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lamuradex · 4 days ago

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Short Story: The Apocalypto Incident

Tales of Hero City Collection

Wordcount: 10,167

Synopsis: The city of Greystoke would one day be renamed to Hero City and become the site of many battles between Good and Evil. But before that was The Apocalypto Incident, a day which changed everything.

When Apocalypto Cultists lay siege to a large portion of the city, the servants of Dark Dragon wreaking absolute chaos and havoc, the world has few places to turn. And so The League of Titans, the eight greatest heroes of the age, are sent in to stop the terror.

But can they stop the monstrous might of Dark Dragon?

Witness the dawning of Hero City and a battle for the ages.

AO3 Link for those that want it:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64651384

Full Story Below The Break

The Apocalypto Incident

The streets bustled and the air thrummed with metropolitan life, the sun shone warmly, the smog from cars was minimal, and people went about shopping happily. Amongst the busy streets, a woman pushed a baby carriage, crossing the road at a designated crosswalk.

BEEP!

A car screeched to a stop as a police warden stood protectively between the car and the mother.

“Oh, my word! Thank you, Officer Parker,” the mother flustered, then checked on the contents of her pram, cooing gently.

“Maybe watch where you’re going, Mrs Mann. The streets can be dangerous. Now, would you mind getting out of the road?”

“What? Oh, of course,” she squeaked and pulled the pram onto Officer Parker’s traffic island, as the car drove off with a smile and a wave.

Officer Jack Parker was a young, bright-eyed officer with curly, black hair and the beginnings of a moustache to go with it. He’d been on the job less than a year. Mrs Mann meanwhile was a thin faced woman in a spring frock and shawl, the woman decorated with doe-eyed innocence and earrings to match.

“You need to be more careful, Mrs Mann, especially with your cargo here.” Officer Parker leaned down to tickle the two babes in the pram. “What did you decide on for names?”

“Well, for one we decided on Justin,” she paused to let the officer coo over the baby. “And for the other we went with-”

BONG

Mrs Mann stopped mid-sentence. A bell tolled, echoing against the buildings.

BONG… BONG.

It rang again, the sound strange and ethereal.

BONG… BONG… BONG.

Everyone had stopped. Cars parked. People checked their watches in case it was the hour. It was 9:47am.

Everyone stood and waited, expecting more. When it didn’t come, life began to resume. People moved, chatter continued, and traffic shifted.

“I wonder what that was about,” Officer Parker said curiously.

“Some event I’m not aware of, Officer Park-”

A street away, someone screamed.

Officer Parker turned, ready to help. More shouts and cries came from elsewhere, west of the first. Panicked noise began to swell nearby, the cause not yet visible. Then, down the street, a car swerved wildly and plowed into a lamppost.

“You wait here, Mrs Mann. I’ll go and check if everyone’s alright.” He hurried towards the scene.

The car hadn’t been moving at high speed, it was a city street in the middle of rush hour, but steam was still pouring from the radiator. Inside the car, someone was moving, but they weren’t getting out. Jack watched curiously. Maybe they were trapped?

He reached the vehicle and briefly made sure it wasn’t actually on fire, then pulled the handle to inspect the driver.

What stepped out was rather… unexpected.

A man emerged, a dark robe draped over him from head to toe. An alabaster mask sat over his head, concealing his face. Jack realised the movements in the car had been the man hurriedly putting the garb on, as he was dressed a little haphazardly, the mask crooked.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Jack demanded.

“The time has come,” the man answered. He pulled a knife from his belt and went for Jack.

Jack had already been apprehensive. This was the city, weirdoes abound. Even so, the knife was a surprise. The first swing missed his cheek by an inch and the second never came, as Officer Parker punched the man square in the face, cracking his mask in two. The robed figure fell like a sack of potatoes.

“What the heck is going on?” Jack muttered.

The cries from surrounding streets hadn’t faded. They were getting louder. Closer. People ran past, sprinting back in the direction of Mrs Mann. And then Jack saw why.

At the end of the road, a dozen more robed weirdos had gathered. They were marching forwards, each chanting in synchronised rhythm. And they were armed. Two had swords, one had a mace, and one had a gun. The rest were armed with tire irons and whatever else they could get their hands on.

“The time has come,” the robed figures said in unison.

Jack turned and ran, gathering as many civilians to safety as he went.

* * *

The sky hung red as fires burned. Crashed cars blocked roads, while anything that could explode had already done so. On the fortieth floor of a skyscraper, a robed figure looked down at the flames, a shotgun slung in his arms.

Behind him, a group of four slipped behind a toppled cupboard, their leader a tall, handsome man in a cliché detective’s trench coat. A golden masquerade mask covered the top half of his face, and he motioned for silence amongst his team, putting a finger to his lips. He peered out over the cupboard, then ducked back down again.

He smiled confidently.

From his pocket, he produced another mask, this one being the top half of a plastic Halloween costume. It was cut messily and looked to be half a vampire’s face.

But, in a move that never once showed his true features, he swapped masks and stepped out.

“Howdy, fellow Apocalypto cultist,” he greeted the robed figure.

The figure turned, faced him, and for all the world saw only another cultist.

“Hey, brother,” the cultist replied. “Everything going alright?”

“Yep. Just doing the glorious work of Dark Dragon. God, I love that guy.”

“Yeah. Only true supervillain, am I right?”

“You certainly are, brother,” the intruder grinned. “So, what are you doing up here?”

“Sentry duty. You?”

“Patrol. So basically the same.”

“Yeah. Gotta keep an eye out for those superheroes. They could turn up any minute.”

“Yeah. They could even be here already.”

“Yep. Gotta keep your wits about you.”

“Totally,” the hero agreed. “So, do you know what Dark Dragon is actually up to?”

The cultist raised an eyebrow behind his mask. “You don’t know?”

“I drifted off during the briefing,” the hero said sheepishly.

“The briefing?”

“You know… the… the thing. What do you call it?” He snapped his fingers, pretending to remember the word.

“Dude, we’ve been talking about this for months.”

“Have we? Since when?”

“Quite a while… Didn’t you get your orders through?”

“What? No? I don’t think so anyway. How did they go out?”

“The same way we get all our orders.” The cultist narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Say, brother, how did the last message end?”

“Wouldn’t know. Didn’t receive it.”

“Right…” the cultist faltered slightly. “Well, what was the last message you got? How did that one end?”

“Hail Dark Dragon?”

“Huh. That was only last week. You’re not that far behind,” the cultist considered. “You haven’t been away from your…” He paused as his eyes caught something. “What is that?”

They both turned and stared at a large feathered wing sticking out from behind a cupboard.

“Does he see us?” a voice whispered from behind the furniture.

“I think so,” another voice answered.

“Well, what do we do?”

“Something. We need to do something. Now would be preferable.”

