Shattered Memories: Chronos

[Power Shot]

It is finally here. After many promises, and taunts through the use of my good friend Ledian's Starbolts story, here it is: the true, all-new story of Chronos, the metalhead you love to hate, who guest starred in many chapters of New Beginnings. Ledian, hope this lives up to the Starbolts Universe...

Shattered Memories: Chronos​

Memory 00: Endings

In the silence of the streets, the man walked alone.

The road he traveled upon was dark, shrouded in deepened shadows, each turn and every alley a walk into the unknown. No one walked with him, or even in the same road as he, for the man was alone, and from the motion of his body, which was purposeful and menacing, all understood he was to remain that way. The sky above him was gray, the clouds blotting out the sun, which was only seen as an indistinguishable blob in the horizon. The heavens were the color of dulled steel, a lifeless hue that seethed the depression of the city, the sky a parallel of the man’s own dark thoughts, his inner consciousness; a clouded sky and a darkened city. Nothing stirred in the shadows of the buildings around him, everywhere he walked dead and vacant of existence. It was as if the place the man had come to was without a soul, devoid of feeling. Not one eye watched the stranger as he walked through the holy city, taking in the sights as he passed.

He was in Rome, the holy city. He didn’t mind the distance he had gone, having traveled a long distance to the Mecca that was the Vatican. The man wasn’t sure why he was there; what he was doing in a city that had nothing to do with him, but somehow was closer to him than anything he had ever known. It was what the others would want, though he knew in himself that that was not true. The holy city was the only place he had truly felt like stopping in, for he had traveled so far. He just wanted to stop.

He walked through the city silently, listening to the bells as they echoed around him, vibrating and coursing in symphony. The man knew nothing of music, however, and could not tell exactly what was being played. Probably the ending mass, he decided, or something like that. He tilted his head left and right, spotting the many churches and cathedrals that surrounded him, of all shapes and sizes. Arches, domes, any form that could be imagined was around him, begging the question as to why a city so holy as Rome needed so many churches for its population. He walked a path that was impossible to determine from an outsider’s point of view, for he backtracked and sidetracked for many, many hours, following directions that he himself did not know, searching for something he did not know existed. A place he could find peace, something he could not do in the fancy churches, where everyone went. He sought a place as empty as he was, as shabby and hardened as himself.

Eventually, he stopped in the center of the streets, standing completely motionless in the road. Cars that passed through honked and beeped at him, but the stranger did not budge, his face looking straight forward, inclined upwards as if to stare at the dull sky above. He only stayed that way for a minute, though, before he was on the move again, his pace quickened by some rush inside himself. He turned a corner into a blackened alley, now sure of his quarry, and made directly for his target, a run-down cathedral in the lower side of the city.

He stopped a second time in front of a small building on the cobblestone road, double checking to make sure he was in the correct place. The building in front of him was two stories high, constructed of aged brick, and square in design. It looked more like a prison than a church, perhaps the shabbiest cathedral in all of Vatican City. He saw grubby stains rather than stained-glass in the windows, one of which had been knocked out completely. Above two iron-wrought doors that led the way in, both of which looked as though they weighed five hundred pounds each, was a sign in dulled black paint, which read in bold, hand-painted letters St. Margaret’s Cathedral. Or, at least it was supposed to say that. Age and weathering had reduced the sign to S . Mar ret s Cat al. He didn’t seem to notice, or even care, about the condition of the building, however, because he raised his right hand, which held a long, steel staff, grabbed the rusted handles of the doors, and wrenched them open, creating a giant screech that echoed through the darkened street around him. Keeping his left arm inside his coat, cloaking it against the world, the man proceeded into the crumbling church.

Even though the church was faulty, and probably not within normal building codes, the man himself was even shabbier than the cathedral he had just entered, his staff clunking against stone floors beneath his dark boots. He was tall, very tall, and hulking in appearance, muscles ripping through his poor clothing. His garb was of a medieval traveling dreg, lost in the new millennium. The cloth was dark, though dull, fabric, and looked like he had not changed them in a while, a profound smell issuing from his unkempt form. A ragged tunic that was in tune with the spring of Italy, if it were not so ruined and soiled. His pants were of the same color, tied around his waist by a cord of rope, and did not even cover his ankles, ending just below the dark army boots he wore. His body was shrouded in a tattered trench coat, coal-black, and a glove was worn on the visible right hand, though several fingers were exposed. The coat was hung over his body rather than worn, the sleeves dangling empty as it was shrugged over the shoulders. He leaned against the staff carried in his exposed hand, his head turning from left to right to take in his surroundings.

The two others that were in the cathedral were horrified. Not because of his appearance, or his dress, or how his body seemed to radiate with a power inhuman. It was because of his face, which would have been handsome except for its deformation. The jaw was set into a thin line, almost mechanic in nature, clenched in some unknown torment that could not be told from a simple glance. A small, but long nose, and medium sized ears were the lesser features. It was the scarf that the man wore, which was pure black, over the part of his face where the eyes should have been. The scarf was tied hard against his face, with no creases. Only the eye, the emerald metal item that was attached to the man’s face, was what brought the stares to him. The image carved in iron stared at them, its perpetual gaze causing the other two inside to flinch. Long dark red hair fell on the man’s face, more auburn than pure red, standing unkempt and everywhere, like the man was used to it being much shorter, and had long since stopped caring about its length. The man looked at everyone in the church with the green eye on his face, before disregarding them.

The space inside the church wasn’t much better than the outside either. There were three rows of simple wooden pews, leading up to a bronze altar. There was nothing much else, other than a golden cross about a foot in height, the only object of apparent worth, except what the man was looking for, a confession booth on the other side of the church. The booth would be cramped for someone of his height, but he didn’t mind. He instead headed towards the booth, shutting the entrance doors behind him, jarring an echo that vibrated through the small room. The man took no notice, and his footsteps echoed in the tiny chamber until he reached the narrow door leading inside the booth, clinking against the floor as if his boots were filled with metal. He opened it gently, not wanting to break the booth, and entered the cramped space. There was nothing but a brick wall and a small bench, along with the veiled window that connected to the priest’s side of the booth. He could hear the priest breathing in the other side, which showed he was not alone. He set himself down on the bench, making the most of the small amount of space. The priest in the other room sat up as the man sat down.

“Sorry for the loud noise, Father,” the stranger muttered, bending his head to rest it against his staff. “I do not sometimes know my own strength.” When he spoke, his voice echoed in the priest’s mind, a powerful monotone completely different from anything the preacher had heard before. The priest gasped lightly at its resonance behind the veiled window.

When he was settled once more, the priest nodded. He was a frail old man, with a shiny bald head. He wore traditional Catholic robes, though they were of a dark brown color. Though he was an old man, his eyes sparkled with an azure twinkle that seemed to defy his years. “It is all right, my son,” he whispered soothingly, leaning against the veiled window. “You have done nothing wrong.” The priest cleared his throat. “I am Father Maxwell. What sins have you come to confess?”

The man in the booth issued a grunt to Father Maxwell, shaking his head. “Forgive me then, Father Maxwell, for I have sinned in coming to your church. I am not Catholic, not even someone of the Christian faith. I am an…outsider. But I wished to confess to someone, and I decided I would do so here.” He tilted his head to the veiled window, his emerald eye staring through the window to look at the priest. “Is that a sin, Father?”

The priest chuckled lightly. “No, my son, it is not a sin. All our welcome in the house of God, for we are all children of one God.”

The stranger bent his head, whispering lightly to himself. He then raised himself once more. “Even those that are not made by God, Father Maxwell?” he asked suddenly. His voice was a short breath, nothing more than a whisper, as he spoke to the priest. “Even those made by the hands of evil, and darkness?”

The priest raised his brow. “Why, my son? Do you think yourself to be made by such things?”

The man slowly nodded. “I believe that I must ask permission to be in a house of God, for I am not one of His creations.” He laughed, though Father Maxwell could see his lips quivering at his feigned jest. The priest noticed then that, in everything the man had said so far, there was not a single drop of emotion in the man’s voice. It was completely blank, devoid of feeling or emotion. “I’ve heard stories about Him, about God. He would not create something like me.”

The priest was slightly taken back by this statement. “God created all, my child,” he asserted, leaning closer to the screened window. “You are welcome to confess your sins here.”

The man in the confessional sat quietly for a moment, pondering the priest’s words, before nodding. “All right, Father Maxwell, I shall. Thank you for your kindness.”

The priest waved away the thanks with his feeble arm. “It is only my duty as a priest, my son,” he answered happily. “I have been doing it for many years.”

“Then…” The man paused, lowering his voice once more, “can you tell me the sins, Father? Tell me some, for I could never remember them.”

Father Maxwell could tell from the man’s voice that he was begging for answers he did not know, or did not understand. “You have come to confess sins you know not of?” he asked, a slight air of confusion in his tone. “What is the point of that?”

The man shook his head from side to side. “No, Father Maxwell. I have come to confess sins I remember, and ones I forgot. I ask you to please name the sins the church deems most evil, so I may show you the dark, pitiful creature I am.”

Father Maxwell was slightly confused, but nodded his head. “Very well, my son,” he answered, sinking deep into his own memory of cardinal law. “Have you indulged in sinful pleasures?”

The man shook his head. “Never, Father. My entire life, for several years, has been lived in service to those without champions. I have never done anything for myself.”

“Well…have you ever stolen, my son?” the priest asked, turning the conversation to another sin.

The man shook his head once more. “Never, Father Maxwell. I have always given to others so they should not steal, and punish those that do take from the poor.”

What has this man done to feel himself unworthy? Father Maxwell asked himself, staring through the veiled window to the giant man. His whole life seems pure and honorable, a hero’s life. “Have you dishonored your parents?” he asked, thinking of the only thing he could.

At this, the man looked up, his whole body convulsing in trembling shivers, though it was hard to tell, as the space where his eyes were had been covered by the scarf and emerald eye. “Y-yes, Father Maxwell,” he murmured, touching the side of his head with his right palm. “Though I knew not what I did.”

The priest’s eyes widened at this announcement, but nonetheless continued. “Have you ever killed, my son?” he asked calmly, feeling himself drawn into the world of this strange man.

The man was motionless for several moments, causing the priest to wonder if he had even heard him. But finally, the man answered, “Yes Father, though I knew not when I did.” He repeated the statement he had just given, his voice still emotionless. He nodded slowly, resting his body against the wall behind the bench.

“H-have you ever committed adultery, my son?” Father Maxwell asked, his voice rising in fear at the man.

At this, the man vigorously shook his head. “Never, Father Maxwell. I could never do anything like that to her…”

The priest was baffled. “Then how is it you were able to kill, and dishonor your family, my son?” he asked. “If you have the honor to be faithful to the one you love, why have you committed such sins?”

“Do you have time to spare, Father Maxwell?” the stranger asked, loosening his grip on his iron staff. “If you do, perhaps you should hear a story, the path of my life. A story that can tell you, prove to you, that I am condemned, and not a child of your flock, not a creation of God.” He paused, taking a slight breath. “Would you listen to a story like that?” he asked, turning his head to face the door in front of him.

The priest nodded, setting himself into his seat. “I have time for all, my son, for that is not only part of the vow I took, it is the way I live my life.” The priest offered a reassuring smile, which was not noticed by the stranger. “Please, tell me your story, if it will help ease the pain you so clearly suffer.”

The man sighed, before nodding once more. “I am thankful, Father, even if I cannot express it as well as others might. I shall tell you, in confidence, everything about me. Who I truly am, where I come from, and who it was that created me: a creature also outside the realm of normal humanity and outside the flock of God.” He took one final deep breath, steadying himself.

“My name is Tobias Green. I was the warrior known as Chronos.”

And with that, the man once known as Chronos began the story of his life, leaving out no detail, nothing at all. The priest sat silently, listening to the whispered confession, his mind never wandering from the amazing story.

And so it began.

Word Count- 2,679​

 

[Ledian_X]

Nice intro into Chronos, my friend. So, you started things off with him going to the Vactican? That's cool but, I think the Cathedral's name'd be in Italian and I dunno about a Father Maxwell. Maybe he transferred to Rome because he liked the cannolis. I dunno.

There's a couple grammar mistakes but it isn't a big deal and they can be fixed easily. I think they were mostly typos on your part.

But, yeah this is a welcome addition to the Starboltsverse. Chronos heading to the cathedral and getting insight about himself was a brilliant idea. When does this story take place? After Chronos took off in my last chapter? Was he flying to Rome?

Doesn't really matter but to see one of Earth's heroes in a Cathedral like that is a powerful image. Can't wait for the Starbolts cameos you have planned. So, with that said, good start to what'll be a interesting saga. This'll be an interesting read.

Welcome to the Starboltsverse, Chronos. Hope you survive the experience.

LX

 

[Power Shot]

The story continues...

Memory 01: Zepther

“Have you heard the rumors about him…?”

“I’ve heard of him…”

Zepther stood before the man, lying in wait like a behemoth of shadows and darkness. Its tall skyscrapers shot up, some roofs even halting just below the clouds, though in contrast some slums barely rose off the two story limit. The streets were masked in shadows, like the man, the people of the city hurrying through the streets like mice in a maze, just looking for the exit. The dark man watched the people come and go below him, even from the high ground he stood on, at least a thousand feet in the air. He watched them, seeing them in a detail impossible without outside aid normally for other people. He, however, was not like normal people, able to see them perfectly from the distance, observing them through the Christmas-card atmosphere, the snow that feel from the sky casting the darkness in a fragile ivory that the man knew was false.

“They say he always has his eye on…”

“…you, so watch out tonight…”

The city, even from the far-away view of the man, was cold and unkempt, trash littering the city‘s corners at every turn. The man knew he had not come to a nice city when he first arrived, but had made the best of it, knowing that it was more worthwhile to assist healing a city than simply parking himself in one that needed no champion. The buildings all looked like they were crumbling from his point of view, windows smashed and walls cracked. Even the tower he stood on was falling apart, the faulty wiring of the facility a hazard to normal people who stood outside in the cold. He was not near the tower’s height, but he was on a ledge that he found convenient for his own, personal use. The tower was connected to the most listened-to radio station in Zepther, 102.1, the ECHO. The logo, a simple green design embossed in black, was located about a hundred feet below where the man stood, casting a glow around itself. The music played on the station was all kinds of different things, the man could never give it just one name, though most of it was of the rock variety that he heard most often. Not because he liked the music, but because it was the one he most listened to. But then again, he didn’t really hate the music either. He was neutral on the subject; it didn’t bother him that he could hear it blaring from inside the station itself.

“Who is he…?”

“I want to know what he is…”

“Time to hunt.”

He stood perched like a gargoyle on top of the station perch, his massive trench coat blowing in the accelerated winds around him. He himself took no notice of the cold around him, bent at the knee as he observed his hunting ground below. In the night’s sky, with no moon in sight, he was invisible, unseen by the naked eye in the darkness. His whole body was cloaked in black, his true form an enigma, all save for the green on his belt, a strange symbol that seemed to convey the man’s mission. When he spoke the three words, it was in a deep growl, several octets below a normal human’s voice, but with a dull lack of feeling that would have chilled the man to the bone, if he even got cold. The weather outside was many degrees below freezing, but he seemed unfazed by it.

“…Metalhead is coming…”

A spark shot out of the faulty cables right next to where the giant was perched, attracting his attention. With superhuman reflexes, the figure stiffened, jumping from the ledge of the tower. Spreading his powerful arms, the man free-fell towards the streets below him, at an ever-increasing speed. He blasted through the wind head first, the cowl that concealed his face pointing directly forwards, towards his destination due north. In the darkness of the night, he melted into the city’s surroundings, and seemed to glide his way to the source of his urgency, his body seeming to float in the ebon night around him.

It wasn’t hard, he thought, as he passed over the streets of the city, drawing a few cries of the lucky that saw him pass. It wasn’t hard guarding a city from the everyday crimes that overtook it. It was just…different, every single time he started work. Zepther was a dark city, the gothic architecture of the city prevalent in all aspects. The Starbolts, he knew, did not have to deal with things so petty as stopping a robber, or halting a pickpocket. The Starbolts managed the whole world, never in just one city at a time, and even a few parts beyond the reach of Earth. They had no idea of the simple hassle of protecting just one city with only ten million people or so in it. In many ways, it was much harder than defending the whole of Earth.

“What is he?”

“Is he even human?”

He heard the conversations, albeit most of them fleeting, as he moved quickly from rooftop to rooftop, eager to get to his destination. He knew they were talking about him, never, or rarely, using his chosen designation. They always talked about him when they thought he wasn’t there, which the criminals could never be sure of. The man came and went in the shadows, the darkness and cold of his powers as profound as the winter nights of Zepther. If the man had had his way, all of them would be locked away, forgotten inside the justice system, sharing cells in prison with some guy named Molly. But he knew that wasn’t how the real world worked. Some people who committed the most heinous crimes roamed free, while the most honest people were in jail. He required proof to do what he did, to put someone in jail for committing a crime, so he only went after those that were unfortunate enough to get on his radar.

Tonight was not Oliver Bread’s night.

***​

Oliver Bread was not a happy man.

Having recently been kicked out of a project he was working on, one of national importance, the short, slightly plump man was given over to the belief that he had nothing to live for anymore. His face was very sweaty as he worked, wiring the charges into the computer he had placed on top of the low building. On the streets below, he could see innocents walking up and down the road, some carrying gifts home for next week’s celebration of Valentine’s Day. He rubbed away the sweat from his brow, and finished programming his computer to detonate the bombs with a few simple computer strokes. Thousands would die, he knew that, because the street he was planning to explode would form a chain reaction that would take down several more blocks in addition to this one. Adding in the number of people waiting in traffic, the number would be massive. He didn’t care, but few criminals cared about those they harmed, especially if they weren’t planning on living through their work.

“Almost…there…” The man giggled quietly, his blue eyes staring wildly at the screen’s glare in front of him. He felt the sweat coming down his face again from the grease of his dark hair, and threw in the final key strokes needed to complete the explosion program. All that would be needed was the final hit of the space bar to send all the people to the underworld, bringing a hellish sight to the Earth in a final, beautiful, blast. “Just one more…

A sharp noise, like the sound of metal falling onto the ground, prompted his attention away from the monitor of the computer. He stiffened at the sound, sensing an intruder upon his work, and stuck his hand in his pocket, his fingers closing over his revolver. He had bought it as a precaution, and was glad he had done so. The small gun was withdrawn from his lab coat, loading with bullets, and preparing to silence whoever it was who had dared interrupted him. “Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice heightened with excitement. “Step into the light.”

A voice in the shadows hissed. “What do you think you are doing?” it answered, a deep, menacing growl that chilled the man to the very soul. “Step away from the computer now.” The scientist looked round suddenly for the origin of the voice, unable to locate it in the darkness around him. The sound seemed to come from everywhere. “I am not going to warn you once more,” it said, as Bread had not moved, frozen to the spot.

The voice terrified the doctor, giving him shivers that had nothing to do with the weather around him. The command the voice’s owner had given him, the tone in which the stranger spoke, was so heartless, so utterly devoid of emotion, that Bread could tell the dark figure did not care how the encounter ended, as long as it ended. The owner did not care what happened to Bread, other than whether or not he was going to move away from the terminal.

Bread’s finger hovered over the keyboard, flinching as he heard a strange noise from the shadows nearby. A sharp sound issued, echoing through the darkened rooftop, like something being unsheathed in the night, something metal emerging suddenly. Bread could feel the sweat pouring down off his face, but his resolve was still strong, though his quivering hand indicated otherwise.

“Don’t come any closer,” the scientist whispered. “I’m not afraid to do it.”

Something fell near the scientist, and Bread swerved his head to see that a potted plant had been dropped from the sill to the ground near his feet. “And I’m not afraid to do what I have to do,” the stranger answered, his voice raising an octave, turning to a dark threatening tone. “I will not allow you to do what you want. You cannot bomb anything here.”

If Bread had known who he was messing with, the scientist would not have smiled as he did at that moment, grinning triumphantly at the would-be vigilante that had found him. “Watch me,” he retorted. “I’m just too sick to care anymore.”

And his finger pushed down on the trigger.

The shadows started to growl, a deep menacing noise that was almost, but not quite, a chuckle, as the scientist to his horror, discovered that the button, the space bar, was failing to properly push down. His eyes swerved to the keyboard, watching in terror as it was slowly covered in metal, the keys slowly turning from a darkish-gray color to a coated steel gray. The metal expanded, as if it had a mind of its own, to cover the whole computer before he could do anything more. Frantic, his wild eyes darted to the shadows, raising the revolver against the shadows.

Then the man began to emerge from the darkened shroud that surrounded him.

Bread panicked, cowering in fear as the ebon knight took shape in the darkness surrounding him, a shapeless form that seemed to be made of darkness. Bread saw in horror as a metal emblem began to show itself, an eye carved in solid steel, colored emerald, on the belt of the man’s uniform. He felt himself shrinking as the giant approached from the shadows, cloaked in a darkness even worse than any sort of night imaginable.

He was massive, huge. And, to Bread, he was getting bigger, the imagination of the good doctor starting to work on overdrive. Instead of the black clothing that the stranger was wearing, the scientist saw the darkness of evil. Instead of the dark trench coat, Bread saw the wings of the devil cascading down to the ground. The piercing shadows of the night seemed drawn over his whole body, an armor-like cloth upon which was draped the greatcoat. Everything was black, save for the darkish red hair that grew on his head, the only part of the giant that gave indication that he was anything remotely related to humanity. The hair grew in jagged spikes and, with every motion of the man’s head, transformed from dark red to dull gray, changing with ever step.

Bread’s eyes wandered from the man’s head to his left hand, where a thin silver trail clashed against the darkness of the glove he wore, dripping off at the index finger, and extended from inside the man’s trench coat. Bread watched as the line of metal led from the finger towards the computer terminal. The metal was already wound round the computer. “You will not hurt anyone,” the monster whispered, reasserting what he had stated earlier. Bread watched as the computer was picked up by the metal strand, and lifted in the air towards the demonic figure. Bread could barely turn away from his emerald eye. “Stand down.”

Bread did not get the message, because he was still pointing the gun towards the vigilante’s dark chest. “Well, eat lead, freak!” the scientist roared, pressing down hard on the trigger. There was a delayed second, when time stopped for the scientist, when the bullet came roaring out of the gun, whizzing towards the dark creature that was ruining his plans. He heard a sharp ping, exactly one moment after the bullet was released, that rang out with even more volume than the bullet’s release, before something blasted past his left ear, imbedding itself in the wall behind the doctor.

Bread turned in terror to see that the something was the bullet he had just shot at the beast.

The monster did not move staring down the doctor with his faceless glare. The scientist heard more unsheathing occurring inside the man’s coat. “I said stand down,” he repeated, taking a sudden step forward directly towards the scientist, completely unafraid of the consequences. “It isn’t like you are going to hurt me.” One second later, Bread felt something tight winding around his body like a snake. He stared down his body, seeing silver lines tracing themselves around his person. They constricted, squeezing Bread in a non-lethal fashion, but enough to give the good doctor the information he needed: that the demonic fighter was the one in charge. Bread started to kick and scream, as he was levitated, just like his computer, by the metal generated around his plump body, and he was lifted into the air like a weakling, to eye level with the warrior.

Bread hissed, baring his teeth. “What are you?” he demanded, eyes frantically glaring up at the dark warrior, sapphire color aflame with hate. “A freak!” He spit at the dark costume that the demon wore in disgust, his wet projectile hitting hard against the rough shirt the knight wore beneath his open coat. The saliva dripped, making its way down the uniform. “Freak!”

The giant was unmoved by the unprofessional act, answering, “You are being hypocritical, fool.” With a casual gesture of his free arm, metal trickled from the main stream towards the computer upwards to the offending liquid, and wiped the uniform clean with one small sweep. “You are also ignorant, for you pick a fight with me.” The scientist fell silent after that, and the demon looked Bread over, as if unsure what to do with the mad doctor. “I am going to question you. Understand?”

For a second, it seemed as though Dr. Bread might refuse the dark man, for he began to shake his head no. Bread, however, took another look at the blank cowl the man wore, and decided against this plan. Regardless of what the man was going to do, Bread was certain he would not be able to enact his plan. He nodded reluctantly, resigned to his fate. “What do you want, then?” the doctor retorted stubbornly, a slight twinge of a sneer in his voice.

The demon paused for a moment, considering his options carefully. Then, he raised the doctor a slight bit higher in the air, so that they now stood face to faceless cowl. “I want to know why you wanted to blow up this street, and yourself,” he stated, the calmness of his voice reverting from the dark, demonic growl to a brute-like grunt, telling the doctor that he was safe, and would not be harmed, if he cooperated. “Answer me.”

The doctor grimaced, as though conflicted with some internal struggle. “Why should I answer a devil something like that? Even though you speak calmly, aren’t you just as insane as me? What rational being dresses like you?” He grinned, tilting his head back to expose his throat. “Kill me.”

The giant did not visibly seem affected by the insult. “You are wrong,” the man muttered. With a simple gesture, the bonds tightened around the doctor, making him wince in pain, before they were retracted to a normal tightness. “Answer now.”

Bread swallowed, feeling the beads of sweat from his brow drip to the ground several inches below himself. “I’m just like any nut, okay? I want to die, so I figured, ‘Why not go off with a bang, huh?’” Bread glared at the cowl once more. “Is that so wrong?” he demanded, his voice rising in volume.

If the dark warrior cared, or even understood, about the emotions that were raging inside Bread’s head, he did not show it, instead choosing to decrease the distance between Dr. Bread and himself. “Yes,” he hissed underneath his mask. “Innocents do not deserve to die with you, drama queen. Why do you want to kill yourself?”

The scientist noticeably flinched. “Because of my work.” Bread took on a different appearance, his face stricken with abject terror. He started to shiver again, something he had stopped since being picked up in metal. “We did things we shouldn’t have done…”

The dark warrior pressed the subject, as the doctor began to drift off. “Did what, fool?” he demanded, his voice turning harsh.

“…I backed out…couldn’t live with it anymore…

The demon shortened the distance between himself and Bread, so that they were separated only by an inch of air. “What did you do?” he asked, with finality in his tone. “What was done that was so terrible you couldn’t live with it, and decided this street wouldn’t either?”

“Couldn’t take it…” The man’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head. “Came here…where it started…”

“What did you do?”

The scientist raised a brow, a twisted smile upon his face. “What do you care, devil? Who are you to demand of me, when you are not even one of our kind?” He started to laugh, and simply refused to stop, though his last declarations were clearer than anything the man had said prior.

The dark metal-user thought about the statement, allowing a moment to come up with an answer that would be suitable. This person must have been new in town, to not know who he was. “I am the watcher of Zepther,” the man answered. “I am the Dark Eye. I am Chronos.”

The scientist did not seem to notice the revelation, until he lowered his face back to where he stared into the blank cowl, like he could see the face hidden behind the mask. “I don’t care what you call yourself,” he giggled, closing his eyes. “We…I…did it. We did something that should never be done…”

His mouth twitched. “We played God…”

The next instant, the dark warrior heard another bullet come blasting into the air, shattering the silence of the night for the second time. The warrior literally saw as the bullet shot through the doctor, Bread’s head turning into putty, like melted jelly. The brain fell to the ground, splattering the concrete building below in blood and gore. The ebon knight did not see this, however, because the bullet did not stop simply because Bread’s head was no longer standing in the way. The dark figure’s face was impaled in the center of his cowl, accompanied by a sharp ping as metal generated in the demon‘s face to protect him.

The man was clutching a corpse, he knew that, as he removed the projectile from his mask, discarding it like a loose piece of lint to the ground. He looked his suit over, noticing and smelling the blood all over himself. A wash would be in order later. The man gave one, final look at the corpse that had been the unknown scientist Oliver Bread, before the metal retracted, slinking into his coat where it had come from.

The corpse slumped to the floor, with nothing left to keep it supported. The warrior looked at it, bending his head downwards, and tried to imagine that a few moments before, there was a living person in the body. Now, there was nothing, its insides and cold and empty as the winter’s night.

“You know the difference between us?” the Dark Eye asked the dead man, walking towards the sill where the terminal was located, now free of the metal he had generated. “I’m the one making sure us ‘crazies’ aren’t out making the world into Hell.”

With that, the warrior known as Chronos destroyed the terminal, severing all the connections to the detonators laying around the street. The metal knight sighed emotionlessly, looking over the still-busy street.

He had a long night ahead.

***​

“…In other news, the legendary hero Apollo is happily settling into his new life with his family, his daughter Sara is expecting to join the superhero team known as the Starbolts…In other Aquarius news, the princess Aquita and Starbolt member Saturn are expected to be married in a royal ceremony on the alien planet…

…Delegations from the United Nations and other representative bodies, mainly backed by the United States, are currently searching for any members of the terrorist group Terra Nova who remain at large. Terra Nova, if you remember, was responsible for the acts of violence against meta-humans and aliens, most recently with robot attacks on prominent cities with hero protectors, such as our beloved Zepther…More updates are coming in all day, so stay tuned…”

Chronos only half-listened to the events on the news station, mostly because he was uninterested in things that did not affect his hunting ground, more commonly referred to as Zepther. To be completely honest, he didn’t entirely like the whole “Superhero” community that mostly spanned the States, though the Starbolts were more of an international organization, considering as they worked with S.T.A.R.S. He didn’t entirely hate them either, but he relied on himself too much to be part of a squad or a team. He knew for a fact he was better off alone.

Which was why he was at, oh, a hundred feet above the city, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, searching for criminals, like he did most nights. He didn’t exactly have much of a social life, after all. Being a protector did not give one much time for a social life. Too busy saving people. With a giant leap, aided by the metal he generated in his boots, Chronos leapt over a giant skyscraper that was some sort of office complex, from what he could see in the windows.

As he descended from above the massive scraper, he took a look at the city below him. He was aimed in between two massive buildings, setting himself up for his next big leap. He could also see traffic below him, the shoppers and business owners of the city eager to get home to their families. Chronos spread his arms like a hawk, calling forth the dark metal that was his to command. The living alloy responded, slinking down his arms to the palms of his hands, just like before. Only this time, they generated into two spheres inside his hand. Chronos waited, until he amassed enough metal into his hands.

When he had enough, he shot both into the walls of the two buildings as he passed, the metal binding hard to the surfaces. Chronos saw the metal as it began to stretch, just as he had planned, and continued to expand. A third coil was shot out of the back of his head, pulling Chronos back the way he came, and forming a giant slingshot. At the last possible moment, when he was ten feet above the ground, his metal stopped stretching, and began to tug him forward. With increasing momentum, Chronos was shot out of the slingshot just like an arrow out of a bow, blasting himself into the air at high speed.

Chronos soared into the sky, with perfectly controlled height and speed. He saw the city below him shrink rapidly as he was carried into the clouds, as he had often done before. In fact, this slingshot mode of transportation had given many people the belief that he could naturally fly. Which was true, but only under certain circumstances. But as Chronos did not feel like growing wings that night, he reached the top of his ascension, and began to slope downwards to the city below him. In particular, the downtown section of Zepther, the slums where Chronos spent the bulk of his nights. He made a silent note to return uptown to remove all of the broken bombs at two o‘clock, when the people would have deserted the street to him.

He slowed his decent as he had the time before at the radio station, by sending out coils of metal which impaled themselves into the sides of the buildings around his area of landing, spreading across the surface of the walls as fluid as water, stopping Chronos as he headed back towards Earth. He continued this way until his two feet touched the ground, and he retracted the metal into himself, shrouding himself once more with darkness.

He wandered into the shadows, concealing himself as he often did. That was how he tended to do business, not as the comics portrayed him. Those foolish comics that the publishing companies sold simply because he was a hot item. They never even portrayed him correctly, thinking of him as a brightly-colored hero with a cheerful and entertaining attitude, like Spider-Man. The reality of who he was, and what he did, was much darker than anything the public would ever know.

