Hello my friends. Welcome to Clean Fall, the sequel to Line in the Sand. If you have not read Line in the Sand, I advise that you do so, simply because the following summary does not cover everything that happened previously. Also, it's a good story, and I'd hate to think about a future in which people do not read my fan fictions, even though they have little real consequence in terms of literary value. … Yes… Clean Fall.
I would have had the sequel up and running sooner, but for some inane reason I was unable to get this damn thing started. This is the third time I've written chapter 1, and I'm certain this writing is the best one. Enjoy.
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Miracle City, a spicy cesspool of crime and villainy.
This is the story of Manny Rivera, better known as El Tigre; son of the legendary superhero, White Pantera; grandson of the evil super villain, Puma Loco.
Miracle City has slipped into a time of great darkness. The villains of the city have banded together, and are disrupting and destroying any semblance of peace and order in the name of a group named M. In short order, M's supporters have assassinated two young heroes, undermined the city's military forces, and defeated the defenders of Miracle City: the Riveras. Left severely wounded by his encounter with the leader of M, the super villain Maxim, El Tigre was given the opportunity to leave Miracle City forever and live in peace with Zoe Aves. He turned down this "offer", and returned to his home to reorganize his family and strike at M a second time.
Meanwhile, having abandoned his previous location, the New Alamo research facility, Maxim seeks out a new headquarters to complete his work: the fall of the free world. While his allies strive to create this new base of operations, the shadow of M falls upon the resting place of a great evil…
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Chapter 1, Dark Alliance
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As he walked across the dry, lifeless soil, twitching slightly whenever it would crunch under his shoes, Maxim kept his sights set on the building before him: the abandoned prison. He could not for the life of him figure out why, if this place was such a problem, it wasn't demolished. One could argue that it was left standing because it was her place. But according to frightened sources, she wasn't here right now. Tonight would change that, apparently. Dark rebirth. That's what they called it. Every once in a while, provided she had suffered destruction, Sartana of the Dead would enjoy a dark rebirth. If he was lucky, Maxim would arrive before the event and see it all with his own two eyes. Otherwise this would be a lot more boring. A crisp wind blew across the yard, and in the distance Maxim could here a few gun shots ring out. He was not afraid… but for some reason he drew his trench coat tighter around his body. Cold day today. Very unusual. He wondered if it was always this cold when Sartana was shaking the earth from her old bones, or if this was just some kooky coincidence he'd be relating to Nikolai. The front door was shut tight… with rust on its hinges. Was it always this bad? He forced the gateway open, pulling hard on the sealed doors until the rust cracked and fell to the ground. Just inside the decaying prison lay a sea of sparkling gems and gold coins.
"Quite the collection…"
The echo was eerily magnificent. It was both powerful from the vast emptiness of the huge room and noticeably scattered by its odd geography. The piles of loot made him sound grave and foreboding, something of a reflection of his inner beauty, or lack thereof. Beyond much of the treasure was her throne, gathering dust after many weeks of vacancy. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here… the view was nice though. Looking up to a hole in the ceiling, set at a forty-five degree angle from the throne, Maxim could see the moon. It fell about center in the hole, and at once the villain was overcome with a sense of dread. How very strange… he hasn't felt dread in a long time. Not since he was just a young man starting off on this path to ruin. The lights flickered, the wind outside howled, and the shadows on all the walls began to peel and flow toward the center of the room, just in front of the throne. Backing away slowly, Maxim watched the darkness pool in the pale moonlight, sinking through the gold and stone below, oozing down into the already poisoned earth. There was a cracking sound, like concrete giving after being crushed again and again by a pile driver. Where was it coming from? As Maxim investigated, growing closer to where the shadows seeped into the floor, he was stunned by the very sudden appearance of a mound, protruding through the cement and loot like it was nothing. A pile of dirt was the first thing to rise, and from it came a low groan, like a dying animal forcing its way into continued existence. A skeletal hand forced its way from the mound, fingers extended and clenching, swiping at some unseen thing. A second hand emerged, stabilizing the being that lay beneath the earth. Both hands were planted firmly into the mound and started pushing, dragging from the soil a head and torso, stopping just below the ribs. The skeleton reared back in a blood-curdling howl, and green light, behaving like a living, writhing creature, pushed its way out of the earth, wrapping around the skeleton within its twisting embrace. When all of the bones were consumed, there was a great flash; Maxim shielded his eyes from the light, and when it died, he gazed upon her, facing her throne, gently strumming her guitar. Sartana sighed in satisfaction and slowly approached her throne, wiping away the dust from the seat and sitting with creaking bones. She strummed her guitar a few times before looking up, smile fading when it became clear she wasn't alone.
