Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Here is the next episode. I know you guys have been waiting a really long time for this and I'm sorry, but that's kind of how it's going for me right now. I promise I am not abandoning this story, I just have too many things going on. My updates have been slow and may well continue that routine for a little while longer. But I promise they will come.
Thank you all for your patience. I'm glad there are so many of you who want to read my story. I appreciate every one of you. I hope you like this chapter and I'll see you in the next one.
S2E8: The Lone Danger Part 1
Henry catches the first disk and redirects it back toward the thrower. The second catches his jacket sleeve, but the reinforced leather barely tears and the disk clatters pathetically to the ground. The thrower curses, both at missing and the gash now sliced deeply into his thigh by his own weapon.
"Ooo," Henry hisses. "That looks painful. I'd tell you to get it looked at but…" he gestures at their surroundings. "… that's a little hard around here."
"You xeez! You pathetic, noble…" the guy keeps cursing at him, mixing increasingly explicit vocabulary with attribute he considers awful but Henry takes as compliments. "I will fillet you!"
"Yeah, you already tried that," Henry says. "Which was stupid, by the way. Did you honestly think I couldn't handle a disk?"
The thrower growls deeply in his throat and flicks another blade Henry's way. Henry sidesteps it easily. He scoffs and chastises, "Really dude?" he mocks.
The disk thrower hisses at him, no words, just hissing in his fury.
Henry rolls his eyes and turns away again. "You're pathetic," he calls back at the thrower. "And I suggest you get yourself somewhere safe before any gore wraiths get here."
The disk thrower stops hissing and looks around in a panic.
Henry makes it about three buildings away down the block before somebody drops onto him from a window above with a squeal. He goes down, protecting his head. The attacker sits on his shoulders holding him down in a painful contortion for a moment. "Got you!" they squeal in delight.
Henry throws them off him with a quick forcefield. He rolls his neck and shoulders, standing to face the new enemy. "Congratulations," he tells them sarcastically. "You managed to piss me off and do no real damage. You've done real well for yourself, bounty hunter!"
The person, if they can be called that, sneers at him. Their piggish snout curls and they run at him on their three legs, duel wielding a pair of small swords pulled from their belt. "That reward will be mine!" they insist.
Henry lets them get close and meets them aggressively with his forcefield, rebounding them. He drops the shield and sends one of the swords flying with a roundhouse kick. With one hand he grabs the sparse hair atop their head and pulls them forward into his others winging elbow, knocking them flat. He uses the same momentum to roll over them and take the second sword from them. "That bounty was placed on me by the Dark Angels," he informs them. "Because I escaped their fortress. You think you are more powerful than them? That you, or anybody like you is going to be the one to catch me?" they groan at him. "That's completely stupid. Try chasing someone you actually have a chance at catching." He huffs.
He steps away from them, tossing a "Thanks for the sword" at them as he goes.
But he is attacked again at once. A laser snipes him from an unknown location. It burns a hole through his jacket and shirt, leaving a small bit of his skin uncomfortably warm. The first shot is followed by many others quickly. Henry activates his forcefield and searches for the source. Whoever it is stops firing as soon as his forcefield is up and he can't quite pin them down. "Yeah, good luck with that!" he calls to whoever it is.
He turns around and walks back the other way, grumbling under his breath. His complaint changes course and he curses more audibly at the sight of the creature limping down road. The disk thrower is still near where Henry had left him, tying a cloth around his bleeding wound. He's looking around, but completely blind to the danger he fears so much only a few feet away.
"Gore wraith!" Henry shouts the warning. He picks the three legged pig-person up from the ground and shoves them the opposite direction, telling them to "Run!"
Then he runs too, only in the direction of the gore wraith and the disk thrower. The thrower had heard his warning and is searching more frantically for a sign, throwing one disk after the next hoping to discover the position of the invisible creature. Henry dodges the stray disks and leaps over the thrower to tackle the gore wraith just as it gets its first sharp fingers into the man's wound.
The disk thrower screams as the wound is ripped further open. The gore wraith rasps its own displeasure. It turns its attention to Henry, sinking its claw-like fingers into his skin. Henry hacks at the arms of the creature with the short sword he'd acquired, managing to separate one from its body. He kicks the gore wraith in its creepy excuse for a face and pulls the arms off his own. He returns to the disk thrower and puts his forcefield up over both of them.
The gore wraith and its arm writhe themselves back together. It then attacks the edge of the forcefield, joined soon by others of its kind.
"What are you doing?" The thrower asks as Henry takes the cloth from him and helps him finish binding the wound.
"When I let go of my forcefield, run," Henry tells him.
The thrower scowls confused at him. "Hero," he scoffs distastefully.
"Yeah, I am," Henry snips back. "And I'm saving your life. Now run."
He drops his forcefield. The disk thrower runs. The gore wraiths attack. A few amble after the disk thrower but most opt for the closer target of Henry. Henry slashes the sword in his hand in an arc, slicing several gore wraiths. Then he barrels into the one directly in front of him. Knocking it over, he rolls out of the circle of enemies and back to his feet, running without wasting a second. The gore wraiths follow him, ambling at their relatively slow pace after the scent of his blood. He wipes at the small open wounds pulling a stash of bandages from the little first aid kit strapped to his leg.
"Gore Wraiths!" he calls the warning as he enters the next city block and each time he sees someone else. He gets a lot of glares in return, but most heed the warning.
