Dies the Fire
Rome hadn't been built in a day, but he'd destroyed it in one.
The fate of Rome had been the fate of every capital city in Europe, and indeed, the world. Burnt to the ground. The pillars that had reached up towards the heavens had been cast down into the fires of Hell. Millions of grubs had once lived here, but he'd cleansed the city of their presence. They'd screamed, they'd cried, they'd begged for mercy, and for a time, he'd relished in it. But he could only go through the process so many times before it became boring. Eventually, he'd just got on with the job. He'd reminded the grubs of their place in the universe, as well as his.
And yet he has some affection for Rome. Hovering in the air above the Colosseum, the one structure he hadn't burnt to the ground, he marvels at the desolation around him. No building intact, nothing living within a hundred miles except for the select few. Drifting down from the sky, hovering within the Colosseum itself, he remembers the times when he'd bid the grubs send their best to face them here, like the gladiators of old. He'd given them everything from swords to guns. He'd taken on one, then ten, then a hundred, and eventually, a thousand. Grubs in the seats had been forced to watch their fellow grubs die, and die they had. No matter how many, no matter how well armed, no matter how many handicaps he gave himself, the grubs still died the way they always had. Screaming.
He'd got bored of that and bid the grubs flee, before he hunted them down through the ruins of the city. That had been fun. After that, he'd taken a flag of every country in the world that he'd conquered (i.e. all of them) and hung them here. Trophies of his victory, one of many monuments to his superiority. Like Rome, he had sought to conquer the world. Unlike Rome, he'd succeeded. There was something to be said for that, only it raised the question of what some did after that? It was a question that he'd yet to find an answer to.
They're here.
His ears hear their footsteps before they enter the Colosseum. Very soon, his eyes do as well. A trio of grubs have entered the structure, all of them wearing the red robes of the Brightburn. Frowning, he drifts down towards the surface. Like them, he's clad in red. Unlike them, he wears a mask. And unlike them, he stands proud and tall, while the grubs kneel before him.
"Lord Brightburn."
They speak in English – it's the language he knows, so it's the language the grubs have to talk to him in, regardless of their country of origin. There are many grubs like the ones here around the world – ones who ensure that the other grubs remembered their place. Some follow him out of fear. Some out of greed. Some even do it out of reverence. Rebellion is moot, but some of the grubs tried, and now, fifteen years after he'd come to recognise his superiority, he could only reduce them to ashes so many times before it got boring.
"Speak," he says.
He can see them tremble, as they always did. His voice is not like that of a grub – the closest analogy is a voice distorter, but in reality, it's him using the tone of voice he deems fit – the voice and tone of a god.
"For you to see." one of the grubs said. He held out a touchscreen. Scowling, the Brightburn takes it, and behind the mask, his eyes widen.
"What is this?" he asks.
"My lord, it-"
The Brightburn shoves the grub with his hand, sending him flying twenty feet away. Not enough to kill the grub, but enough to remind him that some questions are rhetorical. The other two grubs wince, but he doesn't care. What he does care about was that what was on the screen were a series of images taken from a drone above Brightburn, Kanas. The place of his ascension, the place that no grub could trespass on. Which was what one such grub was doing. This figure in the images, in the dark of the night, travelling through the town centre. This figure with a black cape and black armour, not even trying to hide.
"They come back," the Brightburn whispers. He looked at the two grubs standing before him, along with the third hobbling towards him as well. "Fifteen years, and they still come back."
The grubs remain silent.
"Well," he says. He tosses the device back to one of the grubs. "Obviously they wish to die, and return to the dirt from whence they came." He smils. "You like the dirt, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Si."
"And when I travel across the Atlantic, when I correct this, you will be cheering for me?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
The third grub, the one he'd sent flying across the sand a moment ago, remains silent, as he rejoins his fellow vermin.
"What about you?" the Brightburn asks. "Will you await my return? Will you cheer me on?"
The grub lowers his head and whispers something.
"Didn't hear that."
"Yes," the grub whispers.
The grub is crying, as the Brightburn whispers, "yes, what?"