His cowl looked round the dregs of civilization, taking in the sights of downtown through the darkness he cloaked himself in. He thought it interesting that the United States did so much for the world, but this small, insignificant part of its own people was overlooked in its haste to be involved in the whole planet.

He watched as an innocent huddled against a flaming trash can, desperate for warmth that could not be found. An illegal activity in the city, but not one that the Dark Eye was interested in stopping. He looked over the person, a dead-eyed woman, as he passed, noticing a bottle of liquor in her gloved hands. The woman was staring into the flare, standing over it, as if it was all she possessed. Which, he reminded himself, was probably an accurate guess.

“It’s a cold night,” he whispered. The woman snapped up, caught by surprise that the darkness would speak to her. “Are you comfortable?”

The woman’s eyes relaxed, knowing who was talking to her. “Hey, Metalhead,” she murmured, shutting them as she leaned against the wall by her can. Her clothes were ruined and soiled due to her state of living, her tattered crimson hair was rank and unkempt. “What brings you to this part of town?”

Chronos did not move from his place in the shadows. “It’s what I do, Carla.” The Dark Eye looked the woman over again, finding it slightly difficult to believe she was only seventeen. She was just Carla, Chronos did not need her surname or anything other than her loyalty, which he knew he had. Carla was self-reliant, and able to go places police could not, places Chronos needed to go to serve Zepther. In many aspects, Carla reminded him a lot of himself. “To overlook one part of the city means to overlook them all. There can be no exceptions.”

The girl laughed. “You’re so serious, Metalhead.” She lifted her head, and sniffed in the direction she knew Chronos was standing. “You smell of death. Something happen?”

“No.” He said it with a planned unconvincing tone, so that Carla would understand that he did not want to talk about the death of the scientist, or the scientist’s plan to blow up the street, but so she knew something had happened. “I came for information, like I always do.”

She nodded. “Go ahead.” She rummaged through her baggy jacket, locating a cigarette from one of its many dusty pockets. With a simple motion, she set the bottle of drink on the pavement near her, and set the self-rolled cigarette over the flames in the barrel, igniting it. She raised it to her lips, taking a deep drag, and exhaled a cloud of air that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures around her.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Chronos muttered, which was his standard greeting to her. It was how almost all of the debriefings began, save for the ones where Carla could not afford the smokes. “It’s bad for you.”

“You shouldn’t be getting into fights across the city, but that’s something you have to do,” she countered. Carla giggled, pointing the lit stub at the area of darkness Chronos was concealed in. “You know you can’t lecture me about health, Metalhead. You’re the one with lungs of steel.” She laughed at her own small joke, and continued to smoke on the cigarette. “So, what do you want from me? Not planning on getting me to join AA again, right?”

Chronos stared at the green eyes beneath her bangs. “I came for information about the drug ring down here, the one backed by Fedora. What do you know about it?”

The woman shrugged. “Nothing, just what I find in discarded papers,” she answered. She exhaled, noticing that the overbearing presence in the shadows wanted more details. “They’re at the main harbor, the shipments come in illegally from Canada.”

There was a pause. “Canada.” It was spoken as a statement, but Carla knew that Chronos just wanted confirmation of what she had just said.

“Yep.” Carla noticed in amazement that she had had her cigarette in her mouth for about a minute, but hadn’t taken a drag after her first one. She inhaled, taking in the rich, burning taste of the tobacco. “Canada. Who would have thought it?”

“Which dock are they at?” Chronos asked, diverting now that he had his confirmation. “And how do I get to them?”

Carla thought for a moment, remembering exactly how she had gotten to the drug ring. “Number 42,” she answered, coughing slightly as the nicotine backed up in her system. “As for getting in, how’s about you try knocking politely for once, and don’t Rambo it?”

A dry laugh issued from the Dark Eye, a polite gesture and nothing more. Carla understood that Chronos was an unfeeling man, but also one of courtesy to those he held company with. “I’ll try that, then,” he muttered. “Thanks.”

Carla waved her smoking arm, the right one, in front of her. “No prob, Metalhead. Just remember your payment next week. I expect chocolate, by the way. The gourmet kind, not the junky garbage most people give.” She looked through the shadows, and was able to find a slight bit of his outline. “Gotta get back to that death, huh?” She could still smell it on him, the stench of blood she knew too well.

The shadows were silent for a moment, before a package was thrown to the floor of the ground, a white envelope perfectly sealed and not creased. Carla looked at it for a moment, before a grunt came from the darkness. “Something like that,” she heard the Dark Eye reply, before there was a silence, signaling to the woman that Zepther’s defender was gone, already off on another, unknown errand.

Carla picked up the envelope with her gloved fingers, sticking the butt of her smoke into her mouth so as not to singe the paper. She opened it, and found several bills inside, all in the double digits. She chuckled, Chronos really was a generous man towards her, and she kept every dollar he paid her, so that one day soon, she could escape the world she had been raised in.

“God speed, Metalhead,” she sighed, looking up into the sky, watching the snow fall onto the dark city. Then, she picked up her bottle, and wandered down the alleyway, seeking refuge for the long night ahead. It was too cold to sleep on the streets tonight.

In the silence of the night above her, Chronos continued his never-ending hunt.

Word Count- 5501​

 

[Ledian_X]

Nice chapter, Power Shot! I really liked the part with the Starbolts news story. Really up on your continuity my friend. I showed the tiny bit about Sara to my friend who created her and then the rest of the story. She thought it was good too. Nice using Mateo's old codename because well, the general public doesn't know he changed it. Really good Starbolts references! Let's hope we see more in the future.

Grammar's beter than before and everything else is cool. The name Olver Bread's funny to me for some reason. So, Carla's the informant huh? What about Rayizia? Can't wait to see more!

Oh and yeah, the Starbolts are global but sometimes they do do stuff in Dastara City. Ah well. Nice work once again, Power Shot!

LX

 

[Sike Saner]

I came into this thread a fan of Chronos already thanks to his appearances in Ledian_X’s Starbolts: New Beginnings, and after reading this, I find myself now even more a fan. ^^ The more I read about him, the more I’m fascinated by him. He just has this fantastic air about him, this forboding countenance. *_* Very frelling cool.

I’m very enamoured with your style of writing; it’s extremely immersive. It creates a terrific, chilling atmosphere while reading it, one that just draws me right in. There’s just the right amount of detail, details that set the stage vividly.

Following are my favorite excerpts from the current two chapters that have been released here. All of these stood out for me as being just especially cool quotes, examples of choices of words that were just really frelling good:

No one walked with him, or even in the same road as he, for the man was alone, and from the motion of his body, which was purposeful and menacing, all understood he was to remain that way.

I have come to confess sins I remember, and ones I forgot. I ask you to please name the sins the church deems most evil, so I may show you the dark, pitiful creature I am.

He was massive, huge. And, to Bread, he was getting bigger, the imagination of the good doctor starting to work on overdrive. Instead of the black clothing that the stranger was wearing, the scientist saw the darkness of evil. Instead of the dark trench coat, Bread saw the wings of the devil cascading down to the ground.

The next instant, the dark warrior heard another bullet come blasting into the air, shattering the silence of the night for the second time. The warrior literally saw as the bullet shot through the doctor, Bread’s head turning into putty, like melted jelly. The brain fell to the ground, splattering the concrete building below in blood and gore.

She was just Carla, Chronos did not need her surname or anything other than her loyalty, which he knew he had.

In the silence of the night above her, Chronos continued his never-ending hunt.

I’m thoroughly hooked by this story, and I look very much forward to reading more. Excellent work. ^^

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 02: Contact

On the east side of Zepther, as the sun began to climb up, Tobias Green flicked out a pair of keys from his coat pocket, whistling as he walked through the newly-fallen snow on the sidewalk. He turned a corner, making his way towards the other side of the building he lived in, towards 322 High Street. With the air of a man without a care in the world, Tobias nodded hello to a passerby, and smiled as he unlocked and opened the door to the establishment known as Comic Central, the place of his employment. Smiling lightly, Tobias flipped the Sorry, We’re Closed sign located on the door to the Yes, We’re Open one on the other side of the sign, and hung it on the door. Walking into the medium-sized shop, Tobias remembered to flip on the lights as he headed for the back room, getting ready to restock the comic shelves.

Comic Central was not a big store by any means, just a one story gig with a decently sized space for the comics, manga, and a small sitting space, complete with a few tables and chairs for tournaments and things the nerds that Tobias normally catered to. Sometimes they would play games, which they would plug into the wide-screen TV mounted on the wall. The store was not on par in size with Barnes and Nobles, but it was a cozy place. It made plenty of money, though Tobias did not care much about money. It’s claim to fame was the fact that it exclusively published and distributed the comic book adaptation called Chronos, a series of stories about the acclaimed superhero, though thankfully he had no secret identity. Because of this, the store’s doors were always open. Though it wasn’t just because of the comic. It was also because of the few that ran the store.

Comic Central was managed by exactly two people, both of whom were all the store really needed to function, because the store wasn’t all that big. One of the staff was able to think and calculate with the best, and the other was built like a tank, and able to do the work of at least twenty men on a bad day. The brains of Comics Central, Raziya Urashima, who was the best mathematician and technician ever to manage a comics store, and the brawn, Tobias Green, who was making his way to the giant crate with the day’s new issues, getting the store ready for when Raz would come down to the shop from her bedroom, in about two hours. He had plenty of time, so he started to hum as he lifted a box about the size of half a fridge, and twice as heavy. He positioned himself around the box, wrapping his powerful arms around it, and hefted it into his grasp, like it was nothing. Making sure he had a tight grip on the crate, Tobias exited the back room, with all it’s massive boxes and stocks, and headed towards the sitting area.

Raz did not like waking up early in the morning, or going to bed early at night, so Tobias pretty much had the store to himself until she could drag herself down to work. She was always going off to clubs late at night. Tobias shrugged off the thoughts of his employer for now, focusing on the simple pleasure of stocking the manga. Moving up to the counter, where he spent the majority of his working days, he passed it as he headed to the sitting area, setting the box down on one of the folding tables. The table gave a small groan in protest, but took the girth of the heavy box. He wasn’t exactly fond of the sitting area, mainly because of the fact that its primary function was to generate teenage boys to annoy Tobias, along with the few tournaments and conventions that Raz sponsored, which also doubled as a reading area for those that did not buy the books.

The tall man took a second glance at the crate, making sure there weren’t any holes or anything wrong with the crate from the outside. It was the same kind of crate as the rest of the ones were in the warehouse, but this one was special. Inside the box contained a new comic for the hoards of fan boys and girls that would be released today. The newest edition of Chronos, which was climbing towards its one-year anniversary, was inside the crate.

Feeling his glasses slipping from his face, Tobias stopped unloading the crate, pausing to readjust them in front of his eyes. The dark specs had a habit of drooping off his nose when he wasn’t paying attention to them. He paused from his work, and securely fastened them to his face with his gloved right hand. He wore the gloves due to the searing cold outside, which was starting to creep into the store, even though the radiator was turned to full blast, as per Raz’s instructions.

Tobias was a big man, standing at a strapping six foot six, and well endowed in terms of muscle mass and strength. His biceps had biceps, and his body was as strong as solid steel, which had made him a perfect candidate for work at Comic Central, with all the heavy lifting that occurred on a daily basis. This was the primary reason he was employed under Raz, who hated heavy work of every kind, and was only too willing to get an average Joe who happened to be built like a tank. He could even double as a bouncer. Tobias lived upstairs with Raz, having taken the spare room she had offered him, though he only kept his meager possessions at him room, spending little time there, except to sleep.

Tobias adjusted his sunglasses, which he wore at all times, without exception. They were needed, the big man had explained, to shield his eyes from any kind of light. His eyes were particularly weak, and thus required protection, lest he go blind from UV rays, for they could not tolerate sunlight, sensitive to bright things. A few scars, which came down from his eyes, suggested an accident, though Tobias never really talked about himself. They were custom made by him, and designed to completely hide his eyes. In normal glasses, you could see at least parts of a person’s eyes. Tobias’ obscured his so well, the glass looked like ebon darkness. At least Raz had stopped trying to pry them off, which had been one of her favorite activities until recently, when she had decided to give up, after finally realizing the health risks to her workhorse.

Tobias almost always wore the same outfit, which he had several pairs of inside his room in Raz’s apartment. It wasn’t very noticeable, which was probably what Tobias liked most about it. He wore a forest-green shirt, which was stretched tight over his broad shoulders and bulging pectorals and abdomen, and a pair of black jeans, which seemed to be of the cargo pants variety. The pants ended inside of his combat boots, which were highly polished and halfway up to his knees; they had the look of dark ebony, and had a glare that could blind a man from twenty feet if he aimed it properly. They were old, but clearly not as old as his jacket, a rugged crimson coat which extended to slightly below the waist. Over his hands were black, leather gloves. His entire look didn’t appear to stop the cold, but he didn’t mind it at all.

Tobias’ face was regular, the glasses aside, and a little handsome if you were into giants. His hair was a short crop of dark red hair, which stuck up continuously at odd ends upon his scalp, giving him the look of someone who did not take a large amount of effort into his appearance everyday, but one who didn’t need to as well. His nose was small, but a little long as well, his mouth a thin line even as he smiled, and his ears were a little big for him.

With his glasses firmly in place once more, Tobias placed both of his massive hands onto the top of the box, and ripped off the top with little effort, the tape and cardboard shredding immediately under the strength of his fingers, creating a noise that Raz deeply hated. Discarding the piece of board to the portion of the table next to where he had set the box, he peered inside to see the new edition of Zepther’s favorite superhero book. This week’s edition of Chronos had a picture of the famous hero on the cover, standing in a hunched position, with his trademark scimitar blades emerging in battle stance from the backs of his hands. Behind the hero, an image of the giant spider-robot was displayed, slowly falling to pieces. The creators of the comic must have been covering the Starbolts/Apollo incident very well.

Humming to himself, Tobias busied himself by taking out several dozen copies of the comic, and walked over to the empty racks and isle that Raz and he had prepared for today’s big release. He distributed them wherever he could find space, considering they were going to sell out the first day, and would require more space than the other products. Zepther loved its superhero, and everyone who was everyone owned the complete Chronos series, starting with the heroic rescue of the mayor of Zepther with well known Starbolts Bluestreak, Titanus, and Gabriele from Bullwhip, and continuing on as Chronos became a popular icon. There were talks about somehow persuading him to star in a movie about himself, though such a thing would probably never happen. The Dark Eye did not enjoy his publicity.

Tobias set the comics onto the shelves without much problem, going through the routine that he had adjusted himself to. When his hands were empty, Tobias walked back to the crate, and obtained the rest of the comics. There was another crate in the back room with even more of the comics, but those would be taken out later, probably midday or so, when more would be needed. When he was finished, Tobias moved himself into the back room to get the giant stand up figure of Chronos, which had been modeled after the giant man who had to move it. Raz had taken it upon herself to make the suit, which was actually a very good intimidation. The statue was made of plastic, with cloth uniform, and was not heavy, save for the metal wings that sprang from the back of the coat. Grunting lightly, he picked it up, and carried it over towards the door, where it would be greeted by nerds and all as they bolted into the store to obtain the comics. Tobias thought a silent thanks for the fact that there were no special edition comics like there were in others.

***​

Tobias had just let the first stream of comic book geeks into the store when Raziya Urashima entered the shop, dusting out spare snowflakes that trailed in her hair. The big man looked up from behind the counter, shouting a greeting towards her as he struggled with the outdated cash register, an oldie model that ran on number crunching alone, without any electrical assistance whatsoever. She suppressed the laugh that she normally reserved for seeing him struggle with the machine, and headed towards her private office to set down her stuff, and help out Tobias with the customers.

Tobias watched her head for the private office she had, which was located to the left of the storeroom, and was basically a large broom closet stuffed with computers and files that Raz used for the shop’s upkeep. Tobias did not go near there, as his post was at the register. He heard a giant sneeze issue from the office, and a second later, Tobias reached over to the thermostat and cracking it up another few degrees, putting it to a nice seventy-five degrees, the temperature that Raz most preferred. As he dealt with an order from a rather beefy thirty-year-old, his employer emerged from her hideaway to assist him.

Raz looked up towards him, her petite body looking like a toothpick next to the muscle mass that was Tobias. She normally wore a red sweat shirt over herself, due to the fact that she got cold easily, with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. She dressed rather plainly, like Tobias, and wore small spectacles in order to read the small print of the computer screen she had. Tobias had narrowed her ethnicity down to distinct Japanese ancestry, with long, flowing ebony hair and expressive dark pools for eyes.

“How are we doing?” she asked, jumping up onto the counter. For effect, Tobias asked the next customer to wait a moment, and hit the “No Sale,” button. The teller sprang open, jammed with money after only thirty minutes of taking money. The store was packed, and was full of loud, shouting people. Raz’s eyes bulged, and she laughed. “Nice work, Toby.” She patted him on his back, and let him get back to work. “Let me know when you need to restock, okay handsome?” Tobias nodded, returning to his work.

This continued for several hours; Tobias in his folding chair, dealing with the various peoples that came in for the new book, letting them pay then get out; Raz in her office, spying in the security cameras lest anyone attempt to steal a copy without paying. It only happened twice that day, mainly because Raz would bolt after the person if they did try to steal a book, and forcibly remove the book from their person, then make them sit in the sitting area for the police to pick up.

Slim Mullen arrived in the early afternoon, shortly after the second attempt, as he normally dealt with the low threats in the district. He was the rookie of the force, so he got stuck with most of the grunt work that the older, more experienced cops didn’t want to do. Still, Tobias had yet to hear him once complain about it.

When Tobias heard the chime that signaled that Mullen had indeed arrived, he offered a smile, as the store’s activity had died down a little since the opening a few hours before, and waved to the police grunt. Mullen waved back, and walked up to the counter, pulling off the heavy duty gloves he wore as he did so.

“How’s things, Green?” he asked, chuckling at the amount of work Tobias must have had to do all day. “Keeping the horde happy?”

The other offered a chuckle. “Trying to, anyway.”

Mullen stroked his hair, a neat crop of blond, which never once had had a misplaced hair, and looked towards the two shoplifter-wannabes. “Those the guys?” he asked, lifting the brows above his steel-gray eyes. “Think Razzberry will go easy with them?”

Tobias shook his head. “You know how much she hates thieves. Even more than that lame pet name you have for her.” Mullen laughed, dusting off the pieces of his uniform. He was only twenty-one, and a newbie on the force, having only joined about a year before, but he had caught the attention of the captain, earned a few medals, done some good things. At least he was in plainclothes, with a brown coat, white shirt, and dark jeans, with running shoes. Tobias noted the gun he was concealing in his waistband, and the badge hanging under his shirt on a chain.

“I’ll take them down to the station then.” But Mullen didn’t move, rubbing his palms together. Tobias sighed, and removed a reserved copy of Chronos from behind the counter, one that Mullen always had reserved. “How much is it again?”

Tobias grunted, as Mullen handed him a twenty. “It’s ten bucks, just like it is every week Mullen,” he replied, giving the cop back his change. He looked up at the clock, seeing that he had about five hours left before the store closed. “How about you meet me and Raz for drinks after work? Say ten?”

Mullen considered, then nodded. “I should have punched my card by then. Not a problem, Green. See ya there.” With that, he proceeded directly to the offending kids, chiding them for their actions, and took them from the store to give them their tickets and penalties. He waved to Tobias as he went, and then was gone into the winter’s day.

Raz entered immediately after Mullen left, simply because she wanted to check the stocks on the new comic. “Mullen’s been here,” she observed, noticing that the shoplifters were gone. “We going out with him after work?”

“Yeah.” Tobias looked up from the register, having transferred a large portion of the bills he had taken up from the customers into the money box below the counter. “Regular place, then?”

Raz nodded. “Docks Bar.”

***​

Docks Bar was located in the most obvious place in Zepther, the docks. Or, more specifically, the space between Docks 12 and 13. The air was crisp, and cold, around Tobias Green and Raziya Urashima as they walked by the waterfront, headed straight for the establishment. The woman was firmly latched to the giant that stood beside her, serving two purposes with this simple action: trying to absorb some of the giant’s body heat, and making sure that he did not lose his way in the darkness. She wasn’t too sure of the specifics on his glasses, but knew it was a bad idea to wear them when it got too dark. Still, Tobias never took them off. Below them, the rippling waters of Lake Michigan’s clear liquid ran beneath the docks and the boats that were securely fastened to the waterfront, the lake, of course, on their right, with the land to the left.

Docks Bar was a small, but enjoyable, place of business right on the water’s edge, where Tobias, Mullen, and Raz normally spent their nights, when they wished to blow off steam. Or, rather, Raz and Mullen spent night that they needed to blow off steam there, for Tobias hated staying out late, and normally left several hours before either of the two even thought about him. Sniffing the chilling air around him, Tobias could even pick up the delicate scent of the bar, a particular order that Docks Bar was well known for, the smell of fish and booze, a salty, beery smell that made him perk up his ears. He turned to Raz, who nodded eagerly for the warmth of the bar, even though she was bundled up in so many layers that she looked like a snowwoman, all of her overcoats were white. She also wore a snowcap over her ears and hair, with giant mittens over her hands. Tobias had not changed his clothing in the slightest, and was barely noticing the weather.

It hadn’t been easy to close Comic Central on time, considering the fact that so many people wanted a copy of the Chronos comic, there wasn’t enough time to cater to all of them. But they had somehow done it, due to the giant’s assistance in terms of persuasion. No one disobeyed Tobias when he really wanted something done, so the shop emptied pretty fast, after he had promised that more copies were coming in the next week. Thankfully, the horde had gotten out, and Tobias and Raz had managed to close on time, even had some time to spare, before they had begun walking down to the waterfront, for neither of them actually owned a car. With all the traffic in Zepther, it was a bad idea to own a car anyway. Tomorrow would be Sunday, the only day that Comic Central was closed, so neither were worried about work the next day. Raz wanted to relax, which she normally did through messing around with Mullen. Tobias was beginning to think something might be going on with them, though Mullen was a little young for Raz. Brushing the thought from his mind, Tobias continued with Raz by his side. At least it wasn’t snowing, the night’s dark sky clear and aglow with the light of the thousands of stars and the almost-full moon that glowed in the distance.

They arrived quickly at the establishment, mostly because of the double-time walk that Raz adopted as they neared it, eager for warmth. It was a rectangular building, modeled after a Roaring Twenties speakeasy. Its construction was of stout wood, with a massive iron door in the center of the wooden wall. Tobias briskly walked towards the metal door, and with a deep breath, rapped hard thrice on the door, creating a small echo of pings that traveled across the docks. There was a rough cough behind the door, before a small slide in the door opened at Tobias’ eye level, and a giant eyebrow was looking out into the chilling cold, taking in the giant face of Tobias and, to a lesser extent, Raz. The bouncer, Bob, furrowed his eyebrow, as he always did, for no one who went to the speakeasy had ever seen his eyes below the brown brow. “Password?” he whispered, in a dry, salty accent that showed he had spent a good amount of time at sea.

“Metalhead,” Tobias responded, giving the password, the street name for the city’s protector, Chronos, and also the name criminals referred to him as. Bob coughed, accepting the password, nodding his brow. From behind the door, Tobias and Raz heard a wrenching noise, and the door opened in front of them to admit the two into the speakeasy. Raz bolted in first, while Tobias shook hands with Bob, helping the bouncer shut the cold air out that seemed to blast into the speakeasy the moment the door opened. “How’s it hanging, Bob?” he asked, tipping his head to the other man in greeting, who nodded a second time, a smile on his face.

Bob touched his scalp, which was perfectly shaven and waxed, giving off a bright shine whenever he moved his head in any way that reflected light. “Not so bad,” he grunted, his massive mouth turning up into a goofy grin. “Have a date next week for Valentine’s Day.”

Raz smiled, patting him on his giant back. “Good for you, Bob!” In congratulation, she also lightly punched him on the shoulder, to which Bob laughed happily. It was rare for him to be in such a good mood, though the bouncer was always polite. “Hey, is Mullen here?” she asked, scanning the crowd of people for the policeman.

Bob grunted. “I think he’s hiding somewhere near the bar, by your regular places,” he replied in acknowledgment, pointing a finger the size of a sausage in the direction of the barstools, gesturing. “Came in about ten minutes ago.” Tobias thanked the bouncer, who returned the thanks, and made his way with Raz through the crowd of people towards where they normally sat where, sure enough, Mullen was sitting, in his favorite barstool, in the direct center in front of the barkeep. He waved them over with one hand, the other holding a pint of mead in a large glass. Raz waved back and, together with Tobias, navigated the tables and booths needed to get to where he was sitting. ZZ, the barkeep, nodded his head in welcome, while Raz tackled-hugged Mullen in something called a “glomp,” whatever that was.

As he sat down next to Raz, who was sitting in the middle, between both men, Tobias motioned to ZZ, to order. ZZ was a surly man, with very little manners. Tobias ordered a Dr. Pepper for himself, as he did not drink alcohol. Raz ordered a Mai Tai, her drink of choice. ZZ looked out from under his mane of white hair, and his fake eye patch, as he took the order, and scurried over to the fountains without a word to comply with their requests, pouring dark amber liquid into a glass for Tobias, and bright pink into a smaller glass for Raz from a frosted jug.

“Mullen, how are things?” Raz asked, as she had not seen him when the cop had come to fetch the shoplifters. “Did those thieves get some hang time in the jails?” Mullen shook his head, chuckling.

“We just fine people for shoplifting, if it’s a first offense,” he replied, smiling.

Raz crossed her arms. “Phooey,” she murmured. “So, how are things?” She grabbed him by his shoulders, and gave him another glomp, causing the cop to blush lightly. Tobias arched his brown brows, giving him an approaching look. Mullen pulled away from her. “How are things with you?”

The cop shrugged, taking another sip from the mead. “Not too bad. I couldn’t really complain.” The three looked up as ZZ came back towards them, now with the drinks. Tobias and Raz thanked him, but he scurried back before they could get an answer from him. Tobias tipped the top of his drink, slurping deeply from the tankard of soda, the dark amber liquid trickling down his throat. “But I can’t stay long tonight…I’ve got some work to do in about an hour or so.” He looked over to Tobias, and winked. “Think you can take fair lady Razzberry home for me tonight?”

If Tobias made an expression with his eyes under his dark glasses, he didn’t show it, the impenetrable poker face firmly in place. “Gee…I feel so appreciated…” he muttered, setting his drink on the counter before him. “What are you doing that so important you are going to deprive Raz of your company?” In response, Mullen widened his eyes and fake terror, glancing around their section of the counter with a feigned belief of being discovered. The cop leaned in, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper.

“If I told you,” he answered sweetly, bending his head close to theirs, “I might have to kill you…”

Tobias was unmoved. “I’d like to see you try.”

Raz laughed, and downed her Mai Tai in response. Around them, the haze of smoke and drink gave off a misty feel to the speakeasy. It was packed, at least a hundred other people there, drinking, laughing, telling jokes. Even Bob was in a good mood, and that spread through the whole bar. Everyone was desperately searching for a date for Valentine’s Day the next week, not wanting to be alone on that, the most romantic of holidays. Tobias looked around, his dark glasses surveying the crowd around himself. Time seemed to pass rapidly, and before he knew it, it was almost eleven. At that point, Mullen set down his drink, and demanded the check from ZZ. The barkeep grunted illegitimately, and produced a grubby piece of paper, on which was the price of their three drinks, a combined total of twenty dollars. Both Tobias and Mullen fished out a ten each, and handed them to ZZ, who simply looked them over suspiciously and then motioned for them to get out.

“Good night, Bob!” Raz shouted to the bouncer on the way out, as the three waved their goodbyes to the big man. The bouncer waved back, the big goofy grin firmly fixed onto his face, before he wrenched the door shut behind them, the iron creaking into place once more. Eager to get home and out of the searing cold, Raz latched herself once more to Tobias’ arm, before grabbing Mullen as well for the extra body heat, as Tobias himself seemed to generate too little for her tastes, wedging herself between the two. Mullen looked up at Tobias, who simply shrugged, knowing that Raz was not going to let go, and silently advised Mullen to cooperate. The started to head east, in the direction of Comic Central, and the apartment that Raz and Tobias shared. They continued, right up until Mullen forcibly detached Raz from his person.

“I’ll see you guys later, okay?” Mullen explained, smiling. “Green, keep her out of trouble for me.”

Tobias nodded. “Come back safely. If you get killed, we might get a loser to cover our thieves.” Mullen laughed, and started to jog away, keeping a brisk pace. Raz drew herself closer to Tobias, and the two resumed their walk home. Tobias looked back in the direction that Mullen had jogged off, and saw the forties numbers on the docks.

They kept walking, trying not to think of the fact that Mullen was probably getting into something really dangerous, because he did so often, and it didn’t make any sense to always worrying about him. Raz was chilled to the bone, grabbing harshly against him. “G-gosh, T-Toby…” she chattered, her teeth clenched together. “Y-you’re so c-cold…” This lack of body heat on Tobias’ part in no way impeded her ability to grab him roughly for said lack of body heat. Tobias tried to ignore it, but it was hard getting home with half your body was being latched onto by a frozen woman.

He smiled unconvincingly, trying to put a good spin on the weather. “Sorry, Ms. Urashima,” he answered. “I don’t have much body heat anyway…at least it isn’t snowing, right?” She nodded in agreement at the last part of the sentence.

“Y-yeah, Toby,” she answered, shivering, “b-but you’re a-arm is l-like ice…”

She stopped speaking after that, trying to conserve her warmth. Eventually, the two managed to find their way back to High Street without too much difficulty, avoiding traffic was the biggest problem. Raz was sniffling all the way there, so Tobias tried to quicken their pace so she could get into the warmth of their home faster. Tobias almost chuckled, looking down at her. She looked kind of like a cold mouse, her face buried in his arms. After a while, he slowed to a stop in the snow-covered streets, saying, “We’re home,” pointing up towards the apartment they shared. “Why don’t you go on up, Ms. Urashima? I’ll go check on the store one last time.”

She nodded, her face shivering. “O-okay, Toby,” she answered, before she began to move at a speed that Tobias had never seen her move before. In a flash, she bolted towards the warmth of the apartment complex, flipping out her keys and opening the door in a second. She disappeared just as fast, running up the stairs. Tobias remained outside, arms in his pockets, in the street.

Tobias Green looked up, tilting his face to see the light turn on in their little apartment, and his smile turned into a thin line. He raised his hand to his glasses, readjusting the cold lenses on his face, before he turned towards the shadows of the nearby alley. Placing his hands in his pockets once more, the tall man began to sink into the shadows of the night, leaving behind no trace of himself.

Word Count- 5,172​

 

[Sike Saner]

Dang. I wish there was a place like Comic Central here locally; that place looks pretty boss. My town doesn't even have any place that sells comics. =(

Anyway, great job as before - rich atmospherics, well-defined characters, and nice, smooth, effectively illustrative language. It is just so easy to get pulled right into this story, seriously...

 

[Ledian_X]

Another pwnsome chapter by the pwnsome author known as Pwnsome Shot. Umm...I mean Power Shot. I really like this aspect of his civilian life. None of my characters as you know have secret ids. In that regard, they're like the Fantastic Four. No one wears masks but a few. Chronos does have a disguise, though. He uses it well.

It'd be intersting to see how he went from that to going to Rome, Italy. That I wanna see. Keep it up, dude!

LX

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 03: Howls

The ebon knight fell to the ground, his dark boots crushing the fragile snow beneath him. Above him, the dark night glowed with stars, and the almost-full moon, but the giant ignored those beautiful things, focusing his mind on his purpose there, bending his will towards accomplishing the task. Briskly, but with no hurry, Chronos began to walk forward, keeping himself shrouded in the shadows around himself, his footsteps as light as a cat’s, taking care not to let the metal clunk onto the pavement below the cover of the snow below. The warrior looked round with his cowl, taking in the look of the docks. He had been on this road before, but never for something as important as the drug bust. He reminded himself to buy Carla an extra box of chocolate for the information.