"… Who are you? What are you doing in my lair?"
"A very impressed guest."
"Guests are not allowed. They all too often turn out to be thieves, or solicitors."
"Solicitors, yes. That's funny. You're funny."
"Well, I try," Sartana mused, running her bony digits across the strings. "So, which are you?"
"I'm afraid I'm closer to the second one…"
"It really doesn't matter. You have to die either way." Sartana stood and held her guitar tight. She rushed her hand across the instrument, and one by one, a batch of skeleton banditos emerged violently from the floor, scattering coins as they appeared. They turned to the intruder and started to advance. "Any last words?"
Maxim turned and looked through the hole in the ceiling again, smiling up at his favorite celestial body. He returned his gaze to Sartana.
"You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"
"Wha…?"
What Maxim said really made no sense… but then, they didn't really need to make sense. They weren't his last words. As one bandito grew too close, Maxim spun hard, and with a blast of blue flames and single swat the attacker was reduced to bones. This triggered the other banditos to attack, but they all crumbled within moments of coming into range of the intruder's attacks. His feet, his fists… imbued with his power, Maxim seemed nothing short of unbeatable. When the first wave was laid to waste, he paused to take a cleansing breath, and cast his trench coat to the floor. It was just weighing him down. He stood dressed in gray and black, not even showing any sign of who he was with this outfit. From shoulder to shoulder he wore gray, with a tight collar conforming to his neck. The jacket was black from the shoulders down, interrupted in the middle by the zipper, pulled all the way up to the collar. His pants too were black, with what looked like a belt in between the two articles of the same shade of gray as the shoulders. His metal-plated boots clicked against the gold as he paced in front of Sartana, waiting for her response.
"… So you beat a few banditos. Anybody can do that, these days."
"Well then, maybe you should try a different pitch."
"Like this?!"
Sartana struck her strings again, this time pointing the guitar's headstock at him. There was a violent sound, followed by an equally violent surge of green energy. The explosion was impressive: gold and jewels flying everywhere, and smoke rising from the blast zone. But Sartana growled as she looked at who sat atop a pile of her loot.
"You're a quick one…"
She strummed her guitar again, and another bolt of energy lashed out at Maxim. Like before, he jumped away from the attack, nimbly avoiding extreme pain. He landed on the walkway above the floor and broke into a run as Sartana attacked him again; the sound of brick and mortar splintering behind him as he ran from a searing beam filled the air. Finally it stopped, and Maxim took this moment to go on the offensive. He broke his run, sliding to a stop and jumping onto the guard rail on the walkway. He leaped from there, coming in directly over his "hostess". But when he brought his foot down, fueled by whatever force existed within him to make him so dangerous, he only cracked the floor of the prison, scattering whatever was in his way. She had backed away from him, or he had deliberately missed. In either case, Sartana turned her guitar on him again, headstock aimed, and fired a last bolt at him. There was flash, just as bright as the one that brought Sartana of the Dead back into the world of the living. Green had met blue at some point, met a great and powerful resistance. And when the explosion associated with the attack went off far to the left, the ancient evil had to wonder who her guest really was.
"… What is your name?"
"I am M."
"M. Well, that is interesting."
"How so?"
"The M that unified the Russian gangs?"
"Da."
"Who forced the German and French cartels to set aside their differences?"
"… Who told you about that?"
"I have my sources," she replied slyly, shouldering her guitar and sliding her fingertips across one another. The scratching sound was unique, and a little irritating. "What are you doing in Miracle City, M? Is it our turn to sink into anarchy?"
"As much as I love anarchy, dear lady," he said coldly, though smiling just the same, "it is much too useless to me. Not once have I induced a state of anarchy and let it remain as such for more than a day. Natural systems of government are too dangerous."
"You love your words too much."
"You're not the first to say that. Anyway, you are still partially correct. It is Miracle City's turn."
