Bab 8: Hear Me
Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.
This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.
*.*.*.*.*
HEAR ME
*.*.*.*.
"Jesus." Muttered officer James, shielded from certain demise by a laser bored Crown Victoria cruiser, this was destruction on another level, he realized. He'd been part of the first responders, him and his squad of eight, but he alone remained alive.
Scanning the burning wreckage for upturned cruisers and mutilated bodies in torn or burning black uniforms, once again confirmed it to be true. Buildings burned and crumbled, the incessant sound of laser fire chipped at his sanity, for he knew that each time he heard that sound, a civilian somewhere was dying.
The aliens—armored in silver-white metallic plates that protected their upper torsos, knees, legs and groin—didn't discriminate or differentiate, women, men, children, the old, all died by laser shot. None were spared. He tightened the belt around his thigh, trying and failing to not look at the clean meaty hole burned through his knee or the fact that he'd be disabled for the rest of his life, if his life extended beyond this point.
The pain had yet to fully register, physically at least—a much appreciated state he attributed to the adrenaline flooding his system.
Where are the Guardians? He heard someone ask the same question he'd been asking earlier. This was a job for them, this was exactly what they needed heroes with superpowers for. To deal with things that surpassed human capacity; alien invasions, monster attacks, apocalypse type events, things only gods amongst men could tackle.
And yet, there wasn't one caper in sight. What was a pistol going to do against aliens who could tear holes through space? It wasn't as though he hadn't tried, the bullets pinged off their armors like plastic beads on metal.
The shots were getting louder, the things were approaching. He felt it from the vibration of their march, the terrifying hums of their death machines and laser weapons, and the hysterical screams of civilians running for their lives inching ever closer.
The officer grit his teeth, loaded his gun and prepared to give his life, he had an oath to uphold and death was the only thing that could stop him from doing that. The sacrifices of his colleagues would not be in vain, and should the situation call for it as it did at this moment, then he too must give his life for others to live.
He raised his gun, rose to his one good knee and turned to shoot at the incoming invaders.
—BANG!
A bus, a flaming one, slammed into the small platoon of charging aliens and flattened them beneath. Hovering in the smog darkened skies was a young man in a full body costume. Black was the main color; blue were the boots and shoulders; yellow were his gloves, headpiece and the arrowed outline on his abdomen which gave the impression of a stylized 'i'.
The moment of silence soon passed, the surprise faded, the invaders pointed their advanced weapons at him. Floating in the skies made him such an easy target. Most of those trapped or unable to run despaired as their new found hope began to fade. The aliens would open fire and the flying teen would be turned into a sieve.
The 'I' themed hero didn't give them time to fire, he moved. A yellow and black blur through an army of green and white. It was a sight of brutality; many found out that the invaders bled red—the same as their victims.
"Jesus Christ." The wounded man whispered. Calling on the Messiah to have mercy on what he bore witness to.
The hero swooped down, arms straight and apart, like a man imitating an airplane. Only if said airplane had sharp, bladed wings and was making an abrupt landing in a cornfield; bodies broke, folded as their anatomy never intended, others were ripped apart from the deadly acceleration. Blood and tissue rained as the humanoid mower did just that—mowed, accompanied by the macabre sounds of bones breaking, death groans and laser bolts.
He cunningly moved in their center, stopping them from effectively firing on him due to the fact that any missed shots would instead land on their own allies.
The invaders knew of sacrifice too. The general ordered for a cannon tank to open fire on the hero regardless of causality it would result in on their side, the hero in yellow was much more of a threat to leave unchecked.
Electricity arched over the cannon's length as it spat a massive bolt of plasma. He dodged the first, flying through the massive ensuing explosion, an act that momentarily blinded him long enough for the second bolt to strike true. The blast knocked against his chest the immense force behind it enough to knock the winds out of his lungs, carry him backwards and into the ground.
A third blast from the cannon kicked up an explosive cloud or fire and plume as it drove into his downed form, subsequently sending him deeper into the earth. A fourth further widened the pit and a fifth seemingly destroyed whatever was within, no matter how durable it was. A sixth was sent for good measure. A seventh was to the general just for the sadistic glee of watching his soon to be conquered victims hope die.
The general screeched in joy, giving orders for the invasion to continue with even more brutality—a punishment for them thinking that they could even send a child unit against his army.
"HEY!" Yelled the mangled hero who crawled out the hole, causing the general to twist his head in confusion—those were seven full powered cannon shots, enough to decimate an entire fort and another behind it. How was this child unit still alive?
Said child unit's attire was scorched and torn, his hair singed, his left arm charred an agonizing hard black with blood pouring profusely from massive cracks and tears all over his varyingly burnt body. "I'M INVINCIBLE!" He roared through a badly burnt throat, his voice thundering with almost perceptible shockwaves. And then he disappeared.
He was not only moving faster than could be registered by sight, but with so much force that gale force winds were left in his wake. He reappeared eerily silent and unleashed an attack—a simple punch. One that would've normally pounded a hole through the body of a single alien, but his new output was magnified. His punch, as fast and silent as it was, evaporated the lower half of the alien's body and sent its upper half fatally crashing through the bodies of three others. Then came the explosive sound of thunder, the gust of wind and again the disappearance.
He was a ghost, an unreal image that existed not on this plane and yet could affect it. A furious force of destruction, an unstoppable killing machine that was everywhere and nowhere, a spirit of war unleashed upon battle. Shots were fired at him, all they managed was to disperse the illusive visage of his after image.