The police were here, he knew that. They were setting up some sort of blockade on the south side, perhaps to stop the criminals inside from fleeing when they came in, SWAT-style. The warrior did not care, and busied himself with casing the dock, making sure he knew exactly what he was dealing with.

With the swiftness of a panther, the Dark Eye moved forward, breaking into a quick run along the shadows. As he did, metal began to generate from the soles of his boots, sinking into the white powder on the ground. Chronos moved to the left, as the metal began to spread, climbing up the wall nearest to him and, when it had reached the top of the building, covering its bricks with a coat of silver, Chronos jumped, altering his terrain from horizontal to vertical, and continued to run on the wall, heading to the very top. Metal began to grow along his body, within the folds of his uniform, so as he keep him centered, and unaffected by gravity, which would have pulled him down to the ground. The Dark Eye ran up the wall at a slant, and catapulted himself off the wall after reaching the top, the metal he had created following him across the gap between buildings, slinking into his clothes once more, and vanishing without a trace.

Chronos turned, and started to head for Dock 42 which was, he noticed as he drew near, nothing more than what appeared to be a massive warehouse situated on the pier. Its building was rather dark, and Chronos could see no lights coming from its insides. As he passed over the docks, the ebon knight noticed the police, setting up their blockade, which meant he was closer than he thought. He saw some of the police wearing armor, others with riot gear, but a large amount were plainclothes rookies, just waiting in front for the attack to begin. The dark warrior doubled his pace, running rapidly and leaping between the buildings, increasing his momentum. He aimed himself, generating the metal in his feet once more, increasing his speed to an even higher degree, building the momentum. At last, when the warehouse was the next building, Chronos released the kept metal in his legs, unleashing it as cushions for his legs as he launched himself, sending him flying into Dock 42. Chronos spread his arms, making himself appear bigger than he actually was, a fear tactic he had developed, and which worked with high success on criminals. Chronos did not break through a window as he landed, nor did he bust down a door in the effort. He didn’t even try to land on the roof, then fight his way down.

Chronos made a window, bracing his fist behind himself, and punching hard the moment he touched the building’s wall, and tore through it like a hot knife against butter, falling through with ease. Chronos’ vision instantly adjusted to the blinding darkness around him, as the ebon knight rolled onto the dark floor, amid a haze of bullets that instantly rained down on him. Silencers, Chronos thought, running to a corner, generating metal into his fingertip from his arm. The hail of bullets, all of which missed him, continued for about a minute, until a loud voice stopped it, ceasing the volley.

“What…do…you…think…you….are…doing?” it hissed, making the guns stop. Chronos took the opportunity to use his ability, and sent the metal coil flying, embedding itself into the wall. When he was satisfied, Chronos retracted the coil back into himself, and started to climb the wall, generating extra metal from within himself to allow this possibility, growing claws on his fingertips, and sinking the hardened metal into the steel of the walls around him. Chronos started to climb, listening to the conversation around him.

“S-sorry, boss,” one of the underlings, probably the one who had started the gun shooting, replied. Chronos did not alter the position of his head, but could see that all of the underlings were wearing green masks over their heads, probably night vision goggles. He made a mental note of it, as the hissing voice, presuming Fedora’s, the mastermind behind this particular drug ring, began to explain ad verbatim the Rules, some sort of code that Chronos knew most of the lawbreakers abided by in the city. This code included special clauses for the police and, more importantly, Chronos. “We saw him …Metalhead.”

“I don’t care,” Fedora whispered, his high voice trailing over the darkened atmosphere. “Don’t alert the cops to our business! Don’t you know they’re outside! Why do you think the superhero is here?” Chronos, as he reached the ceiling, heard distinctly as a gun fired, and a body fell to the ground, its choking gasp a screech of terror. The hero ignored it, and climbed out of the building the same way he came in, having gotten the information he wanted.

Chronos exited the building as he had entered it, through the hole in the wall. He created metal which poured from the bottom of his boots, through special holes in soles of his heels and toes, forming into talons that sliced through the solid steel of the warehouse walls, failing against the superior power of Chronos’ own metallic abilities. He continued, until about twenty feet to the ground, where he stopped his lizard crawl. He released the talons in his feet, and kicked hard against the wall, spinning in the air, and performing a powerful flip as he landed hard on the ground, kneeling on one knee in a crouching position. He remained there for a single moment, as the metal he had generated returned to wherever it had come from, before he was up again. Chronos bolted from the snowy streets into the darkness of the alleyway nearby, his preferred choice of residence. He could hide in the darkness, but he stood out in the streets.

Chronos continued in the darkness, completely undisturbed, until he located the person he was looking for. The policemen and policewomen of the city were there, of course, setting up their roadblocks and units in preparations for the big bust. In all the units, Chronos needed one person to confer with. In contrast to other cities in the United States, some of which had police departments that opposed the usage and creation of superheroes in their cities, Zepther was one of the few who actually enjoyed working with their resident defender. The police and Chronos had an unspoken understanding which worked well for both parties. In exchange for being allowed to conduct his own, private investigations, as long as he abided by the laws, Chronos was obliged to assist the police whenever working on the same case as the cops were. Chronos seemed to agree to this simple rule, as he had never hindered a police investigation, and had often helped with their larger busts and problems. The police, however, never dared to state that the Dark Eye was somehow an agent of the department, and always informed the public that he was a separate law enforcer. After all, they did not want to disrespect him, as he could just as easily do whatever he wanted without their assistance, and probably do a better job than they could. Part of this agreement consisted with the fact that Chronos only spoke to one member of the police, and one only, under all circumstances, due to his habit of keeping less people involved with his work.

That was who he was going to meet, and saw the young man as he ran through the shadows, slowing his stride to a slow walk, not wanting to inform the man of his arrival before he actually got to the meeting place. The man was separated from the others, abiding by Chronos’ rule of privacy, standing with his back facing the route the Dark Eye had taken to find him, his brown coat fluttering in the light, freezing breeze, though the man didn’t seem to be complaining, or even shivering, at all. Chronos walked carefully, choosing a patch of shadows that even covered the glowing emerald of the emblem on his belt. When he was ready, Chronos issued a dark growl, prompting the rookie’s attention, making him twitch in surprise. His blond hair was on ends, though it was cut rather close to his scalp, but he had enough to comb if he wanted to, which it seemed he did, as he turned, his steel-gray eyes staring into the space he believed the Dark Eye occupied, which was actually several feet off the actual area. Chronos did not correct him.

“You do that every time.” Mullen coughed, white steam emitting from his mouth in response, sticking his hands into his pockets, presumably from the cold. He liked to open with a small joke when he spoke with Chronos, though the ebon warrior never laughed. “What information do you have, then?” he asked, turning the conversation to what Chronos wanted to talk about: business.

“They are ready for you; you were set up by someone inside your department,” was the cold response, it never failed to scare Mullen, though the rookie would never admit to being scared of the Dark Eye. “The warehouse is dark, but they can see. Night vision. They also have big guns, even if they can’t hit me. They will be able to hit you and your units.”

The rookie nodded. “What do you recommend us to do?” he replied, memorizing the data into the recesses of his brain for his later debriefing by his lieutenant, Harding. He sensed a shifting in the shadows.

“Flood the place with light,” the Dark Eye answered. “They have the goggles, so it will blind them, giving you and your units time to clear the warehouse. Keep a sharp eye. I’ll be there, watching.” The Dark Eye fell silent after that statement, having conveyed all the information he wanted to inform the police about, which was more or less everything he knew about what was going to happen. Chronos controlled the metal, bidding it to take him upwards, to the roof of the nearest building. Two coils emerged from his back, snaking their way up the brick wall, and latching firmly to the sill above. With a mental command, they began to retract, pulling the Dark Eye upwards, through the ethereal light of the darkness, until he was lifted onto the sill, giving Mullen a quick look at his outline, if the rookie saw, which he never did, and vanished into the night with one swish of his trench coat.

Chronos turned his cowl from the rookie, who was already breaking into a run towards his lieutenant. He shook his head, wondering if it was wise to trust the police. On principle he trusted none, and only made alliances with few. The Starbolts were an exception, as was Carla, as he knew he could count on both at any time. With Mullen, he knew it was a risky choice to choose a tool, a rookie in the police department, as his connection to the department. It was a better choice than one of the higher-ups, as he was young, and could be bent to the Dark Eye’s will on certain subjects. He also asked little questions, and was a smart thinker. He remains for now, Chronos thought silently, facing the warehouse.

He was going to need a quiet way to get to the roof.

***​

Slim Mullen ran straight towards his lieutenant, an old man named Harding. As he ran, he began to take Chronos’ words, the advice that the ebon warrior had given him, and formulated it into strategy, planning a raid of the building that would potentially take few casualties on the force’s side. He ran back to the blockade, where he knew Harding was waiting. Out of the entire department of Zepther, the rookie was the only person that the Dark Eye spoke to. While it was an honor to help the department and the Dark Eye, it also put Mullen in several dangerous situations, which the cop lived for, or nearly didn‘t more than once.

Harding was standing over the blockade, directing the traffic of riot-gear armed police and the assault teams towards and from the warehouse. The old man’s grey head turned to Mullen as the rookie approached, the smoke puffing off his staunch cigar. Mullen stopped two feet away from the commanding officer, and snapped off a salute, which Harding quickly returned. Harding wore the normal police uniform of Zepther, which was dark blue and black, with the insignia of the department, a knight’s sword and shield, with a crimson background, sewn onto the sides of his shoulders. “Status report,” he demanded, between puffs of the cigar and his massive moustache. “What’s he got?”

“We need to contact the electrical companies in the area,” Mullen answered, “and find the one which operates Dock 42. According to Metalhead, they already knew we were coming before we showed up. It’s completely dark inside, and we’ll lose time with the light switch. Metalhead thinks we should blind them, since they’re using night vision to see inside there. He also stated he will give us cover.”

Harding nodded. “Good work, son. Now, get ready, we’re going in there soon.”

Chronos watched as Mullen bolted from the lieutenant, and began to head towards the combat vehicles, where his riot uniform was no doubt placed. With that final glance, the Dark Eye vanished into the shadows, running across the rooftops in the direction of the warehouse, having figured out a foolproof way to gain access to the roof without making a scene. He noticed that there were two scabs from the drug ring outside, waiting for the police. As afterthoughts, the metal giant unleashed two small coils of metal as he passed towards Dock 42, generating just enough to reach the two, and sent them flying from the insides of his coat.

The two idiots on the ground, probably chosen for their pleasure in firing their guns at anything that moved around them, didn’t even see the wires coming as their guns were hoisted from them, and struck them down with two blows to each head. The metal coils then sank into the guns, breaking up anything needed for them to properly function, deciding to give the police a heads start on things. The two thugs fell soundlessly to the ground, unconscious but alive. It was more than they deserved, but Chronos did not judge; he simply did what was needed of him. Chronos leapt up, latching onto the wall’s edge with his metal claws, generated once more at his fingertips and boot tips. He scampered up like a lizard, a piece of moving black in the undying shadows on the wall’s surface. He was silent, unwilling to inform anyone of his presence inside, as he reached the roof, and climbed up, noting the claw marks he had left in the thin and feeble metal.

“Weak,” he hissed quietly, his cowl taking in his surroundings. The roof was completely flat and bare, save for a small door that led down into the warehouse. Chronos headed for this, his coat fluttering lightly in the slight breeze the air had created, walking purposely towards the door.

He halted in front of the door, and folded his arms across his broad chest. He did not plan on personally entering the facility, considering the police were working, and they should get the credit. He was willing to take the backseat for this mission, and began to generate metal under his coat, building it up until, like a melted sludge, trickled through his clothing, through holes designed for the escape of the steel. It fell to the ground, collecting into a pile of massed goop upon his shined boots. The goop piled together, slinking through the cracks in the door in front of him.

Chronos could not see the room behind him with his cowl, but that was not a problem for the ebon warrior. Remembering when he had touched the wall inside the warehouse, brushing against it with a strand of metal. Concentrating on the exact position he had touched the wall with steel, he changed his vision, suddenly able to see below himself. His sight changed from his cowl to the room underneath the steel surface below his feet. He could see anything, everything below him, even though it was pitch black. He saw from the ceiling, the floors, the walls, even in the coal-black of the darkness surroundings. His sight was absolute.

As the metal slid below him, sinking into the walls, through the cracks in the foundation, poised to attack the snipers the moment the police entered the room. Some of the wires and coils Chronos generated worked their way into the circuits of the building, connecting the faulty wiring and snapped cables, in anticipation for the lights that the police would activate. All it required was for Chronos to reconnect the system to the electric company, and for the company to start up the chargers connected to the building, blowing them and exploding everything inside the warehouse with a bright flash of light, practically lethal for eyes used to night vision.

It happened sooner than he expected, the Dark Eye’s hearing prompting him with the information ahead of time. He could hear, but not see, the police standing outside in wait, preparing to rush forward in a blaze of glory. Chronos connected the final pieces of the electrics, his wires now spread through the system, all over the building, and into the lights, repairing and revamping the hardware.

When the lights blazed up, sending the warehouse into a blaze the likes of which few have seen before, Chronos sensed that mass amounts of electricity were burning through his metal, surging through his body, before it rerouted into the light system. He remained perfectly still, letting his metal and the light do their respective jobs. He was not disappointed, as screams and howls of fury and pain erupted within the chamber flooded with light, shrieks of agony and torture. The Dark Eye removed himself, indifferent to the situation, unfeeling for those who were suffering. He watched through the ceilings and floors as the goggles were torn off, and men clutched their hands to their faces in pain. It was then the police burst in in a flame of glory, knocking down the criminals and taking prisoners rapidly and efficiently. Chronos even saw Mullen take down one that happened to struggle less with the light problems, because the rookie raised his gun quickly, and shot the thug through the hands, effectively ending the thug’s ability to resist. Chronos agreed with the rookie’s record, which was that he had never killed a criminal in his whole service to the police force.

Chronos, having altered his vision to the warehouse below, calling forth his dark steel to aid the police as they captured the baddies inside, could not sense the dark creature behind him, hearing only the steady rhythm of his own breath as he focused entirely on the room beneath his feet. He did not hear it as it lunged for him, knocking the Dark Eye off his balance, and sending him flying.

The ebon knight instantly altered his vision back to his cowl, able once more to see his surroundings, and kept his released metal exactly where it was. The thing that attacked him tried to bite him, but jumped off at the last minute. Chronos was on his feet, staring directly at his adversary.

This thing was not human, or even related to humanity, even less so than Chronos himself. It was of indeterminate age, and of indeterminate creation. It did not stand as tall as Chronos was, barely surpassing six feet in height. Chronos noted that its body structure was unique in all aspects, much like himself, though Chronos retained some level of humanity in appearance. This thing did not.

It was a massive, snarling, hungry werewolf.

***​

This thing, based on what Chronos knew about the subject, was dangerous.

It stood like a human, that much the ebon knight could tell inside the darkness, though it was more like a hunchback, for its spine was arched, inclined slightly forward. Its face was snarling, twisted into fury against the ebon knight. Giant teeth were protruding from its snout, and yellow eyes were peering out from its face, light slits that narrowed the longer it stood in wait to attack. On its scalp, a long, flowing mane of dark brown, almost black, hair fell across its face, blending into the fur that covered its body from head to clawed feet. Its ears were fairy-like, sharp at the tips like razor edges.

Its body was not hulking, as its posture would indicate, but slim and lithe, concealing the muscles that Chronos could see outlining its figure, its rippling body much stronger than it looked. The hands and feet were massive, much larger than a normal human’s, with the bones on the legs inverted like a true wolf’s, the hands and feet ending with silver claws that extended several inches. A long, flowing tail was formed at the end of the spine’s sternum, just above the buttocks, protruding from the seat of some very ragged blue jeans, which barely had anything below the inverted knees.

Its gleaming yellow eyes stared at him, but the creature did not move. Instead, it stood hulking and snarling against the edge of the roof, as if waiting for something. Chronos pulled back his metal, retracting the goop he had generated deep into himself again. “What are you?” he asked, in a dark growl that rivaled the beast’s bated breath. Chronos also noticed a bright yellow collar, attached to the werewolf’s neck, a thin yellow line that was barely noticeable.

“I believe I can answer that,” a voice answered in the darkness, to the far right of the werewolf. It was a deep, cultured, almost Shakespearian accent, speaking in a delicate hiss that in itself was as scary as the wolf’s breathing. Chronos shifted his head, and saw a tall man leaning against the wall, his face covered in the shadows of the night, “Chronos,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Chronos nodded, sensing he should direct his focus to the man rather than the beast. “You know my designation,” the ebon warrior answered evenly. “I do not know yours, or your creature’s. You have the advantage over me. State your names. Now.” His requests did not go unanswered, though the answer he received was a rude jest, and the man threw back his head and laughed loudly in response.

“Still demanding, Chronos,” the man chided, pulling out a gun, a Colt revolver, from the folds of darkness around him. “Fine. Call me Snipes, since we’re doing the whole ‘secret identity’ game. It is what I do best.” The darkness parted, as the man moved forward, revealing his flaming crimson hair, which was dyed, and piercing blue eyes, which were lifeless. He wore a jumpsuit of pure black, and was of medium height. Snipes looked towards the beast standing behind him, and threw back his thumb at the werewolf.

“My pet here is called Lykos,” he explained, with an uninterested tone. “He’s my muscle.”

Chronos nodded, looking over Lykos and Snipes, assessing their danger levels. The human Snipes was not an issue, his talent was shooting and throwing, not taking down metal behemoths. The only problem with Snipes was he probably controlled the monster wolf, whom he had called Lykos, who was the real threat in terms of combat. Lykos was faster than Chronos, the metal giant could tell that from the beast’s built and the speed and strength it had exhibited to take down the Dark Eye.

“What do you want with me then, Snipes and Lykos?” Chronos visibly, but not mentally, relaxed, deciding the beast would not attack until Snipes had finished the patented “Super Villain Pep Talk,” a special conference between heroes and villains designed to emasculate the hero and give the villain a sense of importance, an edge. To date, it had never worked once on the Dark Eye, but the ebon knight understood politeness. He would listen, then he would take Snipes down.

Snipes sniffled, obviously unused to the cold weather Zepther had, before answering. “Well, let’s see, Chronos…whatever could we want? Gold, money, the sheer pleasure of killing?” As he counted these things off with his fingers, his smile changed into a gleaming grin. “No, Chronos, we are here for those things...and just a little bit more.” He changed the direction of his hand, so it was pointing directly at the Dark Eye. “We’re here for you.”

“What do you mean?” the Dark Eye asked, not understanding what the man was saying. “What do you want with me?”

Snipes shrugged. “I really don’t want anything to do with you, Metalhead. My employers, however, would like to have a chat with you, so they leased me the lug here-” With this, he looked towards Lykos, who was not moving save for its bated breathes, its gleaming yellow eyes never once leaving their locked positions, focused solely on Chronos “-to bring you in. I’m just a bounty hunter. This is nothing personal for me.”

“It is for me.” Chronos began to walk forward, generating spare metal inside the folds of his coat, keeping the steel hidden until the right time to unleash it. “Who is your employer?”

Snipes chuckled again. “Who knows? Though they did give me information on you, which is why we are both prepared to beat you, as we cannot kill you. Our employer was most insistent on that particular point. They did give us a little bit of data on you, the thing you call the MetaSkin.”

Chronos nodded. “You know what I call it. How?”

At this, Snipes shook his head. “As men of anonymity, we must grant ourselves a sense of discretion. I am afraid we cannot tell you that, though we can tell you we are prepared to deal with it if you do not cooperate. I have bullets, and my protégé has his…appendages.” At this, Lykos visibly made a motion, as his claws seemed to extend even more, sword-like in design, almost like katana blades. His jaws did not extend, but Chronos could now see the gray canines in profile, sharp and ragged, able to chomp through solid steel.

He noticed, as he looked over Lykos’ weapons, they looked like they were made of the same material as the metal that coated his body, that was generated and slowly sliding towards his forearms. “You know I won’t come without a fight,” the Dark Eye said softly. “I have never surrendered to anything, and I never will.”

Snipes replied with a small smile. “Honestly, I was hoping you would say that. I have been wanting to test my abilities against yours since I heard you lived here. I will try to win.” Snipes pulled out a second pistol, taking aim at the dark cowl that Chronos wore.

Chronos did not like the statement, but there was not a trace of arrogance in it. Snipes might be of a different agenda than the Dark Eye, but the ebon knight knew that he was a man of his word, and had honor, or some sort of it. Snipes whistled, and Lykos stiffened, crouching into an offensive stance.

Lykos attacked.

The werewolf was indeed faster than the Dark Eye, for it rapidly assaulted him, baring its fierce fangs. Chronos’ scimitar blades slid quickly into place on his palms, and were brought up in a crossed formation before the hero’s face, stopping the creature’s mouth inches before it took, or tried to take, a bite out of Chronos’ face. Chronos had more strength, however, and tore Lykos away, sending the werewolf flying to the other side of the building. Chronos had only a moment to celebrate this small victory, however, because Snipes joined the fight, aiming both guns directly at the Dark Eye, firing off two bullets at him.

Chronos lifted a blade indifferently at the bullets, planning to stop them in their tracks with a simple deflection. He did not, as a result, see as the bullets tore straight through the metal, and struck him in the shoulder, his attention diverted to where Lykos was leaping to his feet.

Chronos knew he was melting, even though he couldn’t feel it, by the bubbling sound of his skin melting below the folds of his coat. Instantly, he tore the bullets out of where they had been lodged, and threw them to the ground. As they fell to the ground, Chronos could see them burning, superheated by some unknown force, steam emitting from the tips. He sensed the burning growing to his whole shoulder, and rapidly used his spare metal to amass enough density to maintain his body. If he melted, he could not fight. If he could not fight, he might be captured.

“Like them?” Snipes raised his guns once more, only now Chronos paid much more attention to their barrel chambers, and the bounty hunter’s trigger finger. “I was given them by my employer, he seemed to think I would find a use for molten bullets…” Snipes looked up at Chronos’ faceless cowl, and grinned. “I suppose they were right.”

Before Snipes could continue with his monologue, the traditional speech given by villains after revealing a powerful asset, the door burst open, the one leading to the room below, where the raid was occurring simultaneously with the emergence with Lykos and Snipes, and Mullen ran out, dodging a bullet as he did so. The rookie stopped as he exited, finding himself in the company of three people he really didn’t want to be near. Chronos, the Dark Eye, a werewolf, and a dangerous looking man.

“Am I interrupting something?” Mullen asked, somewhat confused.

Snipes shook his head. “No, cop, you are not.” With that, he looked towards Chronos, and bowed his head. “We shall continue out conversation another time. Lykos, heel.” The werewolf snapped to, and walked back towards the man, leaning over him and glaring at Chronos. “See you later.” With that, they seemed to vanish to Mullen, though Chronos knew they had fallen over the wall, and Lykos had certainly used his claws to slow them down, leaving the Dark Eye alone with the rookie.

Mullen stared at the two as they left, before turning to Chronos. It was the first time the rookie had ever seen anything of Chronos outside of his outline in the shadows. He could see every detail, and promised himself he would never say the comic book over-exaggerated his ability to chill the blood simply by standing still.

“Metalhead?” he asked, after a minute, as the Dark Eye was not moving. The giant turned slowly, his cowl narrowing in on the rookie. “Who were those people?”

Chronos still did not answer, though he grunted to let Mullen know he had heard the rookie. His mind was on overdrive, contemplating the strange attack, and withdrawal, simply based on Mullen’s appearance. Chronos sensed a delay tactic, this little show was just a display of power. Snipes had left because Snipes had wanted to leave. It was the same kind of ploy that the Dark Eye himself would have used, had their positions been reversed. The werewolf was strange, though, as he was clearly not of the mythological kind, whose blood-lust would not have halted based on the commands of a master. Snipes had been given Lykos, he had said that. What did it mean?

“Metalhead!” Chronos snapped out of his own thoughts, and focused his attention now on Mullen, who was shouting at him, confused as to what had just happened. “Who were those people?” Chronos didn’t know the answer, or at least the correct one, to his question, beginning to wonder what Mullen was doing there anyway. Then he remembered the raid.

“I…don’t know.” Chronos looked back to where the two had been just moments before. “They wanted me.” His head was not clouded, still clear, as he attempted to sort the information neatly in his head, while at the same time holding a conversation with Mullen. Chronos felt distracted, unable to focus on the two subjects at once. “Is the raid over?” he asked suddenly, wanting to change the subject for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts.

At this, Mullen nodded his head, grinning broadly. “We got Fedora, and the rest of them. It was a good idea you had, Metalhead. Took Fedora down myself, come to think of it. Harding said it would mean a medal for me, but-”

The Dark Eye raised a gloved hand, silencing the rookie. He no longer wished to hear Mullen rant, he needed to get answers. “Good, because we are leaving.” Chronos walked to the edge of the building, grabbing Mullen by the arm roughly as an afterthought, deciding to let him come along for the ride. “Do you know how to fly, rookie?” he asked, in a low, menacing growl that made Mullen’s heart skip a beat.

If Mullen was scared, he made sure that Chronos didn’t know about it. “No,” Mullen asked, keeping his voice even and calm. He looked over the edge, noticing that there was a large amount of night air between the roof of the warehouse, and the concrete below which covered the ground.

In response, Chronos issued a dark grunt, letting Mullen think he was annoyed with him. “Well, then rookie,” he whispered into the cop’s ear, sensing the tingle of terror that ran through Mullen’s body, “you’d better thank your lucky stars I do.” With that final statement, the metal built up within his back was unleashed, emerging from the collar of the Dark Eye’s coat, forming into steel-gray wings. Mullen watched as this took place, and obeyed when Chronos told him to “climb on.”

Chronos adjusted himself as Mullen grabbed onto both of his shoulders. Chronos generated a metal harness for the man, so he would not fall off, binding the rookie to his back. When Chronos was certain Mullen was safely secured, he leapt off the roof’s top, spreading his metal wings, and soaring into the night’s air. Mullen remained silent through the whole trip, looking down at the ground below. How something as heavy as the Dark Eye managed to maintain flight was beyond the rookie cop, but he didn’t question it. As long as Mullen didn’t fall, Chronos could do anything he wanted.

***​

Chronos very calmly explained his rules on Carla to Mullen, as they landed firmly back on solid ground. The metal retracted into the coat, sending Mullen sprawling to the ground, the back of his head buried in snow, completely unprepared for the sudden lack of support. He got up quickly, and began to walk along with Chronos, melting to a less-successful effect in the darkness in comparison to his company. Mullen’s shadow stuck out from the darkness, and he was easily seen. Even though Chronos was walking right beside the cop, Mullen couldn’t tell where he was. At all.

“If you tell anyone about her, rookie, your life won’t even be worth what it is now. Understand?” Chronos’ voice was a dark growl, a hoarse whisper, designed to intimidate the rookie and gain his understanding, a valuable tool when one wished to have a person’s complete obedience. Mullen simply nodded, his eyes firmly pointed forward, unable to focus on anything in the seeping darkness that Chronos was making him walk in. The Dark Eye wanted no problems when it came to speaking with Carla.

Mullen didn’t like going downtown, Chronos could tell that from the way he was walked, constantly fidgeting and touching his gun as they walked through the dark alley, to where Chronos knew Carla was waiting. She seemed to have a sixth-sense of some sorts, being able to appear whenever Chronos happened to need her.

“I know, Metalhead.” Mullen looked round, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “We have our own informants in the department. We keep them secret too.”

“Yours are flawed in comparison to her,” was his reply. Chronos kept silent after that, not wishing to speak with Mullen any further. The rookie asked many questions, none of which Chronos particularly cared to answer. At least Mullen had a slight sense of when to be quiet. “She knows everything that goes on in this city.”

They turned a corner, headed towards the bright, flickering flame of the barrel in the alleyway. She was waiting, leaning herself like she normally did against the factory wall behind her, the smoke between her lips, and a small bottle in her hands, clasped across her lap. She looked up, hearing the faint sound of snow being crushed around her by boots, and smiled softly. “Little late for you, isn’t it Metalhead?” she asked. “I was expecting you much earlier tonight.” Her head stiffened, and her eyes widened in surprise. Chronos knew she had found Mullen in the darkness, not that it was hard. “You brought a friend with you? I didn’t know you had friends.”

Chronos did not move from the shadows, but decided to thrust Mullen into the light for Carla to see, shoving the cop roughly in the back. “I have no friends,” he replied. “This is Slim Mullen, a rookie on the police force. He is my connection to the police department.”

Carla giggled, looking up at Mullen. “He’s cute, but you know I don’t like cops, Metalhead.”

“He understands our arrangement, and will not reveal you,” the Dark Eye whispered. “You have my word.” Mullen nodded, supporting the Dark Eye’s assessment of him.

Carla shrugged, not really annoyed by the rookie‘s presence, but just making sure Chronos understood her feelings. “Okay. What would you like to know tonight, Metalhead?”

Chronos took a deep breath before answering. “Tonight, at the raid of Fedora’s drug ring, I was ambushed by two people, calling themselves Snipes and Lykos. Snipes is a human, but the other is a werewolf. Have you ever heard anything about them?”

Carla almost laughed at the request, the Dark Eye‘s information requirements got stranger by the day. “A werewolf? Really, Metalhead, the company you keep.” When neither Chronos nor Mullen laughed, she got serious again, resigned to her position as informant and not stand-up comedian. “Never heard of them, though they sound pretty interesting. A werewolf, huh?”

“Can you give any information at all?” Carla’s brows perked up, as she looked through her unkempt red hair to the cop who spoke.

“Do not speak,” Chronos muttered, a genuine threat, if you knew him. “I gave no permission, rookie.” When the ebon warrior was certain Mullen had gotten that message, he returned his attention back to Carla. “Look tomorrow and see what you can find. Ask the informants, the gangs, everyone. These people are dangerous, but they probably won’t pose a threat unless they see me. They didn’t touch Mullen. They want me.”

The homeless girl nodded. “Sure, Metalhead. It’d be a sad thing if they got you. I’ll look into it for you.”

Chronos grunted, acknowledging the terms. “Thank you.” Chronos reached out from the shadows, his dark, gloved hand materializing onto the coat on Mullen’s shoulder. “We are leaving.” Mullen nodded, knowing that disagreeing with the Dark Eye was probably not the wisest thing to do. He made a mental note of where he was, however, so he could come speak with Carla at a later time.

Carla grinned, looking at the rookie with slight amusement. “Don’t worry, rookie cop,” she said, winking an emerald eye at him. “Metalhead’s actually not as mean as you think.” She lowered her voice to a slight whisper, though she knew that the ebon knight could hear her. “He’s much worse. He just puts up with you and me.”

Mullen gulped, as he felt the creeping, cool ooze of metal slip over his shoulder from Chronos’ iron-hard grip, melding over his body, and gently lifting him into the air. Carla waved goodbye to the cop as he was levitated to the rooftops, panic rising inside him as he was completely covered with metal, leaving only enough space to breathe. He felt himself moving in the air for several minutes, as Chronos traveled, before he was thrown to the ground, the metal retracting so quickly Mullen wasn’t even aware of when it left his skin, though the fall to the roof’s ground was not pleasant, and jolted him back to reality.

His neck stiff, Mullen looked up, as Chronos’ fading shadow vanished in the translucent light of approaching dawn. As a rule, no one had ever seen Chronos in the day, the Dark Eye worked when, as his moniker suggested, it was dark, and never in pure sunlight. He thought about what he had learned, what had happened that night, and more importantly, how he was going to explain to Harding where he had gone after the raid.

In the distance, a dark howl could be heard, faint at first, but audible nonetheless. Mullen’s body shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold that surrounded him.

