Cannonade's Story

Vic held onto Cannonade's hand like she was dangling out the window of a fifty story skyscraper, and boy, did her stomach feel like she was. She barely glanced the domino mask in front of her as she was whisked away from the bathroom. Her jacket was forgotten in the stalls. The bruising and stitched up puncture marks on her bony arms on full display. She didn't really notice the club's change in atmosphere. She did notice the smartly dressed man scan his eyes up and down her with a 'friendly' remark at her state. She returned his look with an annoyed glare.

"Piss off, " she slurred at the national security agent, and flipped him off while Cannonade dragged her off the premises.

The light from Cannonade's glass phone reflected off their helmet. There was a light drizzle, nothing heavy- just drops faint and infrequent enough that it caused the club goers who walked to street to wonder if they'd felt rain. People smoked in the dark and homeless begged to the passing groups. It was saturday night in Atlas City's richest district, after all. Behind Cannon Vicki leaned against the wall beside the doorway leading to Shapeless.

"Hey, hey- sorry, excuse me," A voice said. Cannon sighed as they turned to face a man in a blue polo. He was muscular, blonde, and with a chin-strap beard. "Aren't you the girl from that group-?"

"Super Roma, yeah'," Cannonade began halfheartedly.

The man rose an eyebrow. "Nah, sorry. I don't follow Supers. I meant her- you're Vicki Vortex, aren't you?" The man let out a disbelieving as he approached Vicki. "Holy shit, you're Vicki Vortex! I was playing you guys yesterday."

Vic hadn't been paying attention. Just quietly hitting the back of her head against the wall. Every jolt seemed to reset the world back on a straight line for her, before it starting lurching to the left again. There was a two second delay before the man registered. She opened an eye which flicked between the man and Cannonade, and her brow raised.

"Me?" She flashed her teeth, the corner of her lips twitching up. "Noooo shit. Really?" Despite how much her head was throbbing, from dehydration and the actual bruising she'd been subjecting it too, she did seem genuinely happy about being ambushed. "Sorry man, I have like - no depth perception right now. If you want an autograph, you're going to have to direct my hand." She flopped her limp wrist around in front of her for emphasis.

"Aw shit, you're good. Maybe just a picture?"

Cannonade watched in astonishment as the man pulled out his phone and tried to get beside Vicki for a photo.

Vic didn't protest as the man sidled up beside her. How much of a mess she was right now came to mind, but hey, that was part of the brand. She rolled her head towards the phone, expression unchanging. "No touching." She said, and his hand paused to hover above her shoulder. The flash went off. She caught sight of the picture for a second before the screen went black. She didn't have the face on for this harsh light. It brought up every drop of sweat, every pore and blemish, and made her look even whiter. Next to his glowing tan and smile, she looked like Chinese Lydia Deetz.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile then rested her head back against the wall. "S'no problem," she murmured like she was on the cusp of sleep. A bony finger tapped against her lips in the universal symbol for 'shut up'. She looked at him through slits, the flecks of green in her eyes startling bright against the brown irises. "But don't bring around all your friends, hey?" She winked, well, it was kind of a wink, her eyes were so near shut it barely registered. Her head lulled to the other side, back to Cannonade. Her eyes lingered on them, like she was trying to see the face they were pulling past the mask.

"You get it often, don't you."

Vicki's own face staring back at her through the smudged up, reflective glass of Cannon's helmet.

"You fucking kicked ass," The man commented, more than a little drunk. Cannonade watched as he wandered off before turning to the other one there.

"Your name is Vicki Vortex?" They said eventually, stifling a laugh. Down the block a silver Yamaha cruiser drove forward silently. There was no driver and the two front seats were turned to face the back two. The electric car rolled to a stop before them.

"God, that's a great name." The doors opened and they launched into the car energetically. They stretched out on the leather and moaned loudly as their joints popped, a moan that then mixed to a yawn as their hands went to their head and unlocked the air-tight seal on their helmet. The black metal was pulled off and placed on the chair beside them. "When I'm wearing a helmet, sure," Cannonade finally responded to Vicki's query. Their green eyes stared Vicki down. They were an intense presence to be with- something primordial and feline about their features. The fact that they seemed on the tight-rope between sober and high didn't help either.

The doors to the car closed and the Yamaha began to drive them off silently down the street, toward the first destination selected on Cannon's phone. "You make music? I picked up that you play shows with my super human powers of deduction." Cannonade winked and pulled out a catnip cigarette. "Art is a good thing to be known for. Sexier than sweating in a super suit."

Cannonade reached across and handed them their glass phone. A music app was open, begging Vicki to input her own name and play a song. "I had... I had a friend in Super Roma, his name was Victor Emmanuel, right? And he used to say... ooo, bamino, you don't know- the fans they want us, they know violence is sex." Cannonade lit the cig and rolled the eyes. "Violence isn't sex... when you're fighting all the blood is in your head and your heart, you might as well not have genitals. It's a completely different type of catharsis. It's like... a moment of clarity." Cannonade rose an eyebrow at Vicki. "Superheroes suck."

Vic’s fingers stopped mid-tap, and she glanced up from her sprawled out position across her two seats. She was a bit annoyed at herself, because she knew that feeling. When screaming her darkest thoughts on stage to unaware crowds became not enough and she sought out something harder. Something that gave her that release Cannonade spoke of, and resulted in all the stitches in her body. Maybe it was a super thing, that urge. She resented that.

"Yeah, they do," she agreed flatly, then shifted up to a sit. It was refreshing to be with someone who had no clue about her unfortunate fame origins. "That other stuffs pretty good though. Sex and knocking out some asshole's teeth. Right, head's up -" Her face twisted into a grimace as she looked at her options. "The label calls it 'punk-rock', but it's over-produced to hell, which is the damn antithesis of - yeah, I'll just, let me pull up a demo."

The loud crash of drums and grungy riff of a bass guitar passing through an octave pedal filled the otherwise chill atmosphere of the car. Vic handed the phone back then went back to neglecting her seatbelt. Her hands subconsciously moved to echo her drumming. After a bit, the instrumental slowed down into a nice psychedelic-rock-like groove, and Vic's vocals came in. Raw like she'd just gotten up from sleeping on the floor at an odd angle and flopped her way over to the the recording room with sleep still in her eyes, running on no energy and only the passion burning in her heart. It sounded like exactly what happened.

"Don't read into it too much," she spoke up, over lyrics that claimed that being drunk and high made her hopeful that she'd see some nameless 'you' again, so being nothing was the best kind of drug, because nothing doesn't hope or remember. She twisted in her seat, propping her head up in her hand. Her foot took up drum miming duty. "You know, I think I owe you something," she began, "I was betting on you getting your ass beat tonight. Left without paying up. Doesn't feel right. Rather it go to you than any of those elitist pricks, but. What was it, a thousand and something or other."

The superstar grunted at Vicki and leaned forward, out of their seat. "Is this your way of getting my number?" From their pocket they pulled out a black pen and leaned over. The olive skinned enby's fingers encased Vicki's- their hands much larger than the girls. And on her pale skin they wrote out a number. "Search my digits on darkfranc, money-transfer app. And don't fucking sell it to the tabloids, it changes every week." And then they released, letting out a long drag through the cracked window of the car.

The song began to grow for a moment. "Yeah. This is... definitely music," Cannon commented. They stared at Vicki deadpan for a long ass moment, the cigarette hanging between their lips, before laughing and beginning to rock out at a guitar riff. "I'm joking!" They said. "This is good!"

Vic's teeth flashed, her canines bared in a grin that belonged to an animal. "You fucking arse," she chuckled and grabbed the closest, throwable thing to hit them with, which was the Jericho skin-bag, which promptly scattered a flood of tiny metal pieces all over the car floor. Vic threw her head up to the ceiling and let out an exasperated groan. "What even - what even is all this?" She exclaimed as she scooped up all the itty bitty pieces. "That dog- what even is this day? I can't -" Her annoyance was won over by laughter, the overwhelmed, confused, laughing-because-there-is-literally-no-other-response-to-give kind. She rocked back in her seat, running a hand through her hair. "Why do we stay here? I can't deal with Atlas, this shit always -"

On cue, the faint sound of an explosion going off blasted a dozen blocks away.

Vic pursed her lips. She leaned back, clicked on the car radio, leaned forward, took back Cannonade's phone and turned the bluetooth on. The car's stereo system played over the sound of the city's constant frenzy of sirens and hustle. She tossed Cannonade's phone back into their lap, snuggled down into her seat and went back to happily air drumming away.

Alex was presently surprised when Jericho came out of the bathroom almost seconds after he had whistled for the hound. That was different usually they would ignore it for about a minute. Yes, the Shapeshifter wasn't a pet but it was the easiest way to get their attention. He scratched the back of Jericho's ears and felt the slight rumble of a growl. " I know, I know . . . Only way to let you know shits getting a bit too crowded out her-" And that was when Cannonade and Vicki fucking Vortex walked out of the bathroom. Wait . . . what the hell? What was Vic doing here of all places? This didn't really seem her kind of scene, unless there was some private show happening or something. Damn she looked shitfaced. At least she was being helped, didn't look like she could even walk on her own.

Aaaaaand The way too happy SINS creep was right in front of him acting like the two were good friends. Alex blinked behind his mask confused. When did he get so close? How the hell was he not paying attention? Wait right, He was staring off at Vicki Vortex. That was probably the closest he had ever been to the rockstar. Who he was probably one of the biggest fans of. And owned just about all her music on records . . . and all her old bands shirts. Okay so he had been a touch star struck.
Then there was the Flash. Alex blinked away the momentary blindness. The guy had taken his picture. Thank god he had remembered the mask, he REALLY didn't want SINS having a picture of his actual face. This thing was worth every cent, though it did make his face a bit gaunt.

---

Alex saw the man make his rounds to every note worthy person in the room and proceed to make more and more people visibly uncomfortable. Alright, time to go. Jericho seemed finished and Alex had his fill of this place. If they did this right they could casually walk out of here with no problems.

The building shuddered from the sudden explosion.

OKAY! No stealth, its go time. Everyone was in different states of shock and panic. Some people though just didn't seem to care. Alex Leaned down to Jericho “Kitchen exit, now. Anything tries to stop us . . . we use Juggernaut. You lead, i'll follow.” He kept his voice hushed. Without missing a beat Jericho started barking violently and loudly, clearing their way before pulling Alex along towards the kitchen, snarling at anyone who gets in the way from moving too slowly.
Alex spent no time "Stumbling" after his dog. It really didn't take them long to get to the kitchen and blaze past the confused and yelling staff before bursting out the door and into the street. Alex let go of the leash which quickly melted into ink and was retracted into Jericho's body. Alex loosened his tie and glanced down at the Shapeshifter. " Be right back." Blue light lit up under Alex's feet and he launched himself to the roof. He made a new platform under himself just as he reached the edge and vaulted over it. He briskly walked past the still knocked out guards and grabbed his bag. "Carry on you two, your doing great." He saluted the two before leaping back over the edge. Another Force field formed under him before he landed on the concrete. No use making craters everywhere if he could help it. He nodded to the hound with a bit of a smirk. "Alright, lets go home. I really, really want to go to sleep already."