"Yes, I will cheer for you and-"
The Brightburn grabs him by the neck and lifts him up. One of the other grubs goes to grab their fellow insect, but the third heolds her in place. Good, he thinks
"You're lying," the Brightburn whispers. "You want me to fail."
"No, of course not, I'd never-"
"I don't like liars."
The grub tries to say something, but he never gets the chance. As streams of fire go through his forehead, his words become screams, and then, silence.
The Brightburn looks at the others. "I expect this to be cleaned up by the time I get back," he said. "You'll do that for me, of course."
They lower their heads in reverence.
"Good."
He shots off into the sky.
"Mum? Do you think there's aliens up there?"
The mother looks at her child as she puts the washing in the basket. The child looks up at her from the dirt.
"What makes you ask that?" she asks.
The child shrugs. "Kids at school were talking about it. Aliens, UFOs, the lot…"
"I think…" The mother kneels down and pats the child on the shoulder. "I think there are aliens up there."
"Nice ones?"
She smiles and ruffles the child's hair. "Nice ones."
"Oh. Maybe I'll meet them one day."
"Maybe." She gets back to her feet and returns to the clothes line.
"Do you think they'd like me?"
The mother smiles. "I think they'd like you a lot. I mean, maybe you'll be the first one to meet them."
"Oh." The child looks up at the stars again…right up until the mother starts tickling.
"Mum!"
"You're going to do great," the mother says. "You're going to do wonderful things. You're going to change the world."
#
Thanks to time zones, it's late evening by the time he arrives at the town of his ascension.
Not the town of his birth. He wasn't born here. He was raised here for twelve years, but those days of lies and weakness are behind him. His place of birth is out there, among the stars, from a race far greater than the grubs which call this planet home. He knows not why they sent him here. He remembers the words, to "take the world," and that is what he's done, but no others have come from the stars. And to that, it's fine. Better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven. Though he must admit, if they did come here, if they had the powers of a god as well, he wouldn't mind it. The grubs tried everything they could against him and nothing succeeded. He knows that whatever the grub here tries, it'll come to nothing, as it always does.
But he has to do this. As Mecca was to Muhammad, as Bethlehem was to Christ, a god needs their holy ground. He may rule the world, but there's only a few rules the grubs have to follow, and first among them is that no-one is to come to this sacred ground. Some have tried in the past, and always, he has punished them personally. So this will be no different.
So where are you? He wonders, as he hovers above the town.
The town of his namesake has no answer. It's the only town in this county, heck, this state, that's still standing. A little memento to the life and lies he once led, and a reminder that the grubs must never again build so high. But intact as it is, that means there's plenty of places to hide.
Where are you?!
He gets his answer soon enough, but the answer is worse than the question.
What is this?!
His symbol is in the sky, depicted on a searchlight against clouds that rumble with thunder. Someone, some grub, has taken what is his. He removed their crosses, their crescents, their stars. He smashed the statues of their false idols, and replaced them with his symbol. But only he may use it. Only he may use the sigil of the Brightburn.
You'll pay for this. He soars off through the sky and finds the searchlight quickly. It's been set up in the middle of Main Street.
You're going to suffer. You're going to beg. You're going to scream.
He shoots down to the road, cracking it with the fore of his landing.
I'm going to make you bleed.
He sees the grub that's set up the searchlight. Clad in black armour, wearing a black cape, armed with nothing but some kind of grenade launcher slung over their back. He's clad in an armoured exoskeleton, one of the few that were pressed into service to try and fight him before he found the cretins who sought to harm a god and reduced them to ashes. It covers the grub's entire body, including their face.
"What took you so long?" the grub asks.
The voice is modulated like his, but he knows it's a man. It's almost always men who try to fight him. The women are more submissive, which suits him fine when he has his way with them. Which isn't too often now – their bodies break too easily. Too quickly for him to have much fun.
The Brightburn begins walking to his foe. "Before I break you, I want you to know that you're not brave."
The grub stands there.
"No-one's brave."
The grub stands there.
"And you're going to die as they all do."
The grub stands there as the Brightburn walks towards him.
"Screaming."
The Brightburn shoots forward, slamming into the grub, and sending them flying into a building, shattering its wall. Smirking, the Brightburn zooms forward, hovering above the grub.