Word Count- 7034​

 

[Brian Random]

What I’ve read so far: Prologue, chapter 1 and 2.

For the prologue, I think that it was a very interesting and great start for a hero who wants to remain anonymous goes to a church to confess his sins. There’s something you don’t see every day. I enjoyed reading the descriptions of the locations you and the character developments.

For chapter 1, you did a great job of character development and the scenes. Not to mention the actions between Bread and Chronos, particularly the part when Chronos was intimidating the scientist just by standing in the shadows and then the headshot. That I liked the most.

though in contrast some slums barely rose off the two story limit

Storey. Two different words, two different meanings.

I know a comic shop near my place. I go there sometimes, just to browse. Again, you’ve done a brilliant job on the character development and on the descriptions of the locations and actions. Concerning what he was explaining about this ‘her’ situation, I’m now thinking of Raz being in the picture, along with Carla.

Errors:

It’s claim to fame was the fact that it exclusively published and distributed the comic book adaptation called Chronos

Grammar error. It’s supposed to be its. I think this error appeared more than once.

Overall, brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 04: Honmei-Giri

Tobias decided, as he woke up the next day, that it would be a good idea to bathe.

Tobias made this decision differently than other people, who just went and took bathes regularly, and frequently, without any problems. Tobias did not like bathes, and had a death fear of all things that involved being submerged in anything. He could be around water, but he didn’t like swimming in it, or getting into it. Hydrophobia, he believed, was the correct term to describe his condition. That, and the fact that he did not know how to swim, or had not done so since coming to Zepther, made it extremely hard to take bathes. Fortunately, Tobias did not generate body odor, which let him go at least a week before a bath was required.

It was Sunday, the best day of the week, mainly because Raz refused to open Comic Central on Sundays, which meant of course, Tobias did not work on Sundays. Tobias adjusted his sunglasses, for he wore them even in sleep, and got up from his bed. Issuing a deep yawn, he scratched his head, looking around his room.

His room was not very large, fitting only one piece of furniture, the small bed that he barely fit on, even with his knees bent. It was made of wood, and sturdy, well, sturdy enough to hold up the muscular man as he slept. His walls were bare, save for a small door that led to a clothes closet he kept. Inside were his only possessions, or the only ones he had come to Zepther with, seven pairs of clothing, not counting the uniform of the hero Chronos, which Raz occasionally made him wear at the store to drive up sales. He was one of the few people in Zepther that bore enough physical resemblance to the Dark Eye to wear the uniform.

He stripped down quickly in his room, removing the shirt that he normally wore when he slept, a plain white wife-beater shirt, and the pair of gray sweats, and grabbed a towel. Raz was still asleep, Tobias could tell that from the way the snoring was coming down in the room opposite his, but he did not wish Raz to spy on him. Folding the towel roughly and tightly around his waist, Tobias braved the stretch that led to the bathroom, making sure one final time that his glasses were properly fastened to his face. Gently, he opened the door to the world beyond his room, and started to tiptoe to the living room, where the door to the bathroom could be found.

The apartment was small, though Raz preferred to call it “cozy.” Needless to say, Tobias’ head nearly collided with the ceiling, due to his size. The apartment was three rooms big, a living room and two bedrooms, with one bathroom and a small kitchen, which Raz had never once used. In the corner, there was a small TV propped onto a small table, with a kneeling table in front of it. Raz didn’t like to eat from high tables, and chairs, a true Japanese. Cushions were settled on the ground, one for Tobias and one for the lady herself. Tobias had a pretty good deal on his room, the cost of which was deducted out of his salary under Raz’s employ. Raz got a good deal as well, considering Tobias worked for chicken feed, so both were mutually happy with the arrangement.

He looked towards Raz’s room once more, and was glad to hear the snoring was continuing ad nauseam. He gently opened the door, and shut it behind himself, locking it firmly into place and, as an extra precaution, jammed another towel he grabbed from the sink under the door’s crack, insuring privacy. Satisfied, he then turned round, looking over the steel-gray color of the walls and ceiling. A toilet was in the corner, and a shower was on the far left, attached to the wall. Removing his towel, and placing it on the glass door that stood before him, Tobias opened the door, and stepped into the shower, taking deep breathes to calm himself.

Tobias took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, looking down at the nozzle, which was on level with his next, designed for Raz’s height. Tobias always had to crouch to wash his hair, his body far too tall for the shower nozzle. At least he fit in the shower. Tobias steadied himself, his hand reaching for the hot water nozzle. With a quick motion, he turned it on to max strength. He moved in the moment before the torrent of scalding water blew forth from the shower in response, leaping out of the way of the water’s flow. He didn’t go near the water, letting it flow down the drain, until the steam started to emit from the shower, slowly clouding the room in a gray mist. When Tobias could not see beyond the bridge of his nose, he readjusted his sunglasses and grabbed a bar of soap, before he jumped into the water’s path, the water hitting his exposed flesh. Rapidly, he began by moistening the soap, and started to vigorously rub himself down, scrubbing furiously at himself with the bar. When he deemed himself clean enough, he quickly brought up his hands, and rubbed the foam off his body, reaching for the shampoo.

He opened the cap to the shampoo, and poured a small amount onto his hand, throwing the container to the ground when he had enough. He didn’t even stop to wet his hair down, but rubbed the shampoo into his scalp, dousing it with a little water almost as an afterthought. Just as the suds were crawling over his sunglasses, Tobias stiffened, having heard the most terrifying noise he could possibly hear so early in the morning. He turned his head, looking in horror as the knob began to turn on the bathroom door. That, and the absence of any snoring, he had forgotten about the snoring over the roar of the water, informed Tobias Green in the worst way that one Raziya Urashima was up and about, following the strange schedule her body seemed to follow, that always, always woke her whenever the man was bathing, and that she was heading directly for him, and he was naked.

Forcing himself to focus even more than he normally did, Tobias doused his hair a second time in boiling water, his hands rubbing a second time on his scalp, until the last of the suds fell off, and he shut off the water hard, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his muscular waist. As he tied off the towel, the door finally caved, opening to admit Raz into the room. She was smiling, all eager and hopeful, as she always was when she attempted to peak on Tobias, but even the man, through all the steam and smoke, could tell she was disappointed, as she coughed through the haze, her eyes rapidly scanning for the big man.

She issued a loud yawn, raising her arms to stretch. “Are you up already, Tobias?” she asked rhetorically, looking round the steam-covered room. “It’s way too early to be up on a Sunday.” She rubbed away the crust on her eyelids, and looked around the room once more.

Tobias chuckled. “I like to get an early start,” he answered, neglecting to inform her that it was well past seven in the morning. He stayed exactly where he was, behind the steamy glass door, and out of her line of vision. The steam the bath had created seemed like it was everywhere, a very good thing. It even completely clouded the big mirror above the sink. “Do you think you could let me go get dressed?”

She laughed in response, trying harder to look through the steamy door. “You are way too modest about yourself. I wouldn’t, if I was as good looking.” She narrowed her eyes, and was rewarded with Tobias’ face clearly visible in the mist. He gulped inv in response. “Anyways, I wanted to know if you wanted to go shopping today. I have some…stuff…I want to get at the mall, and I could use the extra arms. I was just going to meet Allyson there, but you can tag along too if you want.”

He nodded, his smile spread across his face. “All right, Ms. Urashima. I’d be glad to help you out.” Raz bobbed her head up and down, her face brightening instantly. As she turned to leave, a thought occurred to Tobias. “Hey, what are you going shopping for?” he asked.

She turned her head back, her face twisted into a devilish grin. “Allyson and I just want a man’s opinion on chocolate, is all. Valentine’s Day is coming up, after all,” she answered, smiling as she closed the door behind her, and returning to her bedroom to continue the rest of her night’s sleep. Tobias, thankful only to be by himself again, proceeded to dry himself off with his towel. When he was completely dry, his wrapped the towel around himself again, and exited the bathroom, just as the steam began to dissipate. He had at least two hours to get ready before Raz would wake again from her sleep-coma.

***​

The mall was a large, probably the largest, shopping complex in all of Zepther, and was the one most frequented by Tobias and Raz. It was the only one they usually went to, mainly because Tobias was unable to navigate anywhere without Raz if his life depended on it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to the city, far from it; he just didn’t have a good sense of direction. The only reason the big man could find Comic Central was because he lived directly above it in Raz’s apartment.

The mall was open-aired, and spanned at least a mile in diameter. The snowy sky above blew down flakes at great speeds, the winds blowing everywhere, sending freezing shoppers into the nearest stores they could find, driving businesses to promote themselves with advertisements such as “Best Heaters,” rather than actual ads for their products. As far as Tobias could see, as he walked onto the second storey with Raz, it was working. The only people that were still in the streets were those trying to get off the streets. Tobias himself was indifferent to the matter, never seeming to be bothered by the cold. Raz, on the other hand, was once more freezing her galoshes off, shivering and firmly latched to Tobias’ arm. She continued to do this until they finally reached the chocolate shop, located on the far north side of the shopping complex. By then, Raz’s ears had changed from a pleasant pale color to steamy red.

The chocolate shop, a nice German place called Herr Chocolate, was a red-painted building, about two rooms big, with a nice big picture of a piece of chocolate on the front. Seeing it, Raz quickened her pace, opening the frost-rimmed door, and hearing a slight jingle from the bells above, which signaled a person’s entrance into the store. Inside stood Allyson Heart, looking over a rack of chocolate.

Allyson was, without a single doubt, Raz’s best friend, and had been since college. Or, rather, that’s what Tobias had been told, it might have been longer. She was Hispanic, her parents immigrants from Spain, and was drop-dead gorgeous. Deep almond eyes, very much like a deer’s, lit up in joy when she caught sight of Raz entering the chocolate store, and she ran forward to embrace Raz with a massive hug. In contrast to Raz, who was Asian, Allyson had dark, tanned skin, a light accent, and was about five foot three, smaller than Raz. Flowing black hair sprang from her head, and did not stop until about the waist. She was wearing a massive blue parka coat that looked about two sizes too big for her, and black snow pants. However, Allyson was a woman of fashion, unlike Raz, who dressed purely so she would not freeze, and thus Allyson was wearing high heel shoes, raising her to five foot five.

Raz smiled. “Ally!” she exclaimed, returning the hug.

The other grinned. “Raz! It’s been a while!”

Tobias stood where he was, in front of the store door, his hands in his pockets, and shuffled his feet awkwardly, waiting for Raz to introduce him into the conversation. When Raz and Allyson parted, the former grinned, and nudged the latter towards Tobias, knowing exactly how Tobias reacted to attention from Allyson: with extreme caution. She released Raz from her grasp, then pounced on Tobias, wrapping him into a hug that pinned his arms to his sides, and kept him immobile. The little woman had much more strength than she looked like she had. “Hi, Toby!” she shouted, burying her face in his chest, as he blushed firmly, refusing to budge an inch until he was freed from her grasp. “Been a few weeks, hasn’t it?” Tobias gulped and nodded, looking downwards at the little woman, who was still pressing herself against him.

“Y-yes,” he answered politely, stammering slightly, “I-I believe it h-has.” After about a minute, once she had gotten the attention of the entire store, Allyson dislodged herself from Tobias, leaving the big man taking grateful gulps of free air. He knew he was, for some reason or other, her toy. She didn’t like him in a romantic sense, just in a playful kind, the same sort of way a puppy loves its owner. Only the positions were reversed in their case. “Well, why did you want me to come with you today, Ms. Urashima?” He wanted to change the subject away from being hugged by women to something more productive, like why Raz wanted him.

In response to his question, both women turned to one another as if in unison, and giggled simultaneously, like schoolgirls with crushes. “Well…” Allyson replied, pointing at Raz, who was slowly changed from her normal, pale face to a deeply crimsoned one, her eyes darting left and right, “your boss, Ms. Raziya Urashima, has a little thing for the big man in Zepther, Metalhead, so we’re here to see if we can find some chocolate for him, so Razzberry can give it to him for Valentine’s Day.”

Raz’s eyes lowered to the red-tiled floor, getting redder by the moment. “And we wanted a man’s-” She looked to Allyson, who was giving her a reproaching look “-I wanted…a man’s opinion of the taste of chocolate. If it’s okay with you, do you think you can be our guinea pig?”

Tobias’ brows arched in slight confusion, but a slight smile slid onto his face. “Sure, Ms. Urashima, Ms. Heart. I can give you a hand on it, if you really want me to.” Their faces lit up, and they tackled him in a giant hug, that made him blush most profusely. “Hey, come on…” he muttered, noticing various members of the male customers who were looking at him with menacing glares, and was starting to get uncomfortable. “Let’s do some taste-testing, huh?” Both nodded, and proceeded to shove Tobias in the direction of the free samples.

***​

Slim Mullen didn’t know exactly what he was doing at the mall, but had a slight idea. He had been drifting since the night, unable to sleep, or even get up the energy to return to his small apartment. He hadn’t contacted the department yet, and he didn’t want to either. He just needed some space, to think things through. He had the strange sense he had taken a step he shouldn’t have, just by making the simple, conscious choice to go to the roof of the warehouse, after apprehending Fedora, and seeing the two people, Snipes and Lykos, attacking Chronos.

“Am I drifting away?” Mullen looked up, watching the snow fall to the ground below him, and people running from the frost. He didn’t know why, he always liked the cold. It made him feel like he was different, just like no two snowflakes were ever the same. As he watched the snow, he saw a flake made of black, or to his eyes it seemed darker than the others, flutter down, taking its place on the sidewalk. Was he taking a step away from the normalcy of humanity, and drifting into the world of the Dark Eye? Somehow, he didn’t see himself in dark body armor, defending the city in that way. His police badge was enough mantle for him.

Chronos never ceased to amaze Mullen, no matter how hard the rookie tried to not be intimidated, he couldn’t help being in awe of the Dark Eye whenever in his presence, it was impossible not to be. The simple way he hid in the shadows, the pitch of his voice, the ambience of fear and terror that seemed to accompany him, wherever he went, an enigma even to the fans in the city, who studied him religiously, trying to find his secret identity. Personally, Mullen didn’t think he had a secret identity, it was not possible for a living human being to be so unfeeling, to be so dark, and yet be a paradox, defending the light of the world with darkness and cold steel.

The rookie cop decided a cup of Joe would be a good idea, so he started to focus the direction his wandering was taking him, heading to the north of the shopping complex. Shuffling his hands into his pockets, Mullen opened the door to the coffee shop, his steel-gray eyes glazing as he walked through the crowds, his thoughts elsewhere. He walked to the counter, greeted by a pretty cashier.

“Just a regular cup, please,” he said to her, retrieving a few crumpled bills from his pockets. She nodded, and rang up the price. Mullen took the change from her, and sat onto one of the stools, just waiting for the cup. It didn’t take long, or maybe it did, Mullen wasn’t concerned about time, until the steaming brew was ready. He thanked the waitress, or the cashier, and left, huddled over the cup, taking delicate sips from the paper cup, the steam rising from the liquid, fluttering around him in a cloud as he passed, before disappearing after creation, and the process repeating itself indefinitely.

He drank once from the bitter liquid, the coffee burning lightly on the tip of his tongue. Mullen thought it was too warm, but didn’t think much of it, so absorbed in his thoughts that he in fact collided with a passerby, spilling some of the coffee to the ground. “Sorry,” he muttered to the man, and started walking again. As he passed the chocolate shop, he heard a scream of terror that slightly prompted his attention, but soon disregarded it as unimportant, and continued along his way. It was not until the door to the chocolate shop opened, and Tobias Green shouted to Mullen for aid that he woke up from his hazy trance.

“Mullen!” the giant man shouted, his head outside the store, the rest of his massive frame being pulled back in by two pairs of hands. “Help!”

Raz and Allyson decided to thrust him back in, but Mullen, too stunned to reply, just followed the man as he was thrown back into the chocolate shop, Raz and Allyson’s hands shoving him down, forcing him to eat chocolate after chocolate. Mullen, in total disbelief, followed the voices as he watched Raz and Allyson cram chocolate down Tobias’ throat.

“Huuurp Meeh!” Tobias pleaded, his glasses staring directly at Mullen. The two women changed target, looking at one another with insane grins, before Mullen began to regret his decision to come to Tobias’ aid. The two women tackled him, not even bothering to ask him for permission, before heavy German chocolate was grabbed from a free-sample tray, and shoved down his throat with the speed of a cheetah. He tasted the sweetness, and coughed, trying to resist.

“Okay!” Mullen forced down the piece of candy, and kept both women at arm’s length, though it was difficult. “Why are you trying to kill Green…and me?”

Briefly, as he leaned against a nearby counter, Tobias related the reason for their being there, along with Raz’s secret crush. Mullen was slightly taken, but chuckled a little at the schoolgirl crush she had for the hero. “Well,” he said, taking a small breath, “perhaps you should make the chocolate yourself. I mean, the best stuff is homemade, right? Maybe he would like it more if you took the time to make it yourself.” He shrugged, but Tobias began to nod vigorously, agreeing with anything that got him out of eating more chocolate.

“Why don’t you and Allyson go shopping for some ingredients, while me and Green here go get a cook book?” Raz was repulsed by the thought of cooking, as usual.

“Uhh…I don’t know how to make the stuff,” she answered, “I normally just buy stuff for me and Toby that are microwavable. I don’t even know how to turn on the stove, let alone make something like this.”

Tobias thought about it for a moment, his brows furrowing as he rubbed his chin. “How about we all go back to the apartment and give a hand? We don’t have anything else to do today. Mullen, are you up for it?”

The rookie nodded, he had nothing else to do that day. His report to the chief could wait a few hours. “It sounds like fun,” he replied, and smiled. Raz squealed, and hugged both men tightly, though she found it harder to get her arms around Tobias than Mullen. Allyson and Raz soon bolted out of the shop, leaving both men standing inside, still confused over the events.

“So…were they torturing you?” Mullen asked, turning towards a chocolate-faced Tobias. The big man looked down at the rookie cop, and shook his head.

“Nothing worse then what they usually do,” he replied, getting a chuckle from Mullen. He looked over the younger man, who seemed a little off for some reason. “Hey, is something wrong with you? You don’t look so good.” Mullen sighed, and then nodded, confirming Tobias’ thoughts. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mullen looked around. “Yeah…but let’s go outside, Green,” he muttered, facing round, and started to walk, the big man following him out of the store, and into the freezing cold. When the door was shut, Mullen headed in the direction of the bookstore, exactly as he had told Raz he and Tobias would. The two walked through the snowy landscape, neither speaking for a while. Tobias didn’t say anything, knowing that Mullen would in his own time, and that he could be patient, and wait for Mullen to tell him what was troubling him.

“I met Metalhead yesterday,” he said suddenly, lowering his eyes to the ground. “I know that I don’t tell you or Raz about my job on the force, but it isn’t as glamorous as you’d think. I’m pretty much an errand boy between my lieutenant and the superhero. I wish I did more…but that’s it.”

Tobias didn’t answer for a moment, absorbing the information he had been given. “I didn’t know, Mullen, that your job was like that. Is that really all you do?”

Mullen clenched his hands. “It’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “That’s the only use I have to the force, the fact that Metalhead only talks to me, and no one else. And after yesterday…he…” Mullen stopped, taking a deep breath. “I’m starting to think I’m drifting into his world, and away from my own.” He shook his head, and chuckled harshly. “He took me into his confidence yesterday, and I wish to God I could take back what happened. He showed me…what he really is. He isn’t human, Green, not even close to it. He’s a living weapon, designed to defeat anything.”

Mullen stayed quiet after that, letting Tobias contemplate the new information. “Is that what he is?” he asked quietly. “A living weapon?” Tobias looked up, watching the snow fall through his sunglasses. “Tell me something,” he said, adjusting the rims of his eyewear once more, “do you think he doesn’t care about anyone or anything? Would he do what he does if he didn‘t?”

“Weapons are for destruction, that much I know, Green.” Mullen felt his own, the revolver inside his waistband. “No matter how long I think about it, I can’t shake that feeling that Metalhead is a weapon, and I’m being pulled into his world, into what he is.”

Tobias clasped his arm around Mullen, a smile on his face. “Somehow, I don’t see you in tights, Mullen. The difference between Metalhead and the police isn’t too much. You both defend the city, you both fight crime, you both do all these things. The only difference, as far as I can see, is that Chronos stands alone, while you have the support of your fellow law enforcers. He does everything for us, and nothing for himself. Just like you, Mullen. You guys are similar, but it’s a few key differences that make you you, and Chronos Chronos. He’s a lone wolf, but you’re a pride of lions.”

Mullen laughed at the last bit, feeling better. “Thanks, Green. I needed that.” Tobias’ smile was his answer, and they together started work on locating a cook book for Raz, something neither of them had ever considered entertaining, but soon got into the whole idea of making chocolate, especially if they got to watch Raz make the goods. While Raz was a great accountant, and a wonderful technician, a cook she was not. Laughing, they located the toughest book there was in the whole bookstore, and bought it instantly. Tobias shouldered the burden, and Mullen flipped out his cell phone to call Raz. He dialed the number while Tobias snickered at the complexity of the book they had bought her.

Mullen heard a few rings before Raz picked up, and tried to hold back his own laughter as he informed them that he had gotten the book. “Yeah, big boy Green’s with me,” he answered a question from Raz. “Okay, we’ll meet you back at the apartment.” With that, he cut off the call, and turned to Tobias, with a small grin that made the giant worry.

“What is it?” Tobias asked, looking down at the rookie cop.

Mullen started laughing. “You’re going to have to taste it when she’s done.”

Tobias’ happy expression quickly faded into one of terror.

***​

“All right,” Mullen said aloud before the group, “is everyone ready?”

Allyson, Raziya, and Tobias gathered around the rookie cop as they clustered together inside Raz’s small kitchen. Before them, the stove was heating up, and the ingredients were ready. The pack of sweetened chocolate was ready, though Raz was certainly not able to cut it.

Tobias nodded. “I’ll chop up the chocolate into hearts, seeing as Ms. Urashima can’t cook for squat.” Raz pouted for a moment, but a reproaching look from Tobias made her sigh in resignation. That settled, Tobias took out a chopping knife from the drawer, and headed toward the block of cooking chocolate that Raz and Allyson had bought, readjusting his sunglasses. The large pan was simmering nearby with a slight amount of water Mullen had put on it, as Tobias wielded the blade against the sweet black, chopping it like a sushi chef. “How many pieces do you want for him?” he asked over his shoulder.

Raz placed her finger to her mouth. “Uh…how about ten?” she asked.

Tobias grinned, flipping the blade as he sliced. “Not a problem, Ms. Urashima,” he replied, cutting the chocolate block carefully into ten perfect slices. “Now I just have to shape the candy.” Without a beat, Tobias pulled out a second knife, and superheated both steel blades over the simmering pan, and took both to the pieces, which were all arranged in a stack, perfectly even with each other. Tobias’ blades came down on both sides, carving symmetrical trails in the melting chocolate. The heat melted the block, making it easier to shape into the preferred shape, hearts. It only took Tobias a minute, and where the stack of rectangular chocolate had been, a set of heart-shaped candy had emerged. “Okay, all we have to do is cook it now,” he said, throwing the batch of chocolate into a bowl, which he set over the stove, right on the simmering pot. “It’ll be done in about twenty minutes.” Tobias then proceeded to place the knives he had obtained back in the drawer, and shut it.

He rubbed his hands, his job finished. “Ms. Urashima, you owe me one for this,” he muttered, turning away from the stove. “If Chronos asks, just say that some friends helped you out, okay?” He chuckled, and then headed out of the kitchen, followed shortly after by the entire group, who were clasping him over the shoulder. They all kneeled round the table in the living room, the smell of baking chocolate slowly wafting into the room. Raz picked up the remote control to the small TV, deciding that watching something and staying in for a celebration party was the order of the day. The three others agreed, and soon drinks were brought forth from the fridge.

It was nice. Tobias took the bowl carefully out of the pot with protective gloves, placed above the normal black, leather ones he wore, and set out the candies gently to cool. Not a single one was broken, all ten were perfectly shaped. Tobias smiled, and returned to the living room with beers from the fridge, and an apple for himself, washing it under the sink beforehand, making certain not a drop touched his gloved hands. He was greeted again as a hero, for reasons he was unsure.

Even Mullen was feeling better, his face cheerful and no longer moody as he drained his beer. Allyson was really happy, as exhibited when she grappled herself to Mullen’s waist, refusing to release the rookie cop as the four watched TV, a special showing of the movie Wedding Crashers for the holiday next week. Raz sat by herself on one side of the table, her red face even redder after having the chocolate made. She continuously asked advice on how to approach the Dark Eye. Mullen suggested very carefully, calmly, and without fear. Allyson suggested she do it in lingerie, though Zepther’s weather conditions made that impossible. When Raz turned to Tobias, she found him chewing quietly on his apple, staring off into space. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, Tobias’ head was slumped, looking down at the ground, absent-mindedly biting on the fruit. While Owen Wilson was delivering a comical punch line, Tobias barely noticed.

“Toby!” His neck snapped up, Tobias’ mind returning firmly to reality.

He adjusted his sunglasses, looking over at her. “Huh?” He perked up his brows, now listening intently. “What is it, Ms. Urashima?”

“Well…” Raz swirled her finger on the surface of the table, blushing profusely. “What do you think I should to when I give the chocolate to Chronos?”

Tobias pointed at himself in disbelief. “Me? Advise?” Raz nodded, sinking her head lower towards the ground. “Well…” Tobias scratched his chin, “how about being sincere? I mean, it’s fairly obvious you have a crush on him, but how do you really feel about him? He’s tough, but maybe he’ll walk through this part of town to see you. Have you even thought about how you’re going to get them to him?”

Raz looked up. Evidently, she had not thought of what she would do. “Well, I sort of thought he would magically show up when I wanted to give them to him. He’s done it before in the past.” She shrugged, but before she noticed the reddening faces of Mullen and Allyson, both of who were chocking back laughs. Tobias kept his calm face, chuckling lightly at the comment.

“Well, when are you going to try waiting for him? Tonight?” he asked, trying to keep a positive attitude about the idea.

Raz nodded, looking into the kitchen, where Tobias’ chocolates were standing ready. “I don’t want them to spoil, so I was going to try waiting tonight.”

Mullen’s eyes widened. “In the cold?” he interjected. After taking another sip from his can of beer, he thought it over. “I guess I could suggest some ways to keep warm. After all, this is Zepther, and you, Raz, cannot tolerate cold.” Allyson agreed, by this point strung over Mullen like another coat.

Tobias nodded. “Don’t worry, Ms. Urashima. Chronos prowls the whole city. It’s hard to think he wouldn’t pass by here at least once.” Raz brightened up, and the attention shifted away from the movie towards getting Raz ready to wait outside for Chronos. It was already dark outside the apartment, meaning that the Dark Eye would already be hunting for criminals. Mullen wondered whether Chronos would even come, considering what the ebon giant was handling, but decided to focus on something more positive, like Raz’s meeting.

Tobias retired early, because he still had to get Comic Central up and running the next day, and would need a good night’s rest. After bidding everyone goodnight, the big man shut the door behind him, locking it firmly from inside. Tobias hated to be disturbed when he was asleep, because he was a very light sleeper, and as a result, had trouble from slight insomnia. Raz, Mullen, and Allyson lowered their voices, letting the giant rest.

After about an hour, Mullen and Allyson left, as the rookie had to head for the police headquarters to file his report, and Allyson had to head for work. Raz bid them goodbye, bowing as they exited the apartment, and shut the door behind them. Raz was covered head to toe in clothing, several coats strung over her shoulders. A scarf covered her mouth, and two pairs of gloves covered her hands. She looked like a snowwoman.

Briefly, she wondered whether or not she would wake Tobias, just to have someone see her off. She tiptoed to the front of her assistant’s door, but not a single snore or noise did she hear from him. “Eh, I’ll let him sleep some more,” she decided, giggling. She passed over the stove, grabbing the chocolate Tobias had made for her to give to Chronos. She reminded herself to thank the giant man later.

She took one last look around the apartment, before locking the door behind her, heading up the stairs to the top of the building. She opened the door to the outside world, blinding snow and freezing chills welcoming her to Chronos’ hunting grounds.

Word Count- 5818​

 

[Sike Saner]

I’ve got to say, Chronos’s abilities and qualities are just cool as frell. I especially like it when he forms those wings. ^^

I was delighted when Lykos appeared, since werewolves are severely awesome. I’d certainly like to see more of that creature. =)

Raz trying to peek in on Tobias while he was showering was terrific. XP A very funny moment, indeed. Oh, and the scene in the chocolate shop—that was just frelling priceless. XDD I loved that. Seriously entertaining stuff. ^^

Favorite excerpts from the past two chapters:

Chronos did not break through a window as he landed, nor did he bust down a door in the effort. He didn’t even try to land on the roof, then fight his way down.

Chronos made a window, bracing his fist behind himself, and punching hard the moment he touched the building’s wall, and tore through it like a hot knife against butter, falling through with ease.

Tobias always had to crouch to wash his hair, his body far too tall for the shower nozzle. At least he fit in the shower.

Just as the suds were crawling over his sunglasses, Tobias stiffened, having heard the most terrifying noise he could possibly hear so early in the morning. He turned his head, looking in horror as the knob began to turn on the bathroom door. That, and the absence of any snoring, he had forgotten about the snoring over the roar of the water, informed Tobias Green in the worst way that one Raziya Urashima was up and about, following the strange schedule her body seemed to follow, that always, always woke her whenever the man was bathing, and that she was heading directly for him, and he was naked.

When Raz and Allyson parted, the former grinned, and nudged the latter towards Tobias, knowing exactly how Tobias reacted to attention from Allyson: with extreme caution.

He’s a lone wolf, but you’re a pride of lions.

 

[Ledian_X]

Sorry I haven't reviewed in a while. Been busy with my story and my computer has been less than cooperative. But, here I am and I gotta say that this story's looking good. Like Sike said, there's some funny parts and some suspenseful stuff that keeps me on the edge of my seat. The story's looking good. Can't wait to see more!

LX

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 05: Chemistry

The darkness of the night was absolute, even the moon’s surface wasn’t enough to matched the dark echoes the city became. The streetlamps below weren’t enough, the traffic lights and the cars didn’t cut it in Zepther, where the darkness could consume even the lightest of places. Within the maze of shadows, the Dark Eye ran through his hunting grounds, seamless in his transitions between rooftops, his leaps and bounds fluid and graceful as water flowing down a stream. It was as though his feet never even toughed the ground, his preferred mode of transportation so quick, at most anyone could ever catch of him was a glimpse when he really got moving.

Chronos didn’t understand, or rather, he found it interesting, that so many other heroes preferred flight to ground mobility. Heroes spent so much time figuring out ways to surpass the limitations of gravity; wings, magic, telekinesis, when all they really needed to do was train their bodies a little bit to withstand twenty storey drops, master an ability to increase their momentum and height during jumps, and that was all a hero needed to move around a city. Chronos scarcely used wings, only on longer trips that simple leaps and bounds weren’t going to cover. The Dark Eye didn’t understand this logic, this need, other heroes had to utilize in order to rise above those they wished to protect. It was somewhat egotistical to require and relish flight, plus, Chronos could not understand why anyone would rather fly around like a feeble weakling when they could be running across roofs, battling against gravity in a much more useful way, as one soared over the narrow spaces between the buildings of Zepther, having to strategize, thinking and planning every jump perfectly, or one would fall of the edge, and have to deal with a fall that could kill most people.

Fortunately, Chronos was not like most people.