“INTRUDERS!” the cultist yelled. He raised his shotgun, and then collapsed as the man beside him chopped him in the neck.

Mask Man rolled his eyes. “Swoop? Your wings are sticking out again.”

“Damnit,” the owner of the wings cursed.

The other three heroes emerged; they were quite a bunch. The first was the owner of the wings, Swoop, a woman with military-cropped brown hair, sun kissed skin and camouflage clothes. She’d have looked like an ordinary woman if not for the large pair of bird wings sticking out of her back. The guns on her belt also drew the eye, but not quite as much.

The second was a young man, approximately nineteen, wearing a silver, fire-decaled bodysuit with a wrestlers mask. His name, Burno, was written across the chest in flame shaped letters.

The last was another man in another bodysuit, though saying he was a man may have been a bit generous. Laser Lad was even younger than Burno, barely 15, and was wearing a black, head-to-toe bodysuit with rainbow coloured lines all over it.

“Why was Swoop put on the stealth team?” Burno asked.

“Because the other team has the rest of the heavy hitters,” Swoop argued playfully. “You guys need some offence.”

“But I’m a heavy hitter!” Burno said indignantly.

“Sure you are, sport.” She patted his shoulder.

“Do you remember what stealth means?” Mask Man interrupted. “I almost had him talking.”

“I can get him talking,” Burno proposed. He held up a hand and a flame appeared on his fingertip like a tiny blowtorch.

“No. No torture,” Mask Man declined. Burno put out the flame.

“Urgh….” the cultist stirred.

“Gun!” Laser Lad reminded.

Burno aimed a finger, fired a spark, and knocked the shotgun away. The cultist, who had been reaching for it, looked disappointed. He looked up with heartbroken eyes at Mask Man.

“Why, brother? Why betray us to these heroes,” he said, “heroes” rhyming with scum.

Wordlessly, Mask Man swapped to his old mask. The illusion broke.

“Ah! A trick! I’ve been deceived! HELP!”

Burno approached and held a flame close to the cultist’s face. The cultist went mute.

“Alright now,” Mask Man broke the tension. “I’ll check in with Chorus. You guys get what you can from this one.” He walked closed to Swoop and whispered. “No torture.”

“I’ll watch Burno,” she agreed.

Mask Man stepped away while the other heroes got to work. He placed a finger to his ear and activated his comms earpiece.

“Mask Man to Chorus. You reading me, Chorus?”

“No need to be so formal, Mask. What’s going on?” Chorus answered, her voice light and almost lyrical.

“Encountered a cultist. About to question him. You?”

“Three so far, but none still conscious. No sign of the hostages.”

“Any clue how many there are? Hostages, I mean.”

“Headcount puts it between ten and fifty. They have to be here somewhere. Authorities have been getting broadcasts from inside the seized zone, reporting force numbers.”

“What are the force numbers?”

“Hundreds of the creeps. I can’t believe there are so many.”

Mask Man sighed. “Well, if anyone would have this many henchmen…”

“Dark Dragon would, I know.”

“Any sign of big, dark and scaly?”

“No, not yet. He has to be here already though, right?”

“Possibly,” Mask Man said uncertainly. “And don’t face him alone.”

“Little abrupt, but alright,” Chorus answered.

“I know you, Melody,” he said seriously.

Chorus was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll be careful.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Communication ended.

* * *

Chorus hung up the call, continuing down one of the building’s many corridors. She was an athletically-built, medium height, stunningly beautiful black woman, though despite her hero credentials, one without too much apparent muscle. Even so, she carried her double-handed, brass broadsword like it was a baseball bat, tossing it lightly from hand to hand. She wore a sleeveless spandex suit, white with a broad black stripe down the middle, and her mask was a fancy silver opera mask; the type used for the stage. Her black hair was tied back, her eyes gleaming brightly, as the sword rested casually on her shoulder.

Alongside her, her three comrades walked in pace, trying not to laugh.

“Oh no. Mask Man real-named you,” Indestructo teased, wearing patchwork orange and blue, with a large black moustache sticking out from under his luchador mask, his logo an anvil. “You must be in real trouble, Mel,” he grinned.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even know that was your real name?” Fist Puncher commented, a man barely in costume. He wore green dungarees and boxing gloves, no shirt, with a neat copper moustache and haircut.

“I said shut up.”

“Bit on the nose though, right?” Stop Watch observed, his tone low and monotonous. “You’re called Melody and you have music powers?” He adjusted his bodysuit, a deep purple latex covering everything but his eyes and mouth, dark skin peeking out beneath, a clock emblazoned on his chest.

“Actually, taken as a whole, it makes more sense than you’d think,” Chorus considered, “but I’m not getting into my backstory right now. Because I said shut up!” she finished sharply.

The others descended to grins and snickers, as Chorus made a mental note to have a talk with Mask Man later. A talk about discretion. A talk he wouldn’t enjoy.

They all rounded a corner, stopped, and leapt back out of sight. Chorus put a finger to her ear.

“Mask Man?”

“I read you.”

“Found some hostages. Look to be a dozen civilians, plus six cultists with weapons.”

“Where are you?”

“Middle of the seized zone. Nearly the exact centre, give or take a few buildings.”

“Do you want me to send Swoop to you? Or Laser Lad?”

“No, I think we’ve got this. We’ll feed any info to you.”

“Roger.”

“Is that your real name, Mask Man, or just your call sign?” Indestructo intruded the call.

“I thought his name was John or James or something,” Fist Puncher added.

“What? That’s not…” There was a pause. “Oh, bugger. Sorry, Chorus,” Mask Man realised.

“We’ll talk later,” Chorus warned. “And if you chicken out, I’ll tell everyone your real name is-”

“Over and out!” Mask Man hurriedly hung up.

Chorus smiled smugly. “Alright. We need to move. Let’s save those hostages,” she rallied. Putting hands in, her team bumped fists. “Break!”

The room ahead was an old office space. Desks and equipment had been pushed aside, while staff and civilians were tied up in the middle of the room. Six cultists stood at the edges, facing out, occasionally rotating clockwise. Each was armed, two with swords, two with guns, one with a battle axe, and the last with a fire extinguisher. Some clearly hadn’t come prepared for the invasion.

Indestructo walked in calmly, hands raised in surrender. All the cultists turned on him, weapons aimed at his chest.

“Hey, calm down, lads,” he soothed. “Just here to negotiate.”

“We don’t negotiate,” one snarled and pulled the trigger.

Indestructo saw it coming. He crossed his arms over his chest and summoned his powers. His arms turned to a material somewhere between metal and stone, and the bullet ricocheted harmlessly into the ceiling. Indestructo charged.

The cultist was too surprised by the hero’s survival to fire again, at least not quickly enough, as Indestructo closed the distance and landed a leaden fist into his jaw. Swords and an axe swung, but Indestructo caught the blades one by one against invincible fists.

