She raised her hands. Her eyes glowed red. Fireballs formed in her palms. She threw the fire.
The balls of plasma hit my chest. They exploded, engulfing me in flame.
I walked through the fire. My Tier 1 Super Defense absorbed the heat like a stone absorbing sunlight. The flames licked at my suit, scorching the fabric, but leaving me untouched.
I reached her. I grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground.
She clawed at my arm, her fireballs sputtering out against my skin. "Ben, please! Please!"
"You let me rot," I said. "For thirty years. In a box."
"It wasn't my idea!" she choked out. "It was Noir! He said you were out of control!"
"And you listened," I said.
"I was scared!"
"You should be."
My chest began to glow. An ominous thrumming sound filled the trailer.
Countess's eyes went wide. She saw the light building beneath my skin.
"Ben, no!"
I released it.
BOOM.
The beam of pure radioactive energy erupted from my chest. It hit her at point blank range.
Her flesh, her bones… they were all instantly vaporized into ash. The blast blew the back of the trailer out, sending a plume of fire and debris into the woods.
I dropped the charred remains of her robe.
I stood in the burning wreckage.
…
Mindstorm.
A cabin in the Appalachian Mountains.
Miles from the nearest road.
I walked through the forest. I saw the tripwire. A claymore mine strapped to a tree.
I stepped on the wire.
CLICK. BOOM.
The explosion engulfed me in shrapnel and fire.
I walked out of the smoke, brushing dirt off my shoulder.
I kept walking.
Another mine.
Another explosion.
I reached the clearing. The cabin was dark.
"Go away!" a voice shouted from inside. It was terrified. "I see you! I see you in my head!"
"Open the door, Mindstorm," I called out.
"No! You're just a bad memory!"
I walked to the door. I raised my shield.
CRASH.
The door splintered. I stepped inside.
Mindstorm was huddled in the corner, wearing dirty rags, a tinfoil hat on his head. He was shaking.
He looked up. "Don't look at my eyes!" he screamed. "Don't look!"
He tried to scramble backward.
I knew his trick. Eye contact trapped you in a nightmare. But it doesn't have any effect on me.
"You sold me out," I said.
"Noir!" he babbled. "He said Vought wanted to replace you! We were scared, Ben! You were... you were mean!"
"Mean?" I laughed. "I was a leader."
"You beat us!" Mindstorm cried.
"I made you tough," I said. "And you repaid me by selling me to the Russians."
He tried to look at me, his eyes glowing. "Just look at me, Ben! One look! We can go to a happy place!"
I threw the shield.
THWACK.
It hit him in the face. He was on the floor, his nose shattered, blood pouring down his face.
I walked over. I picked up the shield.
"No happy places," I said.
I brought the edge of the shield down.
CRUNCH.
I brought it down again.
CRUNCH.
And again.
CRUNCH.
CRUNCH.
CRUNCH.
By the time I stopped, there was no face left.
…
Vermont.
Herogasm house.
The TNT Twins.
Tommy and Tessa.
I walked up the driveway. The house was a mansion, a temple to their faded glory.
I kicked the front door open.
"Hello!" I shouted. "Room service!"
They appeared at the top of the stairs. They looked old. Saggy skin and bad dye jobs. And they were holding hands.
"Soldier Boy?" Tessa gasped.
"In the flesh," I said.
"You..." Tommy stammered. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Surprise motherfucker," I said.
They looked at each other. They clasped their hands tighter. Their hands began to glow. Their bio electricity was charging up.
"Do it, Tommy!" Tessa screamed.
A bolt of lightning arced from their joined hands. It hit me square in the chest.
It tickled.
I stood there, the electricity grounding out through my boots. I looked at the scorch mark on my breastplate.
"Is that it?" I asked.
They stared at me in horror.
"You used to have more kick," I said.
I started walking up the stairs.
They turned to flee.
I stopped on the landing.
I focused the energy in my chest again.
I released the blast.
The beam of radiation tore through the house. It caught them as they ran down the hallway.
They evaporated. The blast wave blew the roof off the mansion. The walls disintegrated.
I stood in the ruins of the second floor, looking at the sky.
…
The Gun Convention in Newark.
Gunpowder.
He was at a booth, signing autographs. He looked older. He was telling a story to a kid about how he saved the President once.
I walked through the crowd. People parted for me. They recognized the suit. They whispered.
"Is that him?"
"Is that Soldier Boy?"
Gunpowder looked up. He saw me.
His face went white. He dropped his pen.
"Ben?" he whispered.
"Francis," I said, using his real name.
He grabbed a pistol from the display table… a .50 caliber Desert Eagle and fired.
BANG.
The bullet hit me in the forehead. It flattened and fell to the floor.
The crowd screamed.
People dove for cover.
Gunpowder fired again. And again.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Chest.
Throat.
Eye.
The bullets bounced off.
I kept walking.
He threw the empty gun at me and ran. He vaulted over the table and sprinted for the exit.
I followed.
He reached the parking garage. He scrambled into his car. He fumbled with his keys.
I reached the car just as he started the engine.
I punched the hood.
The engine block crumpled. The car died instantly.
I ripped the driver's door off.
Gunpowder scrambled into the passenger seat, pulling a shotgun from the glove box. He fired.
BANG.
The buckshot hit my face.
I reached in and grabbed him by the throat. I dragged him out of the car and slammed him against a concrete pillar.
"You were my squire," I said. "I taught you everything."
"You just abused me!" Gunpowder choked out.
"I toughened you up!" I roared. "And you sold me!"
"I had no choice!"
"There's always a choice, Francis."
I threw him. He flew twenty feet and hit a parked van. He slumped to the ground, groaning.
He looked up at me. He ricocheted a bullet off three cars, aiming for the back of my knee.
It hit. And bounced off.
I walked over to him. He was trying to crawl away.
I stepped on his leg.
SNAP.
He screamed.
"Please," he begged. "Ben, please."
I looked down at him. I raised my shield.
I brought the edge of the shield down on his neck.
CRUNCH.
CRUNCH.
CRUNCH.
I stood in the silent parking garage, surrounded by the echoes of violence.