Flying through the air, the ebon knight pulled off yet another successful maneuver, summoning metal he had formed in the heels of his boots, which acted as levers and springs to increase the height and momentum of the jumps he used to move around the city, the generated steel propelled him further and further into the air every single time he jumped. With his next leap, the Dark Eye cleared three buildings instead of the two buildings he had just passed over on his prior leap. He stopped, hitting the firm concrete below his boots on the building he landed on, just short of his targeted destination: a small apartment building, which sat above the little store named Comic Central, a local thing that almost everyone in Zepther knew about. The Dark Eye had never been here before, save once, but he had never entered the store personally, even though it sold the comic that portrayed him to the public, the one medium he allowed about himself. Perching himself on the sill on the side of the building, his body crouched on the narrow ledge, the Dark Eye tilted his cowl down, trailing his masked face below to spy upon the only other living creature in this blazing cold, through the snowy haze and darkness of the night he saw her, the woman, standing in several layers on the roof of the comic shop, apparently freezing herself in the cold.

Chronos’ knowledge of the store Comic Central was limited, at best, the most being that it was the only place he allowed his comic to be distributed to the population, the only one with the rights to do so, though many others had tried. The Dark Eye himself had authorized the comic shop the rights to produce and distribute the comic, giving them the patent for it. He didn’t care what was done with the comic; as long as it did not slander him. He did not collect a single penny of what the comic sold, because he did not want a single penny for his name, face, voice, or stories. He had decided a long time ago that a good hero did not make a living off his hero work, and wouldn’t make a good hero if they relied on their powers as a source of income. It was almost border-line villainous in nature.

His gaze trailed down to where the woman stood, her arms crossed around herself, and freezing her tail off in the blinding cold that surrounded her. She was beautiful, or at least others would consider her so if they saw her. Chronos didn’t think of her in such a fashion, though he could tell some of her physical aspects were more appealing than many to the men of Zepther. She was Japanese, the ethnicity apparent upon her features. The pale, silky skin that Chronos could clearly see upon her face, the only visible part of her body. Her lithe form, and a large wad of ebony hair that was no doubt inside the hat she was wearing. Her wide, expressive eyes darted round, as if searching for something, nestled inside so many layers of clothing that if Chronos didn’t know better, he would think she were twice the size the built made her. But the Dark Eye knew this woman, and she was not large, but skinny and well developed. And, at the same time, he knew why she was there, in the midst of the swirling snow, outside in the cold instead of in her warm apartment. She was waiting for someone, that was why she searched the skies above her for a sign of the one. Chronos sank his head, knowing the identity of the one she sought, watching her cool, midnight eyes scan the twilight of black sky around her.

The air Chronos breathed condensed in the cold surroundings, turning to mist inside his mask, and wafting over his head like a cloud of smoke, before vanishing into the atmosphere once more. She was waiting for him, the ebon knight knew that much. It was obvious; only one man could span the skies above her, and walk through the darkness as he did: unafraid and in complete domination. He had seen her before, twice in fact, having saved her once from a rapist, and once more. She stood out in his memory, a fragment of his new life through the darkness of his shrouded mind. He had never had a very easy time recalling others, but he remembered her all the same, while others he had rescued in days and months past faded away into the deep, iron-hard recesses of his brain. Deciding that nothing could solve this particular situation than a direct confrontation, the Dark Eye hoisted himself to full height, and hopped off the ledge, falling to the fire escape one storey below where he stood. A dull clunk issued as he landed onto the frail escape hatch, which was purposeful. If he wanted to, he could have remained silent, and never even attract her attention, but for this, he would need to speak with her, and he didn’t want to scare the woman. He was at her level now, able to see her clearly through the winter’s frost. She jerked at the sound, turning her head in his direction, and her eyes widened, taking him in as he stood perfectly still, seeing him clearly for once.

Rarely did the Dark Eye ever truly show himself to anyone, preferring the darkness of shadows to the light the moon’s surface gave off. Neither Mullen nor Carla had ever seen anything but brief flashes of him before Snipes and Lykos arrived, but he wasn’t in the shadows for once, allowing her to see the one she waited for. Metal rushed from his legs, forming into a narrow bridge between the fire escape he stood on, and the apartment roof she waited upon. The bridge solidified before him in an instant, and the ebon knight began to step forward, walking very intentionally and slowly in her direction, his hands loose and limp by his sides so as not to frighten her. When he was halfway across the walkway, he saw her lips begin to quiver, and her body shiver, though it was from anticipation, not cold, at the dark giant as he cleared the distance, and stood upon the sill on her building.

Chronos crouched, then descended to the woman. The metal from his legs retracted into himself again, vanishing like a gray shadow behind the even darker shadow that now walked in front of the woman. He took a step forward, and she surprised him by not stepping back a bit. He was loved by the city, it was true, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make others chill in fear at what he was. The ultimate weapon, some called him, or the indestructible giant. Even the Dark Eye, which he had taken as his secondary moniker, as a tribute to the symbol upon his belt, displayed what they thought he was. A dark knight, devoid of feeling or emotion. The woman clearly didn’t think that way, because she was still standing where she was, looking up at him with large doe eyes, an effect that might have worked, had Chronos been a lesser man. She breathed, the mist her breath created spiraling around her head as she exhaled at a slow rate, taking in his giant, covered frame once more. She had seen him twice before, but never at this level of closeness or in this clear of an image, before she had only caught sight of him through the half-shroud of darkness he normally concealed himself in. This time, he willingly displayed himself to her, letting her see the Dark Eye for all his glory.

“C-Chronos,” she whispered, her breath swishing around the hero and the woman in a dank cloud. In response, the ebon warrior nodded his head once, confirming that what she was seeing was real, that he was here, and he was willing to listen to her. She started to say more, her lips moving as she began again, but Chronos raised a dark glove, indication that he wished to say something as well, and she quickly quieted down.

“It is cold out here tonight, Raziya Urashima,” was his haunted reply, a dark murmur that was more of habit than an attempt to worry her. “It would have been more advisable for you to have remained inside in a snowstorm such as this. Why are you out here, waiting for me?” He tried not to sound harsh, especially since it would be misinterpreted by her, but it was hard when some people did not listen to their common sense. He altered his tone to a resigned one, as he knew this woman, like many others, harbored infatuation for him, though she seemed to be one of the less persistent of them all, this was the first time she had done anything like this. Raziya Urashima took a step towards him, though obviously in awe of his form, looking up into the black, faceless cowl he wore, her black, exotic eyes refusing to blink against the dark mask. Chronos gave her points for courage. Then, suddenly, her eyes left the cowl, as if remembering something, and she pulled out a small box from one of her many coats, and looked down at it, as though embarrassed by something. Chronos knew emotions, he could read faces like books if he needed to.

“W-well…” She stuttered, confirming Chronos’ beliefs on her feelings, and still did not meet his gaze. “I know…Valentine’s Day is…next week.” Her cheeks turned crimson. “I wanted…to give you…these…” She lowered her red face even further, and instead of her eyes, the ebon knight saw the little box she raised up, and opened with her fingers for him to see. Even through the snowy landscape, the Dark Eye could see ten small, individual pieces of candy spread evenly inside the box, sliced into the forms of little brown hearts. “These are…for you…because of all the things you do for us…this city…”

Chronos appeared mystified by the gesture, but was simply attempting to understand the reason behind the token of appreciation. “I do not take compensation for my duties, Raziya Urashima,” he answered slowly and carefully. “A warrior charged with defending others in a task must see it through, without an ounce of concern for his present or future conditions. I do not require a reward, the ability to defend this city is enough for me to celebrate.” That sounded about right, he thought, looking down at her. He hoped she could understand that, at least.

But she didn’t, and shook her head in response to his statement. “It isn’t a reward,” she replied softly, her small face reddening even further. “It’s called a gift, Chronos…” With that, she held up the box.

Chronos knew the meaning of the word, “gift,” but he still inclined his face further, so he could see her expression better. Her mouth was skewered up with unknown courage, her eyes, while wide, still determined through her puffy red cheeks. It was clearly extremely difficult for her to speak with him in this type of manner. “Gift?” he asked calmly, raising one gloved arm to her. His hand touched her face, the bottom portion of her chin, and he lifted her face to his so he could see her perfectly in the translucent darkness. She blushed at his touch, and he did not know why. “Why would you feel obligated to give me a gift, Raziya Urashima? I have done nothing to warrant one.”

She felt as the Dark Eye’s second hand reached out to hers, lifting the fingers carrying the chocolate box upwards, the smell of creamy chocolate wafting in the air, mixing with the cold chill of the night. She felt nothing but cold from his touch, but still relished it, a small smile creeping onto her face. “You’ve save me before,” she answered, as though that alone should have explained everything to him. “I was brought up to believe you should thank those that help you in that kind of way.” With her hands, she pushed the box into the hand touching hers, the dark glove closing with her touch around the small box of candy.

Chronos sensed his hand moving, something being placed into his fingers, and knew without having to look that ten pieces of chocolate candy were now in his broad palm, which was now held by the woman’s hands. He moved his head downwards to look at them, contemplating what they meant to the woman. To him, they meant nothing, perhaps something to give later to those that could enjoy them more than he could. But to the woman, they probably meant a great deal. “I am sorry, Raziya Urashima, but I must ask,” the Dark Eye answered, raising his cowl to meet her face again, “is that the only reason you wish to give me these chocolates? Is that the sole and only reason?” He barely had to look, much less ask the question, as the woman who stood before him widened her eyes one moment, and began shaking her head the next, giggling quietly to herself. Her eyes darted once more to the ground, staring at a space behind Chronos and slightly to the left.

“You’ll...laugh at me…if I tell you,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Her eyes were drifting further away from his cowl. “It’s too impossible you…you would-” Her voice trailed off, growing progressively smaller.

“-Just tell me, Raziya Urashima, rather than letting me guess for myself,” he interrupted, deciding to intervene, and speak. “I do not laugh, not when others are being serious, as you are.” Chronos reverted again, utilizing a slight bit of the darker side of him he used when he pressed others for information, a tone of urgency and need in his volume, using a gentler version of the persuasion technique he made use of when getting data on crime lords and drug dealers, as Raziya was obviously none of those things. “Just tell me, Raziya Urashima.”

Her face was flushed, turning into a bright crimson that actually almost glowed in the darkness surrounding the two. “I-I have had…or rather…I have been having…” Her voice died out, and she sighed aloud, scrunching up the rest of her courage. She was already up on the rooftop, with him. She might as well go all out, and not waste her time like this. “I have been having…strong feeling for you…Chronos.” With that, she took the hand that touched her cheek, and placed up upon her breast, right above where her heart was racing in her chest. “This beats the fastest whenever I think I catch sight of you at night, or when I open your comic at the beginning of each month, or even when Toby dresses like you to attract customers. Anything about you, and it races.”

Chronos didn’t answer, not right away. He needed time to formulate an answer for this particular situation, one he had never come across in Zepther. He removed Raziya’s hands from the glove that encased the chocolate, and tucked it into the folds of his coat for later, freeing up one hand. When he was certain that his gift was secure, he took a deep breath, deciding carefully once more what he should say.

“Raziya,” he began, taking his time, “are you trying to say that you are in love with me?” He asked the question out of confirmation again, unable to completely understand what the emotion was. He understood it to signify closeness between two people, nothing more. Whether his heart was racing, he never knew, sensing its fluctuation was calm and even. Nothing made it race, even this confession. Chronos sank his head, trying to formulate a plan for this particular situation. Why couldn’t it be a villain? Chronos asked himself silently. He could deal with that with efficiency. This was a new type of battle. “I see,” he murmured. His head did not rise.

Raziya moved closer to him, placing an arm on his elbow. She felt a cold unlike anything she had ever touched beneath the toughened cloth, but still held him. “Is that so bad?” she asked quietly, a single tear falling from her eyes, and cascading to the floor.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t in love with her. That wasn’t it at all, he thought silently, looking down at her smiling face, feeling absolutely nothing in his chest, or even in the elbow which she held. It was the terrible fact, and he acknowledged it as a terrible thing, even though he had never experienced terror, that he could not love her. Ever. He could sense, from the heightened intact from her breath, and the way her chest was rising rapidly, that her heart was beating wildly inside her chest. His, however, was not, as far as he could tell. While others knew their feelings, and judged them based on how they felt or reacted when something occurred, Chronos could not. Chronos took his heart at its word that it was beating within the confines of his chest, but had never once felt it, taking it for granted that, if it did not beat, he would be dead, so it must still beat. His heart held not feeling, his mind no emotion, which was the main reason he could not relate to what she was feeling for him. Chronos changed the subject, until he could think of something to say on that particular topic.

“Did you make these yourself?” he whispered, the audible voice perking her attention, as he had not spoken for about a minute. Chronos watched as she shook her head “no,” and saw another tear fall from her eyes, and drop to the ground, where it froze. She sniffled, then giggled slightly at the question. “Who did, then?” The chocolates, as far as he had been able to see, were very well made, hand crafted, not simply bought and paid for at some chocolate store.

She almost laughed, trying to hold back her tears for some reason unknown to the Dark Eye. “My…friend…Toby Green,” she answered, wiping away another droplet from her eye. “He made them for me, ‘cause I can’t cook at all. He said you would like them. He even helped me get out here, get the courage to talk with you.”

The dark warrior nodded at the statement, it did take a great deal of courage to speak with him. “You have good friends, Raziya Urashima,” he answered. “Whoever this ‘Toby’ is, you must be very special to him for him to help you like he did.”

She chuckled, the tears finally stopping. Her eyes clear, she looked up at him again. “Thanks, Chronos…that means a lo-”

She didn’t get the words out in time because, without prior warning, Chronos wrapped his arms around her, suddenly tense and alert. She blushed, feeling his dark coldness around her body, then realized his intentions weren’t romantic, but provoked by something outside of the two.

“Get down!” he roared, throwing her to the ground as something leapt from the darkness, baring its fangs.

***​

Everything changed in the next instant. One moment, Chronos was speaking alone with Raziya, trying to understand what exactly she felt for him, and the next he saw the pair of fangs lunge from the darkness behind them, not allowing a single second of error. Quickly, he grabbed Raziya, clutching her tightly to his chest, and tore her from her standing position, throwing himself and her to the ground as Lykos jumped out from wherever it had been hiding, narrowly dodging the canine teeth that clamped down exactly where Chronos had been standing. Chronos twisted in midair, as his back slammed into the concrete of the rooftop below his body, and sensed as Raziya’s body impacted against his own, but with minimal damage. He heard, and did not look up, and Lykos gave a triumphant battle roar, beating its chest with its claws, and baring its fangs at the Dark Eye.

Chronos quickly assessed the situation, deciding that if Raziya was not scared about confessing to him, she was in full panic mode now, clinging tightly to his massive frame like an infant to their parent. “Raziya,” he whispered, in a low voice that he nonetheless knew Lykos could most likely hear, “stay still.” He moved his head upwards, searching for the control behind the werewolf, the hit man Snipes, because wherever Lykos was, its master couldn’t be too far behind. “Stay near me, and you will be safe.”

Raziya nodded rapidly, complying with the Dark Eye’s words, following them to the letter. She didn’t move, she didn’t flinch, she didn’t do anything, far too frightened to move. Chronos adjusted her, wrapping his vast arms around her, and stood up a second later, using his legs to alter his balance and metal generated in his lower body to maintain the balance, and swung back up. Quickly, he generated metal from his arms, the luxury of time and patience no longer and option. The scimitars unsheathed with a quick metal ping, and the long blades that were his traditional weapons formed, falling to his knees as he crouched. Raziya got behind him, and Lykos’ claws emerged just as Chronos’ blades hand, emerging from the hands, its fangs slobbering with drool as a thirst for blood began to brim within the beast. Lykos raised its head, letting off another howl, raising its snout up to the almost full moon behind its head, before Chronos, before it attacked, bursting forth at a rapid pace towards the Dark Eye

Chronos slid forward, still crouched over, and slashed Lykos’ left flank with one blade, the second scoring a deep wound in the right leg. Undaunted, Lykos tried again, as its silver blood started to drip to the ground, its body somehow undaunted by the attacks. Chronos blocked the blows, defending the woman securely in place upon his back, and the werewolf found his claws trapped within Chronos’ scimitar defense. The blades came undone in an instant, fastening themselves to the claws, and disabling any chance of escape from the wolf. The Dark Eye’s boot came up, slamming hard into Lykos’ snout, sending the head snapping straight up, a resounding crunch echoing through the streets and rooftops surrounding them as the jaws caved in on one another, broken and shattered. Then, Chronos released the metal that he had bonded to its hands, and watched the lifeless body slink towards the ground soundlessly.

He grunted. “That is that,” he muttered, as Raziya loosened her death grip on his shoulders, still attached but no longer presenting difficulty in breathing for him. She was shaking, horrified, her eyes bulging in the direction of the now-dead werewolf. Chronos turned his attention to the corpse. The skull was crushed, shattered completely under the assault Chronos had delivered upon its person with his kick, which had been reinforced with solid steel, generated from Chronos’ body and hardened on his feet. Some form of gray ooze had been created from the broken skin, presuming the beast’s blood, formed a small puddle around the head upon the floor. “Now I just have to worry about the second one.”

Raziya’s eyes widened even further at this. “S-second?” she questioned, maintaining enough of her head to ask what was happening around her, still looking at the immobile body of the dead beast. Chronos shifted, looking upwards with his cowl. Chronos nodded at her question, seeking the second half of the pair, the assassin who had been sent to capture him.

“Yes,” he answered, as his sight picked up something he decided classified as very bad news. He grabbed her, and hoisted her tightly to himself, like he was giving a piggy back ride. “Whatever happens, Raziya Urashima, do not let go.” As he said this, metal began to flow from his back, exiting from the collar of his coat, and slinking down his body, gravitating to a center in the small of her back, and in between her legs, grounding her firmly to his back in a light, but tough, harness. When he was certain Raziya understood what was about to happen, judged by when she gripped his shoulders roughly, the Dark Eye started to run, bolting off the rooftop of the apartment building. He ran directly to the side, metal generated once more in his heels and soles, and leapt off, jumping for higher ground.

As Chronos’ feet left the ground, soaring up to another storey, a giant screech like a cat’s wailing issued into the snowy darkness, wracking the rooftops with echoing deafness. The werewolf had healed, giant snaps and cracks filling the dark night as its mouth rearranged itself, howling in rage as its bone structure was fixed, the shriek tearing through the silence of the night, the wounds on its head and shattered face resealing, returning the beast to full strength, and with increased anger.

Furious, the werewolf sniffed at the air, searching for the scents that would lead it to its quarry: metal and chocolate, the smells that were unique to the Dark Eye, and its own blood, which was surely coating all or at least parts of the boot Chronos had used to strike it. Its yellow eyes looked down at the pool of gray goop that had emerged from its body, the blood it had shed. Its eyes narrowed, becoming thin lines that glowed through the dark storm and haze of the snow, before it crouched onto all fours, and started to run.

Chronos cleared the second building without a single hesitation, completely devoid of flaw. Landing as gently as possible on the roof, so as not to jar Raziya with the hard landings that the metal his legs created would absorb, but ones her fragile human form could not take, Chronos could see that she was scared, but adapting, holding on tightly but on in a terrified way. It was at that precise moment that Chronos heard an audible gunshot, followed by a second, and a third. All three burned holes in the snowy vortex around Chronos, causing Raziya to scream. Rapidly, Chronos took cover, heading west rather than north. The buildings started to get higher as he ran through the rooftops, forcing Chronos to dive, plummeting to the Earth below. Coils formed quickly, shooting towards both sides of an intersection, below a traffic jam was already in place. His coils grappled onto twin lampposts, catapulting Chronos into the air, the wind rushing through his passenger’s hair. Chronos retracted the coils, having them bind to his arms, and expand into glider wings. The transition was fluid, perfect, and the dexterity and unique composition of the metal allowed glided flight, and Chronos headed uptown, away from the werewolf and the hit man.

Shortly after, he heard the howls once more, and cursed himself at having guessed the status of Lykos correctly, turning his head just in time to see Lykos climbing up a building after him, with the assassin lodged firmly onto the midsection, riding the beast like a steed, aimed and firing directly at the Dark Eye and Raziya. Lykos was back onto its feet once more, having healed back to full health. Chronos shortly after lost sight of them, but he could hear the snarling above, from the pet werewolf Snipes owned, and had proven himself right once more. Snipes hadn’t seemed to Chronos like the kind of assassin who chose poor company on hits.

Scanning rapidly, the Dark Eye spied what he was looking for, and swung to the right, diving downwards into the alleyways below. A bullet rang out, bursting through his left glider wing, and melting the steel a giant hole that made the whole wing useless thirty feet above the ground. Retracting the rest of his metal, Chronos raised his arm to grabbed a small pole that extended from the side of the building. His fingers wrapped round it, binding him to it with metal, as it bent under the weight of himself and Raziya. Briefly, he recalled how he had rushed above the traffic, sensing the glaring eyes of the people upon his dark form before he headed into the shadows. He had broken a guideline that he normally followed about crime fighting in Zepther, to never show his form to the public unless absolutely needed, which was why the only photo shoot he had ever done was the one with the Starbolts, and he had left that early. He wanted to keep away from the public face, especially when he had a young woman strapped to his back, holding on for dear life. She had been screaming when they had fallen, and the Dark Eye wasn’t sure if it had been a wise idea to bring her here. Though it was safer than leaving her on the roof, where the werewolf and the assassin might have killed her had she been left alone with Lykos, who appeared to have no qualms about ending human life, its need to satisfy its bloodlust far too strong to support anything related to humane nature or consciousness.

“Are you all right?” Chronos asked the girl on his back, her ebony hair flung every way possible, her trembling body nervous and wracked with fear. “Raziya Urashima!” The woman snapped up, no longer lost in terror. “Are you all right?”

Raziya slowly nodded her head. “Y-yes, C-Chronos,” she whispered, as she could barely speak higher than a murmur. Chronos could tell she was worried. Her fears were confirmed when paws hit the ground behind the two, and Lykos scraped down the building surface it crawled on. Chronos didn’t hesitate, though the plan he was going to try was dishonorable, his primary concern was for Raziya, and started to run, generating metal within his legs, lacing them with the metal to increase his speed, unnaturally boosting his momentum long enough to escape. Lykos, on the other hand, had different plans on how the encounter would turn out, and chose to stop Chronos from fleeing to safety with Raziya. With a snarl, it launched itself into the air with its hind legs, leaping ten feet into the air, and soared over the Dark Eye, its prey, flipping once in midair, and delivering a kick to the hero’s midsection that not only halted Chronos, but sent the ebon knight flying through, not into, a dumpster in the alleyway. Chronos repositioned himself, twisting in midair to save Raziya’s fragile body, condensing the metal onto his body. The hulk of the dumpster caved in as the ebon knight slammed through it, and then the brick wall behind it, sending trash and debris sprawling everywhere as Chronos’ faceless cowl met wall, leaving an imprint in the building that somewhat resembled the look of a Saturday morning cartoon character slamming into the ground.

But not even Wile E. Coyote, mastermind of the body imprints, could have gotten back up as Chronos did after being slammed into a building by a werewolf. Chronos, on the other hand, flexed his muscles, freeing himself from the tightness of the building that was all around him, before finally wrenching himself free. He dropped down to the ground, noticing his whole uniform was covered in dust. The moment he was fully free, Chronos turned around to face his foe, cracking his knuckles, and sending the pinging noises echoing in the narrow passage. It was that attack that told him it was too dangerous for Raziya to remain, and it was better that she escaped before anything else happened. With a thought, the command was given, and the metal began to retracted itself from her body, sinking back into his skin, and the Dark Eye set her down gently behind him, protecting her with his massive frame.

He turned to her, seeing that Lykos was not moving again. “Get out of here as fast as you can,” he whispered, motioning with his left hand for her to run. “I can survive this; you cannot. Go home and hide. Find that friend of yours.” That was all he needed to say, the controlled form of his verbal speech telling her he was serious, and it was urgent that she go. She gave him one final look, before she ran, bolting down the alleyway, and lost in the snowy darkness that surrounded the ebon knight and the werewolf’s battlefield. After a few seconds, when the Dark Eye was certain she had left, he altered his stance, switching from defensive to offensive, extending the scimitars quickly from metal formed upon his arms, extending once more from his hands to create the curved blades. Lykos growled softly, but didn’t move when Chronos did, not even blinking or making a single motion since its opponent had released the woman.

Chronos heard a laugh, and instantly knew why Lykos was no longer moving. From the hushed darkness, Snipe’s dark form took shape, his dyed red hair noticeable through the haze of shadows he tried to hide in. “How noble, Dark Eye,” Snipes’ voice hissed from the shadows behind the ebon giant. Chronos didn’t move, concentrating his attention on both of them, able to pierce the darkness behind him to see Snipes without turning his head, and simultaneously keeping a sharp watch on Lykos, not moving his gaze from the werewolf in front of him. Snipes was the more intelligent one, that was granted, but Lykos was the more immediate threat now. Bullets could miss at point-blank range, and in the dark, but Lykos only had to flinch to strike in another moment. “Save the girl, and try to stop the baddies.” Chronos heard a second round of laughter, this one filled with sarcasm. “Honestly, you become more stereotypical by the day, Dark Eye. You even have your Lois Lane now…” Snipes’ voice trailed off into a stream of silent giggles.

Chronos wasn’t fazed. If he found humor in the comments the assassin made, he did not show it, the only noises audible from the ebon knight the soft sound that only Lykos could hear, the sound of his calm, emotionless breathing. Another chuckle issued from the darkness. “How am I supposed to keep up superhero banter if you don’t talk, Dark Eye?” he accused in a mocking tone, mortified, shaking his head tragically. “I’m fairly certain that, by this point in time of your hero career, you have learned that the tricks of the trade practically demand banter between the noble hero and the vile villain.”

Chronos didn’t move. “I have never been told I am a conversationalist,” was the Dark Eye’s grim reply, finally choosing to answer, as it might make Snipes quieter. Most villains liked to hear themselves talk, for reasons unknown to the metal giant. “Speech is the dead man’s way of filling the silence of his night.” With that, the ebon knight retracted the dark metal he had created as Snipes had spoken, which had at this point pooled together into the darkness that the assassin had been standing in, pretending or intimidating to be the Dark Eye. There was a reason that Chronos rarely spoke when he fought crime, or anything in general that threatened Zepther. Terra Nova had learned that the hard way, and so was Snipes. It was because Chronos had noticed something about how people spoke, and when they did so they often left themselves open while fighting, as attention had to be diverted to speak, attention that could not afford to be lost when fighting someone or something like Chronos. The metal that had gripped Snipes’ shoes without the assassin’s knowledge tightened around his feet, intensifying their hold and making it impossible to move.

Snipes, at that point, his eyes wide, reached for his guns, and in them, his molten bullets, but a single jerk from Chronos had the man falling to the ground, the metal transforming around his feet, turning it into a solid line between the assassin and the hero. Lykos still didn’t move, as the line turned into a single coil. Chronos gripped the end of the coil, transforming Snipes into a living whip. Gathering spare metal, Chronos mustered most of his strength, and the whip cracked in the middle of the air, as the master of the beast collided with the beast itself, smashing together. As soon as they collided, the metal expanded from what covered Snipes’ lower body, to completely incase Lykos and its owner in a cocoon of metal sludge, the pair trapped by the ebon knight. Chronos looked up, and decided to carry them, and their fight, to more suitable grounds. Building up metal inside his feet, Chronos crouched, then leapt up, blasting into the air with the force of a gun, landing hard on the rooftop of a three storey building. His cocoon followed him, and with added momentum, continued its flight pattern, soaring straight above Chronos as the Dark Eye released the metal, raising his right hand up to where Lykos was beginning his free-fall, Snipes once more fastened to his back.

The metal returned, and formed in the Dark Eye’s dark glove. “Now, when I K.O. you, stay down!” he roared, bringing forth his right hand, as the metal began to take shape, transforming into a small sphere of metal, adding up itself in density rather than mass or volume, forming into an unbreakable form of the alloy that was his to command. The little ball, barely bigger than a marble floated right above his hand, where his palm was, the metal grinding and molding against itself, forming a scraping noise that Chronos ignored. The Dark Eye targeted Lykos, whom Snipes was using to shield his weak body against the ground, gripping the werewolf’s back with his legs. When Chronos had enough density amassed into the little ball of metal, he released it, as Lykos broke twenty feet in distance from the ebon knight.

Normally, Chronos, to defeat opponents, needed to only unleash one or several of his coils from his hands to stop foes, his normal weapons all having a low amount of density and mass, but enough to deal with most thugs, and able to lift hundreds of pounds with ease. But Snipes and Lykos were in a separate category altogether, so a separate category of attacks were required to bring down beings of their caliber. Without another sound, Chronos threw forth his hand, changing his hand from an open fist to an arrow like appearance, his fingers all pointed upwards. In response, one lone coil burst forth from his palm like a striking snake. Chronos even heard the boom as it broke the barrier of sound around them, in the millisecond he had before it struck through Lykos. The werewolf didn’t have a single hope in the world to dodge the rocket strike, and the spike impaled it through the chest, and the bolt continued into the night’s sky above.

Well, impaled was a bit of a weak word when it came to describing exactly what Chronos did with the bolt. Lykos was gored, not impaled, because when a person is impaled, they stop moving. Lykos didn’t halt, didn’t even have time to howl in pain again, the burst cutting off its windpipe, its body continuing to fall to the ground below on the spike it was on, rushing to the ground regardless of what came between it and the roof. As it fell, Chronos caught the sound, a gasp without air, a scream without voice, of the intense agony Lykos suffered through when the bolt was thrust through its chest, but put it out of his mind. He found it hard to pity the body of one whose mind was controlled by another, and a form which would just get up again, no matter what happened to it, fresh and a psychotic, rabid daisy. Snipes jumped off from his broken pet, about ten feet away from the rooftop, and rolled to break his fall with a safe landing. As Lykos hit the roof hard, crunching the rest of its bones, the Dark Eye tore out the coil from Lykos’ body, the gray blood gushing forward from the massive wound. When the metal had retracted to his hands, the ebon warrior turned to face the other threat, the assassin, keeping the metal firmly attached to the backs of his hands for emergencies.

Snipes looked at his damaged partner. “Nice moves, Dark Eye,” the assassin commented, his azure eyes widening at the damage his opponent had caused. Even Lykos was going to need time to recover from that kind of attack. “But you know…it’s just gonna need a few second until it gets up and snaps itself into place again.” Chronos didn’t reply, but hunched his shoulders into an offensive stance, so Snipes raised both his guns, pointing them directly through the blizzard to Chronos’ dark, broad chest. “Why don’t you just melt and be done with this? We aren’t going to stop, you know.”

Chronos raised his arms, having generated enough metal to form new weapons, and expanded the amassing steel into circles, shields that looked like disks two feet in diameter, which rapidly began to rotate, turning into spinning tops. “Well, I’m not going to stop this either,” he replied dully, raising the new weapons away from his body, spreading his arms, “so why don’t you try it?” Chronos was taunting him, trying to get Snipes to make the fatal error that would be the assassin’s undoing. In response, Snipes raised his guns, and the Dark Eye began to rush forward, knowing Snipes held the disadvantage once more in a cramped area, without enough room or time to aim and fire unless he was quick, which he unfortunately was. Snipes raised the left gun, letting off a single bullet at Chronos’ dark cowl, aiming for the face behind the mask, a prize well worth the effort it would take.

“Now!” Chronos utilized his new weapons, transforming his dash into a somersault, ducking, then balancing himself as his left leg left the ground, to be replaced by the rapidly-moving spinner attached to his hand, turning the Dark Eye into a literal wheel of blades, the other spinner twirling up to meet the bullet, and slicing right through it, rotating at too high of a speed to be affected by any sort of heat, cutting through the projectile and rendering it useless to anything else, as it fell to the ground past the area Chronos was cart wheeling through. Snipes dodged as the wheel Chronos had become, rolling out of the way before he was cleaved in half like his bullet, but Chronos was ready. As he went pass Snipes, he kicked hard against the floor, turning himself in the direction Snipes had fled in, and opened up his blades, eagle-spreading his arms as he lunged. Snipes dodged again, but not unscathed, as one of the spinners sliced through one of the guns. Lykos howled, signaling that it had regrouped itself after its last injury, and Snipes reunited with his pet. The metal giant turned to face off against both.

