My name is Isaac. I leave this note behind in the event of my untimely demise. It is the year 2008, making me 22 years old.
I have chosen to leave this brief record now because I am certain that my time will soon come. Though those loyal to me, my security force, and dear Nikolai have assured me that nothing shall happen, I admit I am still paranoid. Paranoia… that has been a big part of my life for a long time. I've always been afraid that someone from my past will return and take something from me. My power, my life, or my freedom.
No one is familiar with my past… I'll let you in on a secret. Until I was 15, I wasn't a criminal. I only just discovered what I could truly do at 13… how could I have had an identity linked to that yet? And do not think I came to be who I am now because of dire circumstances. I chose this road because it was logical. It was natural. The strong should always choose a strong path… which leaves one of two roads. And I just don't have the purity of heart to be a hero. I want too much. And in wanting so much for myself, I have decided my destiny.
At 15 I stole something in public view… a ceremonial golden gun. The beauty part was that I stole it from a visiting delegate, who had arrived at the UN building in the US for peace talks with another nation. I forget the names of those men involved, which I suppose means they were unimportant. In those days I wasn't even known as M. I had no idea who I was, and until the media began playing off the frenzy that was "the Golden Gun Bandit," neither did anybody else. At 17 I had pilfered enough money from banks, stores, even wallets to fly myself to Russia. In Moscow I met my future right hand man, as well as his owner. He was a mafia boss, and together we spun a brilliant web. Together we sired the first model of M.
And here I am now. I still want everything the world has to offer. Except immortality, naturally. I don't want to live forever, and certainly I won't try. So instead I think maybe I'll just leave a mark… if I can write history, even just a brief section of it, that would certainly validate my existence. How else can I assure my place? How many people, out of all those who ever lived, have made any difference? Sure, you can list a thousand easy… but there is too much white noise. If you gathered all the people in history who MADE history in one city, you could probably just put them in Tokyo and have room to spare.
Nikolai once asked me how I intended to change the world. I told him that I was going to be a rule. A maxim. And he understood. But he asked me what I rule I was. That was something I had to think about… and after hours of reflection, I realized how simple I truly was. I am the maxim of victory; I always win. And by believing that I will win, I become unstoppable.
--
Chapter 16, Invincible
--
It is now 2011… M is a worldwide organization of unparalleled power, having representatives in major countries the world over. Only North America lacks major contributors, simply because of the defiant nature of the local crime rings. That won't be a problem, soon. I can assure that. I suppose I should update my "last will" a bit. Somewhat out of date. But I think first I'll snuff out Miracle City's last hope. I don't think any hero will stand against me after I put the broken bodies of the Riveras on display and announce my empire for the world to see. Three years ago I would have never contemplated open war… but now? Without hesitation.
Maxim stood waiting for a response… which made him uncomfortable. Every hero he had ever fought that had any semblance of patience was a hero that left him injured and desperate. And while Maxim knew his enemy had no patience whatsoever, he still felt unnerved. But El Tigre wasn't attacking… in fact he was lowering his hands and giving the villain a curious look.
"Dude," Tigre called out, "you look like a dork."
Maxim looked down at his old uniform. Truer words have rarely been spoken. "Well, I normally have something less "Imperial Star Destroyer" and more "dark superpower," but my good outfit was destroyed in a fire. To be honest, I'm surprised this thing still fits… I haven't worn it since my days in Russia. Lord, that had to be eight years ago."
"Well, just so long as you know…"
"Right. Well, since I'm a dork, I guess it'll be easy for you to beat me. So again," Maxim said, raising a hand and waving Tigre over, "come and get me."
