Clean Fall Chapter 10, an el tigre fanfic

Author's Note: Hey everybody. Yep. Chapter 10, at long last. I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to just write this one chapter, as opposed to my usual once-a-week dealy, and my several-within-days mentality at the beginning of a new story. Well, here it is. Enjoy Demise.

Chapter 10, Demise

Miracle City, Sunday, 8:04 PM

Sometimes it's hard being a hero. That's not to say that it's hard to do the right thing; that's actually very easy. The hard part is being there for people when they need you, and trying to cope with not succeeding in defending them. And then there's the hardest part… searching through smoldering wreckage in search of the bodies of those you have failed. When the bombs started going off four hours ago, and fire consumed one building after another, White Pantera sprang into action. Him and every other emergency unit out there; any that were left. And the attacks… it was as if they were chosen simply to break the already strained remainder of the decimated emergency response teams. That and maximize damage to the city itself. Rodolfo paused at a girder, blackened with ash and collapsed on a pile of rubble. He took a deep breath and gripped the heavy steel beam with both hands, expecting to just lift it out of the way like many of the others he had to deal with; the incredible burning sensation changed his mind right away. Jumping back and cursing as he shook his hands, the hero turned his gaze once more on the fallen support, growing increasingly angry with it as he recalled every life lost today. Finally, needing to relieve that rage, White Pantera forced the toe of his boot under the girder and launched it against a nearby wall with all the grace of a big rig. It cracked against the already weakened wall, piercing it, and robbing it of all that remained of its structural integrity. A gap formed, and from it came an array of cracks, spreading mercilessly through the wall and ceiling of the building. There was a great terrible noise…

9 Hours Ago

M's Command Center, Sunday, 11:13 AM

"You're absolutely certain about this?"

"Yes, I'm afraid," M replied, tapping his fingers against the desk quietly. On one of the screens of his control room was the face of … Greg Stylex?

"I'm still not sure I follow."

"Simply put, we have to draw suspicion away from our face. If it suffers too, people will be less inclined to accuse Max. Enterprise of having a hand in any of it."

"Has anyone ever been that stupid?" As Nikolai asked, he took to adjusting his hair, making sure it was exactly as the recent photo of the CEO showed.

"You'd be surprised. Now, get going, man. We have to make sure Stylex is seen leaving the country. And he has to be seen to have faith in Miracle City's recovery."

"Da. Good luck, my friend."

The link was cut, and the window closed; this granted M the moment he needed to just lean back and enjoy the moment. And what a wonderful moment it was. Sure, things had gone wrong before. Pretty wrong, in fact. Alright, to be honest, there were one or two moments where it looked like the whole plan would just collapse in on itself. But now? Things were… just great. And with that in mind, M smiled. A chill crawled up his spine, though, and the good moment was gone. Leaning forward again, he pivoted in his chair and turned to the heavy door, keeping a stoic visage at hand as it slid open. Through the opening came Sartana, followed shortly by Django, and silence followed him. The moment dragged on… until finally M cracked a smile.

"Late as usual, Sartana."

"Sorry," she replied insincerely, taking to picking at the dirt between her knuckles, "I'm still getting used to just traveling around in broad daylight."

"Strange," M said, standing up slowly, "I wasn't aware things had gotten that bad out there. What sort of world do we live in when super villains can just come and go as they please."

The laughter was mild. The malice was incredible. And after waiting patiently for… oh, two minutes, Django decided to interrupt the pointless banter.

"You said you had something for me to do," he said plainly, "what was it?"

"Of course. You're going to help me "clean up the city," so to speak. Tell me, how do you feel about Senor Siniestro?"