Fingers tugged the polaroid of a smiling couple on a caribbean vacation out of the wallet and threw it to the ground. A New York state I.D., a Manhattan gym membership, a Yoghurt Hut Punch Card. The balaclava covered face of Kevin Garland frowned as he mulled over the wallet. This was all fucking useless. There wasn't shit in here. With only the credit card and the twenty-seven loose dollars in change pocketed from the steal Kevin pulled his mask off and made his way out of the alley, casually tossing the wallet into a metal trash can.

He looked both ways before he emerged. No cops in sight. Hands tucked into the pockets of his tracksuit and he exited onto the street. It was humid as all hell. The highway ran beside him, and beyond that the boardwalk where the morning sun was rising. Kevin walked along the stretch of tall buildings overlooking the highway. Expensive-ass hotels all built in the last twenty years. Full of rich tourists. The area had become gentrified as hell, which had only one benefit as far as he was concerned: it made it full of easy marks from out of town.

***

"Kevin Garland!" The deep baritone of Tater Tot echoed down the alleyway. Kevin had walked a good thirty minutes now, away from the built up parts of Atlas City into the over-grown alleyways and unfinished one-story houses of Bedford Park. His neighbourhood. His home. Kevin approached the massive, pink-skinned, Hawaiian shirt wearing, sun-glassed man and gave a quick dap. Tater Tot smiled at his friend but his focus was over his shoulder. "Whose that?"

Kevin turned. Amongst the cracked concrete, garage doors and plastic trash bins of the alley a figure stood. They were lanky, wore a fringed pencil skirt of grey and black jean. Their shirt was a red tank-top, and a black leather jacket hung loosely from their shoulders. They were wearing combat boots. And over-sized red-sunglasses. From their pocket a speaker softly sang.

"Woke up I had the same clothes on I had on last night
I must have passed out
And cash is just like the clothes I worn yesterday
We are broke
I gotta get my ass out"

"Hey, you alright?" Tater Tot called out to the strange figure.

The figure let out a tired smile. "Yeah." Pharrell's voice continued to sing from the speaker as they stepped forward. "Only... I saw you- up by the Plaza Hotel." The figure turned to Kevin "You were wearing a mask." They slid down their sunglasses revealing green eyes. "Good people don't wear masks."

It was Cannonade, and in their hand a switch-blade flipped out. Tater Tot was first to react, sending a punch Cannonade's way. Cannonade dodged with ease before smashing the man's arm into the earth. He lost balance instantly and fell. Cannonade cracked their neck and backed away, letting Tater come at them again. Tot grunted before giving a running punch. Cannonade ducked before retaliating with a jab to the man’s stomach. Before he could fly back they smashed a boot down on his leg, smashing it instantly. Tater Tot cried out in pain as he lay on the ground of the alley. Cannon turned back to Kevin, who already had his hands raised.

"Fight me," Cannon hissed.

"Nah," Kevin replied, shaking his heads. "Call the cops, take my shit, whatever. You win, man."

“I’m not calling the fucking cops.” Cannonade marched over to Tater Tot and delivered a mighty kick to his ribs before raising a boot onto the fat-man's bald head. And then they began to crush it. Tot screamed out, his sun-glasses breaking as Cannon crushed. "Fucking fight me," They said again.

Kevin looked on in despair before lowering his hands into a guarding position. Cannonade released their stomp from the man's head and rose their fists as well. Kevin shook his head desperately. "You're gonna win.”

Cannon nodded. "I know."

Kevin let out a punch but Cannon was already beside him. Their leg collided with his side. A few more dodges, a few kicks and punches, before finally a fist landed centre on Kevin's head. He stumbled backward, into a metal garage door, and collapsed. He was out cold.

"Don't tell me you don't know what you see
When you're looking at a motherfucker just like me
I'm a provider, girl."

Cannonade stood between the two defeated men, breathing rapidly through their mouth. They smashed their fist on their chest a few times, just below their boob. Their heart was racing. They felt good. In a real shitty sort of way. And then, they let out a long exhale.

Cannon knelt beside the downed men. In each of their breast pockets they left a bundle of hundreds. Then they rose, pulled out a cigarette, and began to walk off...

"Goodbye beloved one
Do you know what I am?
If you don't see my face no more
I'm a provider, girl,
gotta face the streets tonight."

***

After a couple years in hiding, Cannonade's ass makes its triumphant return to the limelight in Atlas City fight! The gender-fluid superhero was seen in Atlas City, unfortunately not in their skin tight body-suit, but in a pair of booty shorts instead!

Cannonade frowned as their thumbed through the celebrity gossip website on their phone, past 17 more paragraphs describing their backside and a picture of them standing atop a car during the witchfinder's terrorist attack. At the bottom of the page was a link to a gallery, Cannonade in nothing but a helmet and a bikini on the header. Heh, Ibiza.

We want to now take you on a ride through Cannonade bikini photo gallery. This curated image gallery will showcase some of the sexiest Cannonade bikini pictures that will make you fall in love. These Cannonade hot images will leave you drooling. So sit back and enjoy a thrill-ride of Cannonade big booty pictures. These Cannonade big butt pictures are sure to leave you mesmerized and awestruck. In this section, enjoy our galleria of Cannonade near-nude pictures as well.

Cannonade bit their lip before clicking the gallery. The glass screen loaded the page and they scrolled through the first few images before grunted and exiting. There were better big booty pictures of them. They knew. 'cannonade butt' was a web alert on their phone.

Seagulls flew overhead before dipping down into the water. Cannon glanced to watch the birds. They'd made their way to the beaches of Atlas City, surprisingly packed, and had found a quiet corner to sit- by a life-guard tower, by the rocks. It was polluted by glass and trash but they didn't mind. No families nearby, at least.

Cannon's hand went to their pocket and pulled out a card. They played with the paper for a moment before taking their phone out again.

***

Somewhere, Sasha's phone would ring, a new message from an unknown number appearing.

You said something about drugs?
- Cannonade

March 12th, 2045, 9:15am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Day 2

The sun shone brilliantly over the magnificent Atlas City. The glass skyscrapers glittered, the smooth beaches glowed, and even the brutalist concrete monoliths of decades before managed to take on a more natural life to them. Light has always had qualities to it that provide both seen and unseen benefits, to all life on Earth. It can be easy to take for granted, but today, a great many Atlasians decided to take advantage of it and enjoy it.

Despite the beaches not being at their Summer Time prime, they managed to attract a fair number of people, those who had the time to make it for a day off, or before heading to work.

Further down the beach, away from where the hero Cannonade sat relaxing, a man paced back and forth across the sands of the beach, frantically checking and rechecking his phone. He chewed his lip anxiously, turning over the events of yesterday in his mind, over and over again. The man was dressed in simple, non-descript clothes, just a golf shirt and pants, which hid quite effectively who he really was. Francis Stalwell, the High Deacon of the Atlas City chapter of the Witchfinders. The man who had been behind the terror attack at Atomic Anne’s diner yesterday.

It had been a complete disaster, a mountain of a failure. However, Francis had plans to turn this around, to make an absolute victory, a comeback from the defeat they had just suffered.

He huffed and sighed, trying to release the tension inside of him out into the air.



Further down the beach, Wilhelmina Wright was doing her own walking, and thinking, a little closer to people, though without the intention to be. She was trying to clear her head, refocus herself and figure out what the best way forward with Victoria was now. Things were complicated, to say the absolute least, and as much as she tried to convince herself that they could be made simple, the pit in her stomach told her otherwise.

She stared anxiously at her phone, at Victoria’s contact profile, thumb hovering over the call button. Wilma cursed under her breath as she worked up the courage to do what she felt she had to. This was, of course, battling against what her mind told her was actually best to do.



Francis had come to his decision. He was going to call his contacts, and they were going to go all out. Today. He wanted fifty Balthazar’s here, and enough of the Fire and Salt for a hundred of his best men in the area. They were going to rip the city apart to finally put that demoness, Yue Bayushi, out of their misery, as well as every other cape and vigilante that chose to pop up in this awful city.

Fire. Salt. They were going to purge this city. They were going to…

Someone caught his eye, further down the beach. He recognized the woman, but wasn’t sure from where. Something about her… Had he seen her in the news? He checked his phone quickly, finding something odd about her. He looked through recent articles from the last few days… And his eyes landed on a gossip article. Vicki Vortex might be in Atlas City? And pictured with her in ‘reference photos’ from others shows? Her agent, Wilhelmina Wright.

Francis looked back towards the woman before him, a grin growing greater on his face. Vicki Vortex? With their agent in hand, the Witchfinders might be able to drag the superstar out of hiding, get he in the open, exposed. If the Witchfinders executed one of America’s most famous Super Celebs, that would send quite the message.

He put his phone away as he began to make his way down the beach.



Wilma swallowed down her nervousness and ‘better judgement’, and dialed Victoria. After only a ring or two, the other line was picked up, Vicki only saying hello, more as a question than a greeting.

“Victoria, it’s Wilma. Listen, I wanted to talk about earlier…”

Vicki was silent, not saying anything in response, leaving open air for Wilma to respond. And feel the sting that Vicki felt.

“I’m sorry I left under such… Tense circumstances. And I’m sorry about the bodyguard situation. I know you must hate it, but…”



Unbeknownst to Wilma, and unseen by Francis, the ocean waters next to them, lapping and splashing gently against the shoreline, began to lap and splash with decreasing severity. They quieted, steadied, and began to withdraw… The waters receded further and further back from the beach.



Francis was getting eerily close to Wilma, he’d need to plan some way to capture her and make it at least partly discreet… But he was still about a hundred feet away or so, and she would likely make her way away from the beach soo-

That was when he noticed the water level. What was going on? Why had it receded so much?

He looked out to the water just in time to notice…

A man.

Walking out of the water.

But this wasn’t a normal looking man. He seemed out of time. His hair was black, and slicked back. He had a pencil thin mustache that appeared to have been from as far back as the 1920’s or 1930’s. And his suit… A brown tweed three piece that absolutely was from the early 20th century.

The man staggered slowly from the water, completely drenched, water pouring off his body. His gaze was empty, vacant, the sort as if he’d just seen a terrible accident, the kind that ends up in history books.

And in his hands, he held a vintage, double barrel shotgun.

Francis froze as the man continued watching, staring forward at the city, not even taking notice of the civilian clothed Witchfinder.

“Are… Are you alright buddy?” Francis asked nervously, looking from the gun to the man’s face.

“Run…” Was all he managed to whisper out in a raspy voice.

“W-what?”

“I SAID RUN YOU IMBECILES!!! ALL OF YOU RUN!!!” He cried out in a voice somewhere between rage and insanity. He fired off a shot into the sand before him, causing a small explosion of dust in the ground. “RUN!!!”

And with that, the man in the brown tweed suit took off running towards the city, leaving Francis completely stunned and in shock. What just happened?



Wilma dropped to the sand at the sound of the gunshot, looking behind her as a man wearing a brown suit took off towards the city. She could hear Vicki on the other end demanding to know what was going on.

“I- I don’t know Vicki… I need to get out of here right now.” She felt the pit opening up wide in her stomach as she looked around frantically.

“Victoria… Listen, I have to tell you something, I- I can’t leave it any longer. I’m sorry for everything from last night and this morning. I want to keep you safe… I want to protect you… I… Vicki I -”

Before she could say anything else, Wilma was cut off when she noticed a shadow now looming over her. It was coming from the water.