Tigre lifted his claws again, eager to comply, but at the same time unwilling to do so. His father had taught him never to underestimate a foe, and his grandfather always said that the only sure way to avoid doing so was to cheat, thus sidestepping any of the strategy one would otherwise need. But he was in hero mode right now, so the best course of action was simple. He wanted to end this fight quickly, so Tigre started by running hard and fast, aiming to cut down his opponent with a single stroke. Maxim didn't move any more than shifting his weight forward, balling his fist as he did. Hardly a threat, really. But the sudden pain and strange blue flash associated with the punch to his chin left El Tigre wondering exactly what he had been thinking about when a straight run seemed like a good idea. The fighters backed away from one another while Tigre recovered, clutching his jaw and growling to himself.
"Ow. Man, what? Ow!"
"We can stop now, if you like. Besides, I am obligated to tell you one last thing before we really start this whole fighting game."
"Oh?" Tigre turned and opened one eye, glaring at Maxim as let down his guard to adjust his gloves a bit. "Let me guess, you want me to join you."
"No, not really. But at the same time, yes. I'm not the one who wants you to join. A young villainess is. She made it quite clear that I was to offer you this choice, and being a good host, I am obligated to extend said offer, even though I can already tell you're going to say no. But before you say anything, keep in mind I will only ever ask you once. Will you join M?"
Tigre rubbed his chin one last time before looking at Maxim and shaking his head. "No."
"Alright."
Maxim ran forward this time, his footwear clanking hard against the concrete floors. But then he was in the air, twisting his body violently and bringing his foot down on the yet unmoving Tigre. But the sound of metal on cracking cement made it clear… a miss. Seems Tigre waited for the proper moment to dodge the attack and leaped out of the way. The impact sent dust into the air around Maxim, not thick, but apparent nonetheless. He stood slowly, and after reaching his full height started rubbing his thigh.
"Huh… should've stretched a little more."
El Tigre pounced on the opportunity and rushed forward, engaging Maxim in close combat. At first the villain did well, blocking every punch and kick Tigre sent his way. But after connecting one blow with his chest, Tigre managed to break his adversary's stance and push him back several steps. One punch to the jaw, a kick to the knee, a pair of quick jabs to the stomach… and now for the finisher, a roundhouse kick to the gut. Tigre spun around and launched a powerful attack, gasping when Maxim caught him by the ankle. He was pulled towards his enemy with a single, powerful tug, not balanced enough to respond in anyway. Having a good opening, Maxim drew his left hand back, though it wasn't curled into a fist. His fingers were bent inward but he left the palm open, and within that space appeared a swirl of blue light, shimmering in the dark of the room. Maxim forced his hand into Tigre's gut, and he was surprised by the incredible force of the attack. At first it was like getting punched, but instead retracting his arm, Maxim pushed it forward, lifting the hero into the air. Tigre felt Maxim's hand pull away, leaving him floating in the air after the attack, and for a moment it seemed he wouldn't fall down. Time slowed to a halt as he saw Maxim's other hand pull back, conjuring the same blue light and associated force the other possessed. Time sped up again when El Tigre was hit hard in the chest, sending him rolling across the floor into a pillar. He coughed a bit before clawing his way up the pillar, using it to support his weight.
"Who-," Tigre forced through his coughs, "who are you?"
"I have many names… every where I go someone calls me something different. But no matter where I go, I am always one thing: M. Hmm... that seems a little impersonal… call me Maxim. Only my inner circle calls me by that name. Does that make you feel any better?"
"No. Not at all."
Tigre pushed himself away from the wall and walked forward slowly, keeping his eyes on Maxim all the while. Every hit Maxim landed was like three of his… which meant he was going to lose if kept trying direct attacks. So instead he waited for a cue, some sign that meant Maxim would strike. But the American was calm, and now very confident he would win the day. Then Tigre smiled, remembering a trick his dad taught him.
"So, your power…"
"What about it?"
"Nothing… what is it, magic?"
"Huh. Not at all."
"Well, what is it?" Tigre was becoming impatient now. Maxim should've started monologuing or something…
"It's complicated… a kid like you wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Tigre passed in front of a pillar, which was perfect really. "Alright. To put it simply, it's all about will power."
