of you!” sneered Socket, his body littering the sidewalk in still unliving pieces. “For shame, Rex! I thought we taught you better than that.”

One of Rex’s eyes twitched, before both started to glow. Unfortunately, just as he prepared to fire his own laser eyes at his disembodied former teammate, someone had tackled him from behind: A suit fashioned of multiple alloys. Armed to the teeth with high caliber guns, portable high yield explosives, directed energy weapons, a myriad of other warmongering tools, and approximately one motormouth. All firing off in a symphony designed to wear down the nigh-invulnerable. Like Rex!

“Ouch! That’s gotta hurt. You’re gonna feel that one in the morning, slugger!”

There was a snarl of pain on Rex’s part. And then, wincing resignation at the fact Shootsuit had arrived. Either having sent one of his drones, or having donned his power armor once again. It was between Shootsuit and Socket as to who could utter the worst excuses for verbal zingers.

“C’mon, Rexinator. Rexamilian! Reximus.” said Shootsuit, less stammering and more just overconfidently spitballing his innumerable jests. “Our door’s always open. And you’re obviously in dire need of an intervention. C’mon! We’ll even get gyros. You love gyros. Everybody loves---”

Rex twisted and turned. Trying to get himself into a position where he could counter. Eventually he was able to very suddenly shove a hand to push Shootsuit’s helmeted face back, and to swing a knee into one of the spots on the power armor where beneath—a back-up power cell was located. A small explosion rocked the suit and elicited smoke.

“Will you SHUT UP about the gyros?!” barked Rex. “They were alright! Not great. I ate them because I was hungry and there was nothing else that day!”

“Look! That’s progress. Technically. Alright, no gyros. How about—"

But before Shootsuit could offer another attempt at suave line delivery, Rex had brought an elbow down on one of Shootsuit’s built-in jets, throwing their flight path dangerously off-course, causing them both to crash into a building with a bank vault located next to an office space. Rex himself emerging slowly.

He checked his phone for any new messages: Nothing yet, which gave him a pang of anxiety. He’d have to hold off the Enforcers for a little while longer.

For the sake of a friend of his, that is: She had a plan.

With Shootsuit out of his penthouse, this building—prominently utilized by the Enforcers for business in Multiplex, could be infiltrated. A ventilation shaft grate was unscrewed and set aside. Onyx hued hair was accompanied by a domino mask with outward pointed edges, her lanky build garbed in black, carrying tools of both detective and spy—or rather, ninja. This was none other than the Curious Kunoichi. A madame of mystery. Most days she tackled street level trouble and solved similar such crimes in a mostly solitary fashion. But other days she still found herself pitting the mind and the technique etched into her muscle memory against larger threats, where even the mightiest metaforms might miss a key detail, the kind that a keen eye and a wealth of knowledge could make use of.

With only the slightest effort, Curio briefly jammed multiple security cameras at a time. Dancing through the weaves of laser tripwires with gymnastic expertise that might have made her an Olympic contender. Not a single beat could be missed: She had formulated every step with as close of calculations as she could put together based on blueprints of the building, an in-depth understanding of the security systems employed (as well as their esteemed supplier, from a business standpoint).

In the shadow of a storage center in the building, Curio placed a small flashlight between her teeth while she climbed shelves, server machines, and cabinets. Only turning on the light to scan through drawers. Ever-scanning for security, which had been oddly absent since her arrival. That had her keeping her guard up.

Suddenly, she bit down on the button to turn off the compact flashlight’s beam. Someone was clapping for her.

“Phenomenal work. Just stop right where you are, and I’ll find you soon enough.”

Curio cursed internally: ‘Earth’s Most Prepared Heroes’ wasn’t just a marketing slogan. It made far too much sense that the Enforcers had someone standing by to keep an eye out! Someone the international intelligence community counted among their bogeymen: The Tabkeeper! Currently wearing a pair of night vision goggles, as he called out to an unseen cohort.

