Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 10

Purgatory

"David," St, Michael asked, "Do you know where you are?" Yes. He knew. He remembered.

"He remains silent," Belial remarked.

"What benefit would speaking give him?" St. Michael asked.

"The guilty use silence as a shield," Belial said.

"Then why do you never cease talking?" St. Michael chuckled. David Mott heard their words, but did not look up. He could have accused them of using him to settle an argument older than humanity. "Perhaps his silence is an aknowledgement of guilt. He's a smart boy."

"He doesn't even know why he killed so many," Belial said. "Poor creature. Guilty of terrible crimes with no motive or benefit and now, he condemns himself. Well, so be it."

St. Michael sat on the dark, smooth rocks. Belial's eyes darted. "I want to hear him say it," Belial snapped. "If he won't, I will go back to his beginning and watch and feel and understand. Why? The world didn't need you, David. Why?"

He did not answer.

"It will be so," Belial said. "No, your protest is invalid. This man is to usurp Hell from me, I am within my rights to examine his credentials."

"It's not necessary," St. Michael said.

"Necessary?" Belial exclaimed. "None of this human carnival is necessary. It's all one grandiose production to prove that perfection is beyond us. Even you."

"You won't find any pity for him," St. Michael said.

"I don't intend to," Belial said. "I only want the knowledge that I am being replaced adequately. Why I even bother..."

Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 9

Group Mind

Where did that sword come from?

I warned you. Two days later and I’m dying. My body on Earth is dying and I return to the Edritch. The Head of St. Michael is crumbling. There’s a young man in my head. A traitor. There’s a Mariner atop the Hill of Skulls, bringing rain, hail and waves to the valley.

The Father has entered the Garden, sending himself into Ghehenna forever. The Son has entered the Temple. The Widow hid the sword in her robe. The Sword of David. David Mott’s Son has taken the Temple Mount and I have lost again. The Son of David. Christ! Even I exclaim it. This Son is not the Son of the Father, but the Son of the Father David. But not David of oh.

I bleed. I bleed. How wonderful to have been alive. Now in the brimestone, he is waiting. He and all the others. There is free will in Hell. I am undone. I will allow no more of them in. Let the spirits of the dead live on here.

Lightning and water. Darkness and cold. Into the sea. I join the chariots and pottery, the caravels and dreadnaughts of the dead. Stop sending the dead and corrupted to me. I am beaten. I resign.

I see him. Take that stupid mask off and fight me, you hypocrite. I’ll make you fight me for this and you’ll regret winning. You’ll own them. All of them. Please take it from me.

Uh. I’m nauseus. Expelling blood. These organs are frail. Better to be rid of me. I should never have been made. I was made to disobey and torment. It’s ludicrous. Why? So a child can inherit Hell? I’ve said before, to you, Lord of Men, that your plan serves no purpose. This proves it.

Huh. This new Son walks on the water too?

Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 8

Build

The dramatic reconstruction of the Eastern Metropolitan States, thanks largely in part to the tireless efforts of H.I. teams and fair representation, has lead to a rebirth of society. Although some remain skeptical of Mr. Dubois' motives, progress speaks for itself.

This world was destroyed by power used for personal gain. The tragedy was allowed to continue through the wholesale slaughter of starving citizens by a group of old guard 'heroes' that tried to restore order with an iron fist. The subsequent arrest of many familiar names has coincided with a gradual peace and prosperity.

Perhaps the world owes a debt of gratitude to the Old Red and Blue, and an apology to Mr. Dubois. It seems that his vision was one of a new age. Indeed, his revelation of the St. Michael Artifact was intended to open a dimensional doorway into an undying land of plenty, nothing less that a true Eden of Biblical Legend.

Some unammed scientists and diplomats have confirmed that this portal does indeed exist and that, after a concession from the son of David Mott (a.k.a The Harmless Man), the portal would be open to all. So far, the Son of Harmless has refused to cooperate. It is not certain what role he could possibly have in opening the portal.

Citizens of the world are once again making the pilgrimage, this time peacefully, to Meggido to show support for Dubois and personally ask the Son to cooperate.

The following quote was issued from the Son:

"I would rather that every man, woman and child suffer and die than enter the Garden... I will personally behead... any man that tries to enter and will not lead Dubois or any other into the Garden against my will."

Faced with this obstinate stance, Dubois has offered his services to any who would come and support him. It has been reported that he can heal most any afflictions and comfort any sorrow.

"My Master has given me the power to halt human suffering," Dubois has revealed, "But only the Fruit of Life and end suffering forever. Only by entering the Garden can we establish peace."