The shadow not only covered her, but Francis Stalwell too. The two looked next to them, to the waters, looked up, and the last thing Vicki heard coming from Wilma’s phone was blood curdling screams.

Francis, Wilma, and any others on the beach cried out in unfathomable terror before a thick, green and black mist enveloped them. More screams came through Vicki’s phone, before turning to static, and finally the line was dropped.

The last things Francis and Wilma could think of was the sensation of their bodies being dissolved.

Decayed.



The radio had clicked on again, this time switching to music instead of a talk show. CCR's 'Bad Moon Rising' began to lilt through the room as Richard looked out to the ocean from his balcony, watched as the horizon began to disappear, and stared in utter horror at what stood before it. He’d nearly dropped the second coffee he had made himself.

His whole body shook, stomach both empty from the sense of absolute defeat, yet on fire with tension and fear of this incarnation of death that stood before him. Richard’s eyes were wide, mouth hung open, and mind whirred through a million questions and uncertainties.

There was no way this could be real.



What stood before the city now, having lifted itself out of the beautiful ocean waters, was some hideous, indescribable monster. It stood at roughly 300 to 400 feet tall, the height of some apartment buildings in the city, taller than others even. Its shape was some malformed, wretched piecemeal mound of color and substance that should not be bound together.

The majority of the beast appeared to be made up of thick, green patches of rotten, fetid flora, a strange mixture between mold or mildew, lichen, moss, and fungus. What appeared to be dead, white, hollowed out trunks of trees were placed helter skelter across the surface of the monster, with a foul, putrid brown sludge pouring out from each one. While it might be difficult to see from afar, up close the sludge could be seen to have chunks mixed into it, some indiscernible, but some almost certainly were flesh and bone.

An unnatural pinky-white fleshy substance could be seen protruding in some areas, highlighted by red veins that crisscrossed over their surfaces. The flesh itself appeared bubbly, misshapen, like some kind of diseased growths or tumors. But upon this flesh sat another, and the dead flora. somehow more sickening substance.

It was thick, furry, and came in shades of green and black. It looked like some kind of mold or mildew, with uncomfortably prickly looking spikes acting as outgrowths, as if trees growing in a field. But the moldy field was not at all field like. It formed into hundreds, thousands even, of gaping little holes, wrapping around the pink flesh as if an external honeycomb structure.

The moldy substance would tense and relax periodically, causing the holes to shrink, then widen again, as each hole was breathing in unison. In, and then out. The pink fleshy substance it clung to pulsated and thrummed with some unnatural life to it, appearing like it was feeding the mold, or being fed by it.

As the creature began to settle into it’s current position, bits of the thick greenness on its form pulled back, tensing up as the pulled back into fleshy circles that throbbed, also as if they were breathing. Like larger versions of the honeycombed mold on the beast. As these larger ones pulsated, they would open and close like toothless mouths, spewing out more vile substances, a lighter brown in color, though sometimes appearing as a vibrant orange color.

After a moment of standing there, the front of the beast began to crack open, the lower half of it’s front descending to reveal a green, black, and unnaturally colored and textured hole, with stringy bits of flesh and decay connecting vertically from the top to the bottom of the cave.

Of course, this wasn’t some ‘cave’, or arbitrary opening. It was a mouth, which it announced with a bellowing roar louder than anything anyone on Earth had likely heard in their lives. The booming, monstrous sound echoed past the ends of the cities, beyond even Olympus Heights, outside of the town itself. The buildings within a block or two of the monster experienced their windows shattering, people were knocked over, some were made deaf, luckier ones only temporarily so.



Cannonade, who was close to the beach, felt their body fall backwards as the force of the roar knocked them back. Their ears rung for a few moments as they tried to regain their bearings, to try to understand what had just happened.



The roar was heard across town, be it in the tenements of Olympus Heights, a grocery store, the outskirts of town, the Atlas City Heroes building, the NAHLA headquarters, or even offices being rented by SINS.

Everyone heard. Everyone knew. Everyone would see.

Nothing in human history could compare.



Manfred Paper Services occupied one of the top floors of the Michelin Office Building, taking up the entire floor for their own operations. Of course, they didn’t actually have anything to do with paper, being a front name SINS used to establish more covert locations across the country.

Peter watched out the windows facing the ocean as the strange monster made its presence very known. His face was unreadable, lacking in emotion as texts quickly came in, followed by a quick phone call. Superiors, even above SINS itself, were already passing down orders. This was the sort of thing they couldn’t train you for, but you had to be ready for. He let out a soft sigh as he punched some numbers into his phone and made a call.

Both Sairyn and Ivetta’s phones rang, and once they picked up, they were greeted by Peter’s voice. “Sairyn, Ivetta. Hope you’re both having a wonderful morning so far. Listen, I just got orders from the top, so I’m passing them along to you in advance so you can get a move on. Sairyn, we’re gonna be taking a team of NAHLA boys and girls and sending them to the Fusion Reactor. It’s the highest priority next to killing this creature. But the orders for yourself, and the contract you’re being offered Ivetta” is a little more complicated.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear as he quickly sent something to both their phones. “I just sent you both a map of where I need you to be. Downtown area, about 2 or 3 blocks from the beach, mostly residential, housing etc. Uncle Sam is asking that you get every man, woman, child, cat, and dog out of that area ASAP. The higher ups are going to completely flatten the area and drop a hefty piece of artillery down. Gonna try to shoot this thing dead. Time is of the essence, so please start immediately. Oh yes, and your country thanks you for your service.”

With that he hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket, turning to the other SINS agents that were close by, many staring out the windows. “Everyone, I need you to back up every last bite of data we have in here onto secure hard drives. I want this operation mobile in thirty minutes. Nina, gonna need your help with some escorting. Escorting all this data and equipment.”

He looked back out the window one last time to gaze at the behemoth that stood there now.

What a way to start the day.



Richard was already kitted out in his White Death attire, stuffing the last bits of equipment he needed into tote boxes he was stacking onto a dolly. He was taking pretty much every gun he had, and plenty of ammo to accompany, especially for Hrunting. There were also quite a large number of ammo cases placed inside the totes, too large for any of the guns he’d currently packed up…

He knew the chances of doing any damage to that monster was slim to none, but he was going to try. There were people out there that needed to be protected, to at least have a chance to get out, and that could not be ignored.

No matter the risk, there was innocent people, and he refused to let them be abandoned.



He stood awkwardly in an elevator heading down to the basement parking lot, and his stack of totes bunched up into a corner. A tiny old lady, who couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall, and was probably 70 or 80 years old, kept looking up at him.

“Are you a supervillain?” She asked quite plainly.

Richard turned to look awkwardly at the tiny woman who stared up at him with squinty eyes. She seemed pretty frail, but evidently unconcerned by him despite her question. “Uhh… No? This is a combat fatigue?”

She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes more. “So you’re a soldier then?”

“I was, but not anymore. I gave that up…”

She nodded understandingly. “I see, I see. My husband was a soldier too, back in the Gulf War it was. He left the army too. I don’t know why, he didn’t talk much about it. He burned all his medals. Seemed strange to me, but he had his reasons, I know.”

“Oh? What happened with him since?”

She sighed wearily. “He died of cancer 3 years back. I miss him terribly, but I’m going now to see my children and grandchildren in New Hampshire. It’s been a long time since I last saw them, so I’m very happy to be spending a few weeks with them.” She smiled pleasantly as she made this remark.

“Might want to make that a little longer…” He was quiet for a moment, before offering some quick advice. “Stick to the back roads that lead out of town, moving inland. Avoid the coast, with what’s going on outside.”

“Oh, traffic is bad then?”

Richard looked at her confused. “Well yes, but also the giant monster out there…”

She seemed blissfully unaware of his statement. “Oh thank you dearie, that’s very kind of you to offer advice. You really do seem like a nice young man, I’m glad the army didn’t change you too terribly much.”



Richard had finally made it to the ground floor and already packed most of the gear he had into his International Scout II. In the back, the seats had been removed and replaced with something hidden under a beige tarp. It was hard to tell what it was, but it was fairly long.

He took a quick peak underneath to admire the .50 machine gun he’d had installed. There was a slight sigh and smile of relief, Richard feeling glad to know he’d might be walking into a giant fight, but that he’d still be armed. He had a decent variety of ammo as well, to ensure he’d be well equipped for the fight.

As Richard finished packing and hopped into the driver seat, he was reminded that whatever was waiting for him out there, he was equipped to rip, tear, and burn.

“An adversary approaches. Ready yourself. Beloved idiot.”

The warning boomed in Jericho’s thoughts, yanking them from their joyful dance as they became witness to the cacophonous roar that blossomed from beyond the safety of the locked apartment.
A beat of silence, as if the world held its breath for just a moment… Before screaming reached Jericho’s ears.
Unadulterated fear, incredulous shock, and heart stricken horror. Emotions Jericho did not quite comprehend.

Then, as if they had a brief epiphany, they remembered Alex.
And they understood rather abruptly, what it felt like to truly worry for someone other than themselves. That odd fear, some kind of unfelt and misunderstood sensation of the ‘heart’ finding the ‘stomach’ and dropping out of the body and onto the floor.

They even looked down to see if their internals were falling out, which they weren’t! Thankfully.
They felt the terror spur their body into motion before they truly understood it, their form writhed with ink.
And before they knew it, they were leaping out from the opened window. Their rapidly growing tail yanked the window shut behind them as they hurtled through the air.

Flesh melted away to expose bone as they sailed along, ink stretching and rippling into the air from the drag of motion. The bone melted away, and for a brief span of time, Jericho was nothing more than matter sailing through the open air.
A heartbeat passed…
Then their form grew around their ‘core’, a nearly perfect sphere, the size of a child’s fist.

Once again, the combat form from Soldier Park came into being around them. Larger, more ‘solid’ in a way only Jericho understood. They stood nearly 10 feet at the shoulder, and were solidly 14 or so feet from snout tip to tail tip.
Their maw was needle fangs, though it was mostly hollow otherwise. No tongue, no ‘throat’ meat… Just a tunnel easily the size of a large human skull.

They landed on the far side of the street from the apartment window, not quite cracking the pavement, but certainly cracking and shattering their wrists and ankles… the broken body healed swiftly. Ink swirled and rippled into the open wounds, and filled it with more meat, more bone.
They did not grow metal, this time it would only slow them down.

A deeeeep breath was pulled into the body, and muscles coiled tight enough to cause their bones to creak… before Jericho BOLTED like a bullet out of a gun from Hell. They were no speedster, but they certainly could have outpaced a cheetah. Their spine was spring-like, contracting and relaxing as their limbs powered them on. They dashed past fleeing civilians, doing their utmost to knock none of them over, and bounded towards the beach.

Towards the absolute abhorrent creature that rose above the buildings beyond.
They shrieked a challenge at it, and cleared the six city blocks from the apartment to the beach in record time.
They huffed air in a manner that only some supers could achieve, most who utilized their breathing as a weapon or training.
They arrived at the beach, far to the west of the abomination, and charged down the beach with a sort of determined fury that they couldn’t quite place.
Sand got kicked up in their wake as they approached the abomination, shrieking a challenge the entire way. J-3’s call was furious, the sound of a screaming wild-cat mixed with the trumpeting roar of an elephant, all of it undercut by the bassy below of some crocodilian beast.

Time to boogie.