Not one guy, though. The ignorant bounty hunter decides Henry must be lying. For what reason, Henry doesn't bother to speculate. The bounty hunter cuts across Henry's path, bodychecking him to the ground. "Are you kidding me?" Henry grumbles, pulling off the now ripped bandage he'd almost had secure over his wound.
The bounty hunter cackles and swipes Henry's leg from under him just as he is getting up. He steps hard on Henry's wrist pinning it to the ground and a tangle of magic string ensnares his other hand.
"Gah. You're going to get us both killed. There are half a dozen gore wraiths right behind me," Henry protests.
"Sure, there are," the bounty hunter says.
"I'm serious. Don't be stupid," Henry says.
The bounty hunter has one last chance to laugh before he is dragged to the floor by three of the ravenous creatures. His laugh turns to screaming as they rip into him. The rest of the gore wraiths grab Henry. He fights back with one hand, the other still held down by magic. Until the magic dissolves, as the bounty hunter's screams end, Henry is fairly helpless in preventing the ripping and biting of his skin and clothes.
As soon as those fingers are free he clenches his fists and flexes his forearms to throw them off with his forcefield. The wrist the bounty hunter had stomped on spasms against the motion. His now many open wounds twinge in agreeing pain. He maintains the forcefield with one fist and assesses his wounds. There's no bruising or swelling in his wrist, at least not yet, but it hurts more by the second as he considers it. He's bleeding in several places, but nothing too significant thanks to his armored uniform. Those clothes had taken a lot of damage, his jacket is shredded and one pant leg torn off above the knee. He fumbles with his sore hand for his gumball tin.
He chews the gum and blows the bubble; and after transforming remembers he hasn't found clothes yet, he's back in his travel sweatpants and naked from the waist up. He curses audibly but puts aside the concern for now. He needs to get his wounds sorted first. There's a safehouse nearby, and the gore wraiths are distracted from him by the bounty hunter's corpse; so, Henry holds his forcefield and escapes down the otherwise deserted street.
(Theme Song: "It all just kind of happened," Henry says, rubbing his face wearily. "I helped end a killer and now his victims haunt me. Every time I win a battle, I end up with more problems. Whatever happened to happy endings and victory celebrations? My life is seriously nothing but Danger… the music of the theme song over lays his voice. The scene cutting to the credits…)
The safe house is a mess. Every drawer and closet opened with the contents tossed out, the mattresses and bedding turned literally upside down. Henry grumbles as he wriggles out from beneath the bedframe. He groans as he more closely examines the jacket he'd found. "Charlotte," He complains. Because, of course, the only clothing he could find in all the safe houses would be something that won't fit him. He tosses it aside and drags his fingers through his hair.
Looking around, he decides not to bother cleaning up, instead leaving the mess of useless detritus laying about to take stock of the small pile of useful things he'd gathered. A rucksack, some nonperishable and safe rations, two 1L bottles of clean water, a working sonic blaster, a pocket knife, flint and steel, a length of paracord woven into a bracelet, and a first aid kit. The last of which he'd used to bandage his wounds and wrap his now rapidly swelling wrist. Beyond that, he's got his gum-tin and phone in his pockets, and the shoes on his feet.
He sighs and dumps a new gum ball into his hand to change again. The window shatters inward and instead of getting the gum ball into his mouth it goes flying across the room as he jumps. The gum ball is crushed under the stylish black boot of the dark angel Gemma. "There you are," she says darkly delighted.
Henry curses and rolls to his feet in a fighting stance.
Gemma laughs at him. "And you're all ready to be taken back. Not even wearing clothes. Ttss. So unprepared, I almost feel bad about catching you like this."
"Right," Henry scoffs.
"I said almost," she defends scanning him well past the point of uncomfortable. "I am going to enjoy tying you up and taking you home with me. And I'll be rewarded greatly by the Seraphim for bringing you back. Perhaps they'll let me keep you after they're done with you."
"Gross," he huffs.
"You won't feel that way for long," she says assuringly.
"Fortunately, I won't live long enough to find out. You know they're going to kill me, right?" He says.
She breathes sorrowfully and says, "Yes, they are furious enough with you to do that. I suppose I'll have to have some other reward for bringing you in. But the wants of my master's must come before my own."
He rolls his eyes. "What a good slave you are."
Her expression turns and she moves at him at lightning speed. The fight, if it can be called that, is swift. In a matter of seconds, she has him on the floor face down, his hand that hadn't been injured by the bounty hunter earlier stabbed through the center and held to the ground beneath by her long knife. He does his best to stifle the little scream he can't help but make. She sits comfortably atop his prone figure with a little smirk.
Using his own paracord, she binds him physically and magically. She pulls her knife out of his hand and he yelps again. "That was easy," she comments. She takes his wounded hand and observes it with a smile, complimenting herself, "Perfectly placed hit, minimal damage." Then she squeezes the wound tightly and it knits itself back together under her spell.
"That was just mean," he tells her. "Totally an unsportsmanlike takedown. Ain't you ever heard of fair play?"
"This isn't elementary school recess," she says. "And I could've left the injury, so don't whine at me. You're the one who hurt eight dark angels and destroyed a thousand-year-old stained glass window." Henry flinches at being reminded at what he'd done in his desperation. "What exactly is it you did to them? How did break Master Rajani's wing?"
"Untie me and I'll show you," he says bravely between forced deep breaths.
