Thirty-five years ago, Captain Albion was suited up, soaring straight for Israel at the speed of an intercontinental ballistic missile, encased in the flame of superheated air as a result of the immense speed. He was snarling in anger at what they were doing to his son, capturing and torturing him for simply being related to the group of people who funded the Nazis in World War II. Two can play at that game, and he knew he could kill them all. Nolan was worth more to him than the billions of other people he deemed to be subhuman; in fact, he was worth about a million White men in Arthur's eyes. Arthur was flying at speeds faster than he ever deemed to be possible before, fueled mainly by his rage at what had happened that day, at the Buster Beaver's Pizza Palace over in Santa Carla, California.
His eyes were glowing, smoke flowing to the sides as the superheated plasma being telekinetically created reacted with the air. He vented some of that rage on a cruise liner off the coast of Israel, targeting the fuel storage and causing a massive explosion that could be felt from several kilometers away. He smiled a little, taking satisfaction that he took out thousands of Israeli's already in his rage, their fate at the bottom of Davey Jones locker.
On the coast, Israeli townships were incinerated once he expanded the arc of the beam to thirty degrees. While having very little penetration, these expanded Beta ray beams incinerated people on the streets of their town ships, charred their homes to cinders, and gave the survivors a lethal dosage of radiation.
He could see people blindly walking around, skin falling off of their hands as they walked around like Zombies, their faint screams heard from six thousand feet upward by him. These sods thought they were being nuked, when in actuality, they were being strafed by a powerful supe who was directing five hundred mega joules of energy in a several hundred feet radius per second. The survivors looking like charred ghouls with their skin peeling off were of no concern to Captain Albion, as they received enough ionizing radiation to die in a few weeks anyway. With the strain on what was going to be left of the medical system when he was through with the country, leaving them alive was the perfect plan.
Quickly flying into the city at one and a half times the speed of sound, making a loud sonic boom as he did so, he targeted the tallest point in Israel, using two high energy particle beams the width of human eyes to slice the building in two, collapsing the structure immediately with everyone still inside of it. Faintly, he could hear the crunching noise of hundreds of people as they were engulfed in hundreds of tons of rubble. Years of work undone in mere seconds by a wrathful godlike entity that could subvert the very laws of nature to his own whim. Fortunately, they never got to experience the lethal dosage of ionizing radiation, as they were crushed before they could even process pain.
He flew through several districts in Tel Aviv, quickly exceeding the sound barrier hundreds and thousands of times over, propelled on distorted spacetime. Those buildings were cut down by a small fire bolt of energy travelling at a speed so fast, Captain Albion appeared as a beam of light, arriving before he even left his previous location, in two places at once to the outside observer in a different reference frame.
The blinding blue flash of light set everything on fire in Tel Aviv before a mountain sized fireball crushed the city to dust as Arthur decelerated, creating a large, glowing white mushroom cloud seventy kilometers in height, reaching all the way into space. Buildings collapsed from the massive air pressure wave. Smaller buildings were just knocked over like cardboard boxes in a fiery hurricane during the explosion.
When the dust had settled, nothing was left of that area of Tel Aviv but a crater five kilometers deep. The crater was surrounded by several ruined structures, jagged in appearance, charred at the back where they faced the shockwave and thermal pulse of the blast. There were no people left, just shadows where they once stood, baked into the concrete and asphalt. The sky was black with soot for hundreds of miles, all the way to Palestine. Except this soot was rather radioactive. Winter was coming to the Middle East, a cold, irradiated, hellish winter created out of the fallout of the Tel Aviv explosion
Descending down to the charred outskirts of Tel Aviv, whole armies came forth to greet Arthur. There were tanks, AH64 Longbow attack choppers, A-10 Warthogs, all of them raining hell down on Captain Albion's position that day. A large shroud of smoke and fire covered where Arthur stood, enough shells to completely level multiple New York city blocks just unloaded on him.