Cannon wasn't sure what they saw. Something from the sea, a monster from the deep, indescribable, unfathomable, abhorrent. Those nearest seemed overcome by it's fowl mist, and those not caught in it's terrible carnage were instead treated by a deafening scream with such force it knocked cars, trees and all else over. Cannonade too had been caught in the blast, flying backward with the lifeguard tower which had collapsed from the force. The last thing they remembered was covering their head as the wood of the lifeguard tower collapsed around them...

Freedom. The wind. Blue-shifted tendrils of pink lightning crackling off her arms. Energy pulsing through her with each breath, shooting from her chest, down each of her limbs, and out her fingers and toes. It was the first time she'd really had a chance to use her powers in the past five weeks and it was... liberating. She couldn't suppress the wide, goofy smile spreading across her face as the landscape whipped past in a blur, her perceptions accelerated just enough for her to experience the euphoric sensation of speed and still be able to react.

The new suit was amazing... well to her at least. That was due in part to the Silver Fang suit not having any real updates since it had been made. Yue was pretty stubborn when it came to her equipment. Luna Lightning's suit had a comprehensive heads up display, with a readout on the suit's status, her vitals, relative speed... not only did small control surfaces on the suit raise and lower to stabilize her at speed, but the HUD was even able to detect when she was accelerated and adjusted the feedback to compensate... which she only realized when her phone rang? A call from Sairyn appeared in her HUD.

She suddenly had a bad feeling sweep over her, and slid to a halt on the coast dozens of miles outside the city, exhaling and releasing her energy.

"Hello?" she answered.

"No- NO!, I have to leave, you need to burn that with napalm!-" Sairyn snapped at someone.

"You want me to handle explosives? Oh honey, we both know that's a bad idea," Archer replied from the background, followed by the sound of a slamming door and hurried running.

"No time to explain. Gather your team of misfits and evacuate everyone from the beach and the surrounding areas, details coming in a text." Yue opened her mouth to reply, but Sairyn had already abruptly hung up. Seconds later she received a text containing a map of the evacuation area, followed by the group text from Sasha. That sinking feeling in her gut was only worsening.

"Reply. I'm on the way. Need help evacuating people. Send."

The HUD whisked the text away to the group, and she inhaled deeply, flooding her whole body with energy until her bones creaked under the strain. She braced herself, feeling the power build up in her legs and then launched explosively. She felt her body *clap* through the sound barrier and the suit flick out control surfaces to stabilize her when the shock threatened to knock her off balance.

Miles melted away in seconds, and as she approached the city borders she dialed up the acceleration of her neural synapses and nervous system so she could get a better handle on what was going on. Yue drifted through the air between steps, feeling her body hum with an emotion... It speared her gut like a knife when she laid eyes on the creature and vibrated through her fingers. She couldn't tell what it was, her brain was already filtering it out as just... noise, which happened to every feeling she didn't understand. She angled herself more towards the water with her next step: people were starting to appear on the beach and she needed to get by them without her shock-waves hurting anyone.

A few steps later, she was nearing the evacuation area and the people were starting to become much more frequent. She straightened up, crossing her arms in front of her. The suit flipped out a pair of air brakes from her back and she slowed down rapidly, feeling the wall of the sound barrier crash back into her and nearly knock the wind out of her lungs. Yue took a new breath to compensate and looked for anyone that was injured or knocked down. A body underneath the remains of a life-guard tower caught her eye first, and she weaved through the crowd being extremely careful not to graze or knock anyone down.

Yue exhaled as she landed, skidding unsteadily for a dozen feet before regaining her balance and jogging to the scene. That would take some practice. She knelt down, quickly checking them for breathing, and was pleasantly surprised with the suit's HUD when it presented a vitals scan. They didn't look seriously injured, but Yue checked to make sure they hadn't hit their head, or have any potential broken bones before she dug into the sand a bit to free them. She inhaled, flooding her body with energy and cheated... just a little bit, by bracing the weight of the tower with one hand and making it look like she was using it for leverage to pull the person out from underneath it. Yue cradled them carefully in her arms, bracing their neck against the acceleration and streaking towards the edge of the evacuation zone.

The figure in Yue's arms was a rag-doll with a shocking amount of muscle mass. Their arms flopped loosely as they were carried. Suddenly the blood coated lids of the vic snapped open, green-eyes starring up at Yue. The world was groggy, and Cannonade could barely make out what was happening. Still, they recognized the helmet of their saviour. "Fucking... Luna Lightening?" Their words were a half moan half croak...

J-3 became aware of a speedster approaching the beach by the abrupt appearance of a lightning wreathed woman. Or at least, they assumed it was a woman, it could've been a male for all J-3 knew- Focus.
They yanked their attention back to the massive aberration before them. Their maw opened and released a booming 'WHARK' sound as they rose onto their hind-legs, rising to a staggering easy 15 feet of height. A repeat of the sound leapt from their open maw, and as they continued their calling sounds, a swirl of ink swelled on the back of their spine, forming a massive eyeball that stared unflinchingly at the speeding super.
They were carrying something in their arms, what seemed to be a body... Maybe it would be prudent to investigate.

So J-3 turned and bolted off, running on their hind-legs for a moment before dropping to all fours once again. They bounded over to the woman, openly sniffing the air and hiss-'whark'ing on approach. They spoke haltingly, the lower jaw wiggling about in the air before ink bubbled up on the shoulder and formed a thin-lipped mouth. "What... What is their status? Alive? I can perform stitching and bandaging." Came the rushed words, startlingly human considering the shape that spoke them.
The spinal eye watched the massive form warily the entire time, unflinching, unblinking, swirling with ink ever so often to 'refresh'.

Yue's charge said something, causing her to glance down, though she didn't quite catch it. The winds were surprisingly calm inside her ionized bubble considering how fast she was moving, but their words were still whisked away. No matter. She started to slow down as she reached the edge of the evacuation zone since she really had to stop and evaluate whether or not to take her rescue to the hospital. Although that plan almost went to hell as a massive creature ran up on her.

For a fraction of a second her feet skidded on the asphalt, her arms tightening around Cannon and her whole body tensing like a coil. The spike of adrenaline made that fraction of a second feel like a whole minute to Yue. A whole minute of agonizing slow motion where she didn't have the footing to react and just waited for it to crash into them.

"Kuso! (Shit!)" she spat an uncharacteristic swear, and relaxed only slightly when she recognized it as the creature from Soldier park. And then the murder-puppy offered to help... Yue couldn't help raising one eyebrow in intrigue behind the mask, and exhaled, releasing her power as they came to a halt on a corner. She set her rescue down gently so they could be examined.

"Alive," she answered. The suit's vox gave her voice a slightly tinny, almost mechanical ring... just enough to disguise it. "Hey there, you got hit pretty hard," she informed, gently brushing their hair back to check for head injuries. "I don't think anything is broken, but you might have a concussion. I'm gonna see if I can get some paramedics to set up an aid station, but it'll take a little while for them to get here so you should take it easy and try to stay awake in the meantime," she instructed, getting back to her feet and turning to Jericho. She considered him with a dubious expression from behind the mask, not sure what to make of him just yet... and then she had an idea that twisted the corners of her lips into a smirk.

"There's more trapped on the beach. If you want to be good, then you can help me bring them here," she said, placing her hands on her hips and shifting her weight onto one foot. She was suddenly very conscious of the way the suit squeezed her ass when she did that. "Can you be good?" she very nearly stammered, clearing her throat slightly to cover the embarrassed tone.

Jericho watched as the woman stood and spoke to them, staring blankly at her before simply standing to their full height and leaning forward. They dragged in air with another deep breath, letting it out slowly with a nod before turning and bounding away again. The air was filled with many acrid scents, and as Jericho raced back towards the abomination on the beach, one scent in particular filled their snout.

Their tail shortened momentarily, a semi-long tendril rose from their shoulder and unfurled a mole-like noise with many finger-like protrusions on its tip.
The scent burned into their nose, of decaying flesh and bone... And of metal? They caught sight of an arm... and a leg... and another arm...

The scent was violently familiar, and as Jericho darted forth, they swirled with ink.
Their body became iron, pure and thick and true as sunlight. J-3 moved with determination, braving the mist that surrounded the monster to reach the robotic limbs. Perhaps there was-
Nothing. Nothing but the smell. That red-haired super was with this ... rot. At some point or another. But the rotting was bringing it closer to the surface, easier to detect.
The meat was gone, and the metal was curiously following along the same route. They could feel their own metal boiling and hissing away, leaving them with the horrendous sensation of aging and decaying- something that J-3 never once thought they would feel- and they snatched up the limbs and scampered with alacrity out of the mist. They shed the metal that made up their armor like old skin, screeching in agony as they did so.

They then returned to Yue and Cannon, though they did not know it yet. "Mist bad. Found these," They motioned to the limbs with their snout, "Anyone in mist that is meat is... Definitely dead. Mist makes you old, decay, rot. Do not enter."

They opened their mouth yet again to speak, coming to an abrupt halt as they watched something streak through the sky and slam directly into the beast.
J-3's main maw fell open for a moment, soundlessly and awestruck... Before a thunderous noise rushed to catch up with its presumed light partner. For a moment, that fear filled them again, and they wondered briefly where Aegis could be in this sort of situation... Hopefully nowhere nearby.

Cannonade nodded at the suited woman's instructions. The super had laid them down with surprising gentleness on the road lining the beach. And then a beast approached, leaping over cars to come beside her. To Cannonade's horror, it's mouth shape-shifted to speak to the woman. A bad feeling grew in the super roman's stomach- they knew this creature. It was the witchfinder's weapon from yesterday. Unmistakably so. And who then was she? Luna had died, Cannon could have sworn it. Cannonade's eyes shifted from Jericho's horrible form to the woman facing her and talking to the beast. And they frowned. They knew Luna Lightning's ass. They'd fucked Luna Lightning's ass. That was not Luna Lightning's ass. And if the shape-shifting monstrosity was the witchfinder's beast, was this too a witchfinder wearing the skin of a dead super?

The lovecraftian creature of the water roared again, an ample distraction for the fake super and the beast. As the beast charged into battle Cannonade saw their chance. In one, swift movement they leapt onto the their feet and darted forward along the asphalt, at a speed no concussed women should. Away from the supers and between two mini-vans whose owners were fleeing in fear, and once out the other end toward an alleyway.

"CAW-CAW!" A voice echoed through the air. Out of the clouds surrounding the creature a figure emerged, arms wide as metal lined wings stretched out between his arms and his torso. Manhawk, a private superhero in Atlas City, was here. And the bug-eyes of his helmet nearly cracking at the sight of the creature. "Caw!" He called again, diving toward the skyscraping horror and releasing bombs from his side pouches. They plummeted down toward the creature, ready to explode on impact...

Screams surrounded them. The streets were consumed by mobs of running people. Cannonade's body slumped against the pole of a stop sign to catch their breath. They had never seen anything like this before. The wind was knocked out of their chest as civilians smashing against them in their runs for cover. Some were trying to get into cars. Others simply abandoning their vehicles and tried to put as much distance between them and the waterfront as possible. Fire and explosions- a building to Cannon's right, it's top floors engulfed in flames. What the hell was happening?

The world was throbbing in rhythm with their head. And suddenly Cannonade wished they hadn't participated in an illegal fighting tournament last night. With a gulp of air they pulled out their phone- a diagonal crack along the glass from their recent encounter with heavy planks of wood on the beach.