She studies him, one hand still holding his and the other placed over his heart. "No, you wouldn't," she calls his bluff. "You're terrified. You're scared of your own power? Whatever it is?"
"I'll show you if it means escape, just like I did to Raj and your fellow little slaves," he says more assertively.
"Not like this you won't," she scorns, running her fingers over his bindings. "You won't be doing much of anything. Which does present me with possibilities." She smirks. "I could take my prize before turning you in. I have you at my mercy, and not even the Seraphim would deny me that right now."
Henry glares and squirms. "It's not a right to …"
She kisses him, cutting him off. Worse yet is her magic starts seeping into him, the alarm bells ring in his mind but grow muffled as the fuzzy high takes him over. His muscles relax as his body betrays him and he kisses back. She wraps a hand around the back of his head and stops. She pulls away and notes surprised, "You've got a cracked skull."
"I- huh?" He says trying to pull himself from the magic's haze. She digs her fingers into his head. The pain of it helps him regain composure. "Stop!" He demands. She doesn't obey, and when she does pull away his head feels better than it has in weeks. "I don't need you healing me." He protests despite the relief.
"Maybe," she says. "It was healing fine. But I do what I want."
"Please don't," he insists.
She pulls his head closer to her aggressively. "I do what I want." She kisses him again and the same terrible intoxication washes through him.
Her magic sends heat running through his veins, burning and itching and driving him mad. Everything becomes her. She becomes everything and he is nothing but her obedient plaything. It's terrible and intensely addictive. He can't fight the feeling. He wants to stop it and equally doesn't. The high consumes him. It's nothing like the bliss of kissing Babe.
A cold shock bursts in his heart and his thoughts clear for a moment. He freezes against Gemma, who pauses in response. Guilt and sadness bloom in his chest, every feeling the magic had induced is flipped on its head. Gemma pulls away with surprise in her eyes.
Henry's hands are still tied but no longer in Gemma's hold, his fingers can curl into a fist. She and the bindings are forced off him. He curls up taking controlled through shaky deep breaths. She hovers above him on her gauzy wings. "What's wrong with you?" She asks.
"Go away, I'm fine," he responds.
"You're in pain," she says. "And not from the injuries I healed. You have a broken heart. What happened to the cheerful, determinately positive Hart I used to know?"
He sits up, glaring at her. "Dystopia happened. Magic happened. You're freaking Dark Angels happened. All you stupid psychos in this country who pride yourselves on breaking people down to be as dark and miserable as you did exactly that. And I wasn't immune. All I ever tried to do here was good and you all did your best to squash it out of me. Blackout followed me home so he could keep doing it, and now you're precious Seraphim are trying to keep me from maybe getting a little of it back. What the heck do you think happened to me?"
She doesn't say anything as she blinks at him, surprised at his rage.
He quickly chews a gumball and gathers his things while she watches him. "You know, I don't think I like you like this," She notes.
"Big whoop," he states flatly.
"I liked you the way you were. I liked messing with you and making you miserable. I liked you being the light in this darkness." she stops abruptly.
With his supplies tucked in his rucksack, he stands and faces her. "You gonna try to stop me leaving?" he asks.
She frowns ambiguously. "I have to bring you back to the fortress. You know I can't let you go."
He shrugs and drops his forcefield. "Then let's do this," he says.
She doesn't react other than to look confused.
"I'm not coming with you willingly. If you expect to take me, you're going to have to beat me. So, let's just get this fight over with," he prompts her.
Still, she hesitates. "I don't want to fight you like this."
"Then don't," he rolls his eyes. "Just make your decision, cause I'm leaving." He walks to the door.
She zips after him on her wings and slams the door shut again just as he's opened it. He glared expectantly at her, but she doesn't make another move against him. The next minute or so that passes sees no movement from either of them as they stare at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Henry grabs her wrist and uses it to spin her around and shove her away. In a split second she reacts and reverses the trajectory he's sent her on to give him a return blow. Having anticipated this, he moves as soon as he's pushed her and dives around her. She ends up hitting the door. Of course, it only takes her another second to redirect herself again. She sends him crashing into the nearest wall.
He takes it and rolls. Her next attack is on him, but he meets it with his own. They clash and rebound with a rather mellow energy. The results have her falling lightly onto the mattress on the floor and him bracing himself on the windowsill. Both pause as they know what's coming next. Three seconds later, Henry is out the window, dropping first to the awning two stories below, then to the ground. Gemma rushes to the window to stop him, but he is already disappearing into the nearest doorway.
The arguing, angry men he bursts in on don't even register as a threat to Henry, even as they all draw weapons on him. He barrels past the group and into the next hall. Gemma is surely following and will register as the greater threat. They can fight it out with her, maybe buying Henry a few seconds. He just keeps running.
He tests each door he comes to, throwing himself against each until one opens. He jumps through windows and zigzags through buildings and streets, never slowing down or looking back to see how close Gemma is to him until he's miles away and gasping for breath.
He ducks into an abandoned restaurant and catches his breath. Checking through the dusty windows he finds Gemma nowhere is sight. After several more minutes without her appearing Henry decides he might have lost her. At least for now.
(Commercial Break)
A couple of thugs plod up and down the street swinging literal clubs and grunting, "Come out, come out wherever you are." Henry scoffs quietly and shakes his head. He tucks himself quietly into the window well without either of the idiots having any awareness of him. They continue to stomp around, insisting, "We know your down here, Hart. We're gonna find you."
