ACT VIII

I, Elisa Maza, knew perfectly well how Goliath's tragedies sated his blood lust. He was devastated after the genocide of his ancient Scotland clan. He threatened to drop Xanatos off a skyscraper. He nearly disemboweled Anthony Dracon.

Here was something I couldn't understand: how he could just kill a man? Goliath was an honorable, tactically genius warrior who knew better. I sure as hell taught him better. To get answers, I immediately called Lexington.

"Hi, Elisa, it's usually unsafe to talk on a phone while gliding. Good thing I brought my Bluetooth." Lex answered.

"Why the hell were Demona and Goliath a tag team?" I asked.

"For some reason she was in the vicinity. They clicked when he said the Hunters hurt Angela," he hopelessly described.

"Jalapeña, 'clicked' isn't the verb I wanna hear. What about those Hunters? If they're corpses nobody will care if Goliath's father of the year," I asked.

"They were flung into a wall with such an impact that its wiring electrocuted them. We didn't bother to check pulses," Lexington sighed. "Electricity is a difficult weapon to gauge."

"I know. Did you mention that fact to Goliath?" I asked while pacing.

"Negative. He even let Demona leave. The lead Hunter is on his hit list," he still sounded despondent. "Elisa, we don't know what came over him."

"I'm gonna find out, Lex. Call me when you're home. I'll be there in a little while," I said with determination. Then I left another voice message for Bluestone. "Call me ASAP! There are changes to the Hunters situation!"

Goliath had every right to feel vengeful, just not with Demona exacerbating it. I couldn't condone her participation. God help me, I wanted the Hunters alive. Was this about to be my first major confrontation with Big Guy?

My radio boisterously crackled static but I'd let the techs worry about it. I parked and stepped out of my car to introspectively admire the huge building, perhaps on my final day here. I inhaled and exhaled before my billionth decision this disfigured weekend. As I passed through the hallowed halls, Captain Chavez blindsided me.

"What are you doing here, Maza? Your tour ended an hour ago," she flatly greeted.

"Looking for Matt, he doesn't answer his phones." I had no time for her yet.

"How did you possibly forget what time he checks in?" She then closely analyzed me. "Goddamn, you look like you were run over by a speeding Mack Truck."

"New schedule fatigue," was my excuse.

"Don't bullshit me, Detective. You've been crying! Something you need to tell me?" Chavez challenged me with that look from the other day

So...I was transparent to pretty much everyone. Bluestone, Chavez, even Conover were better at detecting than I. Then I was saved by a Lexington ring tone. I wasn't trying to be insubordinate but Goliath was my priority. "Not at the moment, Captain. Excuse me."

I turned away from her to read, "we made it home safe"

Suddenly, an explosion resonated from above. Its quakes knocked ambulatory people off balance. The klaxon clanged while walls cracked and crumbled. Lights popped and sparked around those who fled. Shards of glass propelled from windows and displays. Girders sliced desks in half. The ceiling shitted concrete, metal and wood. Dust, smoke and soot engulfed the entire precinct. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion in this war zone.

While seasoned officers ran for their lives, Chavez hollered in pain. I figured if this is how I were to die today, I'd die helping her. Over the din, we heard a high-pitched whirring noise. I spun around and saw a man in a black mask on an accelerating hoverbike.

I couldn't duck his right arm from tossing me across his lap. I yelped and was disoriented while he maneuvered through the debris-rain. We sped through the smashed open exit then ascended. I leaned over his right shoulder and saw our clock tower burned, smoldering, obliterated. He was a fucking Hunter. He annihilated the gargoyle clan.

"What have you done," I yanked his mask off. "Jason!?"

My soul completely disintegrated. Jason Conover, the man I was in love with, wasn't a police officer. He was a supervillain.

"I'll explain later. I promise," he said, with a Scottish accent?

Something cold and solid pressed against my thigh. Then I wanted mommy...Jason sounded like Shrek pickled tractors sacroiliac...

END ACT VIII