Diego's Safe House, 11:15 AM

"He's been motionless for hours…"

Diego leaned against one of the growth chambers in his makeshift lab, watching his father sleep on the cot from where he sat. And after the first ten hours, it was true: he had stopped making any major motion, barely showing signs of breathing as he recuperated. Relief at his father's safety aside, sitting on the concrete all night keeping an eye on his old man had not done Diego any good. He climbed to his feet, barely managing to keep steady as he popped his back in a stretch. He turned to face the big green tube, in which was suspended a new pepper critter, slowly maturing to its final form. What he learned last night… was that the right hormones would make these things grow like crazy. Unfortunately, the very same hormones made the only survivor go crazy. It had to be terminated before Diego could even safely return to his safe house. What a pity; all that research gone to waste. It was only after yawning and pressing his head against the glass that Diego realized how tired he truly was. As such, he decided that maybe, just maybe, he'd do his father more good if he slept a bit. Diego slowly walked across the cool concrete barefoot, reaching the cot in no time. His father certainly looked like he needed the thing more than Diego did, so he instead decided to just make due. Pulling a cardboard box filled with who knows what against the wall, he sat on and leaned against the wall. It wasn't comfortable, but hey, when you're tired enough, anything counts as a bed.

"Rest well, father…"

City Hall, 12:30 PM

It was a hot day. And on hot days, it's easy to just stop paying attention. That was the case with the police officers placed to keep an eye on City Hall. They didn't really see anything wrong when a big delivery truck rolled to a stop at the gate, or with the fact that the men who climbed out of the cab were very familiar. Familiar in "did I maybe arrest this guy" sort of way. But the officers weren't really thinking that hard. This was a cushy job, what they had here. Who would try anything at city hall after all. When one of the men from the truck approached, greasy black moustache bending gently with each step, the officer he walked towards started to focus.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking the man from head to toe. He was a big guy… might be trouble. He held a clip board in his huge hands, and his blue, dingy overalls simply helped to reflect his whole uncultured demeanor.

"Yeah, uh, we got some stuff for the municipal president's next big party, or whatever."

"That sounds like Rodriguez… pompous little-."

"Yeah, that's great," the driver interrupted, bringing a crate nearly five feet tall to the gate with a loading dolly, "but would you mind letting us through? We got two more deliveries to do today."

"Sure thing. Sorry about the inconvenience in having to use the front gate, but the construction on the loading bay around back is taking forever. Do you need a hand moving any of this stuff?"

"Sure," the big guy replied, smiling pleasantly as he made his way back to the truck.

Rivera Estate, 1:00 PM

Maria leaned against the doorway, staring into his room. The four months she had spent abroad were no easier on her than anyone else here… and she often regretted her decision to up and go to Brazil, leaving Manny here to cope with these problems without her guidance. She didn't care that these problems were well outside of her realm; it was her place to help. So now she stared into Manny's empty room, devoid of the warmth associated with occupancy. She had only missed him by a couple days…

"Is he safe, Rodolfo?"

Rodolfo had returned from his father's room, directing the construction despite his lack of expertise on the subject. Amazing how many people didn't follow basic safety rules these days. He thought about how best to answer her question…

"Papi is looking after him, Maria."

"But is he safe?"

"You need to take your mind off these things," he said, guiding her by the arms away from Manny's bedroom. He sat her at the kitchen table, "can I get you anything?"

She sat silently, staring at the clock on the wall with a sadness that just ate her up. When she first heard news of Manny upon getting back… murder? That was just not right. How could it be? That Miracle City would even believe that is insane…

"Maria?"

"I want Manny back, Rodolfo. I want to see him."

"You will, Maria, you will. But for now," he said, setting a glass of cold water in front of her, "you need to be patient."

"… Is he safe?"

Rodolfo watched solemnly as Maria gently tapped a fingernail against the lip of the glass, and his compassion got the best of him. Certainly he'd want to know… wouldn't any parent? Taking a seat, he removed his mask and cast it to the table with a sigh.

"Yes. Yes he is."

Channel 11 News Broadcasting Center, 3:45 PM

A big, brown delivery van pulled to a stop outside the station, and the driver remained in behind the wheel, checking her clip board and blowing big purple bubbles with her gum. After a time, she stood and walked into the back of the van. The back door opened, the loading ramp was lowered, and a large trolley loaded with packages was wheeled down to the pavement. The delivery girl pushed the load up onto the sidewalk, calmly pushing it up the walk toward the front door. As the girl chewed her gum, she looked across the room to the lone security guard, watching various screens in his desk that probably weren't monitoring any hallways. The trolley was stopped in front of the desk, and the girl leaned over on the counter, barely revealing the cleavage held in by the tight, brown top that was purposefully left unbuttoned at the top.