"Yeah right," Henry mutters. Still, they take no notice. He proceeds to tap out a rhythm on the glass beside him.
The response he expects does not come. Nor do the thugs leave the alley. Henry taps more insistently but still quietly on the window. After a moment, the blackout curtains within shift slightly and an eye peaks out at him. It disappears again quickly and Henry frowns confused. He begins to suspect something is wrong with his plan and the thugs draw closer. He is about to leap out and make a run for it when the window finally cracks open. It's only enough for him to slip inside. It latches behind him as quick as a whip and much more quietly. The thugs outside are left to wander and search for him, hopeless and oblivious.
"Thanks," Henry says to the woman who'd opened the window.
She stares at him with pursed lips and says nothing.
"Is Ryder around?" he asks.
She considers him for another moment without answering. "What are you doing here?" She questions suspiciously.
"Looking for Ryder, or Harriet," he responds. "I'm a friend of theirs. I'm Hart."
She scoffs at him and snaps, "I know who you are."
"Okay," he nods. "Then can you let me in to see Ryder? I haven't known the passcode since last year. I don't think any of what I knew will work anymore."
The door across the room opens and an enormous man with a red beard and calloused skin walks out. He is followed by a few similarly large people with weapons of proportional size. Axes and spears glint darkly. Henry has only enough time to recognize the insignias on the weapons and seared into the brutes' skin before the guy in front grabs him in his meaty, six-fingered fists and lifts him a full two feet off the ground. "Ryder isn't here. I've been looking for him too, you know where he is?" The giant asks in a voice that booms without him trying.
Henry curses in Dystopian and squirms in the giant's hold. He is unable to move enough to even activate his forcefield, then the giant squeezes tighter.
"Since you are here, I surmise the answer to my question is no," the giant says. "Never mind then. There are plenty other uses we can put you to."
"Uh… no thanks," Henry says as politely as possible. The giants laugh. Henry gets jerked around as the one holding him moves. "C'mon, you guys can't want me that much. You're not bounty hunters. You don't give any allegiance to the Dark Angels."
"We have our own interest in you, Hart." The first giant, the leader, laughs deeply. "I've always wanted to conduct experiments with a superhuman."
"Yes, but perhaps we should turn him over to the Dark Angels." Another suggests, this one a lady giant, though it is not particularly easy to tell. Many of them seem like they might be women but Henry isn't sure.
The rest scoff derisively. "Hart is right about one thing, we have no allegiance to those winged demons. We owe them nothing."
"The Dark Angels are the most dangerous and powerful organization in Dystopia. Maybe in the whole world," the lady giant argues.
"Buying into their myth only gives them more power. We are above such lowly practices." The lead giant says. "Hart is ours now. Let them come for him. They will find the Nephilim are a more than adequate adversary."
"Ehh, I wouldn't bet on that. You don't know how royally I pissed them off," Henry says.
The giant dismisses the notion. They walk through the door they had first come from, carrying Henry with them. "You needn't worried about that anymore. Their anger has no relevance on your fate."
"I don't think it's wise to underestimate them," the lady giant insists. "We have seen the measures they have taken in the last day to recapture him."
"And they have not done so. They could not find him out in the open, they will not find him here. They may seal the city in as thoroughly as they'd like, but they are not without flaws. Do not overestimate their power," the leader says.
"Don't underestimate their power," Henry counters. "I didn't escape them because they're flawed. I had to use all the power I have to create a flaw to escape through. I wouldn't be able to do it a second time. It really would be better for both you and me if you just let me go now."
They ignore his plea, all but the one lady giant are certain of their safety; and even she has conceded to end the argument.
They wander through halls they barely fit through until they bring Henry to a large room filled with oversized furniture and objects. It would've been a grand room for regular sized people, but the giants had turned it into something between a lounge and a lab. Henry is placed upon a table over five feet tall and most of the giants take up seats in chairs that would make Henry feel like a toddler if he sat in one. The giant leader stays at the table, considering the human trapped in his fist.
"Hmm. Before we get into the fun experiments, I want you to show me your power. How does it work? I am certain you must do something to activate it and make conscious efforts to maintain it. Show me what it takes to do so."
Henry scowls irritably. He'd love to activate his forcefield to get this guy off of him; but, beside the injured wrist making it difficult to properly flex, the way he is pinned in the giant's fist makes it impossible. Which emphasizes the other fact that he does not want to reveal how his powers work nor that he cannot escape. So, he opts to do and say nothing to the giant's request.
The giant's fist tightens around him. "You will show me, or you will be crushed."
Henry gasps and his bones strain under the pressure. His chest contracts and his lungs cannot expand to take in air as the fist grows tighter. Something pops painfully but he can't tell which bone or joint it is as he begins to become lightheaded. His heart beats but the blood cannot push past the squeezing pressure and he's sure his veins will begin popping soon. His face changes color, blue and purple and he's losing the ability to stay conscious. One of the giants says something and the grip is released a moment later. Henry drops like a wet rag to the tabletop and slowly blood and air seep back into their proper places.
It takes a moment, or several, for him to regain control of his body enough to take a real breath, gasping and coughing as it is. Everything inside him aches, feeling cracked or burst. "Perhaps you merely applied too much pressure too quickly. Humans are so fragile, if you caused too much damage before he could react…" one of the giants' speech begins to make sense to Henry.