Of course, to their horror, he was still alive, unharmed, just covered in explosive residue from head to toe, coughing a bit. His eyes glowed a menacing red, smoke coming out the sides, before two white hot beams of plasma cleaved a great deal of the army in half, tanks and all. The armor of vehicles was rendered completely moot when dealing with high-speed particles. Soldiers were on the ground screaming, missing their hands and legs. Some were silent, in complete shock from the pain and massive radiation exposure.
Anti-tank rounds from the Merkava tanks smashed into Arthur's chest, ricocheting in opposite directions. One of those anti-armor, tungsten sabots struck a soldier in the leg, cutting through both of them, rendering him a double amputee screaming on the ground before blood loss mercifully claimed his life. They stung a bit. The pain subsided almost immediately.
Swiftly, he flew into the tank with a loud, thundering clap. Soldiers were sent flying in opposite directions, their bones shattering on impact with the desert sand. He lifted the tank by the treads and tossed it straight at a diving A-10 thunderbolt jet plane. The sixty-five-ton Merkava tank crushed the A-10 thunderbolt like a soda can underneath a Mack truck. It hurtled down to Earth, crushing more soldiers before they could even process what had just happened.
One soldier, aware of what happened, fired on Arthur Pierce. The rounds of the Ghalil assault rifle went off of his chest, his arms, and his entire face harmlessly. Some of the rounds even bounced off of his elbow on the round surface, striking one of the soldiers in the neck, cutting him down. Arthur rushed her with his flight, grabbed her by the neck at one end and the leg on another and pulled as hard as he could until everyone heard a gruesome tearing noise as her ligaments, joints, and muscles were all torn. She was ripped in two. Most supes were not strong enough to tear somebody in half at the torso, yet Arthur did it rather casually.
He tossed the torso at opposite directions, knocking down several soldiers with the gruesome remains of their mutilated comrade. Blood soaked Arthur's costume. Bullets constantly hit him. He was otherwise having the time of his life, an area of the world where he could let loose without feeling any remorse for the people he killed. They were not people as far as he was concerned.
He even kicked an APC through a whole squad, splattering them all over the sandy dunes outside of Tel Aviv's desert. Several of them broke ranks in horror, demoralized at seeing their comrades effortlessly crushed by the one-man army of revenge their government chose to piss off.
Running away did not save them, as they were cut down by two energy beams of super-hot plasma the width of Human eyes within moments of trying to do so.
Arthur screamed, flailing his arms around like a mad man, a tank firing out a high explosive shell, only for him to dodge the shell. It killed twenty men instead of even glancing off of him. He then rushed the tank before the gunner could reload, grabbing it by the cannon.
Using the cannon as a handle, he turned the tank into a giant sixty-ton mace. Arthur swung it around, crushing about a hundred soldiers into chunky salsa. It fired down upon him, exploding harmlessly beneath his feet, obscuring his vision under clouds of smoke. He stuck his fist into the barrel, destroying the entire firing mechanism immediately and killing the crew.
Captain Albion threw the tank through a whole platoon, crushing them into a chunky, crimson paste. They were not even fighting him at this point. They were running away, terrified for their dear lives as tens of thousands of soldiers were slaughtered while not even doing any real damage to this one man. Shaped charges were not even doing jack, APSDS were not even scratching him, they were at their wits end against this onslaught. Soldier Boy was dead. Liberty retired six years ago. They were fucked, for all intense of purposes.
Sometime before the rampage, Arthur was in the foyer of his mansion in Los Angeles, shaking with rage at the fact his child was kidnapped by the Israeli government a few hours ago. He was informed by his butler the moment he received a phone call from the CIA, who in turn informed the butler that Mossad had abducted his child and were en route to an Israeli facility out in Mt. Tabor.
His butler was a tall man with dark hair, greyed at the sides on account of being in his mid-40s. He wore a pinstriped business suit and a newsboy cap, resembling more of a British gangster than one's typical English butler. Cool and collected, he was not bothered over what happened, doing what was requested of him so long as he was paid his hefty salary of six hundred thousand dollars a year. His name was Harold Codswood, manager of Pierce Manor.