“Section J-Thru-L, confirmed! Deep fry this weirdo. I repeat, DEEP FRY this weirdo!”

Curio jumped immediately. Something—or someone swept through the aisle between the row of cabinets. And they were aflame, head-to-toe! She evacuated quickly, tossing a smoke bomb immediately into Tabkeeper’s face. As for her other pursuer, the ballistic Pyrogoria would simply melt down any projectiles that came his way!

“YOU CAN RUN,” started Pyrogoria’s altered vocals. “CAN’T HIDE THOUGH! ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST. AND THAT’S GONNA INCLUDE YOU, CRISPY COOKED, CURIOUS KUNOICHI!”

Just then, from the sides there came a spray of something like a fire extinguisher’s foam from an opening on the wrist of her gauntlet. First from Pyrogoria’s left, then to his right. From the front as well. And then, figuring that the Curious Kunoichi would try to attack from behind to finish up, he began to push himself, a great tension taking his body as a jet of flames emitted outwardly. Torching the contents of any miserable shelves or drawers left open. And it would have melted down any person without caution, as it began to melt the electronic servers in the room.

That is, had Curio not remained in front of Pyrogoria to side-kick him in the ribs, sending him rolling backwards. She hurried back to the cabinet she was looking for, and started grabbing at the folder she was after. Hoping it hadn’t been damaged. As for any digital copies, she pulled out her phone and pressed a button to remotely activate a function on one of her computers far from this building: to break right through the system firewall and send their IT department scrambling to recover as many of the files as they could: She’d uploaded a virus to start deleting everything, blocking the creation of any back-ups. Not that it would matter: Curio had the physical copy.

“Not so fast.”

It was Tabkeeper! He was trying to catch Curio with a silenced pistol. One shot ricocheted off her shoulderpad by a stroke of luck, the rest whizzing by like flies on nitro. As a parting gift, the Curious Kunoichi hid at the end of one bookshelf. Tabkeeper had reloaded his weapon, and was walking within this new aisle. And it was in that moment that Curio put everything she had into pushing the shelf one side: She wanted it to fall right onto him. Maybe cause a domino effect and knock down a few other shelves. Total bedlam to cover her escape.

“So… what’s in the folder?”

Up on one of the rooftops, beside a little greenhouse, Curious Kunoichi had met back up with a harrowed Rex. She was perched on the edge of the rooftop, poring over her findings while Rex gently landed behind her. If stumbling slightly on his steps since he was still freshly escaped from his own battles.

“Everything I said it’d be.”

Curio closed the folder, offering it over for Rex to skim. He had agreed to help his friend in getting their hands on restricted documents regarding certain charitable foundations whose finances came up questionable—but were able to use their generous reputation to deflect any official investigations into how much their executive board members were making. That and their ties to groups like the Enforcers. Of course, the Curious Kunoichi, with characteristic speed and resolve had raced to expose this corruption. And with Rex playing the part of distraction, she had accomplished it.

“I’ll see you around.” said Rex, waving goodbye for now. “But maybe just hangin’ out at the usual spots instead of another mission… I’m six different kinds of beat! Rather go to the arcade or something with folks.”

“Hah. Sure, I’ll ask around and see who’s free to join us.”

So why did Curio feel a pang of wretchedness? They were friends now, had been for a while. They were fighting the good fight, to set things right, as much as they could each time they acted. There were friends and allies waiting in the wings to help. And yet, not a hundred or more exploits could completely make the vicious spectre of the past go away.

As the Curious Kunoichi stood up, and ziplined across the street below to the next rooftop, she attempted to focus on any remaining tasks for the day. She still had to check in on a few areas, residential, business, and so forth—mostly just poking around for surveillance equipment being set up by a new private security firm. Legally it was all in the clear. But the Curious Kunoichi couldn’t operate with listening posts hidden behind chimneys or hidden cameras affixed here and there.

“Oh, thanks! That thing was creeping us out!”

