- Epilogue -

Thousands of miles away from Metropolis, thousands of miles away from America, even; a small island was covered with a thin layer of snow. It looked insubstantial while at the same time giving off the look that it was always covered with that amount of snow, at all times. 11 years ago it had been completely uninhabited and if anyone looked across its surface, they would surmise that it was still as empty as it had always been. However, if those same people were to look deeper beneath the surface, they would soon discover that it was not quite as uninhabited as it looked. Not that they would ever get that far; they would be killed off long before that point.

The underground construction was crude and used a network of natural cave systems as a template. It was designed with the bare minimum; meaning that supporting pillars had been inserted into the caves, but the walls and roof were left as dirty red rock. Provisionally, it had been built to house 50 individuals with a further 100 solider types. Since its original design, it had been expanded to hold 250 people of mixed types. Most notably, and most recently, a room had been added to the far end with only one exit and entrance.

The room was about as wide as a tennis court and twice as long. There was a central walkway and either side of it 3 foot trenches had been dug out and filled with an ominous red liquid; thicker than water. At the far end of the room, furthest away from the large stone double doors that was its entrance, was a rectangular platform raised half a foot off the ground and on top of that a crude throne had been carved out of solid rock. It was nothing spectacular; all hard angles with a misshapen back and high armrests. It was currently occupied.

The occupier was tall, it was clear by the way their legs were bent in front of them to allow the feet to rest flat on the ground, and he filled the throne comfortably; as if it had been built specifically for him. The clothes he was wearing covered him from head to toe; consisted of thick leather boots that ran nearly to the knee, dark grey trousers that stuck close to his muscles, a wide black leather belt, a long sleeved top that matched the trousers in colour and was covered with a kind of black armour, segmented to match the muscles on his chest and back, and finally a pair of thin leather gloves covered his hands. It wasn't just his body covered though as a white mask covered his face, curving around his head to cover his ears as well. A pair of wide slits at eye level allowed to orbs of glowing red to shine out.

Next to the throne, and the individual sat on it, was a solid rock coat stand, bizarrely civilized compared to the rest of the room. A single garment hung from it, a long sleeveless cloak with a wide hood that would no doubt completely cover the wearer in its fabric.

The stone doors swung open slowly, grinding against the ground noisily, and the seated figure levelled his glowing gaze on the soldier entering the room. He kept that gaze locked as the soldier walked calmly down the centre aisle until he was within three paces of the raised rectangle that held the throne. As soon as he was there, he laid the rifle he had on the ground and stayed crouched with one knee on the floor and his head bowed.

"My Lord, the Director has sent a report through." The man waited to see if his Lord would reply, but when he didn't he took it as a cue to continue. "There initial contact was a failure."

The seated figure leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the soldier. "Who exactly did Watson send?"

"All of them, my Lord."

The figure sat back again and rested his arms along the arm rests. "And what does Watson plan to do now?"

"My Lord, he is sending a smaller team undercover into the field to track down and watch the target. He plans to let the one called Leon freedom within the city to cause damage and draw the target into a fight; a test of his limits."

"An interesting tactic…or a stupid one." The figure mused. "Watson seems content with reported his findings to me, but as I suspected at the beginning, it is clear he has a personal agenda. Find Coyote and tell him to return to the field. Tell him to find these undercover agents and kill them. Tell him I want it done quietly; so quietly that, to Watson, it will just seem like they disappeared into thin air. Are the orders clear, soldier?"

"Yes, my Lord. I will relay the instructions immediately." The soldier stood up and turned around, slinging his weapon to him as he did, and walked back down the aisle, pulling the doors closed behind him.

The masked figure stood up and clasped his hand behind his back before walking slowly down to the edge of the one of the pools of red liquid. He stared down at it for a long silent minute. "I wonder if I have managed to create the only thing powerful enough to stop me…and then killed all of his family." A low chuckle escaped from the back of his throat, but the man stepped back to his throne and lowered himself into it. "But it will still be no good. I will show this world that there is a dark side to everything."

He sat back and formed his fingers into a steeple in front of his masked face; his glowing red eyes looking past them towards the doors of his throne room. He wasn't expecting anyone to come through and no-one did, so he began thinking carefully about the next phase of his plans.