I might actually enjoy this.
Most grubs would have been killed from such an impact, but the exoskeleton's done its work. It can't harm him, but it's protecting the grub from most of his blows. So when the grub struggles to get to his feet, the Brightburn can't help but laugh.
"I'm going to break you." He throws the grub into a second building and zooms over.
"I'm going to torment you." He lifts the grub up, then throws him down into a third building.
"I'm going to make you bleed."
He hovers there – the grub's already on their last legs, as they struggle to get to their feet. They haven't even bothered trying to use the grenade launcher. More's the pity. There's some gratification to see in the grubs' eyes when their most powerful weapons fail them. Not that he can see the grub's eyes, only two glowing blue lights in its helmet as they get to their feet again and look upwards. To their god, and the heavens above.
Time to end this.
He shoots down and the grub throws something from his belt. He ignores it as it hits him. As the red light erupts around him and-
The child is trembling as she covers her mouth in the upside-down car in a bid to stop themselves from screaming.
There's a long convoy of cars going out from Brightburn. The monster started killing people, so the people tried to flee. So many people, so many cars, so much gridlock. So when the monster came from above, it was easy to strafe the cars with its laser eyes. Some cars were overturned. Some people were incinerated. Some people tried to run, but were burnt in turn. Some, she saw trying to crawl out of their cars before he killed them, be it through fire or fists.
So she trembles. She covers her mouth as she sees the monster walk past the car. She prays to God that he doesn't see her, that as he whistles, he doesn't look down.
Don't look down, don't look down, don't look…
He stops. He stands still.
Please, God, please…
He stops whistling. She closes her eyes as her body shakes, as tears come down, as her hands tremble as they cover her mouth.
Please…
The monster shoots off into the sky. He's left her alone. She's alive. She's safe.
"Dad?" she whispers.
Her father doesn't answer.
"Dad?" She adjusts herself in the car as she prods him. "Dad, are you okay?"
Her father remains silent.
"Daddy, wake up!" She shoves him some more. "Please, wake up!"
His head lulls back and this time, she screams. His face. It isn't her father anymore.
She scrambles out of the car. She's bleeding from a dozen cuts. There's black stuff in the air, and it gets on her clothes, her skin, her hair.
"Help," she whispers.
There's no answer. There's no sound but a few crackling fires.
"Someone help me," she whimpers.
No-one hears her. No-one's alive.
"Please, help me!" She runs down through the valley of death. "Anyone!"
No-one comes. No-one listens. All there is is her, and a solitary figure hovering in the sky. So when she falls down, when she cries, when she looks up at him, past the haze of hate and tears…
He soars off.
And she's left alone.
He's convulsing as the red light envelopes him. He's aware that he's convulsing, but his mind can't go beyond that level of awareness. He can't move. He can't do anything.
"So it works," the grub says.
He's aware that the grub is walking around him. Gloating.
"Amazing technology was on that spacecraft."
He's still twitching. His eyes are lulled back. He's hovering in the air, like he did on that night fifteen years ago.
"Didn't even have a name for the radiation it emits. It's completely harmless to humans, but to you…"
Humans. The name the grubs call themselves.
"…well, we had to guess. But the blood we found on it, when we analysed it…well, it wasn't human. But we did know that when we reverse engineered the technology, it destroyed the blood's cells."
He drops to the ground, panting. He looks up at the grub from behind his mask. Not that he can see the grub's face, but he can imagine them smiling.
"Maybe you're right," the grub whispers. "Maybe I am going to die. Maybe I'm not brave."
The Brightburn lets out a roar and brings his arm around to the grub's face. The grub raises his left arm and-
No.
His arm. It's been blocked.
It's not possible.
The grub brings his face in.
It's not possible!
"But you're not a god," the grub whispers.
The Brightburn tries to say something, but is headbutted, and for the first time in fifteen years, feels an unpleasant sensation. He screams – it's in his head. It's all around him.
"Gods don't bleed."
A wristblade extends from the grub's right gauntlet. He brings it up in an arc.
I am a god.