"Hey, I got a delivery here."

The first thing the guard noticed, being a simple man, was the young lady's breasts, which he made a deal of avoiding eye contact with immediately afterward. He looked at the delivery girl… and for some reason recognized her vibrant black hair. She smiled and presented the clip board.

"Sign please."

"Have I seen you before?" the guard asked as he casually signed for the delivery, once or twice glancing up at the girl's eyes.

"Maybe. I do a couple deliveries here a month."

"Hm… what's in the boxes?"

"Hey, if I knew that, I'd get fired! Speaking of," she said in a hasty fashion, looking at her watch, "I'm behind schedule. You mind havin' someone take these from here? I can swing back for the trolley after my next drop."

"Sure thing, sweetie."

"Thanks."

The delivery blew a big bubble and waved with her fingers. As she walked, the guard couldn't help but notice how tight her shorts were as well. He was caught between wishing he were younger and criticizing kids these days. But he also went about helping the girl as she requested. Picking up a receiver, he dialed in the number for someone from the mail room.

"Yeah."

"Hey, we just got a delivery. Can you send someone to deal with it?"

"… Yeah, sure."

Diego's Safe House, 3:57 PM

There was a noise in Diego's feverish dream… it sounded like an alarm. And it was only when he stirred into waking that he realized that it was indeed such; the intruder alarm to be exact. It was quiet enough that no one outside should notice when it is going off, but certainly loud enough to warn that danger has found you. Climbing to his feet, Diego looked around the room, slightly delirious and expecting an attack. After a brief time, he took note of the lack of an intruder… but was not at all settled. He turned to his father and began shaking his still exhausted form.

"Father! Get up! We have to go; it's not safe here anymore!"

Dr. Chipotle Sr., still suffering from his multiple beatings and being drugged, could barely acknowledge… well, anything. He managed to mumble something about his neck hurting, which made so little sense Diego had to just disregard it. He dragged his father to his feet and started toward the exit, dealing with one burning question.

"But how did M find me? How did he find us?"

When his father addressed the painful itch on the back of his neck a second time, Diego actually listened, and now put two and two together. Pausing a moment, he ran a finger on his father's neck and started picking at the odd protrusion he found there. After a yelp of mild pain, Diego withdrew from his father and looked at his prize.

"… A tracking chip? SWINE!"

Sergio's Lair, 3:57 PM

Something curious was happening… something that didn't usually happen before Sergio already knew it was going to happen. There was a knock at the door. Well, multiple knocks in succession, but that's beside the point. The point is, whatever was knocking at the door didn't take the time to trip the heat sensors that lined the perimeter of the base. And whoever was at the door was just in the blind spot of the closest camera. Wonderful. Sergio girded his loins, picked up a weapon, and limped to the door, ready to face whoever was there with courage and burnt skin. The knocking stopped when he undid the lock, sending an echo through the big empty room. Though this only served to make Sergio even more nervous, he proceeded to open the big door… and was met with several pairs of piercing red eyes. First and foremost among them?

"Django of the Dead?"

Sergio stood little chance as a ray of energy pierced his gut. The attack splattered blood along the floor behind him, and the force of it sent him to his back, gasping for air as he desperately clung to life. He pressed his hands against the wound and tried to steady his breathing, ignoring the weapon that was still at his side, staring at the ceiling as blood escaped his wound and his mouth. The sound of boots and bones filled the room; some were hastily moving, others not so much. Django was among those moving slowly, stopping beside Sergio as he quickly died. He smiled, and coldly repeated what M had told him to say.

"Your services are no longer needed. And we've decided to withhold all payment, and take what is ours. Which is everything."

Sergio clutched his wound tighter, though one could see in his eyes that he was slipping away from the world. In the center of the room was placed a large metal sphere, carried by two very large skeleton banditos. They looked to Django as they held on to the grips on either end of the sphere… he nodded to them, turned, and left. The banditos followed him, some carrying various technological marvels, others carrying nothing. Sergio's gasps finally stopped as the number in the center of the now open sphere quickly reached zero.

Broadcasting Center, 4:01 PM

The easy-going security guard continued to watch his soaps on one of the many security screens after the delivery girl left, forgetting all about package-related nonsense. He was interrupted by the mail room clerk he'd brought up to finish delivering the packages, and what the guard saw was a most curious thing.