The Dark Eye stomped his left boot, bracing himself before the werewolf and the assassin. With a final whirl, the blades spinners Chronos had created started to shrink into smaller balls of spinning goop, before they were retracted completely into his body, leaving the Dark Eye supposedly defenseless. “Round two, then,” the ebon knight muttered, looking down at his foes, and inclining his head slightly. “Better charge up and end this.” Chronos issued a unique command to his body, generating multiple amounts of metal from all over his body, from his back, his arms beneath his coat, and his legs, the metal emerging from his boots, the top of his coat, and his arms, pooling from the hands to the ground with the rest of the steel in a pile over his heels. Neither Lykos nor Snipes moved, the assassin obviously eager to see this supposed “charging up” that Chronos had spoken of. Lykos didn’t budge, as it hadn’t been commanded to attack as of yet.

The metal shush began to harden as density took its natural course, and the metal began to creep up Chronos’ uniform, sinking into the joints and cracks in the ebon knight’s muscles. His legs soon became traced, lined with steel veins that hardened and became tougher than diamond, perfected by steel into the ultimate defense, before it stretched onto the Dark Eye’s chest, covering the outlines of the uniform with dull gray lines, before it spread under the trench coat he wore, and emerging onto the gloved Chronos wore, perfectly melding over the joints and hardening to create iron knuckles. Even his cowl was lines with steel, the face beneath the mask shrouded still in mystery, but defended by crossing iron lines. Done, Chronos cracked his knuckles, the vibrant pings echoing off once more, ringing forth in chorus as the Dark Eye began to crack his neck, also lined with metal, twisting it roughly, before he stopped, looking down at his foes.

He crossed his metal-lined arms. “Take your best shot at the champ,” he hissed, demanding their all, and punched both of his fists together, the metal ringing out like a starting bell in a boxing match. Lykos didn’t need any more of a warning signal, and roared in answer, rushing forward on all fours, fur bristling in anger upon its back, expecting to overrun the Dark Eye with high speed. Chronos crouched, then blurred, with almost blinding speed. Controlling the metal that now covered his entire body like a controller for his whole body, rather than allowing his own muscles to move his body, he increased his speed like the gears of a machine, ordering the metal to move and, in doing so, speed up the natural slowness of the Dark Eye’s body.

The claws met the darkened steel of Chronos’ outlined uniform, unable to beat the dense metal that the Dark Eye had created around himself. A sharp clang issued, but Lykos was determined. The werewolf shifted its weight, getting underneath the dark warrior, and slamming a clawed foot against the front of Chronos’ pants, expecting to have struck a weak spot. Instead, a massive pang issued from inside the warrior’s uniform, and Lykos’ yellow slits widened with pain, realizing that Chronos was completely armored. Chronos then grabbed the free arm that was nearest to him, and twisted until he heard a snap, a howl filling the air once more, echoing through the snowy rooftops. Chronos threw Lykos back, and ran straight for the werewolf, his movements as fluid as water, and seemed to fly in midair as he slid across the surface of generated metal beneath his boots, lowering himself to a crouching position, and struck the exact same place he himself had been hit, only with a roundhouse kick going at about twenty miles an hour, with steel-toed boots.

Needless to say, there was a slight difference in the damage administered by the Dark Eye, and his prey. Lykos’ narrow, bright slits transformed into dinner dish mode, widening in pain. Its body went limp in front of Chronos, and the ebon knight took full advantage of it. As Lykos howled in pained agony, baring its savage fangs uselessly, the Dark Eye issued a shout of concentration, similar to a martial artist attacking, and slammed his other foot, which was weighed down with about two hundred pounds of additional, reinforced steel, and crushed through Lykos’ skull yet again, this time sending the werewolf flying without any recoil.

And the one object that Chronos was hoping to be in the direct flight pattern between Lykos and the brick wall of the nearest building, the one thing that could have made the combination attack even better, was. Snipes didn’t even have time to acknowledge the time between the kick Chronos gave the werewolf, and the next instant, when his trained pet smashed into him, and the back of his head hit solid brick wall. Chronos, if he understood satisfaction, would have experienced it in drones upon hearing the audible crunch of Snipes’ feeble human body meeting hardened wall under the werewolf’s much larger form, but unfortunately did not hear any bones snap.

 

[Power Shot]

Deciding that his task was completed, the Dark Eye turned his back, away from his two fallen opponents, contemplating his next course of action. He sensed that he should return to Raziya, make sure she got home safely, as being saved from attack against Lykos and Snipes was no guarantee of safety in the hard, cold streets of Zepther. He didn’t retract the metal outlining his body quite yet, detecting the breathing that was issuing from the bruised and beaten body of Snipes, underneath the ragged pants from Lykos, who’s healing factor could only do so much to soothe the pain it was going through. From what he could hear from Snipes, Chronos assumed the assassin would not be moving for at least twenty-four hours, two days tops. Lykos was not attacking, either from the attack Chronos had delivered, or because it had not been given the command to return to battle, ordered by some silent, unknown communication that Snipes used to stay where it was until it healed. Chronos heard it move a minute later, and only then it scampered weakly onto the wall, sinking its claws into the crumbling bricks of the building beside the cartoon-like imprint that was encasing Snipes’ body. The assassin’s head was down, the dyed red hair filled with dust, the azure eyes sullen and dark. Chronos dismissed them, seeing them in that pained state, deciding that, while it was a good idea to take them both into the police, it was better one to leave them out, until he found out what he wanted. And besides, they were beaten, outclassed, and unprepared, and Chronos disliked fighting lesser foes, sometimes refusing outright to fight feeble warriors. And from what Chronos had seen, Snipes was nowhere near done.

He didn’t turn back to them, instead using the back portion of the cowl he wore, the part which covered the back of his neck, right above where his coat began. “Snipes,” he hissed, his voice traveling over the battleground in a hushed whisper. In response to some unseen command, the werewolf began to help the assassin out of the hole, and threw its master over its back. Lykos didn’t move, however, as Snipes clearly wanted to speak to the Dark Eye. “I’ll let you go, this one time, Snipes. In exchange, you keep out of the public eye. Next time, when I win honorably, you tell me who sent you, and why. Otherwise, I take you both down again, and your quest comes to an end. Agreed?”

Snipes, despite being in a large amount of pain, started to widen his mouth into a grin, and Chronos noticed that several teeth were missing. He coughed. “Deal, Dark Eye,” he chuckled lightly, spitting some blood onto the ground. “But next time, don’t expect us to play nicely, okay?” Lykos stiffened in response to some command, and started hauling, shifting the English hit man over its shoulders, to keep him stable and comfortable as it traveled. Lykos hit the ground on the roof where Chronos stood, and snarled in anger at the Dark Eye, but made no move to attack. Chronos didn’t budge, not giving the werewolf the satisfaction of seeing him move. Lykos remained where it was for a moment, but a grunt from Snipes caused it to get moving, and it leapt up from where it was standing to a higher storey building, and was gone shortly after, vanishing into the snowy mists of Zepther’s shadowy night.

Slowly, the Dark Eye nodded his head to himself. “I never do,” Chronos whispered quietly to himself. He then retracted the metal outlining his outfit, slinking back into himself, his attire returning once more to perfect, seamless, midnight black, without a sole break or crease, save for the emerald eye that adorned his belt. “I never do,” he repeated to himself. Chronos decided to leave, his duty fulfilled. Lykos and Snipes had withdrawn for now, which was all he could count on right now from them. He walked carefully to the edge, stepping onto the ledge with one boot, then the other. He jumped forward to the opposite side Lykos had left from, and vanished into the shadows of the night, disappearing without a trace.

***​

“…One of these nights at about twelve o’clock…”

Carla the informant, the woman who knew and saw almost everything that went on in the whole city of Zepther, had never wanted to be an informant. Not once, when she looked back on her pathetic, meaningless life, had she ever seen herself working alongside someone, or something, like the Dark Eye. She had just wanted to survive and, she knew, by working with the ebon knight, she was guaranteed his protection, and all she wanted to do at this point was stay alive, to be of use to him.

Having grown up in the seedy darkness, the seeping despair, of downtown Zepther, one did what they had to do in order to survive, whatever it was they had to do. That was rule number one of the streets, for any and all who lived in the nooks and crannies of Zepther’s nether regions, the places where the average citizen would never go, the place where so many lived unhindered, unprotected. So Carla gladly accepted the Dark Eye’s offer to help him, because the alternative was far worse. She did what she had to in order to survive. To survive. Carla glanced around, her eyes trailing onto her trash can, the only thing she could honestly call her property without having stolen or hidden in it. The flickering embers warmed her little tonight, the flames burning brightly before her dulled eyes. When she had watched enough, she looked around the alleyway she had made her home in, and sighed, lowering her head. It could be worse, she thought. It could always be worse, as she stood there, slumped against the wall, singing the little song out loud into the snowy, cold, dark night.

“…This old bird’s gonna be good and drunk…”

Carla fished through her jacket, searching through many of the coat pockets, before she came across what she was looking for. Silently, with a deep regret in her eyes, she placed the edge of the cigarette into the flames, until it singed enough to get the rolled tobacco going. She could already smell the foul scent in the air, but didn’t care, as she raised it to her lips, and inhaled through the joint. The soothing puffs of black ash filled her lungs with its wholeness and peace from withdrawal pangs, and she exhaled, the swirling cloud of smoke a restful scent that made her gag slightly. She coughed, resting one hand on her chest, as the smoke vanished into the air, though her body still needed more. She hated smoking, she truly did. But she no longer had the power to resist the urges, the cravings, the hunger. It was the worse of her habits, one that she couldn’t bring herself to stop, a force of habit she could not control. Each day, in the morning, she quit smoking, and each day, right before noon, she resumed it. In her other hand, the amber bottle hung loosely within the clutches of her frail, tired fingertips.

“…Thanks be your temple and holler me…”

Her emerald eyes darted around a moment later, a change noticeable in their gleam. She was suddenly alive, her eyes sparkling as she looked through the darkness before her. She felt she was no longer alone, and this feeling was confirmed when the shadows flickered in front of her, signaling her employer had returned from his nightly hunt. Quickly, she finished the cigarette, its burning tip almost down to the butt in her mouth. The shadows remained silent, but Carla could sense the even breathing of its concealed warrior, and exactly how long he would wait for her to complete satisfying her urges. Done, she threw the rest of it into the can, fueling the never-ending fire. She relaxed even further, slinking her way down to the ground, her back rested against the firm brick of the building behind her.

She pushed back some of her matted and disorganized hair, batting away the red locks to stare through the darkness, her green eyes finding the other’s own green eye, which stood out in the darkness as his symbol. Why he had chosen an eye as his symbol, Carla would never know, as she waited for the one that called Chronos, the Dark Eye. Try as he might, Carla was never surprised by his appearances, she was always able to tell where he was, find him in the darkness he so very much enjoyed cloaking himself in, no matter how quiet the Dark Eye tried to be. Carla always found him.

“…’Cause the Lord is coming with his divine gleam…”

“Guess again,” the darkness before her issued, the harsh growl of the ebon knight making itself known to her, as if he didn’t know she knew he was there. “I’m not Him.” Carla chuckled, that was practically a joke compared to how he normally spoke. She lowered the song to a light humming, relaxing in the presence of the dark demon. “Did you find anything?” Carla had to give it to the Dark Eye, he was always, always prompt and directly to the point. Unlike most superheroes, the fake kinds in comic books and overpriced movies, Chronos wasted very little time. In fact, few conversations Carla had with the Dark Eye lasted longer than four minutes, because he was always gone when he had what he wanted. Chronos left when he was ready to leave, and did not wait for others when he could be out in the world, pursuing his own leads. The dark voice had stopped from his cowl, but Carla still felt its echo. The Dark Eye barely had to speak above a whisper, yet his voice carried in the snowy silence of the night, through the dark alleyway, but stopping before anyone else’s ear.

Her eyes flickered, and the woman nodded. She had found something today, listening through the grapevine that circulated Zepther and always returned to her when she wanted information. “Yeah, Metalhead. I got a little info for you.” She smiled, displaying her teeth, ruined by time and her habits, stained a discolored yellow all over. Chronos didn’t notice, she knew, or even care. “Someone was going up and down the streets today, asking everyone for the shop Comic Central. You know that one, don’t you? The one where they sell your comics. Everyone in Zepther knows where that shop is located, so I decided he must have been an out-of-towner.”

Chronos remained silent for a moment, processing the information into his head. “Physical description,” he ordered, knowing that there was more.

She sighed, trying to bring the picture that hobo on second street had given her. She knew anything he could ever need to know, but she had her own connections. “Uh, let’s see,” she pondered, raising the tip of her finger to her mouth, raising her eyes to the sky. “Tall, and dark. A thin black guy, probably in his twenties. Bald, and wearing sunglasses. He was wearing a giant overcoat, with sweat pants.” The shadows did not answer for some time, leaving the girl wondering what the problem was. “Does that help any?” she asked the darkness.

“No.” The Dark Eye finally spoke. “That isn’t him,” he answered coldly. “Keep in touch, in case I need you again. I am going to look up some information on my own.” With that, Carla felt the shadows withdraw around her, giving the woman a sense of emptiness the likes of which the cold of Zepther could never accomplish , the shadows fading away to nothing more than the ebon night, devoid of space or personification. He was gone, vanished to wherever it was he vanished to when he left her. He hadn’t said thanks tonight, but she didn’t expect to hear it every time he arrived. Kept her humble. She didn’t mind it; Chronos saying thanks like expecting a dog to ask for your dinner in a cockney accent. The Dark Eye, she knew by now, was not human, and didn’t know what it was like to be human, so she could never really expect a human’s thanks. Whatever the ebon warrior was, Carla couldn’t seem to help herself, and always stood slightly in awe when the shadows receded, despite her somewhat lax attention when he was standing before her.

She yawned. “Night, Metalhead,” she murmured, always having the last word in their conversations. She looked down at the contents of her bottle, which was about half-empty, the brown liquid’s surface shaking round whenever she moved the bottle. Shrugging, she raised it to her lips, the cheap hooch tricking down her throat, burning her tongue and the back of her mouth with alcohol. She only drank a little, conserving the drink, due to the fact that her reward money from the Dark Eye was still five days away. She looked around the alleyway, considering her options in the sleep department for the rest of the night. She really did hate the cold around her.

She hated a lot of things.

Above her, the Dark Eye whisked across the rooftops, aided once more by the dark metal he had created in his heels. With another leap, he cleared a five storey building, heading resoundingly back where he had come from. Lykos and Snipes, he sensed, would not be bothering him any further tonight. He was safe now, and needed to be somewhere. His investigations were going to have to wait.

Word Count- 10,690​

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 06: Evacuation

Raziya bolted.

Her heart ran wild within her chest, pounding like a jackhammer inside her ribcage. As the adrenaline ran rampart through her veins, she heard the shriek of howling inside the alleyway, as the werewolf prepared to extract its vengeance against the Dark Eye. She could hear the roars, and grunts, as Chronos battled, until she had obtained enough distance from the fight, and the cries of war fell silent to her ears. She could barely think, her head a blur, as she ran through the dark city, its blazing signs and traffic lights contrasting the snowy concrete she rushed through, lost in the void of confusion the battle had launched her into, unable to concentrate on anything save what had happened, that the fact that her simple desire to give chocolate to her secret crush had transformed into a life-or-death struggle for the Dark Eye. Amidst her confusion, her eye darted round frantically, searching for a sign, anything, that could tell her where she was, lost in an unknown piece of Zepther.

Her eyes panicked, worried beyond all belief, having absolutely no idea where she was. She watched the traffic, the high lights of the cars blazing in front of her flashing before vanishing into the streets, only to be replaced by yet another wave of buses and vehicles in the never-ending cycle of traffic and confusion that were the streets of Zepther. As a last resort, she ran straight for the one safe place she could see at a time like this, even though it really wasn’t a safe place at all if one didn’t know what one was doing. But she saw no alternative, and needed to get home.

Raz made a wild dash for a cab that happened to be waiting at a red light. The yellow cab was right at the head of the traffic, so she threw open the door, panting, and seated herself inside the cushiony confines. The seats were covered in some sort of plastic wrap, but she didn’t care. It was solace from the outside world she wanted, not comfortable seating.

Zepther’s public transportation, which consisted mainly of buses and taxi services, was excellent, probably one of the best in the country. They were always prompt, rarely late, and there were few drivers in the service that could not handle city-wide disasters, such as the robot attack months back. The only thing that could be said against the taxi she was sitting in was the fact that it had an overpowering smell of cats wafting around it, despite the clear vacancy of any felines. Ignoring the scent, Raz slammed the door behind her, as it was the only taxi she could see that didn’t have anyone else inside. She wanted to be alone. She normally had a slight aversion to driving in Zepther, even though the accident rate was surprisingly low, but it was the quickest way she could think of to get home.

The only other person in the cab was, of course, the driver himself. When the door opened, and then shut itself rather quickly, making sure the cold didn’t penetrate the heat of the cab the driver preferred, the driver turned round to take a look at his passenger. He was a large man, more belly than man, with some of his flab falling out of the bottom of his wife beater shirt. A pale green coat covered his massive, beefy shoulders, which was in no way suitable for the cold of the night. His head was bald, and clearly waxed, for the woman could see her reflection in the front of his head, below the dark cap he was wearing. He sat in silence for a moment, waiting for instructions, but when the light started to change, he spoke.

“Where ya headed, ma’am?” he asked, in a gruff, but friendly voice, as he turned round in his chair, telling his passenger with his tone that he was more than happy to drop her off where she wanted to go, but needed to know so he could take her there, then clock off for the night. As he drove through the traffic, he could hear the woman sniffling, sobbing very indiscreetly into her gloves. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw that tears were falling from her face.

In between her sobs, she must have heard his question, because he heard her say in a small, mousy voice, “Take me home,” murmuring into her hands. With that, she slumped herself against the glass of the window on the door. As he drove, the cab driver scratched his head in confusion.

He shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am,” he answered carefully, seeing how the woman was clearly upset, “but I don’t exactly know where yer home is. Do ya…have an address or something’ I could follow?”

She looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” She stopped crying, raising her head from the door long enough to remember where exactly she had wanted to be taken to. “Think you can head to 322 High Street?” she asked, before sinking back into her seat, still feeling the steady stream of adrenaline coursing through her body, increasing her inability to sit still. The driver nodded, he knew where the address was, having gone there before on the release dates of the comics. He focused on the complex maze that were the treacherous streets of the dark city, navigating through the swamp of traffic like a pro.

The Dark Eye had saved her again, in the nick of time as always. Chronos had risked everything for her, to defend her against the monster werewolf. Even though Raz had never once seen the ebon knight hurt in any way, shape, or form, Raz knew who the blame fell on that they had found him. The monster had found Chronos because of her, because if he hadn’t stopped as long as he had, the monster wouldn’t have had enough time to attack, wouldn’t have found him if it wasn’t for her, and it hurt her that she had done something like that, put herself and Chronos in danger. She knew, or hoped she knew, that he would win, he always did, because the Dark Eye had clearly been holding back, refusing to go all out because she was there. Now, she sensed, he would be cutting loose, holding nothing back.

She shook her head, feeling the guilt welling up inside her. It had still been her fault, no matter what kind of spin she tried to place on it. It was still her fault, and nothing she could think of would make that knowledge a lesser burden on her heart.

Raziya Urashima had lived a pretty good life, when she considered everything her life had been. Sure, she had gotten into mischief when she was younger, and she loved teasing Toby with Allyson, but she always tried to do things based upon her morals. One of those morals was that she was always honest with herself, to be true no matter what happened to her. And the truth about herself right now was that she had not only placed herself in mortal danger, something she had figured would happen anyway by confessing to the Dark Eye. She was beginning to feel like a Lois Lane, trapped in the same circle as all the comic book women who loved the heroes, placed in danger just because she had feelings for the Dark Eye. What exactly was so dangerous and so wrong about loving a superhero she would never know, the woman thought grimly, staring out of the frost-tinted window, watching the bright lights whiz past her eyes. She was trapped in the circle, the endless cycle from which, for her, there would be no escape.

The cab arrived a little while later at High Street, leaning towards the curb as it neared 322. The driver, looking around one final time to make sure he had the right place, glanced once at the meter, before turning around in his seat to announce they had arrived. “This is 322 High Street.” The woman, lost in her thoughts, failed to notice him the first time, slumped against the door on the left side. The driver frowned, wondering if there really was something wrong with her, and flicked the glass window in between where he was sitting, and where she was slumped. She flinched slightly at the noise, but woke up from wherever it was she had been, and looked up at him. “We’re here, ma’am,” he said, double checking the meter by glancing back. “That’ll be 10.50.” He smiled patiently as she reached into her pockets, fishing out her wallet from one of the coats she was wearing. She opened it, and produced three bills, handing it through the small opening in between the window, three fives.

He counted the crisp bills, and nodded his head. “Thank ya, ma’am,” the driver said, staring at the bills. “Give me a sec’.” With that, one hand trailed down to a compartment next to the CD player, opening it to display a large quantity of cash bills. He tucked them into a small tray marked “5’s,” and pulled out two quarters and four singles, obtaining the needed change for her. His task completed, he turned back to hand her the cash, but found her already opening the door.

She shrugged away the money. “Keep the change,” she muttered, halfway out of the cab. She didn’t need the money, she needed to get home.

The driver’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thank ye, ma’am,” he replied, astonished. But his happy face quickly faded away when he saw her face, her torn looks. She really looked hurt by something, but the driver couldn’t guess what. “Rough night?” he asked instead. She stopped just before closing the door, and put her head in the cab again.

She nodded sadly, her tears falling from her face. “Yeah, you could say that,” she murmured softly, her eyes staring at the snowy ground below.

He answered by inclining his head, tipping his cap as he did so. “Try not to let it get’cha down, ‘kay? There’s plenty of things to be sad ‘bout, but crying ain’t gonna help ya none.” With that, he tipped his cap a final time, and the door closed with Raz’s touch. The driver swung the wheel, and drove off into the streets, soon becoming nothing more than a blur once more in the endless void of traffic.

Alone and isolated, Raziya found herself on High Street, looking through the dim light at her closed shop on the corner. She wanted, or needed, to go upstairs, where Toby Green would be, like he always was when Raz needed him. She needed him now, right now, considering the things that had happened. Toby was her best friend, after Mullen and Allyson, but he was what was needed right now. Mullen would be too high-strung, and insist on a police report and search, probably complain to the Dark Eye or something. Allyson would just freak. Toby never panicked, except under very special conditions, like when she walked in on him showering, but crisis was never a reason for Toby Green to panic. Well, she thought, bringing forth a happy memory, Allyson did sometimes qualify as crisis to Toby. She tried to force herself to laugh at her small joke, but was unable to for some reason, the sound fading, then dying, on her lips.

Huddling in her many coats, Raz started to walk up to her apartment, the cold air striking hard against her pale skin. Deciding that she desperately needed to speak with Toby, she slowly moved forward, noticing by now that her left leg hurt, shooting pangs through her muscles when she walked. Limping lightly, she opened the door to the apartment building with a small ring of keys retrieved from her jacket. The door was a little stiff in her hands, but she got it opened, and shut out the cold of the night. She looked up, seeing the solitary stairwell leading up to her small home, the one she shared on the third floor with Toby, and started to hobble forward, her hands gripping the rail on the stairs so hard her knuckles were white, clutching it for dear life.

As she neared the third floor, Raz fell, losing her balance finally just as she neared the last few stairs, falling into the corridor. She hurt her hip, and grunted in pain, the whole of her left side now stinging with pain. Tears streaming, but not from the pain, she crawled her way to the door, shaking all the way. She lifted herself long enough to stand, and unlocked her apartment door, the sounds coming from her mouth not unlike a mouse, which was about as big as she felt. Shutting the door behind her, she started to limp towards the bedroom Toby living in, where he was sleeping, the small room on the opposite side of the living room. Walking forward, she grasped the knob in her shivering fingers, and opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking as it moved.

She squinted in the dim lighting of the apartment, and her heart sank to the ground, literally, as she collapsed, unable to support herself any further. The emotional stress, and physical pain, was growing too hard for her lithe body. But she had had it, staring into the darkness of Toby’s room. He wasn’t there. That thought echoed through her mind, turning the wheels in her head. She was alone, her roommate and employee gone to who-knows-where. Maybe he was with some other woman, instead of comforting her like he was supposed to. Like he should be, even though Raz knew that was a lie. Toby wasn’t bound to her, but she still needed him.

“Toby…” she sobbed, her voice falling to a frail whisper, as she crunched up into the fetal position on the hardwood floor, her tears leaking onto the wood. He wasn’t there, waiting for her, like he always was, like he should be, like a friend would be. She curled up on the floor, shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. Her head hurt, her mind a sprawling train wreck, her body hurt, harmed even though the Dark Eye had tried to help her. She needed release.

Then the door burst open.

***​

Tobias Green rushed up the stairs, seeing the trail of water that led up to his apartment. His face was in a tight pinch of worry, his jaws clenched, his brows arched over his sunglasses, as he approached the third floor, his boots clunking loudly against the hard floors beneath him. He thought he saw blood on the stairwell, and quickened his pace. Frantically, he grabbed his key from his jacket, and jammed it into the lock, opening the door and rushing into the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

He was a mess, his whole body soaked with melted snow. His hair was limp, no longer held up by some unknown means as water soaked through its bulk, some of it trailing over his glasses and on his face, the dark red, almost auburn color losing its luster and sheen out of concern, somewhat dull. His red jacket was wet, his gloves covered in fallen snow. His pants were soaked, having fallen into the snow as he ran back to the apartment, his green shirt clinging rather tightly to his muscular waist.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, taken aback slightly by Raz’s appearance. She was a mess, clearly in some sort of emotional turmoil. She was on the floor, bundled into a tight ball, and clutching herself, shaking uncontrollably. She didn’t even react to when he arrived, confirming what he had thought. Without any further hesitation, he rushed for her, kneeling over her like a worried parent, and touched her shoulder. She shivered some more, but otherwise made no further action. Tobias took a deep breath, and hoisted her up, picking her up delicately from her shoulders, cradling her in his arms. Her eyes were closed, sealed shut against the world. Tobias needed to bring her back.

“Ms. Urashima!” he exclaimed, shaking her lightly in his arms to wake her. “Ms. Urashima!” He was panting, his brows arching even further above his glasses in concern and worry. His face, therefore, was full of relief and happiness when his employer opened her eyes wildly in response to his call, her dark irises flashing up at him, seeing the terrified face of her strong man staring back down at her through his sunglasses.

“…Toby?” she answered, still in a light daze. Her head hurt terribly, and her body was still wracked with pain. But she could see him, and he was there now. Everything, she sensed, would be alright now.

Tobias nodded his head vigorously and, with the greatest of care, picked her up. Cradling her gently in his arms, her back supported by his left arm, her legs by his right, the giant carried her to her bed, barely bothering with the doorknob. He crouched, grabbing it with part of his left hand, and tugged it open. Carefully, so as not to hurt her, Tobias placed her down onto her bed. He hesitated, but decided that Raz’s health was more important than his own modesty, and so removed her wet layers, leaving on her shirt and a pair of pants she had on underneath the numerous jackets and the snow pants she had on, which were the only things not completely soaked by the snow outside. Covering her instead with the warm blankets of her bed, and propping her head against the pillows, Tobias tossed the wet garments to the floor.

“Stay right here,” he whispered to her, “I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her, but she needed some attention. She was in shock, her body quivering underneath the quilts he had placed on her. Quickly, he ran towards the kitchen. He almost broke a glass, in his haste, but thankfully grabbed it before it collided with the floor. Cursing softly, the big man turned to the fridge, pressing hard on the nozzle attachment, sending water pouring into the glass. He grabbed a box of Tylenol from the cabinet, and took out a pill from it. These in hand, he rushed back to the room, and thankfully saw that Raz had not moved from where he had placed her.

“Drink,” he ordered, raising the glass’ tip to her lips. She didn’t at first, some of the liquid dribbling onto the sheets, but Tobias was insistent, and she started to reluctantly drink from the cup. A minute later, she swallowed the pill he gave her. He didn’t leave her side, not a moment afterwards, just helping her sip the water. He didn’t ask her about what had happened, deciding to wait until Raz was ready to talk to him about it. When she had finished the glass halfway, and it was halfway filled, she convulsed once again into tears, weeping freely. Tobias sat next to him on her bed, wrapping her in his powerful arms, and holding her tightly against his body.

He nodded. “It’s okay,” he whispered to her, sensing that his already-dampened shirt was getting a new wave of water, as tears fell onto his shirt from her. He didn’t mind it, she needed to do what she needed to do. “It’s okay…” His gloved hands brushed her ebony hair out of her eyes, trying to keep her as calm as humanly possible. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Ms. Urashima?” He wanted to know, so that he could help her.

She nodded into his chest, her sobs stopping shortly after. “Promise you’ll listen, Toby?” she asked, recalling that Tobias had a short attention span, and didn’t exactly have the best memory. He smiled, and nodded, glad to see she was doing better. Taking a deep breath, Raziya told him, sparing no detail, of her adventures with the Dark Eye that night: confessing to him, the struggle it took to own up to her own feelings; the attack, which was her own fault, simply because of how she felt about him; the rescue, and escape, as Chronos boldly defended her against the werewolf who had assaulted them. Tobias didn’t speak, refusing to interrupt, though he had his questions, because it would be easier for Raziya to just finish her story, instead of bombarding her with questions in between the story. There would be time for that later, when and if she was better.

The story took about an hour or so, but Tobias didn’t waver, waiting until she was finished. When she had died down for a moment, Tobias filed away the information he had been given, and searched through it to find anything that could hear up Raz. “So…” Tobias tried to get the words out in a positive sense, which was pretty hard, considering what she had been through, “you saw him right? He appeared to you. The Dark Eye.” She hiccupped, and nodded. “What was he like?”

Raz lifted her head from his chest. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, perplexed by the question. “You know what he’s like. I know you read the comics, and they pretty much tell what he’s like through those. Don’t you pay attention when you read?”

Tobias grinned, and shook his head. “Yeah, I read the books, but those are just stories for the public, you know?” Raz shook her head, she didn’t know. “We really don’t know what he’s like, or we don’t know exactly who or what he is. To have been with him, spoken with him, confessing to him. That can’t be the same, or it can’t generate the same effect as actually being with him. The comic can only do so much to give us an idea of what he’s like.” He chuckled, and looked down at her, smiling because she had, at least, stopped her shivering and crying. “So…what’s the big guy like?”

“Well…” Raz stopped, taking her time to describe the Dark Eye, before the attack, when he was all hers for those brief minutes. “He’s…nothing like you’ve ever felt before, Toby. We talk about him so much, like he’s not even here, watching us, but you have no idea, what he’s really like.” Tobias nodded, urging her to continue. “He’s so tall, like a cast shadow, like darkness incarnate.” She raised her hand to touch the glove Tobias wore, and giggled. “I got to touch him, with these hands. His body is like hardened steel, whenever I felt him, it felt like the cold of the night. But he was so calm, so utterly in control of himself, when we were speaking. And he’s gentle! Did you know that, Toby?”

At this, Tobias laughed. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “Our superhero is gentle? I think we should file a complaint to the comic editors and make him have a puppy!” Raz cracked up, laughing with him.

“Stop it, Toby!” Raz chocked out, slapping her knee with her good arm. “He’s not that gentle! He did take down that…werewolf…” Suddenly, she stopped laughing, seeing the snarling face of the demonic beast in her mind’s eye. “Sorry, Toby. Guess it still hurts a little bit. Laughter can’t fix everything…”

Tobias nodded, understanding, though the grin remained up on his face. “Maybe not, Ms. Urashima, but I bet it comes in handy when you’re down. You’re not crying anymore.” Raz smiled, and nodded her head. Then a thought came to Tobias, one that made him worry when he thought of it. “Ms. Urashima, what if…they come after you?”