The Brightburn moves backwards, but he can instantly tell there's something wrong. He has his powers. He can move faster than any grub. But not nearly as fast as he should be able to. So the blade nevertheless makes contact with his cheek, cutting through his mask, cutting through his flesh. Blood drips from his cheek, and off the blade.
"Does it hurt?" the grub whispers.
The Brightburn rises into the air. He rips his mask off – let the grub see the face of their god.
"That's from me," the grub whispers. "That's from everyone."
The Brightburn lets out a roar.
"That's from-"
And soars down, smashing into the grub.
The grub gets back up and slashes again. More blood is drawn.
The Brightburn grabs the grub and throws them through the side of the building, out onto the street. He soars through the air.
The grub unhooks the grenade launcher. He fires. He hits his target and the Brightburn smashes back into the building.
It's burning.
His clothes are burning. His cape is burning. His flesh is burning. The skies are opening. The grub is charging.
No.
The grub lunges.
No!
He shoots forward, barrelling forward into the grub, tearing them through the tarmac.
"Gods don't bleed!" he yells. He pummels the grub's face again, and again, and again.
"You're beneath me! You're inferior!"
The grub's right eye gives out.
"You're dirt, nothing-"
There's another flash of red light. The Brightburn screams, as he cradles his head and closes his eyes, trying to make the pain go away.
Take the world.
He sways around – this technology, used against him. His birthright. He opens an eye and sees the grub get to his feet.
Take the world.
The grub extends his wristblade. Only one eye from his helmet is still working, but it's enough to see his target.
Take the world.
The Brightburn's eyes turn red. The grub lunges.
Take them!
The Brightburn lets out a blast of heat energy. The grub swings its blade. The blast hits the grub's face, but the blade slashes the Brightburn's stomach.
The grub lets out a yell, and squirms as he tries to get his helmet off. The Brightburn screams, as he puts a hand to his stomach – blood pours onto the ground, even as the rain washes it away, as surely as it washes the blood off his hands.
This isn't happening.
He's invincible. He can't be harmed. No blade can touch him, no gun can scar him. Staggering round, gritting his teeth, fighting the pounding in his head, he sees the grub toss his helmet aside, revealing his face to the world.
No.
It's not a "he," because it's not a man. It's a woman.
No!
She charges him, again equipped with the wristblade.
You're beneath me!
He hovers in the air and charges forward. He yells. She yells. He punches. She swipes. They hit each other mid-air. They land on the pavement, lying in the rain. The rain that now is carrying away the blood from two wounds.
The Brightburn, trembling, puts a hand to his stomach. Then another hand. He can see the flesh trying to repair itself. He's still in the fight. His powers have been reduced, but the grub must be in as bad shape as he is. He begins to get to his feet. He looks up at the sky, then looks forward.
Where are you?
He looks up again. The grub's looking down on him.
How did you-
With a power-armoured fist, she knocks him out.
She's been walking for days and seen no sign of life.
Everyone's dead. Everyone in Brightburn at least. Maybe everyone in the world. At first, she thought God might have saved her, but she can't help but ask why God would only save her, and not everyone else. Why God would let a monster come down to this earth. Is it Judgement Day? She passed by a portable TV in the hand of a scorched corpse, and from what she saw, most of the state is burning as well.
That was yesterday. Today, the only signs of life she's seen are a few birds and a deer. She even tried throwing rocks at them, hoping that she could get some food, but it's no good. They're too fast. Or she's too slow. Doesn't help that she has terrible aim. And while she remembers that someone can for weeks without food, they can only go a few days without water. And due to her sweat, due to her tears, she's lost a lot of it. And just walking down the road, past the burnt cars, past the burnt bodies, past the wreckages of fighter jets in the fields around her…She doesn't know where to go. All she knows is that she has to keep walking.
She knows this so much that she doesn't hear the car beeping at her. She doesn't even see it until it pulls up in front of her. She stops dead, frozen in fear as the woman driving it steps out.
"Hey." The woman walks over to her.
She takes a step back.
"Are you okay?" the woman asks.
She looks nice, but she knows that you can't trust people to be nice. She thought the monster was nice before he revealed himself.
