Chapter Ten
(A few moments ago)
The masked and armoured man stood in the rain, looking down upon Paragon. Despite the stillness of twilight masking the world below his feet, the lights from cars and small buildings illuminated the roads far below him. He felt almost…peaceful. Tranquil, as the world passed him by. In all the years he had been hiding in the shadows, trying to make the world a better place for all humanity, one man had consistently, and continuously, stopped him.
The masked man shook his head, clearing raindrops from the visor of his yellow lab goggles, allowing him to see properly, and he kept his focus straight down. He had spent years watching over his shoulder, but he no longer needed to do that. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the man whom he had hunted, and been hunted by, was standing behind him. The revolvers' metal hammer clicking back into place, ready to fire, had told him as much.
'It's strange.' He mused to himself. 'After all this time, this is how I die. All my battles, all my plans…shot in the back of the head by a man I thought I knew'.
There would be no last minute rescues this time. No faked bodies, or identity switches. Nothing to stop his death.
His opponent had amassed a figurative army of followers, each of them ready to do his bidding. He had more money than Croesus, the outward appearance of a benevolent, kind man, and the internal savagery of a beast.
"Are you ready to die, yet?" The man behind him asked.
"Just…give me a minute." He pleaded with his old friend…his confidante…his assassin.
"Take your time." His murderer muttered. "I've got all night."
(Ten minutes ago)
Everything had gone wrong.
The plan was a failure. Or, to be more precise, it had been a success.. A rousing, wonderful, success. For once, one of his plans had gone perfectly, without a hitch, smoothly, perfectly.
And now he was a wanted man, the people of Paragon calling for his head. And, to make things worse, they were calling on, to deliver it, the single man who had blocked his every turn, since the very beginning.
"How did this all go wrong?" He grumbled, alone, looking at the computer monitor, at his closest, most After all, I can't exactly call him a friend, can I? He thought to himself. However, the face he was staring at was one who had stood by him, through thick and thin, enjoying his successes, and commiserating his defeats.
"I don't know, Boss." The face sighed, and shook his head. "I blame that Groundwalker chick."
"She's a woman , not a 'chick'. Not that it matters anymore." He frowned. "We need an exit strategy. We need to get out of Paragon whilst we can."
Regetti nodded. "I'm on it, Anthony. I'll be in touch."
Anson frowned, and stared at the object that Sarriss had brought him, just a mere two weeks ago.
"Maybe this can't salvage anything, but it can protect my life long enough for me to get to the helipad. Let Regetti burn. I'll be safe enough once I get to the rooftop."
Putting on the device, and activating it, Anson sprinted to the stairway, only to be greeted by Sarriss.
"Mayor, where're you going?"
"We need to get out of here. Regetti's deadweight. He can't help me…us. But I can spare room on the helicopter for you, if you want to come with me."
She smiled. "Of course. Let's go."
Before either of them could move, the doorway at the other end of the corridor opened, and…
The rain was getting steadily worse, but neither figure on top of the skyscraper noticed. For each man, the entire world was filled with the other, with the hatred that can only be brought with the total destruction of lives.
"You didn't have to kill her, you know." The masked man said, his back still to his assassin.
"Didn't I?" The man in the hat and overcoat smirked. "You have no idea, do you?"
"Have any idea about what?"
The man with the gun laughed.
"Sarriss Groundwalker. You don't know who she really is. What she told you about her past, her troubles, her fears…all of it. It was total fabrication. Lies."
"That isn't true!" The masked figure snarled, and wheeled around to face his enemy.
"Oh, it is. I was there when it was made up. Hell," The gunman chuckled. "I made it up. I know your weaknesses, and how you think. That little history she span for you was designed just for you, so that you'd take her in, accept her…maybe even fall in love with her, a little."
The masked man said nothing, the rain beating down against his helmet, causing a slight electrical fizz when the water collided with the electrical energy of his forcefield.