Curio turned sharply. She had a throwing dart at the ready, but calmed down when she saw it was an apartment tenant. Besides her pragmatic goal, Curio had now recognized the devices weren’t just infringing on her covert activity—they were just straight-up violations of privacy. Her efforts here led to a few less wiretaps on phones and eyes watching the streets, as well as some open windows.

“If they come back,” started Curio. “Leave me a note or something. I’ll deal with it.”

She would listen now. Not like before.

“Bless you for being out here tonight!”

There was a nod from the mystery woman before she departed. Before regret seeped its way in again. It was not so long ago she was more of a lone wolf. Felt she couldn’t count on anyone else to help her, the sights and sounds still so vivid to her keen investigative mind. Long nights, meals substituted with protein shakes. Just the need to optimize everything she did. The Enforcers had her labeled as a threat for that before, and it still remained as such.

But then she remembered working with someone who took the alias ‘Prizefighter,’ or some underdog hero title like that. Back then he had a grin that used to give her a headache. Always trying to find alternatives, even the most absurd ones before calling it quits. Stronger and faster than he had any right to be, able to rain down fire from the skies and wrestle with kaiju.

Over time, she found out the hard way that some of the soon-to-be Enforcers, like Socket and Grizzly, had felt the same way when they started a budding adolescent supergroup of their own. Prizefighter was brought into the ranks. Seemingly given a niche to fit into, friends to spend his free time with. What teenager could resist that? And then it all came crashing down when Prizefighter turned whistleblower, trying to warn the world that their most celebrated protectors were nothing but elitist snobs—and that not all their enemies were the unforgivable scum that their public relations made them out to be.

That day, Curious Kunoichi said goodbye to Prizefighter. And hello to Rex.

Not a day went by since then that the Curious Kunoichi regretted not intervening, not only on Rex’s behalf as his secret identity was forcibly revealed to the world and slandered as the deception of an alien invader. But for all the lost souls who had trusted their peers trying to join the ranks, and the veteran Enforcers who ran the whole crooked circus. Her narrow-minded cynicism had rendered her inert when it came to battling the very corruption she swore to vanquish.

Rex sat on a mountain cliffside for a moment. He’d started on a walk through the land outside of Multiplex City to cool off. A couple of times he perked up—and then jolted up to his feet. Uncertain if he left various daily tasks unsettled at home. Just as quickly, he remembered that not to be the case and had to sit back down. Still feeling the need to rush and hurry despite no pressing concerns.

That’s how it was at one point before, wasn’t it? Be swift, on time and never late. But never too early either. Defeat your enemies without hesitation, but always as instructed. Hang back when ordered. The others stood front and center for the cameras, microphones, the whole of the limelight. And he could too, when the time was right. That was the case every once in a while, table scraps posited as evidence to a truth.

He didn’t start flying right away. Instead, Rex opted to take a short hop first. A few more, until he was back on even ground where he could run fast across. Beside deer and horses let out to graze a bit from being stuck inside a trailer hooked up to a truck. At least until Rex accelerated ahead of them. Eventually he found a dump truck with the rear bed uplifted—having recently done away with its cargo. Aiming right for it, Rex used the raised bed of the truck as a makeshift ramp. Zooming upwards to the surprise of one of the truck drivers as he disappeared above the clouds.

His ascent slowed for a moment as he put one hand on his forehead over his eyes, getting used to the greater abundance of sunlight. Though he generated his own cosmic energy, Rex could supplement himself with solar and other rays he came across, barring any obstacles or interference in-between. After long days working, fighting, anything: the extra boost from external sources was welcome alongside hearty meals and whatever restful sleep he could achieve.

But there was once a time when he had to keep moving. On a back-to-back schedule. Constantly timing himself to see how long it took one time versus another. Always trying to pare it down to the lowest possible count of minutes, seconds. He had to attack with certainty, not mercy. But also, when the others finally arrived, he had to take a dive. Smile and maintain optimism, but then they’d tell him bluntly that he was too cheerful. Made Rex seem too holier-than-thou. The standards always seemed to shift where he was concerned. No matter what he tried, the rules were never the same twice. If they were, it felt like a very last-minute change.