"What's your name?" The woman kneels down – her face is covered with dust and grime, her hair hasn't been washed in days, and her dress is covered in dried blood. She knows that she isn't the one responsible for it, but she takes a step back nonetheless.
"Is your dad with you?"
She puts her hands to her mouth and shakes her head. She remembers her dad. He woke her up early in the morning when the siren was wailing, saying that they had to go. He didn't tell her why, only that she had to get dressed, get in the car, and not take anything with her.
"Is your mum?"
Her mum. Her mum…she was…she's…she's…
She can't help it. She breaks down into tears. She collapses onto her knees and puts her hands onto the burning pavement. The tears she'd held back for weeks, for her mother, her father, the town, the world…they all come.
"Hey," the woman says. She puts her hands round her and hugs her tight. "You're safe now."
"No," she whispers.
The woman draws back. "No?"
"We're not safe. We're…we're never going to be safe again."
The woman smiles at her – it's the smile that grownups give you when something's wrong, but they still insist on trying to make things seem alright. Like when Gran Gran died, and her mum said she'd gone to Heaven.
"Listen to me," the woman says.
Gran Gran…Grandad…mum…dad…She can't help the tears.
"Listen to me," the woman says again, a bit firmer this time. She looks up at her.
"You're safe," she says. "And I promise, I'm never going to let anything happen to you, alright?"
She manages to hold back the tears for a bit.
"Alright?"
She nods and lets out a sniff.
The woman isn't her mother. She'll never be her mother. But she throws her arms around her neck and hugs her tight all the same.
"My name's Marilyn," the woman whispers. "What's yours?"
When the Brightburn awakes, he's in pain.
His whole body's in pain. Mainly his stomach, mainly his head, but still, his entire body is aching. This sensation. It's crippling him. For a moment, he can actually sympathize with the grubs, because if this is what pain means for them…
"Oh good. You're awake."
Only for a moment. His vision's blurry, but he can see the grub standing over him.
"Where…where are we?"
"Hell," she whispers. She kneels down. "We're still in the world you made for us."
"Hell," he whispers. "I'll show you Hell."
He tries to swing at her, but it's no good. His wrists are bound as are his legs, and a red light is filling the structure. A church, by the looks of it. The pews are smashed, rain pours in from shattered windows, and all that's left standing is the cross. A cross that his would-be assassin is looking at.
"I once believed in that," she whispered. "Church, every Sunday. Bible readings on Saturday. Be nice to one's neighbour and all that." She turns around and looks at him. "But then you came, and I saw the truth. God's not in Heaven, and demons don't come from below." She walks back over to him. "I guess I should thank you for helping me see the world as it is. There are no gods. Only men. Only monsters." She stands above him, and the Brightburn smiles.
"What?" she whispers.
"You can't kill me," he says. "So many have tried. Even this…" He looks around the room, and the red light that bathes it. "This isn't enough. Even now, I can feel my power returning."
"Do you now?" she asks.
"I do. And when it does, when I'm free, I'm going to make you wish you were in Hell as your god imagined it."
"Maybe," she says. "Or maybe I'll just kill you now." She takes something out of her belt. It's short, sharp, and about as large as a shiv. And seeing it, the Brightburn's eyes grow wide.
It can't be.
"We found this by the ship," she whispers. "We figured if the ship could cut you, then this would finish the job."
"No," the Brightburn whispers.
"Only one way to find out."
"No, you can't."
"Can't." She chuckles. "I wonder, was there ever a person in your life who told you you couldn't do something?"
He struggles to get free. His eyes are wide. Sweat trickles down from his brow.
"Let's find out."
The shiv comes down. The Brightburn roars. His left hand gets free, and with it, he grabs her right. He smiles, and there's a fire in his eyes that is beyond rage. And…
He screams as she drops the shiv from her right hand, and catches it in her left. But that's not what causes him to scream. It's as she wraps his right hand around his left and squeezes.
"Stop it!"
"It hurts, doesn't it?" she whispers. "Your bones breaking. The fear. The helplessness."
"Let go of me!"
She doesn't do that. She just grabs his hand even harder. With his powers, it would mean nothing. Without them, her power-armoured gauntlet is breaking every bone in his hand.