Raz’s eyes perked up. “Who are you talking about? Who would come after me?”

Tobias suddenly turned serious, no longer looking straight at her, but looking to the other side of the room, his face completely controlled panic. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “That werewolf thing you talked about, and the man who owns it. Do you think they might come after you?” It was Tobias’ turn to grow tense, his gloved hand over Raz’s. “They probably know who you are, or the can find out who you are.” He took another breath to steady himself. “If you’re close to Chronos, and they want him, do you think they would go as far as to get to the woman that loves him?”

Raz perched herself up against the headboard, deciding to no longer drape herself on her employee, and settled her back on the headboard, sitting next to Tobias, buried in the protective hold of his arm, leaning into his shoulder. “I don’t know, Toby,” she answered, shaking her head from side to side. “I didn’t really think that far about it, so I honestly don’t know. Maybe, if they really wanted him that bad, they’d do that whole ‘Trade your woman for yourself’ deal that you read about in the comics.”

Tobias nodded, agreeing with her. “Bad guys really don’t tend to play nicely with guys in spandex,” he wisely said, mimicking the tone of a sage. Then he stopped, wondering something he hadn’t wondered before. “He wears spandex, doesn’t he? I thought all the supers wore spandex, like the Starbolts…” Raz laughed out loud, despite herself, as Tobias started into a whole lecture about the difference between spandex and other types of hero garments. She shook her head, clutching her sides from laughter.

She stopped him right before the tighty-whity part of the speech, unable to control herself any further. “No.” Raz lifted a finger, emphasizing her point. “He does not wear spandex. It’s some kind of body armor, like Kevlar or something.” Tobias rolled his eyebrows, because Raz couldn’t see into his glasses, with the air of someone who did not believe her.

Tobias grinned; Raziya was feeling better about what had happened, the best thing about what had happened. It was almost two in the morning, but neither was really thinking about sleep after what had happened. Just as they settled into a nice, quiet sit, where neither spoke nor moved, but simply enjoyed one another’s company, a sound issued through the apartment that shouldn’t have issued so late.

The phone was ringing, that annoying noise that Tobias pleaded to have changed every time someone called ringing through the apartment.

Tobias looked up, somewhat mystified by the emergence of a third party to his conversation with Raziya. But the phone was still ringing, the horrible noise entering his ears. “Should I…get that?” he asked, looking towards her for permission. Raz nodded, and Tobias stood up from the bed, wondering who could be calling at two in the morning, and what they could want with Raz. For a wild moment, he thought it was the monster that Raz talked about, the werewolf that had attacked her, and considered running back to her, but didn’t. Checking the caller ID, he breathed a sigh of relief that it was only Allyson, a much less severe threat. Wondering why Allyson would be calling so late, the big man picked up the phone, clicked it on, and placed it to his ear.

“Urashima Residence, this is Tobias Green” he stated, just as he always did when he answered the phone. “What’s up, Ms. Heart?” He barely got the words out before a static shriek across the line knocked him to the ground, comic style, as Allyson Heart requested to speak with Raz in the most calm way possible, by blowing out the big man’s eardrums. When he recovered from the sonic blast, Tobias lurched back to his feet, switching ears while rubbing the one Allyson had shouted into, it had stopped working for some reason.

“Let me talk to Raziya!” she demanded, expressing herself once more. Tobias grabbed the wall as his ear was invaded. “I’ve got big news!” When Tobias reassessed his balance within his inner ear, and stood up again, he nodded his head, now holding the phone several feet away from himself.

“Just a second!” he answered in the direction of the phone, walking back to the bedroom, with a slight stagger. “Ms. Urashima, Ms. Heart is on the phone, wanting to speak to you. I think it’s urgent or something, because my ear’s gonna have a break for a while.” Raz laughed, watching him grab onto his ear in pain.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her, big guy,” she answered, beckoning him forward with her hand. Tobias almost threw the phone at her, in his haste to search for something to soothe the aches that were now manifesting themselves in his ear canal. Raz cackled into the phone as he limped away, clutching his head, and turned to her friend. “Allyson, what’s up? Why are you calling me so late?”

“I needed to tell ya something!” Tobias could hear her voice from the other room, Raz was somehow able to defeat the pain that wracked his ears, because she was casually gripping the phone in her right hand, her elbow propped up against her knee. “My ticket finally came in!” This was followed by, as far as Tobias could tell, a massive shriek from Raziya, which knocked him off his feet, and caused small, domestic animals in the streets and neighboring apartments to howl and hiss en masse.

“It did?” Suddenly, Raziya transformed in Tobias’ eyes, changing from the scared woman she had been an hour before, into Allyson Heart. He contemplated this transformation for precisely one second, when a tackle-hug from Raziya sent him flying off his feet, and onto the hardwood floors, with a screaming and celebrating woman hugging him tightly. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Tobias was terrified. “What is going on?” he asked, as calmly as he could with one woman blaring through a telephone in his general direction, and another clinging to him so tightly he was fighting for breath, which wasn’t a very calming situation. “What kind of ticket are you talking about?”

Raz was laughing into the phone with Allyson, formulating plans that somehow involved his name and traveling. He didn’t get the entire details from her, but was also unable to move from the unbearably loud noises that the women were somehow able to make. Tobias managed to free his right arm after about five minutes of being trapped under Raz’s body, which was a strange sight considering the difference in size between the employee and employer. Tobias was strong, so he took his time, so as not to hurt Raz any more than she had been that night, though her injuries seemed to have miraculously healed in the presence of Allyson’s call.

“Got it,” Raz was saying into the telephone, nodding her head as she did so. “Meet us downstairs tomorrow with the car and everything. Toby and I don’t own one…Mullen? I think he has to work, right?…Okay, Toby will take the third spot…See ya tomorrow…No, closing the shop won’t be a problem…Bye!” She clicked off the phone and, immediately afterwards, crushed Tobias in an embrace, straining the man’s midsection. “Yay! We’re going! We’re going!”

Tobias, in fear of another Allyson-like assault, attempted to break free from her grasp, and was once again surprised by her incredible strength. She remained latched, laughing like a schoolgirl, face buried into his chest, cheering for something he had absolutely no idea about. After about two minutes, his cherub-like demeanor broke, and he raised himself into a half-sitting position on the floor, rubbing his neck.

“All right,” he demanded, looking down at Raz who had, of course, reverted to the little girl mode she and Allyson both adopted when excited. “What’s going on that merits me being treated like a living rag doll?” Struggling for breath, he finally released himself from Raz’s grasp, crawling backwards across the floor, trying to get as far away as possible from bizzaro-Raz, who had a devilish grin on her face, and was crawling her way on all fours in his general direction. “No, Ms. Urashima…”

“…Toby…” she hissed shaking her hair out of her eyes, “…got a little job for you…” Tobias immediately began to panic. At any time, when he was informed by Raz that she “had a job” for him, it was to be taken as the worst possible news he could receive. Raz’s “jobs” were either one of three things, all of which had their own consequences depending on which she decided to inflict on him. They ranged from: A, moving things, which he basically did everyday, and was able to tolerate it as long as it involved work, as Raz had more than once tried to get him to carry her everywhere; B, going to Allyson’s house to walk her to the comic shop or wherever she needed to go, which was the single greatest challenge known to man, as Allyson was a clinger regardless of who it was she clung to; and C, which involved a combination of both the above options, which was even more terrifying than just about anything else.

Raz leered at him, winking. “How good is your skiing, Toby?” she asked slowly.

“Huh?”

***​

 

[Power Shot]

Tobias, handling the precious cargo with care, began the loading of clothing and ski gear into the little automobile that Allyson owned. He wasn’t exactly sure of the make, it was some kind of Ford, or something. The sun had barely risen on the horizon, but Tobias was still fresh and ready, and lugging about a hundred pounds worth of clothing into the trunk of the little, silver-gray car. Tobias himself had only brought about three changes of clothes, but the women, for some reason unbeknownst to him, had decided to bring entire wardrobes to the resort. Tobias still didn’t have the exact details, but apparently Allyson had gotten a call the night before from her office, telling her that the lotto ticket she had purchased had won her a trip for three to some ski resort on some mountain in some part of northern Michigan. Again, the details were vague, but Raz and Allyson seemed to know everything there was to know about the resort. Tobias was only coming to fill in the third slot, as Mullen needed to work, so he only brought the absolute necessities, such as snow pants, a parka, and a few other things. He was going to rent out some stuff when he got there, but Allyson and Raz had all their gear.

Tobias opened the trunk of the slim, narrow vehicle, wondering how he was going to get the luggage into the car. He had already made the arrangements for the store, namely posting a vacation notice on the door, which would no doubt generate anger amongst the nerds of Zepther, but Raz wanted a vacation, and Tobias thought it couldn’t possibly come at a more opportune time. She needed, he sensed, to get out of the city, even though she was doing better. The werewolf and the hit man could still be after her, he thought, his hands clenching into fists. Since they were leaving the city, she would probably be safe from harm, but if they came, he would defend her. Chronos probably wouldn’t leave the city to protect her, so it was up to him.

“I’ll watch over her, Dark Eye,” he promised, looking up at the sky, the bright light refracting against his sunglasses, and he quickly averted his gaze from the sun. He nodded once, then started to head towards the luggage, popping open the trunk with one arm. Grunting, he grasped both of his friends’ suitcases, heaving them into the back of the car. They took up about half the space, and Tobias hadn’t even grabbed the skis yet. He had decided it would be a good idea to tie them to the roof of the car, as they wouldn’t fit inside. Tobias then took up his small duffel bag, with his small amount of gear, and tossed it in with the rest of their apparel. Tobias slammed the back of the car into place, and set about getting the cables necessary for latching the ski equipment to the top of the car, untangling them from the awkward way Allyson had handed them to him. To the best of his knowledge, both women were in the apartment, drinking coffee and waiting for him to finish packing.

“Ah, great…” he muttered, twisting his way through the cables. It looked as though Allyson hadn’t used the cords for several months, but after much grueling work, and some minor stares from onlookers as he forced the cables apart, he managed to separate them, and shouted in triumph to the street. Throwing them to the ground, Tobias checked the watch on his wrist, which informed him that it was well past nine. “They’re going to kill me if I don’t show some hustle.” Quickly, he placed the two pairs of skis to the top of the car, and used the cables to firmly ground them to the top. “I think that should cover it.” Clapping his fists together, he smiled, his job done.

Tobias locked the car once more, and started to jog back upstairs to where they were waiting for him. The plan was, as far as he had been told, to head out as soon as he could finish packing the car. He had just turned the corner of the building when a large amount of people stood up as one, in front of the store, and began to walk towards the big man, clearly unhappy about the store’s unexpected vacation.

One of them, a tubby teen with a very obvious acne problem, stood in front of the mini mob, apparently the designated leader, and sniffed his giant, bulbous nose in Tobias’ direction. Tobias stopped, and placed his gloved hands in his pockets, looking down at the little kid. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked, looking down at the nerd, who was about a foot shorter than he was.

The nerd pushed his glasses to the rim of his nose, his massive mouth opening as he spoke, to reveal giant teeth, covered in braces. “Why ain’t the store open today, Stocky?” he asked, referring to Tobias by the unfriendly nickname that some of the customers of Comic Central tended to refer to him as. “It’s Monday, and we want some Metalhead comics.”

Tobias shook his head politely. “I am afraid Ms. Urashima has closed the store today for a slight sabbatical out of the city. The store will be open again shortly, however, so you may return in a few days.” This did not change the group’s reaction, so Tobias offered a small, apologetic smile. “I am sorry, but those are Ms. Urashima’s orders.”

The leader took a step forward. “We want some comics now, Stocky, so open up the store for us.” The group chorused his retort, but Tobias’ expression did not change, remaining as cheerful as possible in the face of a horrendous nerd beat down.

“I am afraid I am going to ask you all to leave,” he stated, as the nerd leader took a step forwards. The large man stepped back. “Right now.”

The nerd looked him up and down, then laughed to his friends. “So…what do you think you’re going to do about it, Stocky?” He took a second step forward, to prove his point, because his opponent took another step back. “You don’t look so tough.”

At this, Tobias’ brow perked. Now, while Tobias did not work out as much as he should, due to his prior responsibilities and commitments, he was by no means a pansy. Tobias wore baggy clothing, which did wonders when it came to hiding his body from others. Tobias, unlike many other people, didn’t like people knowing exactly how ripped he was beneath the shirt and pants. Even his coat was designed to cover his muscles. And Tobias didn’t like displaying his strength to others, but he was considering making an exception in this case.

“I am going to ask you all to leave now,” he repeated, shaking his head. “If not, I will call the proper authorities on loitering charges.” His duty to warn them completed, Tobias began to walk forward, but was stopped as he passed the leader, who grabbed him roughly on his arm.

“Just let us have the comic,” the nerd warned, his tone rising to borderline threatening. “We can’t wait for three or four days for Urashima to get herself in gear and open it again! You’re here, so open it and let us in quickly!” The others nodded in unison, unable to understand exactly why Tobias was refusing them.

“It is not up to me if the store opens or not, that lies with Ms. Urashima.” He tugged his arm, and the nerd released him abruptly. Tobias started walking again, lowering his head to stare at the ground through his shades. “If I let you in, I would have to let everyone in. I can’t do that, so don’t get angry because you didn’t come yesterday. The comic isn’t going to get any worse if you can have it for another few days. Be patient.” Tobias sensed that this wasn’t going to be the end of the matter, and was soon proven right, as the nerd leader decided that he could not wait three or four more days for Raz to open up the store.

A sharp noise rang out through the street as bone met muscle, and muscle won. The sound vaguely resembled bone bruising in response to hitting something rather sharp or hard. The nerd who decided he could not wait slammed his fist hard against the small of Tobias’ back. Newton’s laws came into action, proving once more that, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The knuckles came into contact with the hardened muscles of Tobias’ body, with victory going to the big man’s body. Tobias barely noticed as the nerd went flying backwards from the backlash of the attack, tears coming to his eyes from the intense pain he started to feel in his hand.

Tobias didn‘t turn around, but stood with his back facing the gaggle of nerds, now clustered around their injured leader, staring at Tobias in disbelief. “Leave. Now.” That was the end of the debate, as the entire group decided it was a better idea to listen to him this time. Tobias turned his head back to them, his mouth a thin line, and the group dispersed in an instant, vanishing into the snow covered streets. The big man looked up, and stared at the clear sky above him, the pure blue mixed with clouds of white. “It’s gonna be a good day,” he declared, before starting up the stairs, whistling a bright tune to himself lightly, unlocking the door with his key, and heading to the apartment. The day looked progressively better in comparison to the night before. True, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, but that didn’t mean much to him, being an insomniac. He normally just needed three hours at most, which was balanced by the ten hours that Raz usually slept, except on Sundays, when the number jumped to twelve.

Which was why he was not surprised to see Raz and Allyson passed out over the table when he opened the door, and entered the room. He chuckled lightly to himself, closing the door silently behind himself, crossing his arms as he made his way towards them. He was in a rare position of power, one that he could use to get back at the two women for the chocolate incident the night before. He debated what to do silently in his mind, selecting between two possible scenarios. He could either scare them by waking them abruptly, or he could hide the car downstairs, and inform them that it had been stolen. His chuckle turned into a small cackle, and he broke into a small grin.

He chose neither option, and decided to walk up to Raz, and crouch over where she was passed out, snoozing, and shook her lightly to wake her on the shoulder. He smiled as her eyes fluttered, and she woke calmly, issuing a massive yawn that made the walls creak slightly. Allyson woke in response to this noise, and Tobias chuckled, crossing his arms as the two women rose to a sitting position on their cushions. “Sleep well, ladies?” he asked, arching his brows in unison with a larger grin.

They knew exactly what he was thinking about, and said together, rolling their eyes, “Men are pigs.” Tobias simply laughed, ignoring the fact that two pillows had been thrown at him, bombarding off his midsection and falling harmlessly to the ground. “You’re such an animal!” Raz exclaimed, tackle-hugging him and sending him once more sprawling to the ground, gasping for air with an excited woman latched to his chest. Shortly after, Allyson joined her, forcing Tobias to savor every possible piece of air he could inhale.

“The car is ready!” he mustered, though it actually came out as, “Thee cerr ish reedy!” At this, both women leapt up, and bolted out of the door, leaving a very big, very tired man lying on the ground, sucking up air like a life preservative. Tobias remained on the ground for precisely one half-minute, when he realized that there was a good chance that Raziya would leave him in the apartment if he didn’t haul his hind end downstairs and into the car to drive them, because he was the only one actually awake.

He kicked both his legs up, and flipped up to his feet, creating a small vibration that rang through the apartment, causing some cups on the table to move. Looking at his watch, he dashed out of the room, moving faster than normal, and made sure to lock the door behind him. Swinging his leg over the guardrail, Tobias slid down the set of stairs that led downstairs, the circling banister flashing before his glasses as he jumped off the rail, and bolted out the door, heading for the car before two very tired, very crazy women were unleashed upon the highways of North America.

He managed to catch them right before Raz, in her infinite wisdom, was placing the keys in the ignition, and spent about five minutes convincing them to let him into the car. He knew this was going to happen, and had predicted this would happen, but still calmly allowed the women to taunt and tease him, because that’s what they always did, because he never got angry with them, constantly putting up with their wild antics. At one point, they almost drove away, but Tobias managed to talk them into letting him in, reminding them of something so important, that they unlocked the door, and let Tobias climb into the driver’s seat without further comment.

“If you guys leave me behind,” Tobias warned, “who’s going to unload your gear for you when you reach the resort?” Their gleaming faces of triumph quickly faded upon recognition of the fact that, if Tobias was left behind, they would have to actually work on their vacation. The door unlocked, and Tobias opened it, sliding into the cramped driver’s seat as Raziya slid into the back. The big man smiled in triumph, adjusting the seat to fit his giant frame, backing it up to as far as it went, changing the angle of the back view mirror, and tied his seatbelt securely to his waist and shoulder. “So, we ready to head out?” Both nodded their heads, cheering as Tobias scooted himself as far down as he could, because his head was touching the ceiling, and punched the ignition system of the car. Its engine roared to life as the key turned in the slot, and Tobias made sure the music channel was set to 102.1, the ECHO, before he pressed down on the gas with his foot, and zoomed through the early morning, light traffic, of Zepther’s streets.

The resort was north, as it always was when it came to such trips. Dubbed Snownook, the reason as to why eluded Tobias, though Raziya and Allyson couldn’t stop talking about the attractions. The chair lifts, the hot springs, and the amazing slopes. Tobias focused mainly on the driving, considering he was relying on their navigational skills to locate Snownook. And Tobias liked to drive fast.

Now, by fast, Tobias always liked to say that if he ever got the chance, he would definitely head for roads like the Autobahn in Germany. He always obeyed the law, able to concentrate his foot just enough to the pedal to always keep at the exact speed limit, seventy or sixty made little difference to him. He even kept his speed while turning, even though it occasionally made Raz and Allyson scream, which allowed him to get back at all the things they did to him, little by little. As their nails slowly ripped tighter and tighter into the fabric of the seats they sat on, they gave him the directions needed to make their way steadily north. With Tobias’ navigation, instead of Snownook, they could have found themselves in Reno. So, with Tobias’ expert driving skills, and with Raz and Allyson’s ability to read maps, a massive resort shortly appeared on the horizon. The women cheered, and Tobias gutted the engine, blasting the final few miles away as they approached the resort known as Snownook.

Tobias looked around him, as the pavement below his vehicle faded away to softly-crushed snow on a beaten trail in the direction of a massive, log-built, building, with the resort’s name embellished upon it in crimson neon. Tobias watched as the mountain range folded in on them, snow covering the landscape in a white blanket of purity that Zepther could never hope to achieve. There was nothing dark about the place, which was probably what Tobias liked best about it. The snow tipped mountains glinted in the sunlight, as he opened the driver’s side door, and his boots sank into the soft, but firm, powder. He breathed in the sharp, crisp air, as the wind nipped at his coat, a light, frosty breeze that even Raz found to be mildly enjoyable. It was different from the icy blasts that they were used to in Zepther.

“It’s so pretty,” Raz started, climbing out of the car behind Allyson. Tobias had parked directly in front of the main building, so he wouldn’t have to carry all the luggage over a long distance, in an empty space. Taking another breath of the fresh, clean air, Tobias slammed the door of the car, and locked it securely, before heading to unpack the car. It took him a short amount of time, mainly because unpacking always seems to take less time then packing, and Raz and Allyson chipping in, taking off the cables from the top which protected their skis while Tobias unloaded the suitcases and his duffel bag from the trunk. It took about ten minutes, and by then, all three were eager to go to their hotel room, and start hitting the slopes.

Lugging the equipment and the wardrobes in both of his hands, with the bag slung over his shoulder with some of the ski gear, Tobias followed the women, stumbling slightly though the snow as he trudged through, weighed down by at least a hundred pounds of materials. Grunting, his face clenched, he lurched his way in the direction of the hotel’s lobby, the two suitcases digging into his stomach, and the skis poking places that should not be poked. Huffing, he just barely made it to the lobby of the hotel, the log cabin doors opening automatically to admit him to the warmth of the building. The moment he walked in, Tobias liked the service, because a dolly was in front of him within about two seconds, accompanied by a skinny, teenager wearing a bellboy uniform.

“I’ll take those, sir,” the kid said, between flecks of spit that emerged from his braces with every vowel. Tobias looked the kid up and down, the sandy-blond hair, the squeaky voice, and the freckles all conveyed to the big man that not only should he not allow the kid to carry the luggage onto the dolly, he shouldn’t even let the kid push the dolly for fear of injury.

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ son,” Tobias replied, smiling. “I work for a living, same as you.” The teenager laughed, and the big man himself set down the luggage on the dolly, telling the kid to look out for someone with a lighter load. He nodded, smiling, and walked away as Tobias handed the youth a dollar for bringing the dolly over to him. Dumping the belongings carefully onto the dolly, he grabbed the handle of the transport mechanism, and started to push it forward, searching for Allyson and Raziya. “Ms. Urashima! Ms. Heart!” Tobias looked round, searching for his two new roommates. He found them by the check in counter, dangling a card key in front of him with glee. “Got the room?” Both nodded together.

“Come on, Toby,” Raziya exclaimed, waving the key in the air. “We wanna sky now!” Tobias sighed, and tightened his grip on the dolly, nodding his head. “Let’s go get changed.” Tobias moved behind them, walking through the bright and polished hallways of the resort’s hotel, right up until Raziya and Allyson reminded themselves that they didn’t want to do any work, which walking was a part of, and hitched a ride on the dolly, resting themselves against the luggage and skis. Tobias just increased the force he was pushing with, it really didn’t require much more thought than that. He was long since used to being their work horse.

***​

“I was looking for a snowboard.”

With Raz and Allyson already heading up the slopes, Tobias decided to rent the gear he had never taken the time to purchase back in Zepther. Well, he didn’t have the money to buy a snowboard and gear anyway, so he browsed through the selection the resort offered, which was pretty large on its own. After grabbing the only size boot that fit him, which only had one smelly, vile pair left in stock, he jammed them over his feet and ignored the stench, heading for the snowboard racks. There were about ten, easily, isles filled with nothing but snowboards for all ages. The man who was assisting him in obtaining the gear, a woman in her mid-autumn years, waited patiently for Tobias to find what he was looking for. Behind massive spectacles, her gray eyes watched as the big man selected a mammoth of a snowboard, one that was almost as big as the man himself. At six feet in length, the board was chosen by the big man for one reason, its ability to handle the amount of weight prominent in the selection. The board was a hybrid of two kinds of boards: racing and freestyle, long and narrow.

“Would you like that one?” she asked, brushing away her graying black hair from her eyes. Tobias looked the sleek board over, its ebony surface painted with ivory lines drawn in crisscross formation on the top, with pure, jet-black on the bottom. “IT looks like a perfect fit for you.”

Tobias shouldered the board with a strap that was attached to the sharp edges of the sides, placing it over his coated back. “Yeah, this should do for me,” he answered, nodding his head. “Thank you very much, ma’am.” He bowed his head, and the woman turned round to the checkout counter, waddling rather than walking, as Tobias followed behind her, with no hurry, just glad he had found the gear he needed. He could wait a few minutes to leave.

She hobbled behind the counter, and Tobias, making sure not to hit her, strapped off the snowboard from his back, and laid it on the counter so the lady could check it out to him. She provided him with a piece of paper, on which he wrote down his name, room number, and a number that the old lady recited to him off the snowboard. Tobias filled out the small form, double-checked the information, and handed it back to her. She smiled, and filed the form away.

“All right, young man,” she said, looking up at his glasses, “you’re all set to shred the mountain.” Tobias laughed, a few generations behind the point of time where dialogue like that was entertaining, but thanked the woman once again, and shouldered his board once more, bowed his head, and walked out of the check out section of the hotel, heading outside into the blistering cold to destroy the slopes, “shred the mountain,” as the checkout lady had so quaintly put it. He breathed in, remembering that Raz and Allyson had told him that they were going to be skiing on the northern mountain, so he headed that way, his boots sinking ankle-deep into the snow with each step, leaving a trail that could later help Tobias in locating the hotel again. He looked up to the snow-covered peaks hundreds of feet above him, and his face broke into a grin.

“Let’s go find them,” he said, before he started to break into a run, blazing a trail towards the nearest mountain, the place that Raz and Allyson had run off to. His glasses scanned the horizon, until he found the chair lift they had most likely taken upwards, one that went all the way to the top of the mountain. The line was full, but Tobias didn’t mind the second wait. If you weren’t willing to wait for something, after all, there was no point of being able to enjoy it. There were about twenty people in front of him, so Tobias spent the time in line adjusting his snowboard to his exact specifications, attaching it to his lead foot, the right one, so it would be easier to carry around with him. In no time at all, the line vanished before him, and he was waiting to get onto the chairs with another person, a large man of questionable eating control. As Tobias took his place next to the man, the rider raised a bulbously, reddened nose in the big man’s direction, and started to sniff. Tobias just ignored it, and sat down when the chair came behind him, pulling up the bar so he wouldn’t fall off as the chair took off, and was soon in midair. He couldn’t help notice that the other man was staring at him, so he turned to the stranger and offered a smile to him.

“Something wrong?” he asked the man, whose nose was the only part of him he could see. The rest of the man was bundled up in scarves, coats, and a large hat. A pair of orange goggles covered his eyes. In contrast, Tobias’ jacket was open, and the only noticeable change made was the pair of snow pants he was wearing over his jeans, and the boots.

The man nodded, coughing under a purple scarf. “Yeah,” he muttered, pointing to Tobias with his stick. “Isn’t it cold out for you?” Tobias looked himself over, and shook his head. “How do you do it?”

Tobias shrugged, chuckling, his breath turning to vapor mist as it exited his mouth. “Some of us are just born lucky,” he answered cheerfully, turning his attention to the slopes, and pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. The dark phone flipped up, and Tobias scrolled to the one object that he knew how to use on the phone: the speed dials. He dialed Raz’s number from there, because he couldn’t recall it off the top of his head. He had exactly three numbers in his speed dial, those being Allyson, Raz, and Mullen’s. He pressed down the green button, and placed the receiver to his ear. A string of dull buzzes issued, before the other line picked up.

“Hello?” Tobias jerked slightly, hearing the cracked and frazzled voice of his employer. The reception was terrible up in the mountains, and he barely heard the one word. “Tobias? Did you…et…ur…st..ff?” The big man shook the phone, as if by sheer movement the phone would operate like it was supposed to.

“Got it.” Tobias spoke as quickly as he could, hearing a break from the static in the phone. He looked through the forest of evergreens the chair was passing over, searching for them. “Where are you?” He heard her voice mumble into the speaker, but was unable to tell what she had said. The reply came out all static and mumbles, so he didn’t understand her.

Tobias looked down, and saw to his surprise a woman talking on a cell phone as she skied, covered head to toe in frost protective clothing, followed by a second woman with blond hair who looked vaguely familiar to the big man. “See you guys in a little bit,” he muttered, grinning. He clicked off the phone, and decided to do something rather dangerous. He was about thirty feet in the air from his current position, and climbing ever higher. He was less than halfway to the top, as well, so as far as he could see it, he had only one option.

Deciding to see exactly how long it had been since he had last boarded, Tobias Green clipped his second foot into place on the board, strapping himself in for a long drop. The man next to him just watched, confused by his actions, until the man opened the bar that held him fastened to the chair he sat in. Then, Tobias could almost sense the eyes bulge in the other man’s goggles as he watched Tobias take a snowboard stance, bending his legs as he slowly slipped from the seat.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, his voice rising to a panic. “Get back in the chair right now!” Tobias just chuckled, and continued to slide down.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered politely, “but I’m a professional, and I have two women right now that shouldn’t be by themselves.” With that, he saluted the man with one hand, before completely letting go of the chair, and falling through the air to the ground below. The man in the chair yelled aloud, seizing the part of the chair that Tobias had just vacated, but it was too late. The wind rushing through his dark red, almost brown hair, the giant plummeted to the ground, spreading his arms as he yelled from pure exhilaration.

A few short moments later, Tobias’ body met hardened snow, sending a cloud of white puff into the air with the impact. The man in the chair watched it happen, too stunned to move, having seen the simple-minded man fall to his death for such a foolish reason. “Did he…just commit suicide?” he wondered aloud, feeling a tear fall from his eyes in respect for the unknown giant.

Just as he was able to call for help, and flash of movement issued from the cloud, and a giant figure burst out of the cloud of snow, sledding like a pro, leaving a trail of snowy vapor behind his frame. Tobias Green looked up to the man, who stared back in disbelief, and smiled at him, before blasting down the mountain at an astounding speed. “Just like riding a bike!” he called up to the man, as he sped into the trees, and was lost in the brush and foliage of the evergreens.

The man, in sheer amazement, waited a few minutes when he finally got to the top of the mountain, skiing down the chair lift to the trail, before he fell to the ground, losing his balance. He was soon forgotten by Tobias, who was already shredding his way in the direction he had seen Raz and Allyson take. His body was in perfect union with the board, bursting through the narrow spaces through the trees in one fluid, continuous motion.

Tobias had seen the Star Wars movies a grant total of one time, because Raz had put him through a marathon in order to keep up with the patrons of the comic shop, who had been spending a lot of time insulting the big lug for his ignorance about the story. This reminded Tobias a great deal of one part he could remember, where Luke Skywalker is in some forest, on a hover bike of some kind, dodging lasers and trees as he raced through the tropical forest. Tobias found it parallel to what he was doing now: dodging the trees and massive snow heaps as he leaned this way and that on his board, barely avoiding death several times before he cleared the forest. In open terrain, with nothing but a slope of snow in front of him as far as he could see, Tobias decided to accelerate.

He leaned forward, pushing his board against the snow. The bladed edge cut deeply into the frost, allowing for faster travel and higher speeds. The landscape began to blur around Tobias as he moved forward, eager to catch up with Raziya and Allyson. Tobias reached a common ground of sorts shortly after, the people blurring past him as he sped on. He could hear exclamations being made as he past, comments made about his speed or his lack of protection against the cold weather, but he blocked most of them out, focusing solely on building his speed. He swerved, turning right sharply in the face of some actual ramp and rail action that happened to be in the common area, and decided it would be a good place to build speed. He had a rough idea of the direction that Raziya and Allyson had gone, and the ramp was in synch with that course.