"I know how fragile they are," the leader says. "I didn't kill him. He's fine."
Henry clutches his torso, struggling for every breath.
"Though I did expect more resilience from a so called superhuman," the giant continues. "I had hypothesized that that forcefield of his lived in his cells until he calls it forth. And that that would result in a more resilient physiology even without an active power."
"Perhaps there is. When have you most recently squeezed a human to this same point?" Another giant asks.
"I crush humans in my fists all the time!" The leader insists.
"But have you ever stopped at the point before killing them as you did with this one?" The other giant argues back. "We must have a control for our experiments to produce quantifiable results."
The leader growls but concedes. "Go find us a control, then. Least amount of variables."
They nod and request, "Wait for me before you go on with the experiments, I don't want to miss the fun."
The way they bare their teeth bears little resemblance to a smile in Henry's opinion. The delight behind it is cruel and terrifying. Henry curls up defensively and tries to formulate a plan to escape.
"We should be monitoring his recovery," a female giant says, steeping up to the table and looming over Henry.
"I'm not concerned about that. My inquiries will have more to do with the deeper nature of his abilities. What makes him superior to other humans. How and why such abilities come to be. If I can examine differences between his cellular make up and a lower human, then perhaps I can discover how such a change as becoming a superhuman can occur. Perhaps I can even recreate the process for other species."
"You want to be a super-nephilim?" The giantess smiles greedily.
"Don't you? We could be the greatest of all Nephilim. Me, thee, and my other five wives, all our children. No other Nephilim could threaten our rule, no human weapons could stand against us; and we could take back our birthright as rulers of this world." The leader postulates. A roar of cheers come in response from several other giants in the room.
"Oh god," Henry mutters, not liking their idea at all.
"No," the Nephilim leader says, turning his attention back to Henry. "Demigods actually. For now. You will help us ascend to a higher power."
Henry looks away from their savage glee. He debates putting up his forcefield and just making a run for it, but he is certain they would stop him; and with as weak and shaky as all his body feels now, he thinks holding his forcefield for much time will be quite improbable. More importantly, they're intending to do the same experiments on someone else alongside him. He can't leave that person to deal with the consequences of him leaving.
The giants sent to retrieve that person return shortly. They have two different people actually and are arguing over which is the better one. "No! This one!" One growls.
"No! This one!" Another shouts back.
"You're blind!" The first spits back.
"Shut up!" The Nephilim leader roars over them both. "Give me the control! Why did you bring two?"
"Because he's a blind idiot!" One insists.
"Mine looks way more like Hart than yours!" The other argues.
"No!" The first fights back.
The leader roars at them again to shut up. "I'll boil you both and feed you to my children if you don't do as I say! Give me the miniferiors and I will decide which of you is an idiot!"
They both clam up obediently and hold out the two terrified guys for the leader to take. He snatches them in his fists and examines them. He glances back and forth between them and Henry, eventually focusing on only one of them. "That is quite uncanny," he says after a few minutes.
"That's what I said!" The giant who'd originally had the guy the leader is staring at shouts.
The leader flares at him and he shuts his mouth quickly. "You were correct then," the leader nods. "As for this one," he lifts the other guy higher, scowling distastefully at the other giant. "His resemblance is only passing! He will be good for nothing but dinner to me; just as you are. Take him to the kitchen and pray I don't through you in the dish with him!"
That giant nods, takes the guy and scurries away. Henry curses and tries to get up. His chance of saving the guy is slim but he can't not try. He barely gets to his knees before he is pinned harshly back to the table by a giantess. The guy is taken to his doom.
The Nephilim leader comes back to the table with his chosen victim and spends a minute squeezing the guy near to death as he had done to Henry before dropping the guy beside Henry. Th giantess' hand is removed from Henry at the leader's command and the Nephilim watch the two humans for a few minutes. Some take notes, others gather supplies for more experiments.
The other guy is shaking and crying. He probably has no idea what is going on or why he's been brought here. Henry uses the guilt he feels for the guy's predicament to motivate himself to move. He crawls over to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. The guy startles and looks over at him terrified and confused.
Meeting his eyes Henry can see that the guy does look remarkably like himself. He wouldn't call it uncanny, as the Nephilim had, this guy had a very different haircut to Henry, his frame thinner and obviously lacking the lean muscle Henry had built up over his years fighting crime. But their eyes were the same shade of brown, their hair also a very similar color, and they would've been within an inch of each other in height if they were to stand up. He also can vaguely recognize some other resemblance in the shapes of their features.
The look-a-like flinches as the giants begin talking to each other. He looks at Henry and asks quietly, "What do they want?"
Henry lays down again beside him and whispers back, "Experiments. I'm sorry. You're only here because you look like me."
"What? But I don't look like you," the other guy argues.
"Close enough for them," Henry shrugs a bit.
"Are they gonna kill us?" The guy asks.
Henry hesitates. "Not immediately," he answers eventually. "I don't know what they'll do to us, but they won't kill us quickly."
The other guy sobs. "You're a superhero, aren't you? You're Danger. Can't you get us out of this?"
Henry grits himself and activates his forcefield. The guy looks around surprised. "I'm sorry. I can't fight them all and I don't know how to escape. This will keep them off us, but I don't think I can maintain it for long. Gather your strength. I'm going to try to get us out of here. But it probably won't be unscathed."