"Sir, I have been informed by Grace Mallory that your son has been kidnapped by Mossad at Santa Carla, California. They have killed in excess of twenty thousand American citizens with VX nerve gas simply trying to incapacitate him. Rest assured, he will be returned to you once Reagan catches wind of this," repeated Harold.
Harold repeated himself, only for his assurances to fall on deaf ears as Pierce wondered to his bedroom, guided almost, to that location. Arthur was so angry that his ears were ringing. There was only one thing to do from there, and that was to put his costume on and kill every Jew he saw until their government hands him his son back in desperation. That was the only way they were going to listen to a man like Arthur, knowing that they regarded him and people like him as Cattle. The language of the jungle was the only language they understood: might made right, the idea that they could wind up extinct if they screwed with him.
Then the mother of his son came in behind him, tears streaking down her face. For that one, it was a double whammy, her son captured and her daughter horrifically killed in a chemical weapons attack that the media were seemingly silent on, possibly not wanting to link their favorite country to one of the worst tragedies in American history.
His butler was suddenly cut down by a barrage of machine gun fire. His mutilated corpse fell to the marble floor, covered in many finger-sized bleeding holes.
In the house came two middle eastern men in business suits. They were quite calm, even faced against two people who could kill them in a thousand horrendously gruesome ways with their bare hands alone. They were Mossad agents, one of them brandishing an Uzi, taking aim at Klara's eyes if she decided to try something. They were completely fucked, however, when it came to dealing with Arthur.
"What the fuck do you want, vermin!?" yelled Arthur, his green eyes turning a glowing reddish white, smoke emanating from the sides of them.
"Your attention," answered one of the other man coldly
"You hooknosed kikes captured my son! You already have it," snarled Arthur.
"We demand that you hand over your son for experimentation, the surrender of all your assets, and you behind bars for your many crimes against the Jewish people," demanded one of the agents.
"Demands!" scoffed Arthur with a derisive laugh.
Arthur approached the man, calmly, towering over the Israeli agent by around a foot in overall height.
"What answer do you give the Jewish people of Israel?" demanded the agent.
"This!" said Arthur Luther Pierce.
With one swift motion, Pierce tore a large chunk out of the agent's throat before he could even respond to that. He knelt to the floor, gurgling as blood pooled out from the large ragged wound left where Pierce tore a large chunk. Klara was shocked, horrified at the reaction she saw. Arthur, looking deep into the agents dark eyes, tore the head off of the agent and passed to the one who stood there, pissing and shitting his pants at the site.
"Take the head to Tel Aviv!"
Terrified, the Israeli agent took the head of his fallen comrade, fleeing to get away as fast and as far away from Arthur as he could. He must have really pissed off his boss if he was tasked with taunting some supe powerful enough to dismantle entire countries. Demands only worked when someone had the might to back them up, and as far as Pierce was concerned, they did not. All they could do was scurry like rats at the terror they had just awoken from its proverbial slumber.
Klara was terrified, not from the gore or the medieval levels of brutality, but from the sheer rage Arthur put out that day. She had never seen someone that powerful get that angry before, not even when his trophy wife was mutilated by the KGB in 1962. He quartered the guy responsible, tearing the KGB agent, with his bare hands, into four separate pieces. She was completely unfazed, seeing brutality that far surpassed that on the streets of Weimar Germany as a child.
From underneath one of the gilded decorative urns, Arthur grabbed a large bag of a white powdery substance. He despondently pressed it into his face, huffing the whole bag until it was empty. Arthur's green pupils were so wide his eyes went dark, dilated. He was already getting high before saving his son, one of the reasons Klara had dumped him, his uncontrollable hooker and blow habit that got him involved with scandal after scandal. That, and he was an open racist. She never wanted to be associated with someone so radioactive he may as well have been glowing in the dark as if he were slathered in radium paint. He was an on again/off again booty call to her.