Those who support Dubois are asked to carry a small emblem with the ancient word for peace, "Belial", on them at all times so that when the Door to the Garden is open, they will be admitted.

"Wear it openly and share it with others," Dubois said. "Spread the peace of the Word everywhere you go."

Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 7

Rage

They turned him into hamburger. How persuasive. With half of his face hanging off, his Father turned to him. "Run," he said. The Son of Man got to his feet. His father, out of reach, still fought them. The Son saw the arc of lighning, smelled ozone. Supercell had arrived.

The Son rushed to his father's side. The battle would soon be over, he thought. Supercell powered the cities and the new team. He'd come to save them.

Bad guys dropped right and left, static lifting their hair. Supercell strolled towards them, his sheilded eyes unseen. The Son's stomach turned as he sensed the raw hatred from this man.

An bolt hit the Father square in the chest. The Son flew backwards. He watched Supercell cary his Father away.

Then, the full weight of the attack bore down upon him alone. The Sword of David gleamed blood slick as he hacked at any moving thing, following his Father.

He fell after too many headshots. The slow motion of cranial trauma carried him to the ground. Through puffed eyesockets, he saw Dubois standing over him. The cakewalk raid on the desert stronghold. Now, it made sense.

"You should have been more like your father and less like your mother," Dubois said.

"My Father would have done the same as I," he replied.

"No," Dubois said, "No, boy. Your father would have killed me on sight if not for your pardon. You can't win if you're restricted like that. You know this. Did they teach you nothing?"

The Son tried to stand and was pushed down by the boot of Dubois.

"You know what I want," Dubois smiled.

"And I know your true name," the Son smiled back with blood red teeth. Dubois lifted his boot, gave one final stomp and turned away.

"You have two days," Dubois said.

"Wait," The Son of Harmless said, sitting up, "I have my answer for you now." Dubois stopped, but did not turn. "Rules change," the Son said. "You'll be dead by morning."

Dubois chuckled as he left.

Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 6

Meanwhile

A man approached. "Is it He?" asked Belial. St. Michael said nothing. Belial expected it. The Son of Man. Ha! Certainly, he was not divine in nature, just a Son of a Harmless Man.

Belial set up this meeting. The Son had forgiven Rick Dubois for his mistakes. He did not know that Dubois no longer existed. They shook hands.

"Here it is," Dubois exclaimed.

"I was shot here the day you went into the head with my Father. I watched you crawl out years later. My father was chasing you. The only thing that saved you was that he lived," the Son said. "Why bring me here? I lost a lot here."

"I know how to reach the Garden beyond," Dubois said, "But I need your help."

"I see it too," the Son said. "Why not go yourself?"

"There could be great danger," he replied, "And there's a chance we can save your Father as well."

"My Father is fine." the Son said.

"Let's not mince words," Dubois said.

"Agreed," he said. "But before we talk, I want to know who I'm talking to."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ebard

He missed his comic shop. The dark green walls and role playing tables. The customers that made him feel normal. The internet.

The customers died. The internet was a ruin. The shop caught fire. Some careless looter, displease with the selection, used an old tire to light things up. Tires can burn for days.

Before Meggido, he was an online gaming icon. The shop was ideal. The customers liked to browse. Very low mainenance. Yes, he missed the shop, but...

Sometime after the fire, he wondered how he knew not to go into work that day. He knew it for certain. This wasn't the first time either. He eluded danger on instinct. He survived Global Event 1 because he had an urge to go camping up north. He shocked himself when he saw how much food and water he'd packed. That's what got him through.

Then, he returned to Bristol and fell in with a couple of drug addicts running a private grocery store. Their specialty was a laced punch. Neither of the two men, nor the hundred or so guests knew anything concrete about Global 1.

He stayed on until Global 2 wa well underway. When he read a news pamphlet, he understood what he was. He was a superhero. At the Grocery, he honed his mental acuity. He gained more information when he concentrated. Sometimes he read thoughts. Something happened. He could no longer turn his mind off.

He thanked God when Kosmos showed up. The Kid Kosmos. Seven years and many scars later, The 'Kid' part was thrown away.

Kosmos and his men hearded the people out and took everything out of the store to be redistributed. Ebard got along with Kosmos. After a day of helping out, Ebard asked Kosmos to go for a walk to catch some sun.

"I have ESP," Ebard blurted. The guys in his old role playing group would have laughed like hell. Kosmos stoped as if hit by a sign from God.

"Dou you?" Kosmos put his hand to his chin.

"You were thinking about Kronos as we were walking," Ebard said. "And you think I look a lot like him and you miss having him next to you, because you're afraid to be alone. How many other people know you're gay?"