Maxim rushed forward and broke his run to kick forward. Though Tigre dodged easily enough, rolling to the side, Maxim continued the kick much as he would if the hero was still there. From his position, El Tigre was able to witness a spiral form at the center of Maxim's foot, just barely painted with the same blue light as all his other attacks. When the kick struck the concrete pillar, it was not just the metal on cement that made the noise. It was the sudden release of the pent up energy, and it cracked the solid material that made up the sturdy support. Tigre was up again before his enemy could get his foot back on the floor, first punching, but soon slashing at Maxim with his razor sharp claws. Not one blow made contact. In a final bid to deal some meaningful damage, Tigre stepped back and bowed his body, lunging forward with both hands to impale this stubborn enemy. His hands were met by Maxim's, who held El Tigre's claws in the rippling pools of energy in his hands. Looking into his eyes, Tigre growled at Maxim, pushing him across the floor to try and break the hold. He failed in this endeavor. Maxim's eyes surged with violent light and the energy that rested in his hands, which looked at first like water, burst into blue flame. He pushed forward himself and sent Tigre through the air. He landed on his back with a rather pathetic sound, leaning forward once he caught his breath. He was getting angry now.
"Are you just messing with me?! You could be doing stuff like that all the time, couldn't you?!"
"I just want you to feel that you're doing well… I hate for people to die unhappy."
About this time, Black Cuervo had found her way to the observation deck in the large chamber where El Tigre and Maxim were trading blows and witty banter. Perched safely above, she had a perfect view of the battle below, and she watched intently to see who was winning. Tigre was down… but that could be anything. He looked angry… that could be anything too. What was really telling was how slowly he got up. He was injured at some point. It was possible that he simply got hurt running the gauntlet to get this far; Maxim spared no expense in making the fortress a living hell to get through. El Tigre leaned forward, drawing his claws again.
"Don't think for a minute you're gonna' win!"
"I know I'm going to win, Rivera. I always win. If I had a birthday for every hero I've killed, I'd be as old as your grandfather."
Tigre's eyes grew wide, and his face twisted into a snarl. "I knew it! Cuervo wasn't responsible for the Golden Eagle Twins! It was you!"
"I'm afraid so."
"But, I, grraah!! I'm gonna' tear you apart!"
Bearing a great deal of anger, El Tigre lunged forward, claws out and arms extended. He slashed at Maxim again and again, who, though blocking each attack, was forced back farther and faster than before. Finally, he managed something. Slicing hard, Tigre broke through Maxim's guard and dragged three claws across his face. Maxim growled in pain and anger, feeling upset not only over the impudence of Rivera's attacks, but over his inability to stop all of them. He's been too lazy in the past eight months… that's how long it's been since he had to fight anybody really worth it. And he grabbed the chance to punish El Tigre for injuring him. After Tigre had slashed at him again, swinging his right hand in a way that made it impossible for the left to do anything, Maxim backed up a step and grabbed his opponent by the elbow, pushing to further and twisting Tigre's body with it. Once his back was exposed, Maxim raised his hand and brought it down over his kidney, striking Tigre to the floor. But that wasn't enough to slate Maxim's anger. Taking El Tigre by the ankles, he dragged him to a nearby pillar. His hands and eyes burned with flames as he focused his will and pulled hard, swinging Tigre up and into the pillar. He fell to the floor coughing and clutching his ribs, which had taken the full brunt of the attack. He could have sworn he felt one of them crack. Cuervo fell to her knees with her hands over her mouth, stifling the whimpers that her throat forced out. Maxim hovered nearby, restraining himself.
"Get up, Rivera." Maxim stared down without mercy, wanting to snuff out his enemy. "I won't hit a man who's down… get up."