"You're not going anywhere," the Nephilim leader says. "And I thank you for giving me a demonstration. I see now how this power is activated, and as soon as you release your hold, I will be able to prevent further use of it." He caresses the field of green energy.
Henry avoids looking at the giant and focuses on maintaining his shaking hold on his forcefield. The race of patience is on.
(Commercial break)
True to expectations, Henry is unable to hold the forcefield for long. He and his lookalike get long enough to recover their breath from being squeezed and Henry has a chance to warn him that his grip is failing before it happens.
The giants too are waiting. As soon as the shield falters one of them snatches up Henry. Another giant grabs the other guy, and both have rather large needles plunged unceremoniously into their arms. Fortunately, the amount of blood taken is not proportional to the size of the needle. Nonetheless, it is enough to make Henry lightheaded. Adding to that, he is also injected with something that sets off a chain reaction of numbness through his body.
On the one hand it's nice as the rest of his pain disappears, but so does his ability to move. He is dropped back onto the table in a boneless heap. He curses, or tries to, but it comes out slurred and unintelligible through his numb tongue and limbs.
His and his lookalike also were given no bandaging and so blood continues to trickle down their arms. The other guy presses his hand over his wound, but Henry cannot do the same.
"That was effective," the Nephilim leader smiles. It sours quickly afterward. "Unfortunately, it means he will not be able to feel any pain throughout our experiments. We will get no screams out of him."
"We can compensate with the other. The twin, or clone, whatever he is, doesn't need to remain whole to remain useful to our experiments. And it will cause Hart all the more emotional suffering," a lady giant bolsters him.
The leader smirks. "Delight from all sides."
Except for ours, Henry thinks. His concerns about the blood exiting his arm become nothing as the giants take an oversized scalpel to him and his lookalike. The other guys cries of pain are worse still to bear. Henry cries within himself at the helplessness of the situation.
He strains mentally for any response from his body. He'd take a response from his stupid energy blade power to save the other guy, the Nephilim could take the injuries. They'd probably be little more than small irritations to the giants. But even that power is out of reach at the moment.
The only thing he can access, he finds after a while, is the dark knot of magic living inside him. Once aware of it, it is impossible to forget about and the discomfort of it swirling in him grows. He wonders as it grows whether he might be able to use it to help himself or his lookalike.
Then he regrets that hope a little, for the magic responds. It flows out into his limbs and through more of his body, restoring his feeling and movement. All the pain he wasn't feeling from the experiments hits him. He suppresses a groan. With much effort and discomfort he manages to wiggle his fingers. His muscles are released from their paralysis. He remains as still as he can, trying to get himself through the pain to a point that he can make a plan to escape.
The Henry-lookalike's screams fade out as he succumbs to the pain and falls unconscious. The giants express their disappointment in this and drop him none too gently onto the table. Henry flinches and glances toward his lookalike with concern for his state.
"Gah! We'll have to give the little thing time to recover. Gather the samples and run the experiments," the Nephilim leader instructs.
"I do believe that sedative has run its course in Hart's system. He is beginning to move again," a giantess says.
Those gathering the material and fulfilling their leader's orders pause and all eyes turn toward Henry. He freezes, hoping he looks as immobile as he'd been before. The leader grabs him and drags him closer to examine. Henry forces himself to be as limp as he can, which is difficult as his muscles continue to siege because of the pain of his wounds.
The rest of the giants step closer too until the leader snaps at them all to, "Get on with it! I want those tests done on his cells, tell me how he is burning through this sedative so fast! Compare their blood, their DNA. I want to know if they really are twins. Go!" After they've run off to do as instructed, the leader turns back to Henry.
"So, you can move again, feel pain. But to what degree? Are you going to start screaming for me now?" He questions Henry excited. He reaches for his tools and prepares them to use on Henry.
As he gets close with the knife, Henry decides to give up his ruse. Steeling himself, he rolls out of the way at the last moment, moving towards his look-a-like. He doesn't make it all the way but close enough to activate his forcefield over the both of them just before the Nephilim leader can make another grab at him. Henry finishes his craw towards his lookalike, putting in a lot of effort to maintain his forcefield with his aching, cut up body and ignoring the shouting and pounding the Nephilim is doing on the forcefield. "You won't hold this long! I don't know how you shook off that sedative so quickly, but I know you can't hold your shield long."
Henry gets to his knees to look over his lookalike. The guy is in far worse shape than himself, looking very much like he's been through a shredder. His pieces being held together by far less tissue than they should. He's pale and cold to the touch, barely breathing but bleeding all over. "Oh god. I'm sorry, dude." Henry mutters. "I swear I'll get you out of here. Just don't die before I figure out how."
He pulls some gauze from his first aid pocket and attempts to patch up the worst of his lookalike's wounds, but it is not very possible with one hand holding the forcefield; let alone when the hand he has to use is also injured. He almost loses hold of his forcefield and decides preventing further damage is the higher priority.
Instead, he takes to looking for an escape route. There are only three giants in the room at the moment and only the leader is watching the humans. Across the room, there is a secondary exit aside from the one they'd entered through. The trouble is getting to it.
The lookalike whimpers lightly.
Scratch that. The trouble is moving him. Between the Nephilim and his own injuries Henry might be able to make it to the door. But with the other guy being unconscious and probably unable to move much if he was awake, the move will be quite impossible. Henry could try to carry him, but without a major distraction they'll never get past the Nephilim.