The other gun-toting cultist took aim, when Chorus swept out of hiding. She sang a few notes into his ear, and his mind went blank.

“~Shoot the fire extinguisher~” she ordered in a wavering song.

He did so, and the extinguisher exploded. The air filled with fire-suppressant foam, white spraying all around. Chorus joined the fray, her bronze sword swinging, clashing against their weapons.

The cultist with the extinguisher, now unarmed, did the sensible thing. He turned and ran. As he got into the hallway, Fist Puncher’s fist met his cheek. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Between Indestructo’s iron hands, Fist Puncher joining the melee, and Chorus’s sword and super strength, the cultists were each laid out. As the fight concluded, Stop Watch appeared and started untying the hostages.

“All clear?” Chorus checked.

“Clear,” each hero confirmed.

“That was fast, even for us,” she admired. “Indestructo hasn’t even run out his timer yet.”

On cue, Indestructo’s forearms returned to being flesh and blood.

“That’s why we practice,” Stop Watch contributed, soothing one of the more distressed civilians. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“We get the civilians out of here, then we find the rest of the hostages.” Chorus turned to the still hypnotised cultist and sang a few bars. “~Show these people to safety, then turn yourself in to the police~” she falsettoed.

Without a further word, the cultist did so, and began to lead the people out of the room. The people didn’t argue, all of them staring in awe at the members of The League of Titans.

“Now what?” Fist Puncher said as the people left.

“We get answers,” Chorus stated. She stalked over to the unconscious cultists, examining each one. All alive, all out cold. Then one twitched, pretending to be asleep. “We have a winner!” she proclaimed and dragged him away from the others.

The cultist, realising the game was up, struggled to get free. But he couldn’t. Chorus was only gripping his ankle, but her hand was like a vice, with the clear implication she wasn’t even trying. With one movement, she whipped him into a sitting position and grinned.

“Where are the other hostages?” she asked, crouched to face him.

“I won’t talk. You can’t make me.” The cultist childishly stuck out his tongue.

Chorus smiled devilishly. She stood and turned to her team. “Who wants to give it a go?”

“I think Watch is the best option,” Indestructo suggested.

Chorus looked to Stop Watch. “Watch? You game?”

“Always,” he answered flatly. “I recently read a new book on the proper length of grass.”

“Fascinating,” Chorus said sarcastically.

Stop Watch wandered over, crouched down in front of their captive, his face stony and expressionless behind his mask.

“Will you tell me where the hostages are?” he asked.

“Never,” the cultist answered bitterly.

“That’s alright. There are more interesting topics,” Watch said calmly. He pulled out a pair of librarian glasses and a notebook. “There are always other ways to pass the time. For example, I play golf quite a lot. Do you want to hear about my recent games?” He didn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the book. “The first swing, I hit it a little high, so it went wide. The wind was a little strong too, so it went a little further…” And around them, time slowed to a crawl.

From the outside, it was a shimmeringly dull bubble that surrounded the pair. Inside, it was like watching them in fast forward… not that Stop Watch moved much. The cultist gradually became a blur of bored fidgeting, while Stop Watch could have been a statue.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Indestructo quoted. “The opposite is also true.”

“Almost feel sorry for the guy,” Chorus agreed.

The bubble vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“And that’s how I got a par four on the sixth hole,” Stop Watch said. “Now, will you tell me about the hostages?”

“Oh my GOD,” the cultist groaned. “That was so boring. How long has it been?”

“Thirty seconds,” Indestructo answered, almost sympathetic. “Impressive though. He got all the way to the sixth hole. Most don’t get past three. Still, there’s another twelve to go…”

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk!” the cultist pleaded. “The rest of the hostages are in another building. You likely would have found them anyway. Three buildings west from here. A tower owned by Marigold Industries.”

“That’s closer to the others than to us,” Fist Puncher assessed.

“I’ll tell them,” Chorus agreed, tapping into her comms. “Mask Man?”

“Here.”

“We know where the other hostages are. Marigold Industries.”

“All of them?”

“All of them?” she asked the cultist.

“Yes,” he answered grumpily.

“Yes,” she relayed.

“What floor?”

“What floor?” she asked again.

“19th.”

“19th floor.”

“Got it. And what about whoever’s been broadcasting out to the cops?” Mask Man asked.

“Let me check.” She turned to the cultist. “Any idea who’s been broadcasting to the police.”

“Um…” the cultist paused.

“Stop Watch here has read an excellent magazine about knitting your own golf cosies?” Indestructo threatened.

Stop Watch nodded. “First you knit one, then you pearl one, then you knit one, then you-”

“Alright! We’ve been tracking the signal,” the cultist admitted. “We think it’s coming from the same building, but we can’t work out where.”

“Good boy.” Indestructo patted him on the head.

“Same building. Don’t know where,” Chorus relayed to Mask Man.

“We’re on it.” He cut off.

The four heroes stood around, making sure the other cultists were all out for the count while Chorus finished her call.

“So, what’s next, boss?” Indestructo asked.

“One last question for our friend here. What is Dark Dragon after?”

The cultist went pale behind his mask.

“Talk!” Chorus snarled.

“Look, you can threaten me, you can read me golf scores, you can do whatever you like, but I am not betraying Dark Dragon!” the cultist affirmed.

“Not even if Stop Watch describes his last holiday? It was to a small rural town to visit a museum of interesting doorstops.”

The cultist shuddered. “Do your worst. The hostages were our idea, Dark Dragon couldn’t care less, but I am not telling you his plan.” He clamped his jaw shut.

“Do you even know his plan?”

“That’s not the point,” he said through clamped teeth.

“Alright. He’s no use to us. Knock him out.”

“Pardon?” the cultist said in alarm.

“With pleasure,” Fist Puncher grinned. And he did so.

The group stood and moved on.

“Small question, Chorus?” Indestructo piped up. “Why didn’t you hypnotise him to answer?”

“They don’t keep their memories while they’re hypnotised,” she answered, a little annoyed. “Can’t be hypnotised and also know what we want to know.”

“Ah,” Indestructo accepted. He caught a little look from Fist Puncher. “What? Someone had to ask?”

* * *

Team Alpha, or Mask Man’s team, headed carefully towards the Marigold building. Fortunately, this was a hoity-toity business district with glass bridges interconnecting the buildings, and they only occasionally had to knock out a wandering cultist.

Soon, they were stood across from Marigold Industries, one last bridge dividing them.

“Before we head over,” Mask Man strategised, “Burno, can you sense the heat from people or something like that? We know where the hostages are, but we should try and find the broadcaster. Any chance?”

“Mask, the city around us is on fire,” Burno said flatly.

“So there’s no chance?”

“No. Not unless people are hotter than fire.”

“We could always just look through the windows?” Laser Lad suggested, leaning against the glass.