Quickly, he put his costume on while he was in the master bedroom where she was waiting. Klara could hear him hastily buttoning up his costume for the attack on Israel. She knew he was going to attack Israel and the resulting bloodbath would be immense, worse than the Pograms in all of history, done by a single individual high on Columbian Marching Powder.
His costume was amazing, designed for him to his specifications. The costume was black, blue, and red in color scheme, with the body suit of his costume made of a dark dense cloth-like material, canvas. Golden buttons held the costume together, emphasizing Arthur's vast, endless wealth as well as his majesty. The same could be said for his tasseled, golden epaulets, worn by royalty, as if the British crown belonged to him not Queen Elizabeth Windsor. Arthur wore a leather belt with a golden belt buckle, a fasces belt buckle.
"What if they kill you?" cried Klara in an exasperated tone of voice.
"They won't," he replied assuredly.
Telekinetically bending air around him, making the small shards of marble fly up around his feet, he shot into the air like a bullet from an insanely powerful gun, heading east, towards Israel, no doubt. She could see him pass through the sky, a plume of white fire. It was like there was a shooting star in the noon sky that appeared and redshifted into obscurity with how quickly he flew.
Klara covered her face with a sheet she found in the bedroom and took flight, slowly levitating off the ground through the hole Arthur made in the roof like a human sized cannon ball. Her flight made a loud electrical buzzing noise as lightning bolts were directed down onto the floor. Once she was above the roof, she flew off at mach eight, eight times the speed of sound. She was hoping she would be able to calm him down before he made the Israelis look like the victims in the public eye despite the egregious crimes they had just committed against Americans. If he killed millions of people in Israel, they will of course scream bloody murder and the Americans would be giving their sympathy to them as opposed to their own people. She was desperate to calm him down.
In less than an hour when she got there, Israel was in ruins. Tel Aviv was reduced to a smoldering ruin clouded in soot. She could see in the center of the city a glowing, white hot crater five kilometers across, with the rest of the buildings completely flattened. Millions of people were dead within a brief flash as if an immensely high-yield hydrogen bomb went off in the country. On the far outskirts of the city, there was a series of flashes that could be seen from the way across the small country.
She flew there to see a horrific sight. The Israeli Defense Force was fighting one man and they were getting the absolute shit hammered out of them. Israel was getting her teeth kicked in. Tanks were getting lift up and tossed at anti-tank jet craft, crushing them. Soldiers were getting ripped in half whenever Pierce had gotten his hands on them, something she was not even strong enough to do to a person.
Worst of all, he was screaming like a maniac as he did it. Their weapons did nothing to him. They did not penetrate the force field that surrounds his body to any significant degree to leave even superficial injuries, nor did they even faze him. She would have been killed quickly by the Iron Dome's defense systems alone. He no-sold armor piercing tank shells, hellfire missiles, rocket artillery, and bullets the same way she no-sold low caliber rounds. He was Achilles during the Battle of Troy, except dropped into the River of Styx and taken out before he could drown.
"Give me back my son," he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The army was fleeing for their lives in terror, and Arthur cut down over a thousand IDF soldiers with his laser-like particle beam eyes. They fell to the ground, smoldering mutilated heaps by the tens of thousands. She was not powerful enough to stop him. All she could do was watch in horror as he turned tens of thousands of Israelis into chunky salsa. The amount of punishment he took without even reacting would have killed or crippled her thousands of times over.
Then she was briefly blinded by a flash of light that struck Arthur's position.
Already that flash became a mushroom cloud several kilometers high, stretching all the way into the sky, many times higher than a mountain. It was still pretty bright, but no longer bright enough that it would cook Klara's retinas like steaks on a grill. Rings of superheated air surrounded the bright hot mushroom cloud that consumed Arthur. That was a hydrogen bomb, and a city busting hydrogen bomb at that. They were truly desperate to take Arthur down if they were willing to render swaths of their own country uninhabitable just to kill him.