Again, Henry regrets for daring to hope for such good luck. For only a moment later the distraction comes. A giantess burst through the door with a bloody arm and shouts, "The Dark Angels are here!"
With a dissatisfied frown the leader says, "So? Don't let them in."
"They're already in!" She berates. "We tried to keep them out! They're too powerful! They've already taken out over a dozen Nephilim!"
He curses furious. "Just squash them! They're only a few feet tall!"
She roars in response and shoves him forcefully. "They're too much! We can't stop them! I told you we have to give them what they want!"
He picks her up by the arm and leg and lifts her over his head before bringing her down harshly. "I am not giving up my prize! Hart belongs to me!"
She screams as he slams her into the ground, then she goes still.
"You should have listened to her," the calm dark voice of Tamesis speaks from the doorway.
The Nephilim leader steps between Henry and Tamesis. "You'll have him when the stars fall from heaven and the moon turns to blood. I am no mere mortal and will not fall to your magic tricks."
"I think you'll find you're far more susceptible to death than you'd like to believe," Tamesis says, flying up and forward to meet the Nephilim face to face.
Without anymore preamble, the Nephilim leader throws a fist at the Dark Angel. His fist appears to vanish then reappears facing the other way in front of him, punching his own face. He falls into the table, sending it toppling over. Henry holds onto his lookalike as they tumble the long way to the floor. The giant leaps back to his feet and attacks the Dark Angel.
Henry's lookalike whimpers and cringes at the rude awakening. His eyes roll in their sockets, cracking open a fraction. Henry lifts the guy into a sort of sitting position, tapping his cheek and quietly saying, "Hey, wake up. Don't go back under. I know your really hurting but if you want to get out of here, nows our only chance. We've got to run."
The lookalike blinks noncomprehending at him. "Come on," Henry pleads. "We've got to go."
"You know you're never going to get out of here," Gemma says, fluttering down on her wings to hover just outside the forcefield. "Especially if you're trying to drag some deadweight w… what the hell?" She cuts herself off staring at them.
Henry glares back at her, unconsciously tightening his grip around his lookalike. The guy groans in pain and Henry's attention snaps down to him. He loosens his grip, having to focus on not also loosening his hold on his forcefield at the same time.
"Did-did they clone you? When did they have the time? How?" Gemma wonders.
Henry frowns confused at her. "He's not my clone."
"He looks exactly like you," she protests.
"Here you are. Well done for finding him, Angel," Tamesis descends beside them and gives her a half nod. "Double gratitude for finding two of him. What an interesting twist. Who is this double?"
"I don't know. Henry's never mentioned a twin or anything," she says.
"He's not my twin. I don't have a twin," Henry insists.
"Where then has he come from? How is he here?" Tamesis wonders
"If he is of value, we could heal him," Gemma offers. "Take him back with us."
Tamesis tips his head considering the thought but says after only a moment. "No. He is not long this world and the original Hart will last not much longer than this one."
The Dark Angels go on speaking about how they'll deal with Henry once they've removed him from the forcefield but he is no longer listening. His thoughts are racing through the events of the past few days again and a crazy idea is forming in his mind.
He has no chance of escaping with his lookalike in their current circumstances. The lookalike is dying here in his arms. But maybe he could change that. Gemma had healed his wounds earlier; and Henry had the same power festering inside him. Maybe he could access it again and heal his lookalike and himself. Then they would have a much better chance of escaping.
So, he tunes out what they're saying, and he turns his attention inward, searching for that writing mass of power he knows is there. After a few moments he finds it. The familiar sickening and painful feeling washes through him as he does so.
Next, he comes to the question of how to use it. He had used the magic earlier to dispel the sedative in his system, he'd broken Rajani's attempt to bind him with it before, but he wasn't sure how he'd managed it. He'd just thought about what he'd wanted and tried to make it happen. It had worked somehow but the results had also hurt him.
Nevertheless, he gives it a try. He imagines the wounds of his lookalike stitching themselves back together, imagines bones and flesh mending. He remembers the feeling of the magic moving through him when Gemma had healed him, and the same when Blackout had done so as well. He imagines the magic moving the same way through the lookalike.
The shock of it working has his eyes popping open. The reality of it working is that it hurts and he cannot hold it long. His whole body seizes up and he falls back to the floor. The forcefield falters and fades from around them. The magic retracts through him in a way that has him shivering, though he cannot tell if it's from pain or pleasure. The lookalike gasps in deep breaths and sits up, looking around in bewilderment. Erebus and Gemma have stopped speaking to stare open mouthed at the identical strangers.
"What…?" The lookalike mutters. He stops and shrinks back in fear, recognizing the Dark Angels for what they are. His gaze settles on Henry. Henry looks the guy over. There are still a number of injuries on him and plenty of blood, but he is conscious and no longer anywhere near death's door. "What's going on?"
Henry rolls over and tries to push himself up but Tamesis has taken him in a locked hold before he can stop it. Gemma grabs the lookalike, who struggles terrified. She forces him to stillness and looks to her master and Henry, questioning, "How did you do that? How could he do that? How could he know how heal already?"
Tamesis frowns and considers Henry with surprise as well. "I do not know how he accomplished it. That was vastly more effective than I would ever have expected from one so new to magic. Though as poorly executed as one loathed to the dark art. You'll kill yourself with many stunts like that."
Henry heaves, silently agreeing. "And it hurt him to do it? Magic doesn't hurt." Gemma asks.