Rex shut his eyes for a moment as he hovered there. His eyes remained closed, but not as tightly as he watched his breathing. Fighting them earlier wasn’t enough stress relief. All he wanted to do was to go about warring with them until either he’d thrashed them all, or he was too broken down to get up again.

The memories didn’t play from start to finish. It was like there were intervals of static. The worst offenses. The attempt to talk down people he considered teammates-- his friends. Reaching out to mentors he thought he could confide in with his trust, especially the ones as optimistic as he had been once upon a time to set things right. Surely, they could talk some sense into their grim, more corrupt teammates?

But they stood by and told him he was overreacting.

Not that this was nearly enough. Socket and Grizzly, they lead the charge. Even the upbeat Ectoette just stood by and let it play out, reluctant as her attack had been: She had such overwhelming faith in rules and order. The restraint they demanded in Rex, they scarcely held themselves up to such a notion. That was what allowed them to take his battered body and show his face to the public despite those pathetic, choked pleas. He couldn’t even defend himself and they spoke of the planet Nypardia as though it had deployed Rex to be some sort of invasion scout.

A low growl could be heard from Rex. He felt his fists clenching, his teeth gritting. No tears were shed: just a bitter, vengeful glare at nothing and no one within range of where Rex was floating. The last time he’d offered an expression like that, the intended receiver was in his sights. They laughed, and he lashed out at them. It didn’t make anyone see the truth of the situation, he wasn’t given a parade and a mess of apologies he was owed. The unreasonable, unfair hostility didn’t stop. The damage had long since been done. Retaliating physically was a short-term relief when they had twisted the opinion of so many people. It had been so effective, even to this day they spoke at Rex as if it were all his fault, that they’d let him back in if he were the one to make amends.

And then, Rex rocketed up beyond the edge of the atmosphere past orbit. Offering a thundering roar as he expelled some of the gargantuan volume of his lungs. It was about fifteen minutes before he finally stopped, and began drifting back down against gravity’s hold. His various superpowered senses would survey the entirety of the world below-- its sights, sounds, geography and the composition of the elements that made it all up.

Going up there restored his perspective. A reminder of the majesty of this planet, and all of its people, even some animals that took care of him when he was small and lonely.

Grizzly was monitoring one of the gyms. Putting a batch of newbies through their paces, in a way he had never had to endure when he was brought onboard. They were currently facing off in a holographic environment full of dangers and simulated opponents.

“Hey, shitlips! Your fridge running?”

Grizzly whipped his head around, immediately swinging one of his rifles at him like a billy club.

“Never become a comedian, Suck-at-it. Your career would end before it even began!”

There was Socket’s sickening snicker again. Grizzly wasn’t even being playfully rude: he legitimately got angry after a certain point. And Socket was not oblivious to this. In fact, he thrived off of ticking people off if they didn’t play along. Grizzly scooted his seat back up to the control panel, and started fiddling with settings. Just as the newbies were getting used to things, he wanted to shake things up on them last minute over in the gym.

“What do you want anyway, Suck-at-it? I’m busy here.”

“It’s quite clear to me. Don’t you see it, you dolt?”

Grizzly looked away from the training room for a moment.

“Yeah, screw you: This is about taking back that stolen file. My old man’s been raising hell for the guys he put on security detail and Shootsuit’ll probably be mad we fell for the space case’s trick. Might get in some hot water.”

“You fell for it. I could have taken him down. Seen right through the entire deception. Atomized him, and flayed him, and--”

The two just quit their arguing for the time being.

“Well. The Kunoichi’s gotta hand the files off sometime, right? Must have a contact at city hall she can count on. We just waltz right on in, you flash your badge and take the papers on uhhh… suspicions!”