All of that was for nought. Arthur emerged from the nuclear hellfire almost completely intact, his costume tattered and his face likely burned beyond recognition. She could not see any of his blonde hair, one of the traits that she found so attractive about him. More than likely, he was covered in soot, assuming he was not severely disfigured inside of the astronomical heat of a hydrogen bomb fireball. One hundred million degrees Celsius was enough to destroy matter at the subatomic level, a fact even she was aware of thanks to her husband, the type of weapon no supe should be able to survive. If they were a hypothetical reality warper, that was a different story.
She flew down to talk to him, to try to reason with him once he was an acceptable distance away from that nuclear detonation. He stopped near a mountain called Mt Tabor, where the illusive Cronus Facility was located. Now she knew what he intended to do: intercept them as they were transporting his son into the facility. It was not just the temper tantrum of a spoilt child that she thought it was. There was some method to it, although crude it may have been.
She landed once he made his way to the entrance. There was two people standing guard at the reinforced bunker-like entrance of the structure. They were two people she thought the first compound V doses completely killed: Sampson and Diamond, two of Frederick Vought's rejects who were adversely affected by the super serum. It turned out they survived and thrived as she did, doing the dirty work for their people just as she was.
Of the two compound V rejects, Sampson was the one who terrified Stormfront the most, sporting flight in the form of angelic wings, super strength on par with Soldier Boy, and an energy attack that comes from his wings where he can shoot arcs of superheated plasma at his foes. Diamond was not so lucky. He gained telekinesis, longevity, with the former of which being nothing special as all four parties had that power.
Arthur was very clearly worn down from fighting an entire country's military all by himself. He was covered in severe burns. They were not even burns. His organs and bones were exposed. Klara could even see his inflamed lungs fluttering through his exposed ribcage on one side of his body. How he was even still standing despite taking that amount of punishment was a mystery to her. That was not even getting to his face. It was horrifically disfigured in ways she could not even make out. He had no ears, only holes where he could hear from. Arthur's eyes were left untouched in the close-range nuclear blast; however, his nose and lips were gone, burned away in the immense thermal pulse of the explosion.
"You parasites don't seem to understand: Western Civilization isn't yours to rule!" he proclaimed.
Arthur flew to Sampson, grabbed him by the throat before he could react, tossing him into the air before shooting out two high energy beams from his eyes, slashing into Sampson's shoulder. Sampson flew down, striking Arthur square in the jaw with one well-placed punch, knocking him to the concrete floor. Arthur tripped Sampson and punched him straight in the mouth with his burned, leathery fist, knocking one of Sampson's teeth out.
Klara was horrified by how he could still be alive despite his injuries. Medicine dictated that a man who was burned badly enough to have exposed bones and organs was already dead, as thermal shock should have done Arthur in. However, he was still matching one of the strongest supes her husband ever created despite being more or less crippled and worn down after hours of constant battle. It was a sight to behold indeed.
"Is this the Jewish people's greatest warrior!?" taunted Arthur. "Pathet—"
Before he could finish his taunt, Sampson slid a knife into Arthur Pierce's right lung through his exposed rib. The blade was rammed in with enough force to slice one of his lungs, his invisible force field weakened after hours of constant use. In turn, Arthur gouged out one of Sampson's eyes with one of his skeletal thumbs, which was like a claw without the flesh blunting it. He fell back to the ground, holding his bleeding left eye.
While he was covering his bleeding eye in pain, Arthur went behind Sampson. Klara kicked sand into his other eye so that Arthur could do what he was planning on doing. Arthur grabbed Sampson's wings, one in each hand, and used his foot for extra leverage. Tendons snapped, sinews tore in loud crunching noises as he tore off Sampson's wings, the source of his superhuman powers.