"He has not accepted the magic, nor joined with it fundamentally. The conduit lives within him and he has access to use the power, but without willingly merging with it, it chafes against him, damaging his body and soul." Tamesis answers her.
"Can't you remove the magic from him?" Gemma asks with concern.
"That is why he was brought here," Tamesis says irritably. "But he rejected that too. The only way we can break the connection now is to kill him. We must return him to the fortress. There we will have a ceremony and end this corruption forever."
She frowns and looks pensively between her master and Henry.
The giant table beside them is ripped away by the Nephilim leader then and thrown at the door where more Dark Angels are coming into the room. He's in a bedraggled state. "You're not taking my victims! Those two belong to me!" He screams and reaches for the humans.
Tamesis meets him with force enough to stop the hand, though he also drops Henry. The Seraph pushes the giant back. He orders Gemma to secure Henry as he does.
She obeys and Henry finds himself bound with his lookalike under her power. The lookalike cowers, eyes squeezed shut to avoid what he can of the situation. "I'm sorry," Henry says to him. Gemma squats beside them, looking between the two. "Let him go," Henry requests of her. "Please. He has nothing to do with this."
Her frown reflects confusion. "He has your face, how can he have nothing to do with this? Who is he?" She demands.
"No one! I don't even know him. Just let him go, please!" Henry begs.
She continues glancing between them and frowning. Too late now, Tamesis returns. The Nephilim leader lies crumpled across the room, very angry but defeated. "It is time we go," he instructs Gemma. "Bring the double. Since Hart has saved him from dying here, I will indulge in an investigation."
Tamesis takes hold of Henry and drags him along as they exit the Nephilims' lab. Henry squirms but cannot make any progress towards freedom. His arms are locked in place, folded over his chest with hands tucked into his armpits. He can't make a fist to summon his forcefield and if he tried to create an energy blade it would only hurt himself. His legs were magically stuck together and stiffly trailing behind as he is dragged away.
He goes lax after a few minutes and they arrive at the building's exit. He ends up looking behind him at Gemma who still has his lookalike in her power. The guy has not changed much in his disposition but she appears more confident now. Her frown remains but with a hard line in it and her eyes shift around her.
Outside they are joined by a small legion of other Dark Angels. They cheer and jeer at Henry in his predicament. They leap into the air and take flight in their excitement, heading back towards their fortress home. Henry shits his eyes away, unwilling to subject himself to their gloating.
Suddenly, the Dark Angels' sounds of delight change to surprise and alarm. A pounding sound echoes through the street. He is knocked from Tamesis' grasp. Opening his eyes he sees the Seraph sprawled on the road near him. A horse is rearing over them with a high pitched whinny.
It makes no sense to Henry, but he doesn't have time to fully consider the silvery grey creature and its appearance as he rolls away from its hooves. He rolls right into Gemma's legs, but she pays no mind, also being transfixed by the horse. She drops his lookalike on top of him without even glancing down. The horse swings its head and hooves at the Dark Angels nearest it before turning toward Henry, his lookalike and Gemma. It snorts and paws the ground aggressively before charging again.
It is only as the long horn sprouting from the horse's head rams into Henry's side and lifts him from the ground that he realizes it is there. He and his lookalike are thrown upward by the horn and rearing head and carried along by the creature as it dashes through the crowd of Dark Angels. Henry holds tight to his lookalike as they are jostled up and over its head and land uncomfortably across its back. There they lay, holding on for dear life on their bumpy ride through the city and into the jungle on the back of a unicorn.
The time that passes is difficult to gage as the unicorn runs faster than Henry has ever moved. They cover an unknowable number of miles over an unmeasurable amount of time until they pass over the border of Dystopia. The unicorn is not in the slightest bit phased by the magical defenses the Dark Angels had placed around the border; its horn slices through them visibly. They rip and collapse like fabric. It is only a moment or so after that that the unicorn stops and the two young men are thrown from it's back. It whinnies at them again and Henry braces for an attack. The unicorn snorts aggressively but makes no more actions towards them. It turns and stomps around the glade, wandering away from them.
Henry's lookalike stares after it in shock, repeatedly muttering, "Oh my god."
Henry carefully grips his arm and says, "Hey, calm down. We're alright."
"We're gonna die," the guy stresses. He covers his face with his hands, burying his fingers in his hair and tugging at it. "The giants, the angels, was that a freaking unicorn? They're all trying to kill us."
"Hey," Henry grips the guy more surely. "Just try to breathe slowly. I know that was… absolutely terrifying," he admits shakily to himself as well as his lookalike. "…but we're alright. We're nowhere near all that anymore. The unicorn doesn't seem to want to kill us. We're out of Dystopia. We're gonna be alright. Alright?" Henry seeks to regulate his own breathing, doing his best to hold back his own panic attack in order to help this poor guy he'd gotten into this mess.
The lookalike stares at him wide eyed from behind his hands. He is unsure but nods along absently. "Okay," he utters meekly.
"Good," Henry says. "Now um…" he falters for something to say. "I uh… never caught your name. I'm Henry."
The guy looks at him. "You're Danger." He says.
"Yeah, him too," Henry nods. "And, uh, who are you? What's your name?"
"Uh…" the lookalike breathes heavily. "Fl-Flunky. P-people call me Flunky."
Next Episode: S2E9: The Lone Danger Part 2