Now, most people would have slowed down in the face of a dangerous looking stunt area like the one Tobias was headed for. They might have halted, turned around, possibly chickened out in the face of possible injury. Not Tobias. He hit the ramp going at least thirty miles an hour, riding up the smooth surface with almost no speed loss. He bent his knees further, and jumped at the height of the slope. He sensed as his feet left the ground, having nothing left to hold onto, and braced his body for impact, turning the board two hundred and seventy degrees as he flew through the air, grabbing one side with his hands, shredding, as most of the boarders put it. His back to the rail before him, he hit the rail evenly, directly in between where his feet were latched to the board, and started to move rapidly down the slick slope, balancing himself perfectly as he ground down the mountain, scanning the snowy slopes for his comrades.

It wasn’t long before he passed, and finally caught sight of them. Neither Raz nor Allyson were good skiers, granted, but they weren’t that bad either. Allyson was doing the normal side-to-side motion so many professional skiers used, while Raz was simply heading downhill in a straight line, in good if not halfway-decent control of her descent. Tobias grinned, calling out to them. Allyson looked over, clearly in a less focused state than Raz, and waved. Tobias raised his thumb, and prepared to disembark the rail he had been grinding upon.

Some mild shouting generated in Tobias’ direction as he crouched once more, bending his knees as far as they would go. His hands hovered over the edges of the board, palms open and fingers unclasped. The person behind him, a boarder of considerably less experience, watched in fascination as Tobias clenched his mouth in concentration, his jaw locked in place, and soared up, jumping up vertically. The boarder just watched as he flew by underneath the big man, who was already tilting his body to the right, where he had seen Allyson wave. His board began to turn as well, moving in unison with Tobias’ body, until the big man hit the ground, sledding away from the rail like it was nothing, his back facing the downward void of the slope. Concentrating most of his weight into his recessive foot, Tobias began to turn in the snow, pointing himself onto a collision course with Raziya and Allyson. And, just to show off, he did an Ollie, jumping up lightly as he sled, and moved the board one hundred eighty degrees, altering the positions of his feet, and placing his front in the direction of the downward slope. The wind rushing through his wild hair, Tobias’ grin widened as he reached the ladies, who were completely in awe of him as he joined them, surfing the snow banks between them, making it look as easy as walking on two feet.

“We’d better pull up down there!” he shouted over to them, circling back to where they were. Below, a small rest stop, complete with a restaurant, was available. Allyson and Raz both nodded in agreement, and began to speed up, intent on beating the big man to the rest stop.

Tobias just shrugged, and consented to giving them a five second head start, then picked up his speed. The world around him just slowed down, and he wondered if Newton’s law about the faster you go, the slower time is around them. Or…was it Einstein? He put the question out of his head, just enjoying the thrill of the wind blasting through his bare face and hair, cutting through the air like a fierce sword, his board slicing through the ice and snow beneath its smooth, midnight surface like a black blade. It wasn’t even a challenge for him to catch up, they didn’t move very fast. It took him exactly ten second, and he was blazing past them, grinning from ear to ear. He gave them a quick thumbs up, then burst past them, inclining his body further, and was shortly after found himself in front of the small rest stop. There was some mild applause as he approached, including the boarder he had seen before that had ridden behind him. The kid was probably a teenager underneath all the layers, and the boarder clasped Tobias’ hand in a handshake, laughing beneath his blue clothing.

“Dude, that was so killer!” the kid exclaimed, patting Tobias on the back. “Where in the world did you learn to do stuff like that?” Tobias chuckled, pushing the brim of his glasses, bending down to unclip one of his feet from the board.

“I’m afraid that’s a trick of the trade,” he replied carefully. “To tell you would be dangerous. I’d recommend staying in the kiddy slopes where you belong, young man. Maybe in a few years you could do stuff like that, but for now I think it’d be better for you to figure it out the way I did. On your own.”

The teenager wanted to say more, possibly plead with the big man to train him, but Tobias’ attention was diverted when two female voices called “Toby!” into the group of people Tobias was standing in. Tobias, well aware of the native call of the North American Raz, turned round in resignation.

“I’d stand back if I were you,” he advised the teenager, and the entire group in general. They did as they were told, and Tobias assumed a stance not unlike a guard in a football game, planting himself in the direction of the ball by crouching, and spreading his arms in preparation to stop the charge. In this case, the ball happened to be a young woman in skis, traveling at exactly twenty miles an hour, with no signs of stopping, followed by another, even crazier ball with blond hair. Had he known better, it might have occurred to Tobias that he could simply dodge the two, and let them learn a lesson about crashing into stationary objects at high speeds. But he was too nice for his own good, and knew they were just having fun. Tobias almost thought he saw his life flash before his eyes the split second before Raziya impacted, with Allyson a moment behind her, but thankfully did not, or his attention might have been diverted.

At the last instant, Tobias moved, getting in between Allyson and Raz to minimize the damage they might have given him, holding out his powerful arms to their midsections, as they plowed through past him. He grabbed them, digging his boot and his snowboard into the snow beneath his body, and wrapped his arms around them. Inertia kicked in, one of the many, simple things that made life with two overactive women difficult beyond all belief, and Tobias was thrown backwards, slamming back-first into a snow drift. Fortunately for Allyson and Raziya, they were perfectly fine when they collided with the ground, as Tobias’ chest broke their fall. The big man called out in a deep grunt of pain, as a collective two hundred and sixty pounds made friends with his body, crushing him underneath the weight.

And Raziya and Allyson were still laughing about it, even as Tobias’ motionless body, the arms still stuck out before him pleaded for assistance, as the crowd that had just a minute before had been admiring him began asking if it would be a good idea to send the big man to the hospital, or very least, the first aid station back at the resort hotel. Raz waved away their concerns.

“Don’t worry, guys,” she explained, putting her finger to her mouth. “Watch this one!” She inhaled deeply from the cold air around her, and blew a single, piercing note that shattered eardrums and forced everyone to cowl in fear at the noise. It was badly done, stuttered, and high pitched, but it was enough to motivate Tobias. Without waiting any further, Tobias snapped up, jumping to his feet at the sound. Everyone could hear as his back cracked itself into place. Tobias, somehow cured by the note, looked down at Raz with a glare of intense disapproval in the way his mouth was clenched and his brows were arched. “He’s perfectly trained, and has an invincible body.”

The crowd broke into applause once more in response, and Tobias’ face softened in the face of the strangers, understanding that Raz would do this whether he liked it or not. The teenager looked him over behind his goggles, and turned to Raz, his face beaming. “What makes you think he’s invincible?” he asked curiously.

Raz grinned. “Because, young one,” she said, lowering her voice to that of a sage, “if he was not invincible, he would be dead by now.” The crowd laughed, and Tobias forced a half-hearted smile in response. “Come on, I want to eat, Toby.” The big man nodded, and bent down to unclip his remaining foot from his snowboard. He shouldered the board over his back, while Raz and Allyson removed their skis from their feet. Both took off the helmets they were wearing, and Tobias chuckled. Both had the exact same mass of helmet hair beneath, matted and undone, and took a mental picture, because the odds of him seeing the two so unkempt were slim to none for the rest of the century.

“Was that completely necessary?” he asked them, walking down the slope carrying their skis over his shoulder with his left arm. Raz simply chuckled lightly, and nodded her head.

“Of course it was,” she replied with a sweet smile, turning round to bow to him shortly, then returned to walking along with Allyson. Ahead of them, the small restaurant was calling their names. It was a two storey build, and kept in tune with the apparent theme of the whole resort, having a wooden outside, that seemed to be constructed of wooden logs, and even had the stone chimney over the slanted roof. Smoke was bellowing softly from the top, wafting into the cloudless sky above. Crushing the snow underneath his boots, Tobias located a small docking area on the outsides of the log cabin restaurant, where a number of skis and snowboards had been left by the patrons of the establishment. He even caught sight of a few sleds, probably kid owned. Tobias found a decent place to place the skis and his board, and laid them against an orange wall that had been placed below the patio of the restaurant.

“Here we are,” he muttered in satisfaction, placing the apparel against the wall, like others had done. Rubbing his head, Tobias issued a deep, wide-mouthed yawn that lasted at least one minute, and caused people to stop what they were doing to pay attention to what he was doing. Shutting his mouth, and scratching the lower half of his back, Tobias about-hasted, turning in place to head into the warmth and comfort of the restaurant. He walked up to the stairs that led to the patio and into the log cabin, and ascended, watching the people around him.

Some of them were families, probably here on a vacation from school or something. He could see fathers hugging their daughters as they got onto their skis flimsily, and couples riding together as they prepared to brave the slopes. All around him, he could hear voices and murmurs, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what they all were saying. He knew it was bad to eavesdrop, but he wondered what a real relationship with another person was like. His employee/employer relationship with Raz, and the puppy banter he exchanged with Allyson, couldn’t possibly be what a true relationship was like. It seemed like a strange thing to ponder at that exact moment, so he pushed it out of his mind, and started up the stairs, just enjoying the fresh winter’s air.

“Besides,” he said aloud, stuffing his gloved hands into his pants pockets. “It can’t be good for your physical condition to be in such a weak relationship. I doubt half the people that are hugging each other right now could take two women ramming into him and come out without a scratch.” He smiled at the thought, then remembered that there was also a good chance half the guys in the couples would not snap to just from a whistle from their woman.

He chuckled. He really needed to stop acting like a lap dog for Raz, no matter how good the deal was he got from living in her apartment. Some things just weren’t worth that kind of dignity loss.

Word Count- 13,144
Total Word Count- 50,038​

 

[Ledian_X]

Awesome! It was a long read but it was still good. Tobias and Chronos's personalities are so different. If we didn't know any better, I'd swear the two were totally seperate. Either way, PS, you got a great story here. Congrats on breaking the wordcount! Hard work finally paid off and Chronos is of course a welcome addition to the Starboltsverse.

Keep up the good work!

LX

 

[Sike Saner]

Alas, I arrive late…Apologies for not reviewing that chapter and the one before it sooner. ;-;

Anyway. I have to reiterate how boss Lykos is, especially given his sort of auto-repair mechanism. So, he’s cool in a number of ways, including being very difficult to permanently dispatch. (I imagine there is some way to bring him down once and for all, though…Hmm…)

The scene with the nerds was very amusing, and the ski-trip provided an unexpected and neat turn for the storyline. Quite nice. =)

Favorite excerpts:

He did not collect a single penny of what the comic sold, because he did not want a single penny for his name, face, voice, or stories. He had decided a long time ago that a good hero did not make a living off his hero work, and wouldn’t make a good hero if they relied on their powers as a source of income. It was almost border-line villainous in nature.

As Chronos’ feet left the ground, soaring up to another storey, a giant screech like a cat’s wailing issued into the snowy darkness, wracking the rooftops with echoing deafness. The werewolf had healed, giant snaps and cracks filling the dark night as its mouth rearranged itself, howling in rage as its bone structure was fixed, the shriek tearing through the silence of the night, the wounds on its head and shattered face resealing, returning the beast to full strength, and with increased anger.

“Speech is the dead man’s way of filling the silence of his night.”

The werewolf shifted its weight, getting underneath the dark warrior, and slamming a clawed foot against the front of Chronos’ pants, expecting to have struck a weak spot. Instead, a massive pang issued from inside the warrior’s uniform, and Lykos’ yellow slits widened with pain, realizing that Chronos was completely armored.

She didn’t mind it; Chronos saying thanks like expecting a dog to ask for your dinner in a cockney accent.

“He’s so tall, like a cast shadow, like darkness incarnate.”

“My ticket finally came in!” This was followed by, as far as Tobias could tell, a massive shriek from Raziya, which knocked him off his feet, and caused small, domestic animals in the streets and neighboring apartments to howl and hiss en masse.

Raz leered at him, winking. “How good is your skiing, Toby?” she asked slowly.

“Huh?”

The leader took a step forward. “We want some comics now, Stocky, so open up the store for us.” The group chorused his retort, but Tobias’ expression did not change, remaining as cheerful as possible in the face of a horrendous nerd beat down.

“I’d stand back if I were you,” he advised the teenager, and the entire group in general. They did as they were told, and Tobias assumed a stance not unlike a guard in a football game, planting himself in the direction of the ball by crouching, and spreading his arms in preparation to stop the charge. In this case, the ball happened to be a young woman in skis, traveling at exactly twenty miles an hour, with no signs of stopping, followed by another, even crazier ball with blond hair. Had he known better, it might have occurred to Tobias that he could simply dodge the two, and let them learn a lesson about crashing into stationary objects at high speeds. But he was too nice for his own good, and knew they were just having fun. Tobias almost thought he saw his life flash before his eyes the split second before Raziya impacted, with Allyson a moment behind her, but thankfully did not, or his attention might have been diverted.

Boss work as usual, and congrats on reaching 50k! ^^

 

[Power Shot]

Memory 07: Singularity

Atop the Snownook lodge, the solitary figure sat on the roof, his blackened body covered perfectly in the shadows that concealed him. The mountain’s glistening darkness sat before him, as he waited. His silent frame was disturbed by the occasional ruffles of the wind as his coat’s tails fluttered in the breeze. He was contemplating, thinking hard about what he was about to do. In the quiet of the night, Chronos rested his palm against his chin, his elbow on his knee, as he thought.

He had followed her, Raziya Urashima, to the mountains, deciding it would be safer for her to be accompanied by him. The woman had exposed herself in a way that was not safe under any means. Chronos peered out into the darkness, searching for his prey, Snipes and Lykos. He couldn’t see them, he couldn’t smell them, he didn’t know where they were. But he did know that they were out there somewhere, waiting for him, trying to find him. Snipes was a most persistent man, Chronos knew, and would stop at nothing to accomplish his aims. Chronos did not sigh, but he did not want to do what he was about to do to protect her. He really didn’t want to do it, because it meant acknowledging that he needed help from an organization that he did not trust a great deal, even more so than others.

The Dark Eye reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, round device from its dark confines, raising it in his dark glove. It was small, about the size of his palm, perfect for portable use. It was dark blue, mostly, but the back of the device held the Starbolts emblem, the golden triangle and line gizmo in the center. On the other side were a small square screen and a receiver. It was the first present he had ever been given and, unlike the chocolate Raziya Urashima had given him, a present he hadn’t particularly wanted. He had taken it reluctantly, and had dismantled it numerous times in an effort to figure out how it worked, having succeeded on the second attempt. He always kept it offline, but today was an exception to that rule. Chronos raised the communicator to his cowl, and prepared to contact the Starbolts.

“This is Chronos,” he muttered dryly into the yellow and blue communicator. The small screen on the circular com-link flickered. “Dastara City respond. Starbolts reply.”

The visual monitor on the com-link flickered in response, activated based on the voice-lock Chronos had placed on it soon after he had acquired it from the superhero team, then deactivated it. He knew what the communicator could do, as he had disassembled it himself to discover what every single gear and bolt did. It switched on now based on the Dark Eye’s monotone whisper. As the screen flared to life, Chronos was given a front row, albeit miniaturized, version of the communication center of Starbolts HQ, the only area that Chronos knew off-hand, outside of anything Carla could dig up, that would have information about Snipes and Lykos. They would be surprised, he knew that. It was the first time he had ever contacted them, as he maintained a strident radio silence. Suddenly, the screen brightened, displaying the two Starbolts on duty in the communication room, both of whom Chronos was very familiar with. Their eyes widened, as he neared the screen, raising the com-link closer to his cowl.

One of them was a strong-looking man, bending down with a shaggy mane of coarse black hair in his face. This one was Dennis, one of the very first Starbolts the Dark Eye had ever come into contact with, the very first day he had officially used his uniform for the first time. Dennis leaned towards the monitor, making sure what he saw was the Dark Eye, baffled by the image of the ebon knight that was no doubt being displayed on the consoles of the communication room of the S.T.A.R.S. building. Dennis wasn’t alone in his gaping either, as Chronos noticed a small woman standing in the room beside the male Starbolt, slightly behind Dennis, in his shadow. The Starbolt-in-training, whom Chronos understood to be called Sara, was also there. He knew that she had been accepted into the fold after being liberated from Terra Nova. Her hair had grown slightly, though the piercing azure eyes that Chronos remembered were staring at him through the bangs.

The man blinked. “Chronos?” he asked, the question popping out of him, completely thrown at the fact the Starbolts’ ally and Designate would call. “What’s goin’ on in Zepther?” Chronos noted small tone of resentment mixed in with the shock when Dennis spoke, the tingle of annoyance in his strong, southern accent, and attributed the resentment to the way Chronos felt about the Starbolts, and the fact that Chronos had once made the Titanus armor Dennis wore obsolete just by taking a punch. The Dark Eye pushed past the resentment, as he had more important things to do than bruise the Starbolt male’s ego any further than was necessary. The ebon knight proceeded with his business.

“I want information, Titanus,” was his blunt reply, cutting right to the chase as quickly as possible. Chronos wanted the conversation over, he didn’t want to ask them for help to begin with, and wouldn’t have had there been any options outside of it. “Three days ago, a scientist not in his normal state of mind arrived in the city, attempting to detonate a city block. I subdued him, but a sniper took out the man before I could debrief him. Splattered his cerebellum with a marksmanship I’ve never seen.” At this, Dennis lowered his eyes in disgust, but maintained his bearing enough for Chronos to continue the story. “The day after, I assisted the police in apprehending a drug dealer by the name of Fedora and his operation. Two people attacked me, and are still at large. Names Lykos and Snipes. The latter is an assassin, and I have reason to believe that he killed the scientist. He is equipped with some sort of molten bullet, able to pierce through my skin. The other, Lykos, is a werewolf.” Sara caught herself, barely able to halt herself from laughing, at this. Only the faceless cowl of the Dark Eye, the piercing intensity of it, held her in check, because even Dennis was a little afraid of Chronos, even if he would never admit it to anyone. “Now, Titanus. Who are they?”

Dennis returned to business mode, scratching his chin at the request. “Just a minute…” he muttered softly, trying to see if he knew the names off-hand from anywhere. Unable to do so, he turned to Sara, whose eyes were trained on the immobile dark cowl in the screens. “Hey, Sara?” The young woman snapped back up, returning to reality, and turning away from the Dark Eye in response to her name. “Do ya think ya could look up anythin’ we might have on those two names?”

She nodded. “Oh. Sure.” Sara bent down to the keyboard in front of her, typing in the names. Chronos wasn’t able to see what she was doing from his current visual spectrum, but he didn’t alter what he could see, deciding to allow them a chance to get what he wanted done. “By the way, Mr. Chronos?” she asked, her fingers typing away at the board while her face turned to watch the screen

“What?” he asked, noting the prefix, wondering what the girl wanted with him. He had barely ever spoke to her until today.

Her eyes fluttered, looking briefly at Dennis for support, who nodded his encouragement. “I…wanted to thank you for helping the Starbolts save me from Terra Nova. My parents said to say thank you as well, if I ever got the chance to see you again.” She turned her attention quickly to the screen, reading something off the monitor. “The thing is, I haven’t been able to get to Zepther though, because the Starbolts have all been training me to be one of them. Dennis here has been working with me a lot, so I get to follow in my parents’ footsteps!”

“Great, rookie,” he muttered, before diverting his attention towards the senior Starbolt. If he understood annoyance, Chronos might have metaphorically rolled his eyes at her. She was like a little child, an energetic schoolgirl, and he just did not think she was ready for battle, not yet mature enough to handle being a super heroine. She still had some growing to do, before Chronos would acknowledge her as a heroine. He then shoved his thoughts away from the subject, and returned to the business at hand. “I don’t have time for this, Titanus.” He addressed the one in charge. “I need information. Now.”

The big man rolled his eyes sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “You’re all heart, Metalhead.” He turned to Sara, and grinned. “Don’t worry, that’s just his way of saying he cares about ya.” He then looked at the screen, the expression on his face changing from one of concentration to one of disappointment, as he ran through the searches Sara had done. “But I’m sorry to tell ya we’ve got nothin’ on the names you just gave us, Lykos or Snipes.” He shook his head, double-checking the list. “Only werewolf we’ve got on file is She-Wolf, and she’s all the way in Maxiville right now. As for the other one, Snipes, we’d have to do a whole system check on the hired assassins list, and it’d take way longer than what yer willin’ to give us.” He lifted his head up, with a doubtful expression. “Hey, want us to come up and give ya a hand?”

Chronos shook his head. “No,” he answered, wanting nothing to do with that suggestion. “I will find my own way to handle this, Titanus. You Starbolts focus on what you need to do, and I will do the same. You and I both know we work better separately.”

Dennis nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know,” he answered, knowing that both of them were too proud to work together, and that the Dark Eye would never allow himself to be indebted to the Starbolts for anything. “Well…let us know if ya need anything, aright?” He said that with the full knowledge that the Dark Eye would not.

Sara looked at the cowl in the monitor, slightly hiding behind the shadows of the senior Starbolt. “I…hope you get those bad guys, Mr. Chronos,” she murmured quietly, while her eyes rapidly flickered down towards the ground, afraid of upsetting him again.

He suppressed a sigh. “Sure, kid,” he muttered, deciding to throw her a bone, “I always do. Sola, Titanus, do not tell the others I contacted you.” Dennis nodded a final time, knowing that the conversation was officially over, Chronos having received what he wanted to know. Chronos memorized their faces once before he shut off the communicator, disconnecting him once more from the grid that kept track of every superhero with a Starbolts com-link. He had tried to deactivate the tracker that he had located inside the controller, but had found out that the communicator wouldn’t work without it. Not that that was a bad thing, but at least he had altered it so that, when the unit was offline, he couldn’t be traced.

He looked round, placing the com-link back into his coat pocket. The dark snow glittered across the mountaintop. He crouched atop the log cabin resort’s chimney, staring out into the darkness, just wanting for her to return. He had followed the woman, Raziya Urashima, who had confessed her feelings to him and gotten involved in the cat-and-mouse game that Snipes insisted on playing with him. She would come shortly, having been skiing all day. She had to rest sometime. Chronos shifted his head upwards, glancing into the slowly approaching blizzard that would soon be hitting them.

He would protect her, he vowed. It was his foolishness in allowing himself to speak with her, to get her out of the cold that would have eventually induced hypothermia. He knew that logic was flawed somehow, and that it was better that she was still healthy and safe, for the time being. He waited, immobilized, until she returned, deciding to make his move when she returned to a place he would be able to more easily protect her. The snowy landscape didn’t allow much for concealment when it came to his uniform, the sharp contrast of the colors would be too noticeable to others, and he wanted his stay at Snownook to be as unknown to the public as possible.

She arrived a little while later, Chronos lost track of the time he spent on the roof. So many people walked below him, always in an absolute rush, that they never took the time to stay still, like Chronos could, and take in the surroundings. The moon, which was slowly filling out, hung above him, a constant light in the darkness Chronos lived in. The stars danced round the luminous surface, covering the black night in thousands of lights, all of them so far off Chronos never wanted to know where they came from, because to know what the stars were, their names and astrological information, would take away the simplicity of what stars should be. They were just orbs of light to Chronos, who didn’t care what they were made of, only that to others, they were beautiful, and pure. While watching the stars, Raziya Urashima skied down the last few hills, by her side the other, her blond friend, the energetic one. He had taken the time to study both since the night before, deciding the factors involved in the friend and the difficulty of protecting Raziya Urashima without making his presence known. It was going to be difficult, considering Snipes abilities so far in tracking the Dark Eye.

It was when she finally put up her skis, and gave out a bellowing shout for “Toby!” that Chronos began to move, straightening himself from the crouching position he had previously been occupying. He stared down, considering what he should do next. Then, as Raziya Urashima entered the hotel, Chronos started to climb the slanted roof, heading for the nearest safe spot from which to observe her. She would be heading inside, to end her night in the warm confines of a room. Chronos could not follow her in there. He was going to need a different approach.

***​

Tobias Green all but felt the glares that he generated, walking down the stairs of the hotel from his shared room with Raziya and Allyson. It wasn’t that he had done anything wrong, or that he had offended anyone; he hadn’t even said a word. As he descended the stairs, though, the glares were still there, prominent as ever, which he could feel radiating from everyone with a Y chromosome in the main hall of the hotel.

The reason that every man was feeling particular hostility, as far as Tobias could dispatcher from their faces, was probably the fact that he was not walking alone. On either side of him, swaying their hips and grinning broadly, Allyson and Raz were both firmly latched onto one side of his hips, and were generally pressing against him. It did not help the fact that Raz and Allyson were both firmly versed in the art of teasing since their college days, and had dressed themselves in small white robes, wearing nothing but black bikinis beneath, which were clearly displayed. Tobias gulped, looking at all the guys that looked like they wanted to kill him. He himself had on a much more modest robe, albeit a very tight one, since there were none in his size. His muscles were bulging out from every angle, causing some minor drooling from the female residents of the hotel. Raz had done up her raven hair in chopsticks, while Allyson’s blond locks were tied up in a band. Tobias was fidgeting by the time he had reached the last step, hearing the elastic stretch in his one and only pair of swim trunks, which were dull green and hidden beneath his robe, every time his giant body moved. But, even though all of the men in the resort glared at Tobias with a gaze that clearly conveyed that they would have killed to exchange places with the big man, he was willing to do almost anything to get out of what they were doing to him.

For behind the flirtatious nature of the girls latched to him, Tobias knew exactly what they were doing, playing on the submissive nature of the gentle giant, and were maneuvering his body with theirs in the direction of the indoor swimming pools. This hidden fact was ignored by the population of the resort, and Tobias arched his eyebrows in an apologetic look to the men, who all looked prepared to destroy him, even though it didn’t help his situation very well. The others only saw skin deep, not noticing how their hands were steering, not holding, his body into the hallways leading to the pools. He sniffed the air, picking up the stench of chlorine with his nostrils, and his ears were invaded by the rapidly increasing volume of splashing. He slowed his pace, applying his body weight into his heels in a desperate attempt to halt them. He slowed them to a crawl momentarily, and for a second he thought he could succeed, but they adjusted their own momentum into their arms, driving him forward against his will. The smell was growing stronger, as were the shouts from the pools, easily audible now from where they were walking. The velvet carpet beneath their feet had changed to thick, hard tile under their flip-flops, the vibrations of children’s laughter echoing off the walls. Shortly after, he could see windows displaying the pools and slides, along with all the water inside the pool. He could see everything very clearly, especially the splashes.

He had started to whimper. “Please…Ms. Urashima,” he pleaded, trying to reason with her. His hydrophobia was kicking into overdrive, as he took in the sight of the water, and the fact that he was going to have to go into it. “Ms. Heart?” He looked down at Allyson, who was just giggling madly with Raz. Tobias swerved his head round, in a desperate attempt to locate a distraction that would make them stop, but there was nothing else but the corridor and the slowly approaching doors which would take him into the pool. “Don’t make me go in there…” He could see the door closing in on him, which would shortly after be followed by being shoved headfirst into water. He turned his head, just as Raz started turning the knob, and saw his chance for escape. “I want to go in there!” he proclaimed, his face a triumphant grin as he raised his hand upwards, pointing to the ends of the corridor. Raz and Allyson turned to see what he was pointing at, and their faces fell in unison, staring at the sign that Tobias had found, his ticket out of their torture.

At the end of the corridor stood about ten doors, all black in color, and one more vacant, empty for Tobias’ use. Hot springs number 3 was available, and was his ticket out of the terror that Raz and Allyson would inflict on him. Tobias wasn’t an idiot, no matter how dumb he appeared to be in the face of Raz and Allyson. He had known ahead of time that there was an exceptionally good chance that both women would move the heavens to get him to go swimming with them, and had done research on the various attractions inside the hotel. The miniature hot springs were dark rooms, used for intense relaxation, and were basically a black space with a warm, natural current running through the middle of the room on the form of a stream that coursed through all the springs. It was a pretty neat system. Tobias, having distracted both Raz and Allyson, succeeded in his endeavors, managing to twist his way out of their grasp, their hands falling from his arms. Tobias grinned, saluting them with his right hand off his glasses. “I think I’ll just spend some time in here, if that’s all right with you ladies,” he said, scratching his head. He bowed his head, then all but ran in the direction of the black door, reaching it and opening it before either woman recovered quickly enough to catch him. He shut the door behind him, and firmly latched the lock on the room into place, sealing himself away and, in doing so, preventing Raz and Allyson from getting to him.

When Tobias was certain that no one could enter the private bath, and that the two women were not going to be able to get in, the big man relaxed, sighing in relief. Chuckling, he wiped the top of his face, and turned towards the hot springs. Oh, he wouldn’t go into it, of course, he was not even going near the water inside the small pond. He had just needed an excuse that would get him away from Raz and Allyson. When he was reassured that the door was indeed bolted down, and would not open, Tobias turned around, adjusting his sight to the dimly lit room. He yawned, stretching his muscles, as he looked through the room.

It wasn’t much, barely bigger than the living book back at Raz’s apartment, but it was enough for Tobias. The room was lit by a single, giant lava lamp in the back, its glowing red drops casting a crimson shade on the surroundings. Tobias assumed that this one in particular might be reserved for couples, or something, as some cheesy music was playing in the background that Tobias didn’t like. It was too soft for his tastes. In the center of the room, there was a small pool of water, that he thought was molded to look like a stream and rock formation from Japan or something. He didn’t care, because he wasn’t getting near it, setting his sights on the bench right next to the stream. He didn’t want to go in the water, but he would be fine sitting next to it.

Tobias rested his back against the firm, hard wood of the bench, sighing deeply in content. He was safe, Raz was better, and Allyson didn’t have the ability to pick the lock of the door. He relaxed, finally free from his two women and able to catch a break from work, something he really wanted. He rubbed away the moisture that was forming on his face from the steam of the bath, yawning in exhaustion. He stretched wildly, his bones cracking into place with sharp snaps. He yawned once more, even considering that the bench might be a good place to take a nap, if he could get past his sleep problems. He shrugged, and simply enjoyed the scratching that was being generated from near the door, the only noise aside from the gentle movements of the water next to him.

“Wait.” Tobias sat up, and turned towards the locked door, the scratching noise continuing. “What’s that?” The big man stood up, and began to tiptoe towards the door, as the scratching noise continued. The door began to move, as if someone was pressing against it. As Tobias drew nearer, he could hear complaints, a female voice issuing annoyance at being unable to get inside. Curious, he pushed his ear against the door.

Someone rammed against the door, smashing into his ear, and sending him sprawling to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Coughing, Tobias wheezed his way back to the door. “Who is there?” he asked, taking care not to get too close to the door. The door rattled again, this time accompanied by a woman’s voice.

“We’re getting in there, Toby!” it squealed, followed by laughter from another person. Tobias panicked, Raz and Allyson were trying to get in! Thinking rapidly, Tobias treated the situation with as much grace as a bronco bull, pressing the whole of his weight against the door, knowing that his massive girth was enough to keep the women in check. He slammed his heels against the floor in an effort to stop them.

“No you aren’t!” he retorted stubbornly, using the bulk of his weight to keep them at bay. The door wasn’t giving, not with the added pressure from the big man’s body. “No chance you get in he-” He was cut off in mid-exclamation, not because they burst through the door, not because he had stopped trying to keep the door stuck. Not even because he secretly wanted them in there with them, or so Raz and Allyson’s fantasies said.

It was because what little light generated by the lava lamp inside the room shut off, cascading the big man into total darkness. And it didn’t stop there, because the circuitry of the resort seemed to run in synch with the private hot springs, as, in unison, Tobias could hear screams echoing through the pools as the light shut down, sending everyone into total darkness. Tobias, sensing that Raz and Allyson had stopped what they were doing, let go of the door, feeling his way to the knob.

“Ms. Urashima,” he whispered to the door, “Ms. Heart. Are you all right?”

Instead of Raz’s calm voice, he heard a shaky gasp. “T-Toby,” she replied, and he could sense her against the door, “p-please open the d-door. It…it’s back. Toby, it’s here…” Tobias nodded, and unlocked the door. As he opened it to complete darkness, he could hear a noise that did not sound like children laughing, or anything remotely related to friendly.

As Raz and Allyson bolted for him, Tobias heard a piercing howl that shattered glass and sent the pieces falling to the floor. “That’s not good,” he muttered.