“We’ll… keep that in the back pocket, Lad,” Swoop assured.

“Hey, it’s better than a heat map in a burning city,” Burno mocked.

“Don’t get clever,” Mask Man warned.

“Well, one of us needs to be.”

“Sorry,” Laser Lad interrupted, “but I only mention the windows because-”

“Don’t speak to Mask like that, Burno,” Swoop snapped.

“And don’t talk to me like I’m a kid!” Burno argued. “I’m not some sidekick like Laser Lad.”

“And don’t badmouth him either!”

“No offence, Laser Lad,” Burno added passively.

“GUYS!” Laser Lad cut off the argument. “I only mention it because I can see someone in the other tower who isn’t wearing a creepy robe.” He pointed out the window.

True enough, a shape was moving behind the smoke covered windows. A shape that distinctly had two legs, so wasn’t wearing a robe.

“Let’s go see,” Mask Man instructed, giving Laser Lad a pat on the back.

It wasn’t difficult to track the figure. While they were fast, they weren’t fast enough to outrun four superheroes, one of whom had wings. The heroes followed at a safe distance until they saw the figure vanish into a side room.

Mask Man banged on the door.

There was frenzied chatter within and then harsh whispering to silence it.

“Who is it, fellow cultist?” a voice forcibly growled.

“Not a cultist. I’m a superhero,” Mask Man answered.

There was a pause. “…Prove it.”

Mask Man thought for a moment. “Dark Dragon is stupid?”

There was a rumble as something was dragged from the door before it opened wide.

“My word!” Mask Man gasped.

The room behind wasn’t exactly a room. It was one of the glass bridges that had been under construction, but left unfinished. The corridor went across, then ended abruptly in a wall of metal and scaffolding. And inside the makeshift chamber were almost two dozen people. Most of them were just regular people, office workers, a woman with two babies, and a few road workers. Besides them there were a couple of doctors and a policeman.

“Officer Jack Parker,” the policeman introduced. “I hope you’ve been getting my messages.”

“They’ve been a great help, officer,” Mask Man shook Jack’s hand.

“Thanks. Now, what’s the plan for getting out of here?”

“We’ve cleared the path behind us,” Mask Man explained. “If we can get you to street level, we should be able to guide you to safety. Can everyone move?”

“Just about,” Jack sighed, relieved it was about to be over.

And then the wall behind the heroes exploded.

Burno and Swoop reacted first. Swoop dove to cover as many people as possible with her wings, while Burno pushed back the fireball, a pair of civilians staring at him in awe. When the smoke cleared, an Apocalypto Cultist was standing there wielding a strange gun.

“I knew the heroes went this way. And they led us straight to more hostages,” he hissed, as two more cultists appeared at his shoulders.

“Bugger,” Mask Man cursed.

“Bugger twice,” Jack agreed.

“What kind of gun is that?” Laser Lad asked from behind some cover.

“That’s a grenade launcher, Laser Lad,” Swoop answered.

“KILL THE HEROES!” one cultist shouted. The other raised the grenade launcher.

Everyone reacted. Swoop reached for her guns, but she wouldn’t be fast enough. Mask Man ran for the gunman, but he was much too far. And Burno couldn’t work out what to hit first.

Laser Lad acted fastest. Pointing a finger, he fired a laser. The laser wouldn’t pop a balloon, no more than a red pointer. He did, however, fire it straight into the cultist’s eye.

“AH! Bugger!” the grenadier swore, his weapon almost hitting him in the face as he shielded his eyes.

“Gotcha,” Burno smiled, and fired a spark at the trigger.

A grenade fired into the ceiling. The roof exploded, the tunnel rumbled, and dust filled the air. When it was over, everyone looked to see the damage. The cultists were gone, buried under rubble, as was the entrance, which had caved in completely. They were trapped.

“Okay, that might not have been smart,” Burno admitted.

“Any ideas for clearing it?” said Mask Man.

“We need one of the strong guys,” Laser Lad considered. “Why did we put all the strong guys on the other team?”

“Because this was the stealth team,” Swoop groaned. “If we could break through a window, I could fly out.” She examined the glass walls. The panes were several inches thick.

“Even if we could, only you could get out,” Burno noted.

“You could go for help?” Laser Lad said brightly. No one paid the comment any mind.

“There’s a small path through, but it’s much to narrow for any of us. Even Laser Lad,” Mask Man stated, examining the wreckage.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Laser Lad lit up, almost literally. No one noticed.

“Burno, can you burn through these windows?”

“I can try, but I’m not hopeful.”

Laser Lad scowled. He pouted. He stormed up to the tiny, foot-wide hole in the barrier and pouted straight at it.

“I SAID, I have an idea,” he said for everyone to hear. Without awaiting a reply, he began to concentrate. Gradually, his entire body started to glow, brighter and brighter until it was pure light. Then, in a flash, the light shot through the gap as a flurry of rainbow coloured lines.

The other heroes watched in shock, and Mask Man ran up to the gap to see what happened.

On the other side, the lasers converged on a central point, coalesced, and retook the shape of Laser Lad. As soon as he returned to physical form, he looked down, examining himself.

“You okay, Lad?” Mask Man asked.

“I’m fine…” He paused. “My underwear’s on backwards now though.”

“We didn’t know you could do that.”

“Honestly, it was only a theory to me,” Laser Lad answered, his voice shaking. He examined his suit. “I think my suit’s on inside out too.”

“Well, as long as you’re in one piece. Now, go get help. You can do it, Lad.”

“Yep. I’ll be back,” he said excitedly, then ran off to find the others.

Back behind the blockage, Burno’s face scrunched up.

“Why didn’t we just use the comms?” he asked.

“Just let Laser Lad have this one,” Mask Man soothed.

* * *

Back with Team One, or Chorus’s team, they were making their way up the building. Floor by floor, occasional group of cultists by occasional group. Once in a while they’d interrogate a captive, but each refused to betray their master.

“That’s thirteen,” Indestructo bragged, dropping an unconscious cultist to the ground.

“Oh, come on,” Fist Puncher complained primly. “I was dealing with six and you threw one of yours and took out three. Those three cultists were mine.”

“You should have been quicker,” Indestructo grinned.

Puncher shook his head. “Alright. Double or nothing. Next floor, I can knock out more then you with one arm behind my back.”

“You’re on.”

“Don’t hamper yourselves,” Stop Watch chimed in. “We might be superheroes, but these cultists are armed.”

“Okay, I won’t keep my arm behind my back,” Puncher reneged. “How about I do it while singing the national anthem?”

“Singing? I’ll join in if you like,” Chorus agreed with a fierce smile.

“Hold on now…”

‘Guys!” interrupted the frantic voice of Laser Lad, running up behind them.

“Laser Lad? What are you doing here?” Indestructo asked.