"You should've probably hit me before I could do this!" El Tigre rolled over and pointed his claws at the nearby Maxim, who was unaware that one of his opponent's abilities was firing the straightened claws like darts. He had but a moment to raise his left arm against the projectiles, aimed at his eyes. One pierced his arm, and another sliced its way across his left ear. The others flew off into the room, bouncing off pillars or the floor. When Maxim looked to the floor again, he found Tigre had moved. Clever.
"Oh, you are dead. Incredibly so." Maxim slowly wrapped his fingers around the protruding claw, halted from completely skewering his arm by Maxim's power's will to preserve itself. It can only be said to do this because whenever this sort of thing happened, it was never Maxim willing it so. Either that or luck. "I'm going to find you in here, and I'm going to open your rib cage."
As Maxim wandered around the room in search of his prey, El Tigre hid behind a pillar clutching his ribs, gauging the level of safety of his position through the clank of Maxim's feet. Seems the functional power of those metal plates didn't quite outweigh their detrimental values. Maxim's steps slowed down as he drew close, causing Tigre to quiet his breathing and listen carefully.
"You won't last much longer, you know… with each injury you sustain, you grow that much weaker. The injuries I've suffered have thus far only made me stronger. I'm willing to bet that your breathing is labored, your body is burning with exhaustion and pain, and that deep down you're scared."
El Tigre frowned, but was relieved when it sounded as though Maxim was walking away. He released a breath slowly, but soon noticed that there was no longer any sound in the room. A great sense of dread built up within him very quickly.
"Found you."
Not knowing why, Tigre pushed himself away from the pillar on the grounds that it wasn't safe to be there. His instincts were confirmed when a loud crack followed by the breaking of parts of the pillar met his senses. Chunks of concrete fell to the floor from the support, and through the dust came the hunter, walking hastily through the shadow toward his prey. Once in range, he lifted his hand and brought it down on Tigre's face… but Maxim frowned when he felt a hand on his arm. Smirking, El Tigre returned the blow, punching Maxim hard again and again. About the fifth time, as Maxim began to falter, he caught Tigre's fist in his hand and started twisting, and to regain meaningful control he brought his knee into his stomach. Tigre fell to his knees, out of breath from the hit. When he leaned up again, he saw Maxim lift his burning fists into the air, and crumbled when they were brought down on his shoulders. He backed away to look at his craftsmanship. Blood dripped from Maxim's arm, and he spat more of it from his mouth.
"I think you've had enough."
Wiping his lip, Maxim found that one of his teeth was loosened. He had to smile over that; how long was it since he had a challenge like that? There were only two others in the world that could fight that well… of course, they did better, but they also had another decade of combat under their belts. He turned to walk away, leaving El Tigre in a pile on the floor. He paused as Tigre pushed himself up, shaking in pain, gripped with fury. Maxim sighed.
"Fine… I guess you haven't."
El Tigre roared, leaping forward wreathed in green flames. His claws were pointed at Maxim's throat, who had his hands at his side. His body was twisted in an unusual attack stance, but a powerful one. His left foot moved forward, anchoring him. His hands were joined together, the left feeding additional power into the right. Then he pushed forward from his right foot and forced his charged up hand out with his whole body. At this point in the attack, Tigre was put a fraction of an inch from victory; his claws were just barely brushing against Maxim's neck, only just missing the vital blood vessels under the flesh. He was stopped by Maxim's hand, which caught him squarely in the chest. Time again seemed to slow down, for everyone in the room. How very close this had come to Maxim's defeat… but things sped up again after an incredible blasting sound, much like a roar of thunder or the explosion of a bomb. Tigre felt something within him snap even before he was sent back across the floor, rolling to a stop.
"There. Now you're done."
For a time, El Tigre remained slumped on the floor, face on the concrete. When he pushed himself up, he coughed more violently than he had before, and this time it was accompanied with blood. He heaved again and again, coughing up a little blood each time.
