by Charlie Carrol

Warzone

Punch after punch, detonation after detonation. He is relentless in his anger. I leap back, using the stored energy to fuel my jump. This only spurs him on. He devastates the ground beneath him, propelling himself after me. Shockwaves spread along the earth, and I watch as the nearby buildings crumble.

“Die already!” he yells over the destruction behind him.

I land, cat-like, and prepare for the onslaught to come. He opts to land a single blow, putting all his weight and destructive power behind it. My arms shoot up, just fast enough to take the brunt. The air whips behind me, tearing the ground around us to shreds.

A light, bright as the sun, envelopes us, originating from where his fist meets my arm. As this happens, I feel the energy sink into my skin. It feels powerful, like nothing could stop me. I smirk and go on the attack. He lands just for me to knock him off balance. He stumbles and catches himself, to get hit dead in the chest. This time though, I put forth all of the stored energy from this fight. From the kinetic energy of my movement, to all of the explosive energy he has produced. I send it out in a focused shockwave.

The expulsion of energy pushes him backwards, but doesn’t seem to hurt him. I pout slightly. I mean, I had been hoping to kill him in one punch. Now I’d have to- “Is that all you got?!” he howls over his explosions.

He drives himself into my abdomen, grabbing onto me. I gasp as the wind is knocked out of me. With no time to recover, he rams us into a ravaged building. The impact shatters the remains of the building, triggering its collapse.

“I hope you enjoy the view in Hell,” he says with a sneer, “It’s where you belong.” “Well, well. Finally getting revenge for that little friend of yours I killed,” I say as the steel and concrete encase us. “Looks like you’ll-“

He lets go of me and swings his fist into my face. A crack emanates from my head. I go to move my jaw and pain spikes through my face.

“That’ll shut you up,” he smirks.

A steel beam spikes through my leg, pinning me. Rebar and concrete fall, tearing at my skin. A chunk of concrete embeds itself in my shoulder. The rubble crashes around me. Only his laughter penetrates the rubble. My life spills from me. Pain sears against my every nerve as I thrash against my tomb. My throat feels raw. I didn’t even notice I was screaming. The pain keeps me going for what feels like forever. My attempts prove futile as my vision fades to black.

Aftermath

Dying screams. I caused this. I killed them. Their blood. The same blood flowing from the rubble. The blood that stains my hands. My head drifts downwards to the rose-colored liquid pooling at my feet.

Revenge. They got what they deserved. They did it on purpose. In front of me. Surely they got what they deserved.

I flick my head up. They stopped. The screams stopped. They’re gone.

A shadow passes overhead. The beating of a helicopter’s propeller surrounds me. My gaze locks onto the news helicopter descending from the sky.

A reporter hops off the aircraft, freezing in place when they notice the crimson pool beneath me.

“Raze? What happened?” The reporter asks.

I stare at them. The scarlet liquid spreads like tendrils, reaching for the poor soul. They wouldn’t understand. Their world is black and white. What I did is good. I killed the killer. They’ve killed before, and they’d have killed again. I’ve saved people. I’ve avenged everyone they’ve killed.

“Sir?” the poor reporter prompts. “They were a murderer, ” I say. “But they’re dead now?”

“They deserved it.”

The cameraman shrinks away. I realize they’re live. Everyone is seeing this. The reporter steps back from the growing pool of blood. They fidget with their microphone. So small, so weak. They were the ones I swore to protect. The mortals. I laugh. It starts small, a chuckle slipping from my lips. It turns maniacal almost instantly. My laughter rebounds across the devastated city. I bend over. The reporting crew recoils. They look at me like I am their cat, bringing a dead rat to them.

I pull myself together for a second. I bring myself back to a normal standing position, a wild grin spreading across my lips as my laughter fades.

“I have ended the reign of a villain. A cold-blooded killer. May this be a warning to all who decide that they are strong enough to kill the weak,” I say as I approach the camera, confident in my every step.

The reporter and camera crew scramble back from me. An unfortunate effect of my words. I sigh. Nothing I can do for them; I operate apart from the law now. I gather the stored energy under my boots. I step back from the news crew, and run away from them, releasing the energy in bursts as I go. I leap away, and use the remaining energy to continue my flight. I chuckle once more. I know they’ll be safe.

They’ll hate me for what I do. I am protecting them at the cost of more blood on my hands. Their world has no gray, so I’ll use the line they made between black and white as my own personal noose.

Interrogation

The Mutated Holding Centers are massive facilities with levels of security rivaling the legendary Alcatraz. Never are outsiders allowed in. This time is the one exception to that rule. I stroll down the pristine white halls. Guards are posted every ten feet. So much manpower just to contain a handful of my kind. The weapons appear to be unassuming, yet I’ve seen what they do to us. If I were to step slightly out of line I would be killed on the spot. They fear us.

We make it through checkpoint after checkpoint. I’m searched at each one. In my personal opinion, the last part is unnecessary. They know who I am and what I can do. “We’re here,” one guard says, gripping their gun as tightly as they can.

I switch my gaze from the guard on my left to the guard on my right. Their worry is written plainly across their faces. They fear us. Yet they could kill us all if they wanted.

“Thank you for your escort,” I say with a small smile.

I look at the cell. It’s a brutish sight, with an undisputedly massive vault door. A guard walks over to the panel beside the door. They input the code. It takes a minute for the door to unlock and open to what lies inside.

The guards stand outside the door as two new guards step into their place. They begin to move forward. I follow. He is there, thirty feet in front of me, shackled in the shape of an X, his arms and legs encased in steel blocks, head hanging. His scalp is scorched. Waves of heat flow from the cell, a testament to the cruelty of the prison.

“No closer,” the guard says, brandishing their gun at me. “Understood sir,” I soothe.

I stare at Coldsnap for a few seconds.

“How am I supposed to communicate with him? I have been ordered to interrogate him,” I inquire.

“You’ll question him from here,” the guard states, holding their gun steady. This guard treats us as mortals, a rare trait that some humans have. Most humans who treat us like mortals have either killed one of us or have compassion like a child. This guard has killed one of us before though, the lack of fear shows that much.

“Alright then. Let’s get started.”

Over the course of the interrogation I learn next to nothing of Coldsnap’s motives. He only gives me a warning.

“Don’t try to stop it. You’re just a pawn they’ll sacrifice.”