“Every- everyone-” Laser Lad gasped, catching his breath, leaning on his knees.

“Breathe, then talk,” Puncher said patiently.

“Everyone trapped. Tunnel collapsed. Need help,” he said between breaths.

“Why didn’t you just call us on the comms?”

Laser Lad froze, then slapped his forehead.

Indestructo smiled. “Okay. At least this way you can show us the way,” he reassured, patting the young man on the back.

“Indestructo?” Chorus stepped up. “You and Stop Watch go with Laser Lad. Me and Fist Puncher will keep searching.”

Indestructo quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Is that wise?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I get the distinct impression you want to fight Dark Dragon alone. Trying to prove your strength and all that jazz. And, I will remind you, that is a bad idea.”

Beside her, Fist Puncher nodded, as did Stop Watch, and even Laser Lad.

“I promise I won’t fight him alone,” Chorus rolled her eyes and crossed her heart.

As she did, the skyscraper rumbled. They all looked up, following the noise. There was another strange sound as cultists all around began to audibly chant in the other towers.

“He’s arrived,” Stop Watch said grimly.

“Just… be careful,” Indestructo finished, then followed Laser Lad away.

“Up we go,” Fist Puncher said, and led himself and Chorus on.

* * *

Back with Team Alpha, Burno had already given up trying to burn through the windows. He could melt the glass, but trying to cut anything as sophisticated as a hole took too long and more glass just melted into the space.

Swoop and Mask Man were trying to move any of the debris blocking the way, but between girders and some electrical cables, it didn’t look possible. Meanwhile, Jack was making sure all the civilians were calm and comfortable.

Suddenly, Mask Man’s comm crackled into life.

“Mask Man? Make sure everyone stands back. We’re coming through,” Laser Lad warned.

Everyone moved to the far end of the room, just in time, as the pile of rubble burst apart and something about the size and power of a wrecking ball came crashing through.

“You heroes don’t mess around,” Jack admired.

Laser Lad and Stop Watch came through the gap, Laser Lad taking the time to check their wrecking ball was okay. It was Indestructo, curled into a ball, his entire body turned indestructible. He was fine and, of course, unharmed.

“Alright then,” Mask Man began. “Stop Watch? You take the civilians to ground level and get them out. Swoop? You go and get eyes on the 19th floor. Try and be stealthy about it. The rest of us will meet you up there. Officer Parker?” He turned to the officer. “Get these people home,” he said with genuine respect.

“I will.” He turned to the civilians, looking specifically to the mother of two. “Come on, Norma. Let’s get those two boys of yours home.”

“Bless you,” Mrs Mann said to all her rescuers.

“Team, move out!” Mask Man said grandly, and they did so.

Then, he stopped and came back, waiting for Indestructo’s countdown to end. He tapped his foot impatiently, and then helped the hero to his feet when he inevitably returned to flesh and blood.

* * *

Up on the 19th floor, Swoop swept past the building, keeping her distance. She put a finger to her ear.

“There’s a lot of cultists up here, boss. At least twenty. A lot of hostages too.”

“Alright. Be ready,” Mask Man said. “On my signal, get inside and-

“Hell! They spotted me!” Swoop cursed, one of the cultists pointing her out to the others.

“Manic fracas it is then!” Mask Man finished.

Inside, the cultists mobilised. They swarmed to the entrances of the room, weapons ready. Six reached the north corridor and met four heroes coming the other way. They raised rifles and opened fire.

“Bugger!” Mask Man yelled, leaping for cover. Everyone else followed suit, other than Laser Lad.

“I’ve got this!” the kid yelled.

Laser Lad focused, bullets flying past him, as he vanished into a swarm of light. The beams fired and coalesced immediately behind the firing line. As he reformed, he laid out a cultist with a compact fist to the jaw, and the cultist went down hard enough to break his mask.

The rest of the heroes watched in awe as the cultists panicked, struggling to take aim in close quarters, while Laser Lad kicked their butts.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” Burno said, and led the others into the fray.

Between fists, fire, and whatever Indestructo’s hands were made of, the six cultists went down in no time. The four heroes surged into the room and split up, each going for a different cultist cluster.

Outside, Swoop saw it was on. She dove towards the window, fired a full clip of bullets into the glass, then smashed feet first through the weakened pane. She landed, rolled to keep her momentum, and launched into a kick which knocked down three cultists in a line.

In the chaos, Mask Man slipped behind an office divider that had been pushed to the edge of the room. He grabbed a bit of stray paper, wrote the words “Dark Dragon” on it and taped it to his forehead. Then he stepped out to meet four cultists armed with clubs.

“My Lord!” the four said in unison, bowing to their supposed master.

“Yes, it is I, Dark Dragon,” Mask Man growled, straining his voice.

“What do you bid, my lord,” one cultist asked.

“Surrender. This battle is lost.”

“Wait…” One cultist raised a suspicious eye. “That isn’t Dark Dragon’s voice.”

The other three looked up.

“It’s Mask Man!”

“Good ear,” Mask Man grinned and took up a fighting stance, Crane Style. He made short work of them.

Meanwhile, Burno was surging through the battlefield. Fire shrouded his hands and he carved through weapons, terrifying his enemies. He was however, by League of Titans rules, making the active effort not to kill anyone. This was difficult with fire hands, thus why he was mainly targeting weapons.

And then he got sucker punched with a baseball bat.

He tumbled into a pile of electronics, and with the grace of a drunk gymnast, stumbled back to his feet. The cultist with the bat and his two friends were already advancing on him.

Burno smirked terrifyingly back.

He closed his hands, focused a spark of fire between them, and fed it until it was a fireball. It grew until it was the size of a basketball, and the approaching cultists looked a lot more wary. With a final warning glare, Burno threw the fireball, then detonated it a few feet before it hit his targets. The blast was mostly force, not flames, and sent them flying into the walls and several other cultists.

“Stupid League rules,” Burno muttered. Then he noticed the pile of electronics. He reached in, stuffed whatever looked expensive into his pockets, and then got back to the fight.

Within minutes, the last of the cultists were knocked down and defeated. The hostages were freed and everyone was checked for injuries, of which there were thankfully very few.

“Alright,” Mask Man gathered everyone together. “We need to get these people out of here.”

“Dark Dragon’s here too. We heard him arrive,” Indestructo added.

“Okay…” Mask Man thought for a moment. “Okay. I’ll lead these people to safety. I can pose as a cultist if I need to.” He pulled out the half Halloween mask from his pocket. “The rest of you, get to the roof. Help Chorus. Together, we can end this.”

“Right,” everyone said in unison.

“Good luck,” Mask Man finished, then led the civilians away.

* * *

Back with Team One, or just Chorus and Fist Puncher as it was, they’d finally reached the top of the building. It had taken a while, but they’d found a functioning lift and taken that up. Now there was just one door between them and the rooftop, and presumably, Dark Dragon himself.