"Come on." And then, a ping. A green car icon on the holographic map on their phone. Down the street the self-driving rental they'd been given came alive. "Okay, now come here..." Cannon whispered. As if in response a prompt popped up before their nose. It read: Obstruction. Vehicle unable to find safe path.

Cannonade grunted and then looked out to the street of fleeing civilians before them. It was chaos. . "Fucking... Christ." Pocketing their phone they ran forward, into the chaos of the crowd...

***

"OUT OF MY WAY," The brown suited man screamed, swinging his baseball bat violently at the others in the alley around him. "It's that Vietcong broad! I saw her leave her apartment, she's doing this! GET BACK!" He rose his baseball bat, threatening to bring it down onto a small child. The buildings surrounding the alley shook and a fire-escape nearly broke apart from the brick it was welded onto. The brown-suited man grunted before raising his bat again. "You all go back! Back on the street! This is my goddamn alley!"

Suddenly the man's hand burned as the aluminum bat got ripped out of it. Before he could react the metal collided with his legs, sweeping them out from under him. He collapsed to the ground. Cannonade looked down at the man and threw the bat to the side. They paused and looked around at the group of civilians crowded in the alley. "You saved us, lady..." A man with a thick new york accent breathed.

"Sure... now run." The alley shook again, the distant roar of the creature echoing. The crowd began to hurry through, Cannonade among them, before finally emerging onto a side-street. And there, headlights on and parked beside a fountain was their self-driving car.

Oh thank god.

Cannon ran through the street as civilians fled. They reached the side of their vehicle and with a tap of their phone-screen it opened for them. From behind them a woman emerged, screaming desperately and running for the vehicle. Cannonade pushed her to ground. "Car's full." They climbed in to safety and locked the doors behind them. The woman pounded on the vehicle for a moment before running on, with the crowd, fleeing the waterfront as best they could...

March 12th, 2045, 9:40am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Day 2

On the beach of Atlas City, further North, and more comfortably away from the Beast of Decay, an old facility once used for oil drilling and research now housed a new, more ambitious owner.

A sumptuous, elegant office room, with dark oak for near almost everything, including the large desk Maxwell Landon was seated at. Book shelves lined the sides of the room, but behind him sat a large, black marble statue of a panther, with thin veins of gold scattered throughout it. Before him sat another table, a long conference one, made of similar materials, with oak chairs with red leather seating surrounding. Ulysses, Willoughby, Kiran, and several others sat at the table currently, waiting quietly for Maxwell to speak.

“For the time being, I’ve sent Maeve to test out some weaponry at the front line. It’s a good time to prove herself, and to see what exactly this creature is capable of. Kiran, I need you to keep in contact with her, collect as much information as you can and try to figure out some ways we can kill this thing. The rest of you, I need you geared up and masked. I want you to take to the streets and help with evacuation. Now’s a good chance to build some PR with the city, and hopefully make it easier to kill this thing before it gets to us.”

Those in the room nodded along silently. “Ulysses, you stay here with some of the men, make sure the base is secure, and that Kiran can work on a solution in peace. Willoughby, you head to Shapeless, make sure it stays secure as well, and try to get as much product onto trucks and out of the city as you can. As for me, I’ll be joining some of you at the front lines to provide support, and hopefully add to that good PR.”

Maxwell rose from his seat, with the others soon following suit, as was tradition. He rapped his knuckle on his desk twice. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s go save a city.”



The Beast of Decay stood as a strange, dynamic statue in the midst of Atlas City’s coastal waters. While people scattered about in horror and panic, it made no moves closer to the city, it’s movements being restricted to the strange pulsing through its body, producing more foul liquids and lumps of unknown materials into the water below.

At one point, a small, shapeshifting ant of a being tried roaring. The Beast of Decay was entirely disinterested in any form of communication. The foul mist, the aerosol essence of its body, devoured organic and inorganic material before it without prejudice, leaving behind liquefied remains, which soon after turned into strange, blackened, mold like patches of fur. Veins grew across these patches, throbbing as unknown liquid passed through them, and shuddering as tiny needles of black began to pierce through and grow upward. They weren’t particularly long, about an inch in length, but they were indeed sharp as needles, and far more dangerous.

A moment later a light pierced through the sky, purple and white in color, and racing towards the Beast of Decay.

The burning substance quickly tore through the outside of the beast, forming a hole approximately 10 feet in diameter, and quickly exploding to be even larger as the charge inside went off. A torrent of brown, black, and orange sludge poured forth from the creature’s mouth, with hefty large chunks close in size to small cars plummeting into the waters below.

More explosions sounded off around the beast, as the sound of a strange man-bird announced an attack from the air. While the damage was mainly superficial at first, one well placed explosion forced a geyser of foul decay fluids to shoot up into the air, 50 foot spray that spread out into a fine mist in the direction of Man-Hawk.



Peter and several other SINS employees looked out the windows of their rented office building as the sky was lit up by a thin beam of light, aimed at the monster in the waters. Several of them looked shocked, confused by what happened. Peter seemed mostly unmoved, beyond a little smirk as he looked over at the NAHLA headquarters.

“What… Was that?” One of them asked.

Just as those words had finished being spoken, several people looked solemnly at TV screens that had been set up, reporting live news coverage of the attack. From around the world.

British, French, German, nearly every language known to man, all speaking in rapid unison as footage of the laser was marched across their screens. But the news coverage most concerning to everyone was that of the Soviets and Chinese.

“That was someone earning themselves a free visit from the Department of Defense.” Peter responded neutrally. “Try not to worry about it boys and girls, we’ve got a lot of work left to do. Hop to it.”



Richard weaved through traffic as quickly as he could, having luckily found streets that were considerably less crowded by vehicles, though that was likely due to them being side roads that led more easily to the beach, as opposed to away from it. The light in the sky that seemed to come from the direction of the NAHLA building had momentarily stunned him, as did the boom that followed it.

Had that been the end of the monster? No time to get hopeful, had to assume worst case and keep going. Richard sped up as he wound his way through suburbs and emptied streets, coming screeching around a corner as he found a relatively quiet street. People were pouring out of an alley it looked like, with one of them stepping over towards one of those self-driving limos.

Wait… Was that someone he recognized? Was that… The super with the shorts from yesterday getting into that car? Seemed they had places to go that weren’t the beach. Whatever. Wasn’t much good in a super that was only super for a show.

He drove over to the alley as the self-driving car pulled away, and once the narrow area had become clear of escaping civilians, he began to back up down the alley. If he was right about the roads, this should get him pretty close to the beach.

Once the back end of the SUV had pulled out into the other street connected to the alley, Richard had a pretty good view of the beach. There was still space between him and other vehicles, enough to shoot over, and create a battleground of his choosing.

Richard stepped out of the SUV, locking the steering wheel in place so the vehicle wouldn’t be going off anywhere he wasn’t, particularly with his equipment. He stared up at the monster in front of him a few moments, taking some time to comprehend just what was before him. A couple deep breaths. A nod of affirmation. He began marching forward, now with Hrunting firmly in hand.



The Beast of Decay finally moved. Just subtly at first, but enough to indicate it was looking directly at where the shot that had hit it had come from. It’s mouth fell open, more chunks dropping out and into the water, the hole in it’s body now visible.

And now visible too was the fact it was putting itself back together. Thin ropes of some kind of organic, fleshy material strung themselves up between the two sides of the wound, pulling the hole closed as more organic material poured in to coagulate the hole.

While this happened, and the beast’s mouth was open, a sound began to emanate from it. Quietly at first, but it soon grew to a volume that was audible across a large part of the city. Not painful to the ears, and all the more eerie that it was audible, the sounds of "I Think We`re Alone Now" by Tommy James & The Shondells carrying across the city.

It was clear where it came from, the Beast of Decay, but soon radios began to crackle to life across the city, phones and computers, all echoing the sounds of the song in unison with the monster. Something else too came to life, but not in the city.

In the sea.

The chunks that had been falling into the water were now crawling up onto the land. They still maintained their amorphous shapes at first, but soon they began take on new shapes, more recognizable, but nonsensical. Strange spikey protrusions poked through their decaying surfaces, looking like thick, broken bones, or bit of dead tree root, some even looked like large spider legs. These strange appendages allowed them to begin moving, slowly at first, but quickly picking up pace. Thin veins began to extend out of their bodies too, a dark, red and brown color, lined with singular rows of some sort of pulsating, stinger looking barbs.

As they made their way up the beach, the throbbing circles in their own external flesh became noticeable, more foul fluids spilling out around them as they moved. Once they’d gotten properly situated, their main weapons began to awaken; mouth like structures in the center of their bodies, equipped with insect like mandibles, and rows of teeth, broken boy, root, and other bizarre materials. The mouths opened and closed in deep, heavy breaths, anticipating their next meals…

“I think we’re alone now, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around - ”

The music cut off, replaced now by the sound of a voice, one all too familiar to many. While it couldn’t be understood by non-German speakers, it was the very recognizable voice of Adolf Hitler. The speech repeated his famous words, “Wir wissen vor uns, dass Deutschland liegt, in uns brennt Deutschland und hinter uns folgt Deutschland.” We know before us Germany lies, in us Germany burns, and behind us Germany follows.

More static cut through, and the voice of the long dead dictator was replaced by yet another, this one with the sound of a distressed English woman.

“This is Doctor Heather Wright! If you’re seeing this, I may already be dead, but I pray not. The date is March 5th, Nineteen Seventy - *static* I’m currently in the South Ge- *static* We must find a way to destroy this thing! It can’t continue to exist! All of humankind dep- *static*”

And with that, all voices and sounds from the Beast of Decay ceased.



A steady stream of civilians ran through the streets, scrambling to get away from the beach as fast as possible as the strange offspring of the monster quickly made chase. One man slammed into a car, desperately scrambling to get over, though not quickly enough. He turned to see one of the grotesque monstrosities closing in, now less than 20 feet away.

A loud gunshot rang out, and what appeared to be the offspring’s head was turned into a fine mist, dropping it to the ground. For now. The fleeing man turned in time to see the shooter, a man dressed in an all black military fatigue.

“MOVE!” Richard shouted, firing off several more rounds, finding their way into the heads and bodies of the monstrous targets heading this way. The fleeing man gave a simple, frightened nod and was up over the car, and bolting.

He fired off several more shots, having taken down most of the offspring that were coming down this street, but looking further down the beach he could see there were far more trying to make their way up every other avenue, to break through to the city center.

Another gunshot rang out, almost as loud as Richard’s, but not from him. He turned to see another one of the offspring dead on the ground not 8 feet away from him, and looking up he finally noticed a man, dressed in clothing from at least the early 20th century, holding a smoking shotgun.

Richard looked confused at the man, but gave an appreciative nod. “Thanks for that-“ He was cut off when he noticed the man was limping, and his left leg finally came into view. It was decaying already, bits of flesh falling off, the brown pant leg a tatter of what it was before. Richard rushed over to him. “Come with me, we need to get you medical-“ This time he was cut off by the shotgun being aimed at his face.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” The man shouted in a startling manner. “Don’t come near me, or my body, understand! I’m already dead! I probably have an hour left of my life, maybe less. The last thing I need or want is someone going down with me!”

Richard took a nervous step back from the man, hands raised slightly so as to prevent him from shooting again. “You… Know something about that thing? What was with all the music? And the talking?”