Sartana took her seat again, gently playing a sad folk song, sans the vocals, as she pondered a few things. Maxim watched calmly, certain he wouldn't have to do much running now. If he had been wrong, he'd die on the spot. But he wasn't. He knew Sartana would love to have a chance to destroy the world with him.
"Why have you come to me, then? Are you having troubles?"
"No no, not at all. But I'm one to plan ahead. No purpose to play the short game if you can't win the long game."
"And?"
"The world is too big a place for one person to rule."
"Ahh…"
"Now you're getting it." Maxim raised a hand ran it across his forehead, pushing stray hairs out of his face. He did that a lot after a brief exercise. "In exchange for your help, I'll give you half of the world to rule over as you see fit."
"It's cute that you're offering me this," she stopped playing and leaned to her left, resting her arm on the armrest and supporting her head with it. "But you do realize that I can take over the whole of the Earth on my own…"
"Oh, I suppose that's why it's still known as the 'free world'."
"… I want half of the countries. None of that 'hemisphere' nonsense you people normally try to push; and I get to pick what countries."
"Dang, I thought I had you there for a second. Anything else?"
"No… I suppose it's only fair to warn you that I'll betray you at any moment, given that it's opportune for me."
"Of course." Maxim approached slowly and extended his hand. "Do we have a deal, then?"
Sartana smiled and took his hand in her own. Her laughter filled the air, and the night grew dark as a cloud passed in front of the full moon, hiding the glimmering light from the world.
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Rivera Estate
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Manny slunk into his room after scaling the building atop which his home was perched, breathing heavy and clutching his chest. He had gravely mistaken his health when he left the hospital… now he wished he had just gone back to his room. He spun his belt buckle and withdrew from his Tigre persona before sitting tiredly on his bed. The ache receded as his breathing slowed, and he was overcome with a sense of calm. As he sat, he got the feeling that the house was empty. Strange… he got up and walked to his open door and entered the hallway. All was dark, as it should be this time of night. A chill struck him, and the moonlight disappeared from all the windows. It was times like this that Manny was reminded of his childhood fears, things he had never let go of. Humans never really stop being afraid of the dark; it's simply a matter of degree. Manny began to search out his family, going from room to room, finding each room, each bed to be empty. Indeed, Manny was alone here. He paused to think about why, and it did finally occur to him.
"They're out looking for me… the hospital must have called when they found out I left. Yeah."
Manny left the hall where most of the rooms could be accessed and entered the front room. Everything seemed so… cold in here at night. It never really occurred to him that a place he loved so much, a place that was always warm, could be cold. He sat in his father's chair, gazing out across the floor. The clouds that blocked the moon slithered away, letting silver light fall across the hardwood floor, making it shine beautifully. Manny clenched his hands on the armrests, feeling more uncomfortable now that light was filling the room again. It was as though he feared being caught, though he couldn't tell why. But there was something he could tell: he was thirsty. With a heavy sigh he stood and walked to the kitchen, boots filling the still air with quiet clicks. He paused to see Little Mule and Senor Chapi, sleeping quietly in the night. This brought a smile to Manny's lips; at least they found some peace tonight. Silencing his footsteps, Manny continued to the fridge, pausing as he looked at the contents. Nothing seemed idea. Once his eyes adjusted, he just started staring into the light, and eventually he closed his eyes and pressed his head against the freezer door. As the cold refrigerator air poured out into the room, Manny was forced to suppress feelings of anxiety and sorrow building up in his chest. He remembered all he had been through tonight, and all that he still had left to go through. The anger he felt had burned out, leaving only bitter regret. Maybe he should have gone with Zoe. She did make him happy. She could have continued to make him happy.
"No… it's better this way."
He left the kitchen with a glass of horchata. Something sweet would lighten his mood. Returning to his father's chair, Manny sat and sipped his drink, staring out into the night. He worried for Zoe, he worried for Frida. He worried for his father and grandfather, scouring the city for him. He worried for his mother, who was out of his reach, helping those less fortunate in Brazil. She'd be back soon… at least being in a coma for two weeks lessened the amount of time he had to wait for her return. The very last person Manny Rivera worried for was Manny Rivera, knowing deep down that M may be the very last villain he would ever defeat.