“You ready?” Puncher asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Chorus answered, knuckles pale against her sword.

“Then let’s do this.”

“Let’s do this!” she agreed and pushed the door.

Before them was the wide rooftop atop the skyscraper. It looked like every spare cultist had come up to meet their master, as a vast crowd awaited with their backs to the heroes. In the distance, a radio tower had been retrofitted into… something else. It wasn’t clear what. There was new technology grafted on, glowing crystals tied to the struts, and crimson lightning lancing between it all. At its base, a dark figure was working the controls. The figure barely moved, but two words echoed across the rooftop.

“Kill them.”

It was a voice from the pits of hell, like if mountains could talk. Deep, grinding, and dark as obsidian. And the cultists responded like it was marching orders. As one, they turned to face the heroes. These ones weren’t armed, but there had to be at least fifty of them, and every one of them looked ready to fight. They charged, surging at the heroes like a wave.

“Any plans?’ Chorus asked worriedly, cultists closing in.

“One,” Puncher answered.

“Go on.”

“You go for the tower. Stop Dark Dragon. Stop whatever he’s planning.”

“But you guys said not to take him on alone? Not making this into some ego trip?”

“Needs must as the devil drives. And the devil is definitely driving.” Fist Puncher eyed the distant dark figure.

“And what’ll you be doing?”

“Giving you the space to do it.” He punched his fists together, eyeing the advancing horde.

“Well… good luck,” Chorus bid, the crowd mere paces away.

“Don’t need it,” Puncher answered, then raised his fists.

The crowd hit them, and the two heroes reacted. Puncher charged, knocking down man after man, battling through and gathering as much attention as he could.

“BRING IT ON YOU ROBED HOOLIGANS!” he roared as the horde fell on him.

Meanwhile, Chorus leapt, her super-strength taking her clear over the heads of the crowd. She touched down on the far side and started running, charging straight for the tower. She drew in a deep breath, held it, and then let out a scream that would terrify a banshee, unleashing a column of noise and energy from her mouth.

The beam of sound tore through the structure. Crystals shattered, machinery ripped itself to pieces, and the entire radio tower collapsed in on itself. At its base, the dark figure didn’t even flinch. It stood back, turned, and focused its scarlet eyes on her.

Dark Dragon.

The form was terrifying to behold. Seven foot tall and wearing armour as black as coal. The armour was ornate, but all black, designed so the helm resembled a dragon’s maw with its tail wrapping the throat and then trailing down the spine. The gauntlets were claws and its pauldrons resembled wings. A crimson aura emanated from the being like fire, scorching the ground it stood on. And then there was the face, or lack thereof. All that could be seen of the armour’s occupant was a pair of scarlet, glowing, reptilian eyes. Eyes which drilled through the flesh and into the soul, and then out the other side.

The monster watched her the way a lion would a mouse. A mouse that had just bitten its tail.

“I see my worthless followers failed to stop you,” Dark Dragon hissed, his voice like a rock tumbler, but less pleasant to listen to.

“You’ll need more than that to stop me, DD.”

Dark Dragon’s eyes narrowed. “You wield that sword like a child’s plaything. Why on this Earth did it choose you? What power makes you so special to wield its might?”

“I make myself special, DD.”

A snarling growl emanated from Dark Dragon’s throat.

“A worthless runt, playing at heroics, you’re just one more failed saviour stood in my way. But you will be the last.”

“I’m sorry, are we chatting or are we fighting?” Chorus raised her sword.

“Very well. Die in battle,” he hissed.

* * *

The lift dinged as Indestructo, Burno, Swoop and Laser Lad reached the roof. They stepped out and were met with quite the sight. In the distance, Chorus was battling Dark Dragon alone. In the foreground though, Fist Puncher was taking on the cultists.

More than half were already down.

Each time one got close, Puncher wheeled around and knocked them out cold with a single punch. At this point, so many were unconscious that the others were having trouble getting to him, with the bodies of their fallen comrades in the way.

“It still amazes me that he doesn’t actually have any powers,” Burno said, staring wide eyed at the battlefield.

“He’s just really good at punching people,” Indestructo agreed. “But he shouldn’t have all the fun, right?”

“No siree,” Burno grinned, and ran to join in.

* * *

Chorus dodged as clawed gauntlets swept inches from her face, before a fist caught her across the jaw. It sent her sprawling. A little dazed, she struggled back to her feet and stared down her foe.

“I’m a little tougher than that,” she bragged. “I’ve taken shotgun blasts to the face and barely gotten a blemish.”

Dark Dragon covered the distance between them in two steps and slashed his claws. His middle finger just caught the bridge of her nose as she leapt clear. She touched her nose and found a tiny trickle of blood dripping from the wound.

“The weapons of mortal men have always meant little to me,” Dark Dragon said, the words riddled with threat.

Chorus squared her shoulders, raised her sword, and charged.

* * *

The heroes clobbered and struck the enemy army. Laser Lad blinded foes and left them for Swoop. Burno seared and stung, but didn’t kill. And, in the middle, Fist Puncher and Indestructo stood back to back, one with fists of iron, the other with fists of fist, knocking down every cultist who got close. Finally the Apocalypto members were down, and the heroes all took a little breather to regain themselves.

“You took your bloody time,” Fist Puncher accused, straightening his outfit.

“We had hostages to rescue,” Indestructo argued.

“Well… we still needed you up here.”

“No time for arguing. Chorus needs us!” Laser Lad piped up, pointing out the growing battle.

“You let her fight him alone?” Indestructo judged.

“Needs must,” Puncher repeated hurriedly, then led the way to their next battle.

As they drew closer, Chorus was fighting for her life.

She dodged slashing claws, retreating across the rooftop. But she saw her opening. Her sword came down like a hammer, as Dark Dragon stepped aside, the blade meeting only roof gravel. It cleaved through and into the room below, but she forced it sideways, flinging masonry at the demon.

Dark Dragon raised his arms to block, metal and iron bouncing off his armour, then caught Chorus’s sword against a spiked gauntlet, brass grating on dark steel. Sparks flew from the metal, and Dark Dragon used the proximity to grab her wrist. Claws dug in, and with phenomenal strength, he levered and tossed her across the roof.

Chorus landed clumsily, rolling against the roof gravel, but sprang back to her feet. Dark Dragon was charging again. She took a breath, held it, and fired a column of pearlescent sound at the dark fiend.

The noise was deafening and the beam engulfed Dark Dragon like a river, waves of white light washing over him. It pushed him back, foot by foot, yard by yard, the energy coursing over his armour like fire. Then his feet found purchase, his clawed boots digging in. He stepped forwards, foot by foot, marching towards her, right through the beam.

Chorus saw him coming. She screamed louder, glass in the building below shattering, but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t be stopped!