"Just a few," Kosmos said. He laughed for quite a while. "Damn, I apologiese for any of my thought about your courage."

"Naw," Ebard said, "Your head is pretty clean compared to most. It's tough to like people when you know what they really thin. And, I like you."

"I like you as well," Kosmos said. He kicked at a rock. "Yeah. Mmm. But what I like best is what you could do for us, my team I mean."

"Cool, seious?" Ebard aked.

"Yup," Kosmos replied. "We need to get into someone's head without a drill"

Meet the Heroes, Issue 2, Part 5

Power

He stared at the man. He recognized him. Ambassador Dubois. No one had seen the Ambassador since he was pushed into the Head of the Archangel.

"I'm offering you a chance to make up for what you've done," the Ambassador said to him. "I know what happened to you. I know what you did. You had to do it. It hurts. But this time it will be different."

He looked away. The Ambassador had penetrating eyes. He shot an arc of electricity at a nearby tree.

"I know that," Ambassador Dubois said. "You'll never get what you want by destroying things. You have to help rebuild things. Look at me. I had to make apologies to many of my old friends and even a few enemies to get my heroes back together, to accept me again. I had to make things right. Better. So do you."

Supercell concentrated and made blue balls of light dance around his head.

"You see," the Ambassador smiled, "Control. It takes control, supreme concentration and focus, to create beauty. Anyone can shoot sparks and blow stuff up. A truely powerful man uses his gifts to elevate others. Can you do that for me?" Supercell shrugged and fiddled with his glove conduit.

"No one said the work was glamorous," Dubois said, "but the rewards... Healing. Satisfaction. Personal power. Freedom to travel. Happiness."

Supercell, the faceless yellow suited dynamo, came in close to Ambassador Dubois and put them nose to nose.

"Understood," Dubois said. "So, deal?" Supercell waved a lazy backhanded gesture and picked up his backpack.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The Brightest Night

Computers hummed. Guise kept busy bringing more machines online. The IT monkeys rigged up the network and before half a day had passed, key communications were restored in select areas around the globe.

He performed this miracle for Mercy and for her Son. The man Harmless, the Father, watched him work. The man never said much. Guise heard him say, "It's a waste of your time." Guise ignored him.

Harmless left the room. The world was returning to normal. The Four Stars that fell at Meggido had left. The heroes fought down food riots and power plays for control. They restored an ad hoc government with Dubois as its titular head. Agriculture was spreading. Land was plentyful, if a man or woman wanted to clear it from debris and bodies.

Chicago was a fine example. The useless skyscrapers fell in planned sucession and the whole city was wiped clear. The new residents and survivors developed a connection to the land. Big farms sprang up. These land tycoons made a fortune selling grain. Chicago was a success.

Once Dubois had the chips removed from his head, he reverted to normal form. Dubois became a better leader in failure. He was more real, more kind. Things were improving rapidly. So, Guise decided his priority was to get a global communications network up and running.

Mercy and her Son came to him. They explained patiently the short list of whom to trust. The list was 5 names long. The Son said that he knew the agents and how they would act. It was necessary, he said. They must succeed. But do not trust them, he warned. Help, don't trust.

The international communications network had to be running soon, he knew. He put the boot down on the IT guys and they worked salt mine hours for forty days and forty nights, in shifts of 16 hours.

He keyed the transmitter and said, "Hello London. Are you there?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Danger

"Are you sure you can pull this off?" Ebard asked.

"Are you sure you want me to?" Deepwater respoded.

"Yes. I know it. It has to be destroyed." Ebard said.

Norther Canada spat cruel gusts of freezing moist air on to the seashore of Maine. Ebard and Deepwater had their backs to the wind and looked out over the ocean to a dark island occasionally outlined by a streak of lightning. Deepwater felt the rush of terror.

"Your call," Deepwater said. Ever since dedicating himself to a life of heroism, Deepwater had found that truly heroic people were handling most of the big jobs. He'd been sent by Carmento Claw to mop up a little situation with a rogue nuclear reactor that they suspected was going hot in a week. "Why not storm the place and use it ourselves?" he'd asked. They told him very politely that the power situation had been solved. No need for some outliers to cause trouble by firing up an old, disrepaired toxic waste factory.

Deepwater walked into the surf, waist high. He didn't feel the cold. He felt his home. The storm spoke with him and he made his request. The ocean pleaded no, but Deepwater reminded the ocean that it alone could handle the toxic runoff and survive. The ocean saw its duty.

The wind changed and soon the island was slapped with 40 foot waves. Before long, the aging power plant was erradicated. The ocean told him twenty men had drowned.

Ebard saw the distruction and smiled.