The man let out an agitated sigh as he leaned against a car, pulling out two solid shotgun slugs that he placed into the gun. This was a man intent on hunting something. “I know that this thing is not alone! You must listen to me; I don’t know who or what you are, but I need you to talk to your leaders, or someone, anyone in command. A President, Prime Minister, King or Queen, even a general. Just tell them they will need everything they can muster to destroy these things!”

“These… Things?”

The man in tweed nodded. “Yes, there is far more than you could ever imagine, this? It’s an infant compared to what horrors lurk… And they… Are… Legion…” He began to cough and hack uncontrollably, a spatter of blood exiting his mouth. “It’s inside me even… In my body, killing me from within… I… I don’t understand enough about this creature, or the others. I don’t even know where I am right now… I was hunting these things in a bog. But now… I think I’m a very, very far way off from home.”



March 12th, 2045, 2:40pm: Scottish Highlands

It was a pleasant afternoon, typically cool for Scotland this early in the year, but the snow was in mere patches right now. New Tantallon Castle had a gorgeous view of the sea from the back end of the estate, and it’s brilliant, vibrant gardens from the front. The stone architecture, and dark wood made the place truly magnificent to behold. George Carlisle Hughes, a man well aged and into his 90’s, sat quietly at his desk, finishing up on some paperwork before being interrupted by the phone ringing. He cocked an eyebrow at the thing, before picking it up.

“Hughes here, what is it?” The man spoke in an elegant English accent, though some Scottish tints could be detected.

“Sir, you need to look at the news. Now.”

George pursed his lips, a little off put by the tone as he exited his office to head for the conference room. He quickly turned on the television, and was immediately greeted by the sight of the monster from Atlas City. His face was stony with resolve as he watched the beast work. “Do we know for sure it’s one of-“

“This is Doctor Heather Wright! If you’re seeing this, I may already be dead, but I pray not.”

His mouth dropped as the woman’s voice continued to echo through the television. They were capable of this even? How?

“Ready the jet for me immediately. And do we have anyone close to North Carolina right now? George asked in a stoic voice, trying to hide his true, much more fearful emotions.

“We have a sub out there sir. They can likely be at Atlas City in 5 hours, give or take.”

George nodded remorsefully. “Get it done. I’m leaving for the airstrip in 15.” As he hung up the phone, he looked back to the TV, feeling his whole body shake and go weak from the sight of this creature. He’d never thought in his life he’d actually see something like this take form. But here it was, mocking all of humanity, and their hubris for thinking nothing could be more powerful than them.

March 12th, 2045, 9:40am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Day 2

Albert's comms crackled to life as a reply came through. "HQ here Albert. Not certain on that ETA yet, government is supposed to be filling us in on that soon. Sounds like the weapon is some sort of canon, or artillery, not sure. They're going to level the residential area close to the beach, they want civvies moved to the West as much as possible to avoid any collateral."



As Vicki and Maeve arrived on scene to help defeat the Beast of Decay, close to a dozen of its offspring rushed up onto the beach, with 3 targeting Maeve, 2 targeting Vicki, and the remaining others charged towards where Yue, Jericho, and Alex were operating. The sand behind these creatures darkened, as patches of dark mold grew.



And explosion of noise erupted from the entrance of one of the roads leading to the beach, as several of the Beast's offspring were torn to shreds, some bursting into bits of flame. The massive .50 caliber machine gun Richard had was making quick work of the offspring, but this was little more than a temporary measure. The man in tweed too had fired off shots, taking out two more of the dark beasts before needing to reload.

Down another adjacent street, explosions could be heard as offspring got blasted into gory, misty messes. Richard and the man in tweed looked over to see Man-Hawk working to keep his own street cleared of monsters, and allowing more innocents to escape.



Three more offspring landed around Man-Hawk, heavy, wet breathing audible all around him as they all lashed out with their veins, and malformed, claw equipped arms. So far he was managing to dodge the attacks, but another distraction had cropped up, now bursting from... His coms? His phone?

The sound was blaring from phones, radios, TVs, and everything else across the city.



Across the city, supers and humans alike, both heroes, villains, and average folk, got the startling, hopeless tone of a National Emergency Alert coming through on whatever speakers were close by. Even the heroes on the beach, the NAHLA heroes, ACHI, and SINS were getting the same message.

"This message is being transmitted at the request of the United States Government. This is not a test. An existential threat against the United States of America has appeared on the coast of Atlas City, North Carolina. The United States Government has commenced preparations for a counter offensive against the threat. A forward assault base will be established in the residential area of Atlas City closest to beach front. All homes and buildings in this area will be demolished in 20 minutes to create space for this counter offensive. Please evacuate the area immediately and retreat to safe zones set up by emergency and government services, as well as hero organizations. Safe Zones will be located in the following locations."

The message continued by listing various locations across the city to be retreated to. 20 minutes. The city had 20 minutes to ensure all living civilians were out of the front line before the military did whatever it was they had planned.

March 12th, 2045, 9:50am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Day 2

A fist slamming. Lighting crackling. Extensions of itself being destroyed by the ants that scurried around before it. And now a beast of the skies, a dragon, heading headlong towards the Beast of Decay in pure defiance.

The time to find these things tiresome had passed. If this creature could feel rage, now was certainly the time it would feel it.

As Maeve drew closer, speed picking up, two clusters of veins burst from the beach, shooting up into the air with incredible speed, right into the path of each of the dragon’s wings. The two collided before anything else could be done, and in the briefest of moments, the great flying beast was brought crashing into the beach, a cascade of sand bursting into the air on impact.

Following this, two more clusters of veins sprouted from the creatures back, reaching far into the air, and colliding down into the beach, digging deep into the sand. Anchoring the creature. The veins tensed up as it began a slow, but steady crawl through the shallow waters, inching its way along until it finally planted a monstrous looking appendage upon the dry sands of the beach for the first time.

It would no longer be confined to the waters.

And in consideration of that, of the defiant confinement these insects tried to command against the Beast of Decay, it responded in kind. Its body constricted, tightened and pulled in on itself, causing more chunks of its abominable offspring to pour forth from its body, a number equal to those that the heroes had already fought, and growing larger by the second.



An explosion went off at Maeve’s wing, a corrosive chemical substance latching onto and eating away at the veins trying to bind her down.

Maxwell Landon, or in this moment The Shape, stood at the boardwalk on the edge of the beach, near one of the roads that would lead back into the city. His mask was like a mirror, covering his entire head in a gleaming, reflective surface, and his suit was finely tailored and black, with a navy blue dress shirt and black tie to accompany. Around him, or close by, were several dozen men in black suits as well, all finely tailored to their shapes, and wearing masks of their own unique creations.

“Keep up the work with those chemicals gentlemen, can’t have our winged associate being held down by this thing.” He smiled softly as several of his men fired off more explosive and chemical filled rounds at the veins, slowly eating away at it as they attempted to free Maeve. Others had been hard at work trying to get the streets cleared, or moving other straggling survivors further away and towards the emergency response areas.

The Shape rose a hand at some of the offspring of the Beast that got close, and after a few moments of confusion, several turned and started attacking their brethren. Some, however, seemed to shake off whatever strangeness was affecting the others. Maxwell furrowed his brow. “Some of them are… Resisting? They might be more intelligent than I presumed. Or stronger.”

Behind him the streets grew to be noisier, as those who’d been fighting at the front lines finally received the support they’d been waiting far too long for. Heroes from NAHLA, ACHI, and a myriad of other hero groups (both private and government operated) came to join the fray. Even some villains had decided to set aside their usual troublesome antics to come and fight the mutual enemy of all Atlasians.

The cavalry had arrived, and looking overhead, jaws would drop in awe as they witnessed just who was being sent in to save the day. Leading the charge: Lone Star and Captain Valor, two of the most powerful supers in America. Both had superhuman strength, speed, the ability to fly, and were nearly invulnerable to all forms of damage. America’s supermen.

It was hard to say who was the stronger of the two, but there was a constant rivalry to prove it between them, though they were a deadly effective team together. They both connected to the boardwalk with a terrific crash, shattering the pavement underneath them and sending out a small shock wave around. Cheers could be heard from around as they gazed up at the hulking monster before them.

Valor turned to look to the crowds, and to those on the beach. “Attention everyone:” his voice boomed dramatically. “This area is about to become ground zero for the response to this monster. You all need to evacuate the beach immediately. Those of you who wish to continue fighting, join us here on the boardwalk. We’re to set up a frontline here until Uncle Sam is able to arrive with the means to kill this thing completely. Those of you who cannot fight, please head to the emergency centers, your help will be needed there.” As he finished speaking, other supers rushed up to the boardwalk to join in the defensive, others helped quickly clear the beach of survivors, and those still on the beach began to make there way around, either to the boardwalk, or out of the way so the fight could continue in earnest.

The Shape signaled his men to move up to the boardwalk to provide support, but also to keep working on freeing Maeve. The veins were nearly totally disintegrated, so she’d be free in a moment. Maxwell pulled out his phone to try to check for updates, only to notice that there was no service. No service, no data, no wifi connections, nothing. And a few others could be heard making the same remarks. The government had cut off all forms of communication in the city, likely outside of what the military and NAHLA had, which was undoubtedly being heavily monitored anyways. They clearly wanted to keep whatever this was under wraps now.

Having looked over a little ways away, The Shape finally noticed another familiar face had joined them all. Liz Baker.

She had caught a glimpse of him, out of the corner of her eye, just in time to watch him give a little wave. Seemed everyone was turning out for this.



Peter watched as the Beast fought back against the heroes assailing it. They made a valiant effort to be sure, and might even win in the end, but he frankly had little hope beyond that for them. This whole thing had been a disaster. A stress test that had already put a clean slice right down the middle of the foundation of American National Security. Maybe even global security. He let out a breath of cigarette smoke, watching it billow against the glass of the office building, a small smirk on his face.

“The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing, the bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying. And the Year on the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, is lying.”

He stepped away from the glass, and exited from the offices.



Outside the last SINS van sat ready to go, Nina having already hopped in as they waited for Peter. He stepped outside, enjoying the fresh air that filled his lungs. Before he could join his subordinates in the van, he noticed someone slumped over in the alleyway. With an effortless, emotionless swish of his hand, he was holding a pistol, walking over to the body. They still seemed to be alive, but dressed as what seemed like a Witchfinder General. The gun hung casually in his hand as he looked the person over.

His face was empty of any signs of emotion or intent. He looked at the unconscious man in a bizarre, apathetic way, in a way that could truthfully only be compared to one looking at a fast food menu as they tried to make a decision. Finally in the end… He simply shrugged, and returned his pistol to its holster. “Maybe some other time.” He muttered absently as he began to walk up to the van. He opened the sliding door open to see Nina inside, as well as a great deal of equipment taking up room. Without saying anything he simply picked things up and moved them around till a seat was free for him again, and he closed the door.

“Friend of yours Nina?” He asked with a strange, almost sinister grin. There was something to the way he smiled sometimes that was hard to place…



An ear piercing booming had been ringing off for several minutes now, Richard having and the man in tweed having mounted their own defensive strategy in keeping this street offspring free. He’d had little trouble tearing the offspring apart with Hrunting, but it appeared more were coming as the Beast of Decay continued to be fought with. The damage it sustained only seemed to encourage it to produce more miniature monsters.