"Why didn't you deliver any of the packages?"

"Because, you idiot," the clerk said, tossing one package onto the desk, "none of these people work here. Wrong address."

"Wrong address…?"

The guard picked up the package and looked at it in a very discerning way. He carefully ran his fingers along the edges of the box he held… 10 inches by 8 inches by 6 inches. A peculiar box design… and it was holding something heavy. Meanwhile, some fifteen or twenty blocks away, the delivery girl casually spit out her gum and cast it to the ground. She was next in line for the military check point she found herself at, and gently smiled at the soldier as walked up to the side of her vehicle.

"Where are you going, miss?"

"I have a delivery at Santos Circle."

"Care if we check the back?"

"Not at all," she replied calmly, handing the soldier the key to the back. She waited for a few minutes as a pair of soldiers rummaged through the back of the van, stopping when they found what they were looking for.

"Everything checks out. You're free to go," the soldier replied, handing the girl the key.

So, Zoe was waved through the check point without much static. Anticipating the vehicle being searched, M had planted a package in the back with a Santos Circle address. And once she had pulled far enough away, Zoe smiled and fished a small device out of a cardboard box stuck between the two suits of the delivery van. She flipped the top, and with malice in her heart, pressed down on the red button.

"Adios."

Diego's Safe House, 4:06 PM

The intruder alarm had worked exactly as Dr. Chipotle Jr. had intended… but the intruders really had no intention to do any real intruding. The men in black had a simple mission: plant several small bombs along the perimeter of the building. Each one was a curious little red box with a latch on the side. Lifting the latch allowed one to open the case and see the wires, clock, and one button inside. And now… time was up. Each bomb detonated according to its timer, and each bomb was within half a second of another. Fire and smoke filled the air, soon followed by bricks and mortar. This was all, of course, paired with the deafening din of high explosives and crumbling building. Within moments, the safe house was razed to nothing; it was a pile of stone and dust.

City Hall, 4:06 PM

Instead of multiple smaller explosives ripping the building apart, everyone in and outside of City Hall was treated to the epic power of one individual large bomb. When it detonated, it ripped the epic building in two, disintegrating half of its foundation in no time. The police outside rushed toward the growing cloud of smoke and powdered concrete, trying to radio for somebody, anybody; trying to get help.

Sergio's Lair, 4:06 PM

He was long dead when the bomb finally reached zero… there is really no telling what someone's final thoughts are when they die alone, which is a terrible shame. But as the device detonated, it is certain that Sergio died with an expression of peace, contrary to the violent chaos that rapidly engulfed the entirety of his beloved base. People miles away looked up to the hill that Sergio's barn once sat atop, gazing in awe and dread as light engulfed it, followed by the jarring sound of the blast.

Broadcasting Center, 4:06 PM

The security guard and mail clerk… they were lucky enough to not feel the explosion that ripped out of every individual package. They were quickly slain by the blast, which expanded rapidly, blowing out all the front windows, scorching passersby on the sidewalk, engulfing the entire base of the building with chemically driven fires. Once the initial blast finished rocking the soon to be former news center, the flames continued to spread, fueled by a combustible agent that allowed the fire to eat away at the steel supports of the doomed building.

Ruined Broadcasting Center, 8:05 PM

White Pantera stared at the piled of rubble that fell on the exact spot he stood just a moment ago, topped by what could only be a two-hundred pound metal desk. He made a note not to be so careless from here on out. Carelessness… it only took one mistake for people to die. Lifting himself off the scorched floor, he turned and looked down the hallway, coughing a bit as he did. Fire crews had "taken control" of the inferno three times today, and he wasn't certain they'd done it well enough the fourth time. Hell, why was he even in here? No one could have survi-.

"Is someone down there?!"

"What? Yes!"

White Pantera approached the hole in the ceiling, the source of the cough-ridden voice he had heard. He carefully positioned himself, then leaped up through the opening into the next level. There he found five people, two of which were incapacitated by their burns. The healthy individuals were doing their best to move them along. Rodolfo didn't know how they survived, and frankly he didn't care. It was a miracle.