The wind turned crimson and smelled of death from the excess blood vapor in the air, an instrument of salvation for those who it benefited became the physical representation of death to the invaders.
The pain mattered little to him, the fact that these aliens could hurt him this much broke his pride and filled him with rage. Rage pushed him, wrath broke his limits, determination sustained him and the raw, unadulterated urge to refuse defeat made the impossible a reality.
'Omni-man could beat me because he's stronger. What fucking excuse do I have for you?! I refuse to accept it! I fucking refuse to be this weak!' He raged within.
Out here, under the threat of actual death, under this unique circumstance of imminent demise, his potential was ignited, his body adapted and grew, it was slow and painful but from that pain came a great newfound strength.
Strength to move at absurd velocities; to effortlessly tear apart canon ships; to take blaster bolts at point black and barely have them push him back. Strength to drive the fear of God into the hearts of the invaders even as continuous barrages of laser bolts blotted out the sunlight for a moment, levelling all obstacles in their path to striking him.
The red vapor cloud evaporated and standing within was a bloodstained berserker with blood red eyes staring past cracked goggles with a clear scowl written across his face. Invincible dashed for the army, reappearing in their midst with a cannon ship held in his arms as though it were a bat, compounding his destructive force. He swept, raked and pounded the green humanoids into fleshy paste and hot condensation. Blood puddles gave the illusion that the skies bled red onto the earth.
The once proud army was reduced to a handful of demoralized agents who experienced first-hand the fear of God. The observers were filled with as much dread as they had joy. The name 'Invincible', had left an everlasting mark on all witnesses present.
"Where do you think you're going?" He shouted, flying after the terrified aliens that filed into the closing wormhole.
"Wait!" Shouted a flying member of Teen Team—a private team of superheroes led by the mechanical proxy of a disabled genius— who had just arrived on the scene. They watched Invincible spear past the portal that closed a moment before contact and into the subsequent cars and buildings behind it.
"Guys I think he's knocked out."
"He seems to be unconscious."
"He needs medical aid."
"Yeah…not me."
"Me neither, I'm not getting anywhere close to that guy. What if he wakes up and snaps? Did you not see what he just did to an army of aliens? You do it Robot."
"Handle the wounded and trapped. I'll check on him."
The Robot moved past the split remains of broken cars and into the gap that extended cleanly through the building, allowing him to see all the way through, noticing the one responsible for such meteoric destruction slumped down on the outside of another apartment with what seemed to be the disembodied head of an invader.
He shifted the head aside, noting the terrified expression frozen on it and reached for the badly injured teen, to perform a scan, offer emergency aid and, should the situation allow it, perhaps obtain a DNA sample. He was simply amazed and maybe a bit frightened at the power yield and recovery ability exhibited by the inhuman adolescent.
Discovering the biological processes that allowed such unique abilities would be exceptional in one word, and even if he failed to, perhaps he might discover ways of mitigating those abilities should they be turned against good.
Bloodshot eyes snapped open, a blood stained hand lashed upon the reinforced steel of his, stopping it inches away from touching flesh and from reaching any further. "Don't fucking touch me." He said, his voice hoarse and deadly. His grip over Robot's hand tightening with each passing second, bending the metal arm into something useless. "Don't ever fucking touch me." He spat. Hovering up to his feet regardless of his painful extensive injuries.
He seemed imposingly tall despite not physically being so, it was the nature of his temperament, the predatory air of his that made him appear dangerous—like a loaded gun in the hands of a psychopath killer. Robot prepared for battle, his attempts at retrieving his arm proved useless and made it clear that he was outclassed in strength. But he had a super genius intellect and advanced weapon systems to compensate.
"I only wished to lend you aid" Robot said, opting for non violence—the smartest choice, he decided after exhaustive calculations. A tense moment of silence and stares later, Invincible released the automaton's crushed hand, his eyes roamed about the wreckage and searched the environment, noticing that the target of his anger was nowhere to be found. The knowledge of their eventual return allowed him the luxury of fully venting at a later date, for now he needed to heal and rest.
He ascended the skies and disappeared in a gust of wind only to return a moment later. People were trapped beneath the wreckage, he'd tell anyone asking that he didn't particularly care about them, that it was just convenient and faster to lend a hand. That it would also make rebuilding exponentially faster and earn him a better reputation which he could leverage further along the line.
Perhaps it was what he told himself to mask what little remained of a sense of kindness and empathy, or perhaps it was just as it seemed—nothing to give much thought to.
He did it all in silence. And left the scene as soon as he found that he'd done enough, the other heroes who seemed too scared to even talk to him could handle the rest.
*.*.*.*.*
"Evaluation."
"He's essential sir."
"I thought so" Cecil, disconnected his call with the automaton and replayed a video of the boy's fight against the Flaxxans. His brutality was unforeseen and perhaps a red flag, but in this situation, it was a boon.
To be honest he didn't really think much of the kid, he expected invincible to perform much worse than he did, as any teenager exposed to such a threat on their first outing would. But the kid recovered like a trained vet and tackled the threat to a satisfying extreme.
Cecil made sure to keep an eye on him, he proved to be very valuable and he'd be needed soon.
*.*.*.*XXXXXXX....
Had to take my time with this one, had to really let it cook and boy oh boy was it delicious.
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