"Force Palm. One of my better techniques. Slow, but it gets the job done. You see what I did that pillar over there?" Maxim paused to point at the support beam that Tigre hid behind just a minute or two ago, not caring that he wasn't looking. "I essentially did that inside your body. I can't accurately gauge the damage, but personal experience suggests you have anywhere from five to twenty minutes to get to a hospital. You'll die from internal bleeding, otherwise."
Tears filled her eyes… he had lost. He hadn't just lost; he was dying. Cuervo leaned against the guard rail, biting her finger, trying not to just break down then and there. M… he was taking her love away. El Tigre coughed again, loosing more blood in the process. No longer able to support his torso, he leaned slowly and fell to his side, wheezing through the pain. He looked at Maxim, tears welling up in his eyes. But he couldn't tell why he wanted to cry. Was it because he was hurt? Was he afraid of dying? Was he despairing because he would never see his loved ones again, or because he failed Miracle City? Instead of thinking of answers to any of those questions, instead El Tigre was wondering what Maxim was looking at, not hearing the roar of the jets that distracted him. Turning to the observation deck, Maxim was shocked to see Cuervo flying down upon him. He grew even more shocked when she shot him in the chest three times as she descended, knocking him to the ground. Cuervo landed next to Tigre, standing over him protectively. But as Maxim rose again, angered by her intrusion, seemingly uninjured by her attacks, she moved forward with her plan. Aiming high, she fired what remained of her ammunition; the windows high in the chamber shattered, leaving an opening to the daylight. Cuervo scooped the injured Rivera into her arms and launched into the air, trying her best to handle the carry him along instead of drag him like she used to in their youth. As she fled from the chamber, Maxim stood and stared. The holes in his jacked revealed his pale flesh, unharmed by her attack, probably protected by the same force he used to crush El Tigre like a worm.
--
Outside
--
The Riveras and the Aves' were still at each other's throats, each individual worn to the bone from pitched combat. It was a much accepted reprieve when the combatants all turned to watch Cuervo flying over the battle field… but what was she carrying? Voltura was the first to process it.
"Mija… El Tigre?"
"What?" White Pantera paused to look up. He saw his son, battered and ruined. "Manny!"
Though El Tigre and Black Cuervo did not see it happen, the battle they passed broke then and there, neither party wishing to continue. It was just the two of them, zooming across the shimmering desert, surprisingly peaceful despite the dire circumstances. Tigre couldn't help but wonder how he was flying… or why the sky was so very, very blue. Almost purple, if he looked at it the right way…
--
Miracle City Hospital, Friday, 6:40 AM
--
Manny could not remember why he was where he was… and he couldn't figure out his exact location either. He heard voices, shouting, and he felt his body moving. He could only stare up, barely taking in the sight of people, their faces in the blurred periphery of his vision. Every now and then he'd see a fluorescent light in the ceiling… was he in a school? He didn't much like school… made him feel sleepy. Maybe that's why he was so tired. He wanted to sleep right now, but every time he started drifting off someone would slap him and say something he couldn't understand. Then they'd flash a light in his eyes. That's not very polite… making him stay awake and then blinding him. At least they were wiping his mouth whenever he'd cough. It felt like his was drooling, so it was good they were helping him clean that off. But it was strange that whenever they'd use the towel to wipe his saliva away it was even bloodier than before. Did he have a nose bleed? A whistling sound came to Manny's ears, and his vision became blurred. Tiredness enveloped him once more… so tired. He just wanted to sleep. As his vision faded, he felt an incredible pain in the whole of his body, and he lurched up, jerking awake. Manny became aware of how much pain he was in, how much he suffered each time he coughed. He became more aware of the sights and sounds around him, the shouting and sound of machinery, specifically that "beep-beep" sound he always heard on hospital shows. Wasn't that for dying people, though? He felt something over his face… a mask or something. He felt the air rushing through it as a doctor squeezed it again and again, and soon he began to fade again. The world became dark… but he wouldn't fall asleep. Manny Rivera would not fall asleep.