With a burst of speed, Dark Dragon sprang into the air. She tried to follow, chasing with the beam, but he landed behind her. The demon span and landed a boot in the square of her back, his boot’s talons lancing three scars around her spine, his heel sending her to the floor.

Chorus groaned. She winced against the burning cuts in her back. She breathed heavily just trying to get upright, but she faced him. Her vision narrowed and all she could see was him. Him and those fearsome eyes.

Dark Dragon charged. He ran, a hand at his side. Sparks skated across the roof as if he was dragging something, and in a flash, a sword of crimson energy formed in his grip.

He raised it and Chorus met it with her own. Brass flashed against fire, the crimson blade having all the weight and strength of iron. Chorus danced her blade, praying for an opening, but each swing hit like a truck. Even with her own considerable strength, she felt her arms tiring against the relentless assault.

Eventually, Chorus faltered. Blade met blade, her leg gave way, and she fell to one knee beneath his strength. Dark Dragon reeled back his sword and aimed for her neck.

Chorus smiled.

Completing her feint, she sprang up, shoulder barged her enemy in the chest, and slashed wide. Dark Dragon retreated, but the broadsword still scraped across his chest plate, leaving a long score across his armour.

“It’s not much, but it proves I can beat you,” Chorus bragged, still breathing heavily.

Dark Dragon’s unseen face was implacable, but he raised a hand. A red orb of energy formed in his palm. He fired it at Chorus.

The ball met Chorus’s sword, but it didn’t explode. It shrank and hardened into something like a cannonball. It pushed, Chorus’s feet scraping backwards over the ground. With a surge of strength, she turned her blade and sliced clean through it.

And then it exploded.

The detonation sent her to the floor again, winded, her head spinning. Her body ached as her sword fell beside her, out of her hand. Like a deflating balloon, her powers left with it. Suddenly too tired to move, she looked up to see Dark Dragon approaching, savouring his victory. Terror gripped her, until she noticed a small, humanoid shape overhead.

“HEY! DARK DRAGON!” Swoop yelled over the wind, as she pulled her guns and fired at the monster.

The bullets pinged off armour, but each was high calibre, so they at least caused him to flinch. Dark Dragon turned and, with one swing of his sword, sent a crescent of fire screaming through the air. Swoop panicked and rolled, the attack scorching her feathers, and making her crash land onto the roof.

“Pests,” Dark Dragon snarled.

“Well, how’s this for a pest!” Burno roared, propelling himself forwards on jets of flames. He arrested his momentum, firing in the other direction, and engulfing Dark Dragon in fire. The inferno persisted for a few moments, and with a look of smug satisfaction, Burno stopped, expecting to find a pile of ashes.

Dark Dragon just stood, barely singed.

“Oh right. Dragon,” Burno realised.

Dark Dragon growled. He reached forwards, grabbed Burno by the shoulder, and punched him in the gut. Hard. Burno’s feet were lifted off the floor by the blow, and he collapsed into a badly winded heap.

“Pick on someone your own size!” Indestructo called, sprinting close and leaping in front of the collapsed teen. His hands and forearms were already indestructible, alongside his chest and neck, as the effect closed in over his head. Unfortunately, his face was caught in the awkward last syllable of “size”, open lipped with teeth pressed together.

“Worthless fools,” Dark Dragon slashed his sword, but it bounced harmlessly off Indestructo’s hardened forearms. The hero replied in kind, punching Dark Dragon in the stomach.

There was a clang of metal, and the demon knight doubled over, before his helm raised and glared into Indestructo’s eyes. Before Dark Dragon could do anything however, the hero threw another punch, and then another. Like a speed bag, or a steel drum, he knocked Dark Dragon’s head back and forth, clanging a metallic rhythm from his helm.

But Dark Dragon wasn’t done.

By the third punch, the villain was trading blows. Slashing claws, Indestructo fighting to keep the attacks from the fleshy parts of him. Gradually, Indestructo’s punches became more frantic. More desperate. He was nearing the end of his timer, and his powers wouldn’t last much longer.

Finally, Dark Dragon caught a fist in a gauntleted palm. The other gauntlet raised, produced a fireball, and fired it square into the hero’s armoured chest. The blast sent him flying, his powers giving out mid-flight, him landing bruised and complaining nearby.

Laser Lad was a few paces behind, but didn’t really know what to do. He watched Indestructo get pummelled and knew he couldn’t do better. But then he noticed Chorus. She was on the floor, her sword out of reach, powerless.

He needed to help. What else was a sidekick for?

As Indestructo landed, Laser Lad lined up his shot. It would be close, but he couldn’t risk taking any more time. He aimed himself, focused, and became a shower of light. The transformation took less than a second, and shot past the villain, aiming to pass a few inches to his left.

Dark Dragon extended an arm, caught the centre of the light storm in one hand, and pulled Laser Lad back into the physical world, slamming him into the floor by his throat.

Laser Lad stared up, equal parts confused and terrified. He didn’t know what had happened, and frankly didn’t want to know. But he could see something gathering in Dark Dragon’s maw. A black ember, right where the mouth would be.

The word Dragon rang in his head.

“Help!” he yelped.

Fist Puncher ran up and socked Dark Dragon in the back of the head. There was a clang, the helm tilted, and the gout of dark fire unleashed mere feet to Laser Lad’s right, scouring bits of roof into piles of ash.

Laser Lad used the opportunity to wriggle free, while Dark Dragon turned to face the fool who dared strike him. Fist Puncher raised his hands in a boxer’s stance. Dark Dragon’s eyes narrowed, he raised a hand, and he backhanded Fist Puncher to the floor with a one hit KO.

Behind them, Laser Lad hurriedly tried to reach Chorus. A crackling noise raised the hairs on his neck. He dove to the floor as a fireball careened over his head.

Dark Dragon marched past the now cowering form of Laser Lad, as Chorus crawled pathetically to get to her sword. She just managed to get a hand on it, the power trickling back into her, as he loomed and summoned his own crimson blade. With a growl like laughter, he raised the blade, and brought it down for a fatal slice.

CLANG!

Crouched, and barely between Chorus and the infernal sword, stood Indestructo, his entire body invincible, a metal statue between them.

Dark Dragon glared down, increasingly annoyed. Below him, Chorus’s power surged back as she gripped her blade. She pulled herself up to her knees and stared the demon in the eye. He stared back, and raised his fiery sword.

Chorus smiled and sprang, shoulder barging him in the chest. She then grabbed Indestructo’s ankle, lifted his statuesque body with one hand, and walloped Dark Dragon around the head with her friend’s frozen form.

Metal clanged and Dark Dragon reeled back. He didn’t have much time to recover, as Chorus wielded her friend like a mace, going on the offensive. Hit after hit, she smashed the demon, keeping a careful count in her head. As she neared thirty seconds, she threw Indestructo to the side and continued with her sword, as Indestructo returned to flesh and blood, landing on his feet nearby.