“It’s called probable cause, dumbass.”

“You know what I mean! Ugh. That sounded better in my head.”

“No, I don’t. You STILL SUCK at this. Now hurry up. I’ll pull intel and see who the ninja chick’s buddy is. Text Ectoette that she’s on standby.”

The two made for the parking garage and to a sports car Socket had recently purchased, despite Grizzly’s protests (he wanted an armored vehicle, one with a gun turret he could point and shoot).

The two arrived shortly afterwards at city hall, welcomed eagerly by most. Met with silence and passing glances by some passing eyes, hurrying back to work before they were dragged into this latest mess the Enforcers were going to try and bring to their doorstep. Fortunately, they were looking for a select city councilman who kept late hours—perfect for meetings with vigilantes like the Curious Kunoichi. Of course, by the time they made it up to the floor where the office was located, the councilman had just stepped out.

“Unbelievable!” said Socket. “Too late for lunch, too early for dinner. He shouldn’t be on a break yet!”

“C’mon, he can’t have gotten far.” said Grizzly “He had no idea we were coming.”

Socket nodded. With a wave of his hands, he selected at random several corpses to appear from wherever they had ended up, in graves or once ashes. Though most of their power came from being augmented by Socket’s malicious brand of magic, their restless state left them extremely furious. Socket could point them anywhere and name his enemy as the cause of their tortured awakening.

“Look, they’ve swarmed him! Let’s go.”

There was a pile of the restless undead on top of a living body. Only Socket and Grizzly would be more than a little shocked to find it wasn’t the councilman at all: It was Rex.

“Oh.”

Socket stared for a moment. His legion of the undead were currently scratching and gnawing on Rex to no avail. Although they were damaging him, none would cut or pierce him in an instant kill. Grizzly also stared for a moment, before scrambling to arm himself with the heavy machine gun strapped to his back. They had caught their former alien teammate as he’d just calmed down from their last, and very recent clash with each other.

“Where’s the councilman?!” demanded Grizzly. “You were here waiting for us!”

“No. What.” said Rex. “I was literally just walking by when a few dead bodies started grabbing me and dragging me over to this commotion. Wait, what’s that about a councilman??”

“You… I’ll do more than summon a few bodies, Rex!” hissed Socket, pooling his magic into forming a portal. “I’ll call upon the entities of the highest, most incomprehensible planes! It would be futility to resist the MULTITUDES I could command! Compared to you—you’re just kind of strong!”

“Futile, huh?” said Rex, cracking his knuckles “Then you won’t mind if I try anyway.”

“—MULTITUDES, you hear me?! Incomprehensible, unstoppable!!!--”

“I heard you. And I see it just fine: I got hyper-vision, remember? Not that you bozos ever paid much attention!”

As they bickered, Grizzly spotted someone fumbling for his car keys with one hand, and in the other hand he held a folder, tucked under an arm. The councilman was trying to escape!

“GET HIM!”

Grizzly started running forward to grab the councilman before his keys hit the car’s ignition. At which point Rex dashed after and tackled Grizzly in the side. Socket wasn’t far off, finishing his portal gateway: And as it widened to let something loose, the street lamps threatened to twist like silly straws. Slabs of the sidewalk burst from their place, and buildings contorted until they appeared to be looming over the street, their doors, windows, and other fixtures like twisted faces.

“Oh my gosh!” cried a bystander to a whole bunch of fellow Enforcers fans. “He’s summoning Golthoom the Ender of Legions, Burner of Regions! Just like in his movie the Nether Regions of Nonsense!”

“DOES NO PART OF THAT DESCRIPTION *CONCERN* YOU?!” hollered Rex. He was currently trading punches with Grizzly, while a large, gruesome hand reached out from the portal.

“Go double park a UFO, space case! He only uses it on punks that deserve it. Like you!”