The man in tweed buckled at one point, falling over onto a car next to them, a thin trickle of blood working its way down the corner of his mouth. His leg was far worse though, and Richard could see it wouldn’t be long before bone was showing. “This isn’t sustainable. We need help to destroy this thing! All these people… All these strange powers… And yet nothing seems to be doing anything to it.”

Before Richard could respond, he heard the orders of Captain Valor being barked out, sending a small sense of relief through him. ”Cavalry’s here, let’s get to the front line.” Richard began to run back over to his car, signaling to the man in tweed to join him.

He simply shook his head and placed the butt of his shotgun on the ground, deciding to use it as a crutch as he hobbled towards the beach. “I’ll walk. It’s for your own good.” he called out.

Richard drove slowly next to the man in tweed to ensure he was safe, but once they found a good vantage point along the boardwalk, he backed up the SUV and dropped the tailgate. He gazed out at the battle on the beach as heroes quickly fell back to the boardwalk, their new line in the sand. Though he couldn’t be sure, he was feeling like he recognized several of the people out there. Was Sasha there too? Rather than simply hoping so, he quickly sent out a text to him, and to everyone else he had as a contact.

At the boardwalk. Guess this is where we hold the line.



As Sairyn continued his work on top of NAHLA HQ, he had not noticed a brief flash of light from behind him. By the time he took another look up and out at the ocean, towards the Beast of Decay, he noticed a light mist of steam passing by his head out of his peripheral vision. Then he felt a hand clasp on his shoulder.

Once he’d managed to spin around to face the intruder, he was met by the smug smirk of a man who knew something Sairyn didn’t. Yet. But it was also the grin of a man who was in charge, or rather was taking charge. “You must be Sairyn. Pleasure to finally meet you. Colonel Van Graft, United States Military. I’m sure you can guess what I’m doing here.” He placed something in Sairyn’s hands as he walked over to the railing, looking out to the ocean. A paper cup of coffee was now in Sairyn’s grip.

A woman followed behind the Colonel, dressed in military fatigues herself, but wearing a mask to hide her identity. A teleporter. “I’m here to oversee that the city is saved. Which is to say, we’re sitting back here safe and sound while our big toy evaporates whatever that thing is. Speaking of, you got any theories there Mr. Pendrake?”



The Beast of Decay's body stilled for a moment, it's form taught and strained. It remained this way for a few moments, perhaps a minute.

And then, an explosive, concussive blast of air erupted out of it, and a thick cloud of black and green mist launched into the air. Some of it floated gingerly through the air, slowly falling towards the ground. But some of the mist... Was homing in towards the boardwalk. It was flying towards the heroes.

The mist wasn't just a gas or fungi, now it was filled with millions of tiny, corrosive, flying parasites.

Albert was impressed despite himself. The amount of destruction the other heroes had managed to scrape together and pile onto the beast of decay was actually inspiring. For a moment, he thought they might actually have won.

But the beast kept going.

"Listen, HQ, I have to get down there,"Albert said, pulling his plane's nose up and heading higher into the atmosphere. "That thing's still coming."

"The artillery is incoming, Backlash, stay put," Ivetta's voice, still calm but strained as the beast lurched up the beach.

Albert opened his mouth to protest but in that moment, the artillery appeared. The flying super could only stare at the oversized cannon that had flattened a section of housing, thankfully one that had been emptied for some time. The supers on the beach retreated. The cannon fired.

At this point, however, Albert wasn't convinced. He continued to climb, his knuckles white as he clenched the joystick. He'd been caught with his pants down with this thing. It wasn't something anyone could have predicted, but Albert felt like a failure anyway. There was no doubt in his mind that he could have destroyed this beast himself, but he would have had to know at least a day in advance in his current state. One day in advance, and he would have been able to vaporize the beast completely, and without the damage the cannon caused.

Below him, the beast took control of the artillery, and fired a shot into the Atlas City Reactor. Flipping his plane around, Albert pointed the nose of it straight at the cannon and accelerated. He was thirty thousand feet in the sky, higher than he'd ever fallen before. His plane would cover that distance in around 30 seconds. It was time to redeem himself, even if only a little bit, for his failure today.

The cannon fired thrice more as Albert dove, then fell silent as the beast reloaded the massive weapon. Albert's plane hit the cannon at over 600 miles per hour, and exploded, but it was Albert's strike just before he crashed that truly tore the cannon to pieces. For just a moment, Albert's punch contained a tiny fraction of the sun's power, and as Albert collided with the military's creation, that power cascaded through the entire system.

The cannon shuddered, sparked, then exploded from the inside, parts of it ripping off while others turned to molten flame and melted. The beast of decay's tendrils were turned to ash instantly, the heat and fire following the tendrils into the earth and burning them underground.

In the overcast sky above the beast of decay there was a single opening from which the sun beyond shined through. One perfect gap in the sea of clouds.

And then: sonic boom. The clouds sucked together around a red object as it flew through the opening, rocketing toward the injured creature. Atop the roof of a ruined building Shroombala’s eyes widened beneath her toadstool cap. She knew that super. It was the same super who’d blown Boriban’s guts over the Troja Palace in ‘41. It was the same super who’d saved the passengers of SpiceJet 99 in ‘42. And it was the same super who had gotten drunk at Flambeau’s retirement party, seemingly lost all semblance of volume control, and declared that they were such hot shit they could steal Helga Hammer’s date if they’d so desired.

The Tibetan turd’s mouth hung agape. “It’s-!“

***

Ten minutes earlier

Cannon placed a palm on the the woman’s shoulder and with one strong arm shoved her to ground. The lady landed rough on the asphalt. Straight brown hair falling out a bun, tanned white-skin, a flowing shirt and lululemon leggings. New balance adorned her miniscule feet. And on her face there was a look of fear, a fear so real. A fear Cannon was sure the woman had never before felt. They averted their eyes. "Car's full."

And then they climbed in, onto the black leather upholstery of the Yamaha. They pulled the door shut behind them. Above the enby’s head a soft light came on and from the surround speakers played a Latin swing beat backed by gentle strings. Les Baxter & his orchestra. Tropicando. Easy listening exotica.

Cannonade pulled their leather jacket off their arms and threw it onto the opposite seats. Out the jacket a box of catnip cigarettes and white lighter fell. Cannonade stopped and reached down. They picked a fag off the car floor, placed it in their mouth, and began furiously lighting.

Outside the tinted windows of Cannonade’s rental the woman had rose and began pounding, her fist colliding with the glass to no avail. Cannon could make out a muted fuck you through the window as she abandoned her assault and sprinted off, putting her new balance’s to work. Cannon held the cigarette between tight lips and inhaled before tugging their shirt up. Their torso was lean, a gentle happy trail gracing blackened bruised abs. Their breasts fell free: puny, pointed, and barbell pierced. They pulled the shirt over their head and the lit cigarette in their mouth. The fabric got caught on the sharp edges of their wide shoulders but with a little effort it yanked off and was thrown to the floor.

A long, uninterrupted honk shook the car. The screams were escalating, the sounds of panic now mixed with something new and, to Cannon's ears, monstrous. With their cigarette securely between a thumb and a pointer finger Cannon crawled forward to peer out the window. Down the street a trio of creatures stood – pulsating bodies of hardened clay lined with tree-root veins. They stood at different heights and each seemed to have an array of appendages: some mammalian, some insect-like, and some like tentacles from the sea. It was as if each had a random assortment of features grafted into their forms- just like the creature at the beach. One let out a horrible roar and smashed a parked car into the earth as if it was a piñata. Then, like thunder in the sky, the voice of Adolf Hitler came from the heavens. Cannonade looked up, out the window, wide eyed as the murderer’s impassioned speech echoed, and they sincerely asked themselves: was this hell?

With stallion speed two of the monstrosities passed the car’s windows, hunting for prey. The third, a grotesque creature of warts, had a man cornered across the street. On the car seat next to Cannon, left with a dangerous level of casualness, was one half of their pair of gravity guns. It was a meaty piece of machinery, with a rectangular barrel almost as thick as the rest of the weapon. Cannonade grabbed the pistol and took aim out the window with their left hand. Their right hand was extended, ready to control the projectiles when launched. With a sharp inhale they fired. Their windows were penetrated thrice. The bullets flew forward, their altitude dropping to pass beneath a running civilian’s legs, then rising up above the head of another, and then levelling evenly to penetrate the creature. They struck: two in it’s large, central sack and one in the limb it threatened to bring down upon the man it had cornered. With an explosion of slime the beast began to collapse in on itself.

The Latin swing continued as Cannon unzipped and kicked off their boots. They wore cat print socks beneath. The middle toe on their left foot had stung suspiciously like a fracture since the fight with Maeve. They stretched out across the duo of seats they occupied and did a rough pigeon pose. Their hands moved down their waist and unzipped the frayed jean skirt. The sounds of the outside world came through the window's bullet holes like smoke through a filter. The world was briefly deafened by another of the far off creature’s roars, but was then replaced by the winds and sounds of panic they’d grown familiar with.

Down to a high-wasted black thong Cannonade knelt on the floor of their rental car and reached into a hefty leather tote bag that had been stored there. And in their grasp pulled out was the familiar red weave of their super suit. The material was thick but stretchy, lined with armour and technology. They dipped their socked feet into the legs of the bodysuit and pulled the leathery material up their bruised body as best they could. It slid on like a glove, only snagging on their prominent tush- but after a few tight pulls Cannon overcame. They reached for a button at the neck and with a tap the suit began to pressurize. The wrinkles in the material flattened and became skin tight to the shape of Cannonade’s body. After a moment of adjustment they slid a gloved hand down their stomach to the crotch and pulled to loosen the vacuum sealed fabric. They tightened the straps of the codpiece and other bits of armour that hung from the bodysuit and then pulled up the uniform’s combat boots. They gave them both a double knot.

Out the tote came the final piece of the outfit. The helmet. The flame on Cannon’s fag had reached the filter. After one last inhale they spit it out onto the floor of the car and flattened it beneath their boot. They ducked into the opening of the helm and on the glass before their eyes the ARUI came to life. Cannonade reached up to touch the ceiling of the vehicle. The metal sparked as the roof ripped off the vehicle and rose into the sky. Cannonade too rose beneath it, ascending out of the car and over the street. As they floated Cannonade grabbed hold and climbed atop the rising roof-plate. On their magic carpet of steel they floated higher and higher, away from the chaos on the street below, until they could see over the rooftops, to the beach on the horizon and the creature that terrorized it. Explosions and lights coloured the world around the creature. The military had come in and were readying artillery. Other supers too tried to save the city from the eldritch horror that had arisen at its coast. From the looks of things there was an assemblage of them, all putting up a good fight. But there was one flaw with their strategy, one key issue that would prevent them from achieving victory: they weren’t Cannonade.

The sphere of gravity surrounding Cannonade and the car roof they rode on dissipated, and the metal began to freefall. Cannonade carefully stood on the falling metal and leapt off at an angle, in the direction of the beach before rising into the clouds. Like a lost kite the roof plummeted toward the streets below.

***

It was a dark and stormy night. Really, it was. There was a tornado on the horizon and the rain smashed against the glass walls of the house like a hot tub jet on full blast. A bleached blonde Cannonade marched forward, sporting a much different outfit and with a motorcycle helmet beneath their arm.