The sand next to the entrance of Cronus Facility was spattered with blood once Sampson's wings were gruesomely divorced from his body by the near endless, telekinetically-enhanced strength of Arthur Luther Pierce.
"You thought you could fuck with the White race and by extension, me, and get away with it, kike," Arthur Luther Pierce laughed.
Captain Albion grabbed Sampson by his hair, looking into his eyes without any expression as those features were burned off. He breathed out a bit of blood from his stabbed lung, a laugh almost. Arthur was virtually smiling with delight at what he was going to do to Sampson before finally killing him.
"Let's give your eyes a matching set," Arthur said jubilantly.
He grabbed the knife from his lung, shattering a section of his ribcage as the knife was deep in there, too high to even feel it from the immense amount of cocaine he snorted. He jammed the blood-soaked knife into Sampson's right eye, twisting it so as there was no viable tissue left for his healing factor to restore it to what it was.
Captain Albion then turned his attention to Sampson's ears. He sliced into his right ear with his particle beam like vision, completely destroying the outer and inner ears with the heat of a black hole's burning hot accretion disk. Then he turned his attention to the other ear, ripped out Sampson's tongue and dislocated his jaw with his charred, mutilated bare hands.
Then Arthur turned his attention to Sampson's limbs, taking a whack with his particle beam vision, slicing deep into the bones of his legs. Then another, breaking the bones. Then the last one completely sliced off Sampson's legs. Sampson could not even scream anymore as his tongue was torn out and his jaw was completely dislocated. All that could be heard were muffled, inarticulate gurgles of pain.
Klara puked at what she had just saw in disgust, the amount of brutality she saw was something not out of place in Imperial Japan. He was Hideki Tojo but white. That was all he was, a sadistic war criminal who should not be allowed to run a country. Since behavior was genetic, she also did not want anything to do with his offspring. She could not believe she braved potential radiation exposure to go out and save someone who only shares a small percentage of her DNA. Then again, Abram did kill her daughter.
When the shock wore off, Abram's khaki suit pants went dark in his crotch area and a loud, wet clapping sound was heard as well. He pissed and shit himself when he finally took in the fact that the strongest of Israeli's superheroes was defeated by a charred, crippled ghoul in just a few moves. Even in a weakened and injured state, Arthur was still terrifying beyond all metrics known to man, probably even more now, seeing as he was running on nothing but adrenaline and the gigantic amount of cocaine he snorted previously. His head was darting, back and forth, wondering when either his former tormenter or the far more sadistic Arthur was going to be the one to do him in. Electrocution or mutilation was how he was going to leave this world.
That was, until it hit him. Behind Arthur was a large piece of rebar he could manipulate with his telekinesis. Pulling it over with a hand gesture, he took aim at Arthur's spine, right in between the softer parts of his disks. Abram could vaguely make it out between the hole the nuclear blasts immense heat had cut into Arthur's body, on the right side of his chest.
Arthur was not a supe in the conventional sense. He was a psionic entity emulating the powers of a superhero through the use of telekinetic fields. Flight was him moving the air around him, squeezing him through the atmosphere like a bar of soap. In the case of a vacuum or speeds faster than one hundred kilometers a second, it was distorted spacetime. Superstrength was just him using telekinesis for support while grabbing an object. His optical blasts were not laser beams, but air molecules telekinetically focused and shot out at near the speed of light. Invincibility was just a passive telekinetic field around his body that cooled him down through a process of arresting molecular motion, or in the case of bullets, deflecting or breaking them. It also softened the blow of a superpowered punch from an opponent down to the level of a normal human. As for the nuclear blast, his telekinetic shield reduced the heat down to the thermal pulse many people survived in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, albeit horrifically disfigured like Arthur was now. Regeneration worked the same way, rearranging atoms and molecules into new stem cells that were then held in place to form new tissues, limbs, and organs.
The rebar shot through Arthur's wound and out the back like a bullet. He fell to the ground, paralyzed from the shoulders down after that shot. Klara rushed to his aid, only to be telekinetically lifted into the air with a hand gesture and choked with Abram's right hand.