Just before Rex could offer a frustrated retort, the entity that Socket had called upon was halfway out of the portal, grabbing onto Rex with glowing claws, and dragging him into some infernal realm. The crowd cheered, rejoicing that Rex appeared to have been banished to Hell. The Enforcers proceeded to shakedown the councilman for the file he was carrying. Personal phones and tabloid cameras went off.

“All in a day’s work, fine folks!” said Socket. “But I gotta give a HAND it to the councilman here for being soooo brave!”

The councilman was offered a literal hand ripped from one of Socket’s undead minions. At that point, the councilman pretty much fainted. Socket and Grizzly let off a hearty laugh, before shuffling away to examine their prize.

Or they would have, if a gleaming sword hadn’t lopped off Socket’s arm holding the file in an instant! Grizzly was quick to draw his pistol, getting a couple of shots off: The recently arrived Curious Kunoichi was knocked backwards by the shots, the kevlar lining of her costume taking one round and another shot grazing her leg. As she hit the ground, she had tossed out a handful of putty that collided with the barrel of Grizzly’s pistol—the ursine-themed commando’s gun barrel exploding in his face the next time he pulled the trigger.

“Kunoichi! Damn you!” hissed Socket. “Give us back our file, or else you’ll really be sorry! I just sent your shitty friend on a one-way trip to the damned realms!”

Something in the Curious Kunoichi snapped at the thought of having arrived too late. Grizzly had drawn his own bowie knife, and clashed it against Curio’s wakizashi. The commando swung with one hand so the blades would be forced against one another, his other hand trying to take the ninja-detective into his enhanced grip. In a bout of defense, Curio performed a backflip kick right into Grizzly’s wrist with great force that veered it off course. Then, using her sword to safely parry aside the large knife, she applied a light palm strike to Grizzly’s chest.

“I got body armor of my own, shrimp!” said Grizzly.

“Good. Softens the impact.” said Curio. She pulled out a remote detonator. Grizzly looked down to see she had stuck a landmine to his chest. When she hit the button, LED lights installed in a circular fashion began to light up quickly. Grizzly frantically tried to get at the explosive implement, but was too late. It blew up at point blank, landing him on the ground to writhe in pain. And the next thing Socket knew, Curio’s blade was pointed in his direction.

“New portal.” demanded the Curious Kunoichi. “Now.”

Socket just scoffed. “You can’t kill me. Not for good, you brooding buffoon.”

“I’ll mix your remains in with cow manure after I’m done slicing and dicing.”

The portal was opened anew. There in the distance, the dreaded Golthoom had become a battle-damaged giant—who was battling another giant with a metallic teal body and three bulbous glowing eyes that disappeared, giving way to a large blue fireball: Out of the portal rocketed Rex! His aura being flared up made him resemble a fireball. Rex landed on the street, his shirt tattered somewhat to reveal bruises and burns, hair a mess, eyes wide out of horror, and huffing from great exertion. Curio perked up, and Rex nodded back, offering a thumbs up before he angled to land a haymaker punch right on Socket’s face. But for some reason, Socket and Grizzly were grinning.

*THWOOSH!!*

Just as it seemed to be over, Rex was divebombed and swept up into the sky by a stranglehold: A cavalry charge by Ectoette!

“STOP! We’re ALL heroes here and we’re better than this. YOU are better than this! What happened to the patient friend you used to be?! It’s not too late to turn back!”

Her arms had the density turned up, coiled around his throat. Her flight path was interrupted by his struggle to break free of her crushing, superhuman grip. There was no eloquence left in him, no desire to discuss this, not like all the times he’d tried in the past. Because as he argued a hundredfold before, so too they had shut down his concerns in similar measure.

“SHUT UP!” howled Rex with a gasp of air. “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! LEMME GO—I’M GONNA KNOCK THEIR STINKING LIGHTS OUT!!”

Ectoette let off a bloodcurdling yell. Her form seemed to distort—accompanied by multiple intangible afterimages of herself that moved in different directions, like a wailing ghost from which she derived her entire theme. Her grip started to feel more acidic than before.