“Now! Together!” Chorus bellowed to her teammates.

Her assault continued, her blade chipping against black armour. The damage was minimal, but constantly threatened to break through. Dark Dragon’s sword arm came up and blocked a slash, and with a parry pushed Chorus back.

“Together!” cried a young voice, as Laser Lad threw himself between them. The kid raised his hand, aimed it at Dark Dragon’s face, and unleashed an entire light show’s worth of rainbow lasers into the glowing red eyes.

Dark Dragon recoiled, snarling as lights seared his retinas. Chorus pushed Laser Lad to one side and stabbed for the demon’s heart, though Dark Dragon’s blade was already raised to cover his chest. Brass met crimson with a futile clang.

Laser Lad continued the blinding barrage, as Dark Dragon and Chorus sparred, until something took shape in the Dragon’s helm. A small ember. In terror, Laser Lad dove to try and push Chorus clear, as Dark Dragon thrust his head forwards.

The fire erupted out, but it didn’t burn either of them. It was pulled unnaturally to the side, straight into the extended hands of Burno.

“Fire powers work both ways, pal,” he sneered. Like he was throwing stones, he hurled small dark flames back at Dark Dragon, the blasts thudding against his armour.

“Incoming!” Swoop called from above, having finally recovered. Dark Dragon peered through Burno’s onslaught, throwing a fireball up at her. Swoop swooped and dove past it, a collection of wires in her hand from the collapsed radio tower.

Burno stopped his attack as Swoop landed, the avian hero throwing the collection of wires onto Dark Dragon like a lasso, pulling the cables back into the air. The mess of wires entangled Dark Dragon’s right side, pulling his arm away from his body.

“Incoming!” Indestructo followed suit. He grabbed Dark Dragon’s left forearm, then forced his feet between some roof tiles and turned his entire body to stone. Dark Dragon wrestled against him, but was unable to remove his grip.

“You insolent little-!” Dark Dragon began, but Laser Lad ran in, raised a hand, and blinded him again.

“How’s this for seeing the light, Dark Dragon?” he tried to pun, but thankfully no one was paying much attention.

“Burno!” Chorus called, holding up her sword and sprinting towards the restrained Dark Dragon.

“Got it!” Burno understood, and aimed a finger. The brass of Chorus’s blade began to glow red as the metal burned.

With a final movement, Laser Lad leapt clear, Swoop let go, and finally, Chorus plunged her glowing sword straight through Dark Dragon’s chest.

“Hurghk!” the demon sputtered. It glared out from its helm, the fatal wound not even enough to stop its anger.

“Die in battle, monster,” Chorus hissed. Dark Dragon gave one last pained grunt as Chorus pulled her blade free, twisting it as much as possible on the way out.

With bubbling gasps, the dark creature fell to its knees. Its eyes narrowed, flickered, and then slid closed. The form fell limp, only held up by the still frozen form of Indestructo.

“Did we do it?” Laser Lad asked quietly.

Chorus stepped forwards and poked the limp, armoured form with her sword. It rocked listlessly, still in Indestructo’s grip.

“I think so,” she confirmed. “You know, I was expecting something a little bit more than-“

She was cut off as Dark Dragon began to twitch and convulse. The body rose from the floor, energy sparking, surging between the armour’s plates.

“Run!” Chorus yelled, then reached and pulled Indestructo clear.

The entire crew ran to a safe distance, then turned on their heels to stare. As they stared, Indestructo turned back to flesh, with Chorus still holding him like a doll under her arm.

Dark Dragon’s armour floated into the air, writhing and twisting, the energy within growing greater and brighter. It built and burned, and then with a last flare of scarlet light, the power shot out of every gap.

With an incredible explosion, the armour detonated.

Chunks of metal rained down across the roof. Swoop took to the air and got clear. Chorus threw Indestructo to protect Laser Lad, while she ran to cover Burno and the unconscious Fist Puncher. And, when the metal finally stopped raining, they looked around to make sure everyone was alright.

“Bloody hell,” Swoop sighed as she descended.

“Yeah. I think we did it,” Chorus summarised, as she watched the fragments of armour dissolve in the wind.

* * *

Down below, the heroes regrouped with their comrades. Fist Puncher had been woken up, disappointed to have missed the rest of the fight. Mask Man was helping the military response, which was taking back the buildings one by one. Meanwhile, Stop Watch was talking to a very bored looking nurse. Reports indicated the cultists who weren’t knocked out had scattered, the unconscious ones ending up in custody, while all the others vanished, dozens of abandoned robes found throughout the buildings.

Chorus was checked over for her various cuts and wounds, which she was deeply unhappy about. However Mask Man wouldn’t take no for an answer, and threatened to take the sword from her if he had to. She complied.

Later on, Officer Parker and Mrs Mann approached each of the heroes in turn and offered their heartiest thanks. The heroes each replied in kind, with Mask Man thanking Jack in return, as he gave the officer a ceremonial League of Titans ring to commemorate his deeds. It looked like something you’d find in a cereal box, but Jack could not have looked more honoured.

As everything calmed down, Mask Man found Laser Lad thinking through the day’s events.

“You good, Lad?” he greeted, taking a seat beside him.

“Just another day on the job,” Laser Lad smiled. “Though that one was… That was something.”

“Yep, it was,” Mask Man agreed. “And do you know what? You proved yourself exceptionally today.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Mask Man smiled. “Honestly, you might even deserve a little promotion.”

Laser Lad lit up, again almost literally. ”You mean…”

“I do. When we get back, you’ll no longer be the team sidekick. You’ll be an official hero.”

Laser Lad could not have smiled wider. “Oh, thank you, Mask Man!” He hugged his superior excitedly.

“Calm down now, Lad, calm down. Now, come on. Let’s get back to base. I think we could all do with a drink,” Mask Man said as the other heroes gathered around.

“Even me?” Laser Lad hoped.

“No. You’re still only fifteen. You have to be responsible if you want to be a hero.”

“But you’re all going to drink?” Laser Lad checked.

“Of course. Because we’re grownups,” Mask Man finished smugly.

“Come on. Let’s get back home,” Chorus interrupted, throwing her none-sword arm around Mask Man’s shoulders. The rest of the heroes followed as they walked.

“Say,” Burno piped up. “Did we ever work out what Dark Dragon was actually trying to do?”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I’m sure the authorities will work it out. It’s their problem now,” Swoop sighed happily.

“And this will be a huge investigation,” Stop Watch agreed. “In fact, something like today will likely really change things. I mean, what other villain could ever live up to this?”

“You think?”

“Yep. I’d honestly be surprised if supervillainy even remains a thing around here after something like this.”

“We can only hope,” Chorus prayed, and led them all back towards their base. “We can only hope.”