"What was it Santayana said? 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it' ? Looks like you failed, old friend, and you certainly are condemned. A mole infiltrating a life, destroying it, just like it happened two years ago. Again, it was a beautiful woman. I thought it would be fitting."
The man grinned. "You know, if I'm going to kill you…and I will, believe it…we should do it face to face. Make it honourable. I took off my mask, my second identity. Shouldn't you take off yours?"
They stared at each other then. Jason Tucker…The Fire Guardian…and Michael Anson…Anthony Mitchell. Two men, each with another identity, designed to protect them; however, that protection had failed against the one person they needed protection from the most: Each other. As their time draws to a close, they each reflect on the balance their lives have given each other. A secret identity to hate, a real man to loathe.
Mike Anson….Anthony Mitchell…slowly reached to his front, and pressed a red disk on the 'stolen' Power Belt that Sarriss had provided. Slowly, his armour and mask faded into nothingness.
With nothing more between them than the air and the rain, two sets of eyes locked with each other. In one, fear; in the other, hatred.
"Thank you. You know, it's said the hardest thing in the world to do is to kill a man whilst looking into his eyes. Let's test that, shall we?" Jason Tucker grinned, despite the rain bouncing from his wide brimmed hat, and, his eyes never leaving the Ansons', started to squeeze the trigger on the pistol.
Just before he could let the bullet loose, though, he heard the fire escape door open, and a figure step out onto the wet concrete. He didn't need to turn around, though. He knew who it was.
Jason watched in fascination as the bullet spat from the gun, and made the back of Mike's head explode in a gory mist, and the body fall from the edge of the Tucker Foundation headquarters, arms outstretched, as if embracing his fate. Jason moved to the edge for a closer look, to watch his enemy fall, but, even with his enhanced vision, he soon lost the corpse to the complete and utter blackness of night.
The figure stepped over to him, and peered over the edge herself.
"Is it done?"
"Yup." Jason sighed. "You know, I thought this would make me feel better about….everything. Sammy's death, Emily being taken from me for those five months, having to stay in that awful Supergroup base, pretending I'm dead. But…it just makes me feel hollow."
Sarriss nodded. "You and Mike balanced each other. He was evil, you were good. But you both used secret identities to get what you wanted."
"He tried to use mine."
"It was part of your plan, Jay, and don't try to deny it."
Jason nodded. "True enough. You okay?"
Sarriss smiled slightly, and Jason noticed her side, which she had her hand clamped over. "Yeah. I'm just grateful you're a terrible shot."
"Tell that to Anson."
"Oh, c'mon, you were two feet away from him. It's hard to miss at that range, you know."
"Hey, it isn't my fault you're bleeding. Aren't you super strong people supposed to be invulnerable?"
Sarriss scowled. "For the last time…no."
"Oh." Jason's smile eased off his face. "I didn't mean your wound, though. Are you okay…Cara?"
Sarriss sighed, and shrugged gently. "I will be. In time. With friends like you, Emily, Susan, and Sam, I will be. It isn't fair, though. You got your revenge, but…what about mine?"
"Revenge…isn't what it's cracked up to be."
"You'd know."
"Indeed."
They walked towards the exit together. "You know," Jason allowed after a moment, "There's always Regetti."
Sarriss stopped, and turned to face him. "Since when?"
"What do you….oh." Jason blinked. "What did you do to him?"
"Let's call it some poetic justice."
I'm not a hero.
I know, there are some of you who'll disagree. I've heard it said that A Hero is a Hero, no matter what they do. That's ridiculous. Sarriss herself told me that a fault of many heroes is that they let smaller injustices slide, in order to stop a bigger one.
In my book, no injustice is small. There are terrible, terrible things done, but the actions are just an outlet for a diseased mind. The worse the mind, the worse the action, but evil is evil. A murder may be worse than someone shoplifting, but a murder for 'peace', say, is no worse than a murder for 'revenge'.
I guess Mike and I were more alike than I'd care to think about.