"You're not a god," she whispers. "You're a bully. I learnt that long ago."
Despite the pain, he looks up at her. His eyes grow wide, as he looks at the grub before him. Truly looks at her. Her eyes. Her hair. Her lips, her nose, her smell. She…it can't be…
"Caitlyn?" he whispers.
She breaks his hand and he screams.
"That's from me," she whispers, flexing her right hand – the hand he broke fifteen years ago. "And this is from my mother."
"Caitlyn, wait, don't-"
She plunges the shiv into his chest, to where his heart is – the same place that a grub's heart is. A heart that spasms, as alien steel tears through now fragile muscle. He's in the house of a god. And he's paying for his sins.
He feels Caitlyn drag him across the surface of the church, towards the cross that awaits him. He looks up at her, struggling to speak. Struggling to breathe. With his left hand, he reaches out to her. He mouths something.
"Trying to talk Brandon?"
Brandon. His old name. His dead name. It's a name that he hasn't heard in fifteen years. A name that he'll gladly endure now if he's allowed to live.
"Pl…please…"
Caitlyn stands over him.
"I don't…I don't want to…die…"
"Did my mother beg?"
"Your…your mother…"
"My mother," she whispers, as she crouches down before him. "Did she beg? Did you give her mercy?"
He tries to say something, but only blood comes out.
"I know she's dead," Caitlyn whispers. She closes her eyes for a moment. "And…and after fifteen years of waiting for this moment, I'm going to say that I don't want to know." She opens her eyes again. "I don't think she's watching over me, and I don't think your parents are watching over you. But if there's any justice in this world, you're not going to see them."
Brandon smiles, blood pouring out from beneath his teeth. Then he starts to chuckle, even though with each moment, his chest feels like it's being torn apart.
"She begged," he whispers. "Even as I tore her apart, she begged…and I told her oh so many things of what I was going to do. To you. To the world. To all the grubs in it." He spits blood at Caitlyn. "And I did it. All of it. Because I'm…your…better. Because I…took the world."
"I know you did," Caitlyn whispers. "And I'm taking it back."
The shiv comes up. Brandon lets out a cry. His eyes flash with the light of a demon.
Then the shiv comes down into his skull.
And he sees, speaks, and thinks no more.
"Caitlyn."
She looks at Marilyn from her table. It's arrayed with two types of grenades – the "light grenades" that will incapacitate him, plus the standard grenades that will burn him. She stands up, and with this armour, she towers above her adoptive mother.
"Caitlyn, you can't do this."
"I can, I am," she says.
"Caitlyn, this is insane," Marilyn says.
Caitlyn grunts and begins attaching the grenades to her belt. She's keeping them at her back, under the cape. For all his powers, Brandon Breyer doesn't have x-ray vision. Not as far as she knows anyway.
"Caitlyn," Marilyn says, as she takes her foster daughter's arm. "If you do this, you're going to die."
"Maybe." She continues loading grenades.
"Caitlyn…" She gestures around the room – a drab, concrete structure that's part of an underground shelter that they, plus half a dozen other families have called home for the last year, as they drifted from one settlement to another. "You don't need to do this."
Caitlyn picks up the grenade launcher and slings it over her shoulder. "Someone has to."
"No-one can!"
"I have the light grenades. I have the shiv. I know exactly how to get him to Brightburn, because it's the same thing he's done to everyone else who set foot in that town for the last fifteen years."
"Exactly. Caitlyn, you…" Marilyn puts a fist to her chin. "Caitlyn, you're smart. You've helped us made a home here. There's the solar power, and the water, and the garden, and the-"
"How many years?" Caitlyn asks. "Five? Ten? Fifty? Do we just live our lives waiting to die? Until he dies? Will he die?"
"It doesn't matter if Brandon dies or not, all that matters is you staying alive." Marilyn puts Caitlyn's hands over her cheeks. "I lost my husband and my sister to…to that monster. I'm not losing you."
"Let go of me Marilyn."
"Caitlyn, he took your mother and-"
"And you're not my mother!" Caitlyn steps back. "My mother's dead! He killed her, and my dad, and millions of people!"