“REX… THIS. ISN’T. YOU!!!!”

The volume of her banshee scream came suddenly, overwhelming Rex’s senses—particularly his hyper-hearing. But covering his ears would only offer a brief relief. He finally pried her hand off, and slipped out of her aerial hold. With a bloodcurdling screech, she raised one hand, altering the density so it could phase through solid matter. But once she connected it with Rex, she was going to turn it solid again and discombobulate his molecular structure and throw his reserves of cosmic energy into a frenzy!

“AAAUGH!”

Coupled with the shock to his hyper-hearing, Ectoette’s phasing attack was doing a number on him. He ignited his aura power again, taking hold of her incorporeal knife-hand nestled between where his ribs would be, and forced her away with a front kick. Her three flyer underlings were on him shortly after with a cascade of more tangible melee strikes, and whatever secondary abilities they had— raining down thunderbolts, laser beams, anything as long as they were keeping the pressure on Rex.

This was like before too, wasn’t it? They could kick him down all they wanted, but the moment Rex defended himself, he was going over the line. Even those as upstanding as Ectoette upheld this. Teammates like her, mentors who were unerringly polite. Always diehard sticklers for the rules, quicker to admonish everyone but their corrupt counterparts.

*WHAM!*

Rex kept that in mind as he grabbed a flyer by the cape, and swung them into their teammate. For the third and last one, he brought his hands together into an axe-handle blow that would send them crashing through several floors of a nearby parking garage. He flew down to finish what he started with Socket and Grizzly, both fists aimed forward so he could tackle right into them with the momentum he was gathering.

And then he went right past them.

“NO…!!”

He felt a hand on his back. Rex turned around to see Ectoette had raced after him. Extended her density shifting powers onto him when he least expected it, so that Rex couldn’t use his aura or energy control to resist. They hovered there in that empty subway stop for a while.

For that, there was absolute rage welling up within Rex. Ectoette looked disappointed. True, Rex was in a miserable state: But she still seemed to believe the solution was in his returning to a state of being he just couldn’t embrace anymore. The spectral superhero started drifting away like yet another memory. Free from her grasp, Rex immediately raised his aura to counteract her density shift. Ran up the stairs back to the street, and saw she had dragged him to a stop much further away than where the fight had taken place.

“Thank heavens!”

Rex turned: It was the Curious Kunoichi. But minus the file she’d sought after. In lieu of it, a couple more injuries. She was able to fight back, but only to retreat for now.

“They got away with it.” muttered Rex. “… Again.”

Curio looked aside for a moment. She knew he was blaming himself. But that’s what stung her at times: She wondered why she wasn’t the one to blame here. She could have been more careful, taken more steps to make sure she wasn’t being surveilled before. No doubt her councilman contact was going to have his job on the line.

“There’ll be other plans. Other chances.” said Curio. “We’re okay though, right?”

Rex blinked. He could tell her intent was to focus on their physical health after that fight. He extended a hand to shake, which confused Curio for a moment, but went along with it in the end, before being thoroughly surprised by a low-five.

“Sure. We need to work on that secret handshake though.”

“Secret… handshake?” said Curio, raising a brow. “Like some kind of heads-up signal for our next operation?”

“Sure, I guess. But also: just to do whenever.”

Curio felt a little better when Rex put on a weak smile.

“Thanks for gettin’ me outta that other dimension. I knew I could count on you. We square?”

Curio took a moment to soak in those words—that someone had faith in her abilities. And then she finally nodded after a moment.

“Square. Indeed.”

It was a wonder they had ever become friends as they had, given their past. But for now, it was better to have a comrade during such trying times. At last, Rex put his hands into his pockets, and started to shuffle along home with the Curious Kunoichi, who accompanied him until one of them was back at their own doorstep.

#Dynaura #Dynaura No. 4 #Web Fiction

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