I've done some atrocious things in these past few months. I've committed crimes, and excused them away. I've been cruel to my fellow man, something I wish I'd never done. However, would I do it again? If it meant stopped Mike Anson, and taking back what's mine?
In a heartbeat. And, if you stood in my way, I'd kill you , too.
That means I'm not a Hero. Nor am I really a villain. Did I stop Mike's vision of 'peace'? Yes. Does that make me, in his definition, a villain? Absolutely. But only because his vision of 'peace' didn't include independence of beliefs. He wanted everyone to bow down to him like a King. Or a God.
Respect, money, power…they all have to be earned. I know this better than anyone, now. I've hurt people I didn't want to, and I wish I could reach out to them, and say that I'm sorry. But…they wouldn't listen. Even if they wanted to believe me, they'd ignore my sentiments. That's how it should be. I've lived my life recently the way I've had to, in order to make a mark on Paragon. Maybe that means some people hate me. Maybe it means you hate me, too. If that's true, then I wish there were words enough to make things right between us, but if I can't, then so be it. You have to live your life your way, as I do mine. If it means we should never speak, then I'll regret it, but I'll understand. I never wanted to hurt you, or make you suffer. Things just…happen, and I'll stand by myself if needs be.
Standing by myself doesn't mean I'm alone, though. I have my friends. Good, kind people who can see past the wrongs I've done, and know my character, know my purpose, who'll stand by my side.
I've gone into the darkness, into the inferno of evil. I've touched the bottom, and although I know I'll have a part of it in my soul, always telling me to strike out when I shouldn't, my friends will keep me in check.
I've watched good people suffer, and bad people profit. I've made those villains burn in the flames of justice…my justice.
As I try to straighten out my life, however, I can't help but wonder…what exactly did Sarriss do with Regetti?
(Two Days Later)
Regetti awoke from his nightmare.
He had faded in and out of consciousness for two days, after being punched out soundly by the Groundwalker chick, and his latest, fear inspired nightmare, involved her and that Tucker guy, in his full Fire Guardian outfit, setting fire to his arms and tearing them off.
As he awoke fully, however, he realised what had caused that dream. Looking up, he saw his arms, white and pale against the artificial glare of the lights, trussed up, with little blood circulation in them. The reason he had dreamt about his arms being removed was simply because he could no longer feel them.
Looking around, he realised three things.
One: He was in a very familiar looking warehouse.
Two: He was dangling over a vat of something green, and rolling.
Three: Sarriss Groundwalker was grinning up at him…wearing a police uniform.
"Hey there, Regetti!" She said playfully. "Glad to see you're finally awake. Sorry to hit you so hard."
"You…get me down."
"Oh, why would I do that?" She chuckled. "Tell me something…does this give you a sense of déjà vu at all?"
Regetti stammered for an answer. "Well…it….sorta…"
"Oh, that's no good, Regetti. Let me give you a hint. Two years ago. Same warehouse. Same crane. Different vat. But the same situation. You were set up by your partner, and left to die."
"But…Mitchell wouldn't…"
"Mitchell?" Sarriss' eyes gleamed. "Who said anything about him?" She turned to a large control box, with just two buttons on it, one green, one red. She fingered the green button lovingly, before looking back at him.
"Looks like this time I should have warned you to bring back-up…partner."
"What….Cara? Wilks, wait….please…have mercy!"
"Mercy? Sorry, we're fresh out of that." She rested a finger on the green button, and paused. "Oh, and that vat? No industrial waste. Not this time. Don't want to risk giving you Powers, too. No, it's just acid. Bye, now!"
Sarriss turned, and walked away. Regetti realised he was shaking in fear for his life, but it started to ease off when he realised she was leaving.
'I'm going to live…I'm going to live…I'm going to…'
A sharp snap caught his attention, as Sarriss snapped her fingers, and walked back to the control box.
"Silly me. I almost forgot…"
She pressed the button, and Regetti fell into the vat of acid.
When the screams finished, Sarriss turned, and, humming happily to herself, exited the building, never looking back.