Behind them another figure stood- undercut blue hair. Crossed arms littered with tattoos. A somber expression on a freckled, English face with blue eyes that could pierce your soul. “You don’t have to go,” they said at last.

Cannonade stopped and twisted their head to eye them. “Right now I’m the only one who can.”

Their scene-partner was wide-eyed. Desperate. “I’m asking you to stay.”

“You’re asking me to not be me,” Cannon replied. “I don’t have a choice- you know I don’t have a choice! I didn’t choose to be Cannonade.”

The blue-haired figure walked forward. Their bare-footed steps on the tile coincided with lighting strikes beyond. “Darling, you’re so much more than Cannonade. No matter what they see in the sky... I know what you are." A callous hand reached up to touch Cannonade’s cheek. Their finger traced a mark- long and jagged like a claw scratch beneath their eye, still red but healing. “...You’re flesh and you’re bone.”

“...You think you know what I am?” Cannon’s voice was cold and their accent came through clear as day. They recoiled from the touch and continued to march toward the glass, toward the tornado on the horizon. They grabbed hold of a handle and pulled the sliding door open. The wind hit them like a semi-truck. The rain felt like pebbles against their skin. And the thunder bellowed again as they stared down the apocalyptic scene. “You have no idea.”

And with that Cannonade ducked into their helmet. Ready to be the superman.

***

Cannonade rocketed down from the sky. They’d surrounded themselves in a bubble of bearable gravity within another bubble of gravity increased to deadly degrees. Fire consumed all as the earth pulled them down to it’s surface, like a mother pulling back a long lost son. Their bones stretched, their muscles were wrung. They could feel the pressure coming in. Inside the helmet their skull rocked from side to side violently. The world was a blur and tears streamed down their face. They weren’t religious but at times like this even Cannonade prayed, however silently. They released their fists, letting their hands fly free. And as blinding fires consumed their view they closed their eyes.

“-Cannon!” Shroombala finished as the red cannonball made contact with the beast of decay. And, to great shock to the onlookers, it ripped through the creature like a bullet. It was almost too fast to tell what had happened, but something had happened. It was as if a pea-sized black hole had sliced through the core of a planet in the blink of an eye, and the planet had collapsed around it.

There was a line where the being of extreme gravity had passed through. The insides that once occupied the gargantuan creature were cleanly ripped out along the vertical path Cannonade had flown. The creature's compressed guts chased after Cannonade’s body like tracking missiles chasing a jet, straight down into the sea. With it’s centre gutted the remaining two sides of the beast of decay began to crumble. The colossal remnants of it’s carcass fell and collided with beach before toppling over into the waters. The veins that had attached through the earth of the metropolis ripped out, collapsing the buildings they had ensnared. A tsunami like wave rose from the impact with the water. The water swelled and grew, gathering high enough over the heroes to block out their sun. And it lingered, threatening to come down over Atlas City and wash what remained of it away.

Seconds after entering the sea Cannonade smashed into the bed of the bay- not that they felt it. They would have blacked out far before the seabed, most like upon impact with the water thirty feet above. Their body began to float, limp but stationary, with their helmet acting as an anchor and keeping them stuck to the sea floor. Above them sank the remnants of the beast of decay, consuming the water in blackness. But the mould never reached them. The dark instead seemed to swirl and move, like a school of fish- shattered but still living...

The entire world became unnervingly still for Vic as Lone Star shot into the Beast's eye. Those few seconds lasted much longer for her than they should have. Her air cannon held back its punches. She already knew he was gone. Hope had sunken into those disturbing, unnatural black holes with him. She put down her hands and gave up.

Then he was spat out again.

Vic dropped, faster than what was wise, following him down. She smacked down on the road with Lone Star and a little air cushion to save her knees, without much care for the people stumbling back around her. From there she watched, transfixed, the agonizing process of Lone Star dissolving five feet away from her. She reached as the pools of blood were transformed into black smoke, watching the last of it coil around her hand before dispersing into thin air. One of America's most prolific heroes was no more... literally, nothing. Vic made a decision.

If this was really the apocalypse, and shit, it sure felt like it was, she was better off spending it with good music and a beer.

"Yeah... good luck," she said, more to herself, but loud enough for the heroes gathered for Lone Star's grisly demise, then shot back up into the sky.

Sonic boom.

Vic tossed around in the air to watch that familiar red streak shooting from the clouds above, glinting in a ray of sunlight like some bloody heaven sent angel - and completely decimate the beast. She saw Cannonade plummet into the ocean, and not rise again. She watched the tidal wave building in their wake.

"Shit," was all that came to Vic's mind as her own body was rocketed through the extremes of joy and dread in a matter of seconds. She flustered around in the sky for a second. It was time to settle down complacently and accept that death happens! Like with Wilma, Manhawk - Vic's curses were cut off with a POOF.

She reappeared on the beach in front of where she'd seen Cannon fall, hovering over the torn up bodies and dying flames and standing right under the shadow of a tidal wave. She shot out her hands and summoned everything in her until she felt a heavy pressure, like her bones wanted to fold, and let out a scream. It was very different from the uncontrolled, lightning-summoning, "FEEL MY PAIN" shout. It felt different, too. A mass of concentrated air rushed past her, and struck through the wave like a spear.

Gallons of water parted. Water sprayed up as its trajectory was changed. Vic grit her teeth and separated her hands like she was trying to claw through concrete, widening the path she had parted. Her mouth tasted like iron. She swore her teeth were on the brink of shattering. Her string of internal curses continued.

There, out in the seabed. A limp red figure. Probably already dead. Vic started to walk through her path, keeping her hands up, knowing full well the winds were about to drop at any second. "Wait, fuck no -" she blurted as Cannonade's body started to roll away from the torrent of pressure pushing them. She concentrated even harder to spare them from blowing away. Vic fell to her knees in exhaustion as she reached the body. She repeatedly chastised herself as she attempted to lift Cannonade with her scrawny, shaking arms. Suddenly, her head went light. The rush of water grew louder than the roar of air and Vic felt everything closing in. She flopped over Cannonade's body in exhaustion and covered her ears.

The water rushed back in to fill the gap. Two waves crashed into each over, sending up mountainous spray over where the two were last seen.

Under the water, Vic's hands desperately tugged at Cannonade's helmet. She squinted through the salt water, black spots infiltrating her vision, and felt for the trigger under the helm. Pop. Vic yanked the heavy helmet off, looped her arms under Cannon's armpits, and writhed under the water as she attempted to pull them up with her. It was far too late, she was going. Vic's movements grew sluggish and her eyes drooped. Bubbles drifted up from her mouth and she watched them leave, flying up to the surface towards freedom. She looked at her hands. Their particles were dispersing. With the last of her consciousness, Vic's body melted away.

And an air bubble formed around Cannonade's head, and remained there.

Jericho yanked their gaze upward at the sound of a sonic boom overhead, their mind still reeling from the rapid chaos that the world seemed to have descended into. The universe seemed keen on continuing the chaos around them, and Jericho took a brief moment to suck in a breath that quickly rushed back out of them. The Beast was torn asunder once again, and while they were excited for it to all be over... They knew better.

They turned to the woman next to them, peering at her for a long moment before letting ink swirl about their skull rapidly, a crown of ears rising on the top of their head, along with a pair that sat on the sides. They ignored the world around them for a moment, instead choosing to focus solely on the man that the woman was carrying. The ears swirled away as quickly as they came, and Jericho reached out as quickly as a snake. "I need this. It is not going to live for long."
The woman, reasonably so, refused. She went so far as to step back, and for a brief moment, Jericho could see the irritation that rose on her expression. The slightest twang of power wafted from her, and Jericho caught the scent of stretching muscle and bone, of sweat and focus, the acrid sting of exertion and the stench of moving meat.
Whatever. They had more important shit to do... Like rescue someone who stank of the pull and push of the stars.

Jericho leapt into movement once again, leg-muscles coiling up like springs before launching the Polymorph forward. Their body swirling with ink as they got closer and closer to the beach once again. They looked forth, in partial awe and in exhilarated determination, at the massive tidal wave that was brought forth by the horrific impact that the sky-borne scarlet streak had inflicted on The Beast. The spray of salt-water sent excited shudders down Jericho's spine, and as they leapt headfirst into the wall of watery force, they swirled with ink.
Their tail broadened and thickened out, developing into a crocodilian-esque tail. Their forearms thickened as well, digging claws into the sand before launching the Shifter with as much force forward as they could. Jericho spun as they leapt, twisting into a tight needle-like spiral as their form became ever more hydrodynamic, becoming more of a stretched out, 3-D oval of sorts. They could only hope it was enough.

The force of the water, the dragging sensation, the absolute ripping, inland-moving tide, pulled against Jericho's body. They thought they would be pushed back, dragged and smashed against the ground below... But they pushed through, just barely.
Jericho exploded out into open air, free from the pull of the tidal wave for just a moment, before they were leaping down into the waters of the bay. Their spine shifted and changed, pulsing with ink as bone became thick plates of keratin, a dorsal fin shifting and rising up to the surface from their meat below. Their arms developed fins and pressed close to their sides, and rows of gills rose along their ribs and their neck. Jericho twisted as they swam, their tail powering them through the water with ease. Their face began to elongate, and became dotted with pin-hole pits all across their upper and lower jaw, as well as their 'forehead'. The world exploded into being, and through the murk-mess water, disturbed as it was! Jericho could feel the electric rhythm of a heart beating furiously.

They swam onward, and in mere moments came upon the one called Vicki Vortex and the helmeted Super from Soldier park. Cannonade, someone had said. Hm. Vic seemed to be attempting to help, but as Jericho watched, the woman vanished into a burst of bubbles. And yet, there was a bubble of air around the head of Cannonade. The helmet sank to the seabed.

Jericho darted towards them, taking note of the filth that The Beast and its spawn had left in the waters, and snatched up the unconscious hero. They pulsed and swirled with ink as they pulled Cannonade to their underside, and thick, bone-plated tentacles reached out before wrapping around the lithe figure. The bubble moved with Cannonade, and with a brief pause, Jericho snatched up the helmet as well.
They turned then, pointing themselves upwards and darting forth. They fought violently against the chaotic currents around them, though they did not panic. They could breathe just fine, and their body was strong enough to fight the swirling disorder. There was a moment of silence, as Jericho focused purely on the task at hand, before they broke the surface of the water with their head.
They blinked the brightness of the sky away, looking about wildly before charging towards the beach and away from The Beast, their dorsal fin cutting through the surface of the water like a knife.

It wasn't long at all, perhaps two minutes or so, before Jericho burst! out of the water and back onto the beach once again. Far to their left was the Beast of Decay and its trail of filth and destruction, to their right... More beachfront. They huffed once, the gills of their form vanishing underneath a swirl of ink, as they took on the form of 'Jemma' for the sake of ease.
'She'. Felt. Tapped. A sensation of waning energy and focus was thrumming throughout the whole of her. But she couldn't stop.
Jemma gently laid Cannonade out on the sand, kneeling down and pausing for only a moment to find they were still breathing or not.
She blinked once and smacked her palm into her face, her other hand holding the helmet. She looked around desperately for Vicki Vortex, wondering if the air bubble that had been around the head of Cannonade had simply burst on contact with the surface! Oh well. That could be dealt with later. Presently, she had to deal with the unconscious form in front of her.