"You want to know the irony of this, you shiksa cow?," gloated Abram.
"W-what's that?" cried Klara, gurgling.
"Your goische fuckboy hardly killed anyone. You think would allow such a powerful entity with antisemitic beliefs who was just one bad day away from going on a genocidal rampage roam free without a little insurance policy? Dumb little shiksa! We have underground arcologies—cities—all over the country, housing our best and brightest. He only killed the stupid, expendable Orthodox Jews. In fact, he kind of did us a favor. He left the Ashkenazi Jews untainted by their inbred, retarded, genetic trash," chuckled Abram.
"Nolan will rip you to pieces once he escapes!" threatened Klara.
"Possible," admitted Abram. "The best part about your son's regeneration is that I can mutilate him horrifically, and he will return to the previous state in the next few months so I can do it again. It's like Prometheus in Greek mythology but a small child."
"When I regenerate, I will kill you, scour your whole country from existence, and hunt every one of your western diasporas down until your race goes the way of THE FUCKING DODO bird, you slovenly shylock freak!" proclaimed Arthur.
"I will have your Yid head on a spike!" Arthur screamed.
Worst of all, Abram was getting hard just thinking about what he was going to do. He was targeted first by Nazi Germany because he was a sicko freak who made child pornography. In fact, the reason why Frederick Vaught even injected him with the early compound V in the first place was because, like the Progenitor Serum, he thought it would kill him horrifically for being non-White. While it had its painful side effects, it still gave him superpowers, like Sampson.
"S-sick Juden fuck! You get off on this, don't you?" screamed Klara.
"One of the perks of being Jewish, whore! I can do whatever the fuck I want so long as my victims are not Jewish people; thus, it is perfectly legal for me to do this in the founding constitution of Israel. Sampson had a whole slew of sex slaves he had kidnapped from Britain and Germany. Once they were out of the country and under Israeli jurisdiction, they were his to do with as he pleased. He even sodomized one of them with a gladius. Yes, up her twat, too. You people were created by our god, Yahweh, to be our personal playthings," proclaimed Abram.
Just after boasting about his fiendish exploits, two beams of superheated plasma cut clean through Abram's feet. Abram fell to the ground, screaming and crying as he noticed that both of his feet were now charred stumps reaching all the way up to the knees. Klara was free and she ran over to tend to Arthur, who was on the ground, bleeding to death from what was essentially a massive caliber gunshot wound through his spine.
Abram was on the ground ten feet away next to a horrifically mutilated Sampson, screaming bloody murder. Both of his lower legs were sliced off, suffering from a near lethal dose of beta particle radiation, too. His skin was covered in blisters as well as blood was coming from his mouth. Arthur could not help but smile in satisfaction, knowing that Sampson was likely dead soon, if the V in his blood did not restore his DNA. The virus contained in Pierce's blood repaired DNA damage in an instant, hence why he was unaffected by the radiation of the nuclear explosion or the beta particles of his optical blasts.
Once free of being strangled, Klara carried Arthur off to a clandestine Vought facility out in Pennsylvania, where he soon slipped into a coma to regenerate the severe burns he sustained in the atomic blasts. She, meanwhile, would receive messages with video tapes of Nolan being brutally tortured by Abram Diamond from 1986 to 1993, the day the messages stopped being sent. Arthur regenerated all missing tissue in eighteen months; however, it took him ten years to fully recover his strength as a result of the atrophy of staying inactive for a year and a half. Half of Israel's population was wiped out on the day of December 25th, 1985.
A/N: I kind of read some of the books on Pelinal's rampage in the Elder Scroll's universe while playing Oblivion, and I got some ideas for a super-powered rampage from there. In addition, another thing I realized is that psionic supes should be able to hurt supes like Arthur, under very specific circumstances like being nuked by an ICBM as he was, since the incredibly severe burns created several weak spots for a clever combatant to target.