She can see the hurt in her mother's eyes. So when Marilyn says "okay" and turns around slowly, she knows she has to say something. This might be the last time she ever sees her foster mother. The person who found her on the side of the road fifteen years ago. The woman who saved her, who was there for her as society collapsed around them.
"I'm sorry," Caitlyn whispers. "I didn't mean that."
Marilyn glances back at her. "I know."
"But I have to do this," Caitlyn says. "Because everything I've done up to this moment will mean nothing if he's still alive, and…" She takes a breath. "You know it's funny. I was twelve when this all started. You've been my mum longer than my actual mum, and…"
She hugs her foster mother, and Marilyn hugs her back.
"I have to do this," Caitlyn whispers. "For everyone."
"I know," Marilyn says. "I know."
There' a lot they could say. They could talk again how Marilyn once discussed having children with her husband before her nephew murdered him. They could talk about how they're among the few people in the world who know the true name of the Brightburn. And they could talk about everything from the necessity of murder, to the pros and cons of martyrdom.
"I have to go," Caitlyn says. "But I'm taking something from the garden with me."
Marilyn gives her a look, but she nevertheless remains silent.
"Should be evening by the time I get to Brightburn," Caitlyn says. "He should arrive at night."
"Caitlyn-"
"Don't send anyone after me mum. If he dies, then the world has a chance to rebuild. If I die, then the secret of you, this place, everyone here…it dies with me."
"I know," Marilyn says, nodding. "But…please don't die. Please."
"I won't." Caitlyn smiles and heads to the flight of stairs that leads out of her workshop and to the surface.
"And make sure he dies."
She glances back at her foster mother. She, for her part, is looking at Caitlyn with a fire she's rarely seen.
"Make him pay for everything."
There aren't many aunts in the world who'd wish death upon their nephews. But then, this isn't the world that either of them grew up in.
Whatever happens this night, it never will be again.
Caitlyn watches as the fire she lit consumes Brandon's body. He's dead, but she doesn't want to take any chances. This has to end tonight. Tomorrow, she'll have to look to the future. To the joy that mankind's tormenter is dead, and the horror as chaos follows the vacuum his death will create. She doesn't know if she'll live through that. She doesn't know if she'll live through this night – her entire body's aching, and she's no doubt suffered bruises, if not internal bleeding. She doesn't know if her name will even be remembered – the world will remember the Brightburn before Brandon Breyer, and remember him before Caitlyn Hunter.
But she can live with that. So it's with an unburdened heart that she takes out her last item from her belt – a white flower, plucked from the garden of her home. She tosses it onto Brandon's body, and watches as it's consumed by the fire. It's taken fifteen years, but finally, the flower has made its way back to its owner.
"I told you smart guys wind up ruling the world," Caitlyn whispered. "Spent fifteen years wishing I was wrong about that. But every king's reign comes to an end."
The fire begins to spread.
"As does the reign of a god."
She turns around and heads for the exit as the church behind her burns. One fallen god joining the pantheon of failed deities. Those she can no longer believe in. As she stumbles outside, and looks up at the night sky, she thinks of those who came before her. Men and women who looked up at the night sky, and dreamt of infinity.
She thinks of them.
She thinks of a young girl in Brightburn who one night, looked up at the night sky, and dreamt of the creatures she would meet. She remembers a mother who loved her, who told her she would one day change the world. She thinks of a young girl who lay awake in her bed, trembling in the presence of a monster. She thinks of that same girl, alone on a road, saved by one who would become her second mother. She thinks about how that girl grew up in the shadows, reading, researching, building, searching for a means to slay the Devil. And she thinks of the sons and daughters of Earth, who after fifteen years of terror, can again walk proud under the stars.
Taking a breath, she begins walking east.
The sun will rise soon.
A/N
Before anyone says anything, I'm going to make two things clear:
1) This isn't some "how it should have ended" thing - if you want to do a horror movie, don't suddenly have a happy ending overriding it. I mean, this is me indulging in that idea (also, Caitlyn and Marilyn kinda just disappear from the film after given points), but it's not meant to be a "true ending" or "Brightburn 2: Happy Ending."
2) Yes, I took liberally from the titular showdown in Batman v Superman.