ERA of Challenge #1: Xanatos

PART I: THE FORGOTTEN ROGUE
Three Weeks Before the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown
Deep within the Ziggurat Penitentiary, Nicolai Furst sat stewing in his cell. It was located in Delta Wing: a section of the Ziggurat that housed the least dangerous criminals Paragon and the Rogue Isles were capable of producing. Its population was full of has-beens, wannabes, and almosts. They were the villains who never quite made it, and more often than not relied on cheap gadgets and gizmos rather than genuine superpowers. Unlike his peers, Nicolai had genuine super powers. They were just incredibly weak; He was a speedster, but could top out at 60 miles per hour on a good day. He was able to control electricity, but only with the aid of his Zappo-Gun. To top it all off he also had a ridiculous supervillain name: Baron Blitzman.

He wasn't even a real Baron. Although he was German.

To be fair to Baron Blitzman, he was not the worst rogue in the Delta Wing. Some of his peers truly were incredibly pathetic. Had things turned out differently he may have been a successful career criminal in the King's Row circuit. He had more than enough cunning and wit to stand toe-to-toe with most street-level heroes. He'd fought the vigilante Charon several times and had lived to tell the tale. (Albeit with a few bruises and broken bones to show for it.) However, despite all of this, Baron Blitzman had fallen into the sights of one of paragon's more powerful heroes: Xanatos.

Xanatos. Oh how he hated him. That insipid boy scout with his stupid garish blue and yellow costume. Baron Blitzman had first met the ice-wielding superhero back in 2004 during a bank heist gone wrong. It wasn't his plan that failed, it wasn't the bank in question that was too difficult to break into, nor were his henchmen unable to follow his orders explicitly. Rather it was one unfortunate fact that Baron Blitzman could not have anticipated: The bank was empty…it had no money inside. When Xanatos arrived on the scene he found it hilarious. The only thing more hilarious was that it took him less than ten seconds to subdue Blitzman, before carting him off to the Zigg.

"Ten blasted seconds!" shouted Baron Blitzman as he threw a steel chair across his small prison cell. It bounced off the far wall, creating a loud clanging sound that would no doubt disturb the other inmates, "That imbecilic iceman DARED to attack me when my back was turn..."

"Ah put a sock in it Furst, you never had a chance." came a metallic voice from the cell next to his, cutting his rant short.

"Yeah man pipe down, you got taken out like a *****. Just accept it." said another voice, this time from a further cell.

Laughter followed as the inmates of Delta Wing began describing, in detail, how much of a ***** they thought he was. As can be expected, Baron Blitzman flew into a rage, spluttering madly as he ranted against his fellow inmates. Cursing their mothers, fathers, sexual preferences, and ethnicities as he did so. Despite the genuine intent to cause offense, Blitzman's comments did little more than encourage the banter from his fellow inmates. It was 1:34 AM and Delta Wing was wide awake. Admittedly at the expense of the faux-baron.

Before long, the bellowing sounds of two security batons striking steel metal doors could be heard as two tired-looking prison guards ambled their way into Delta Wing. The inmates settled down, none of them wanting to gain the ire of the Ziggurat employees. Delta Wing fell silent; it's long bland hallways as devoid of the sound of life as they were the spirit of it. As the two security guards vanished behind large steel double doors, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but wonder if this place was more like a zoo than a prison.

Shuffling across his miniscule cell, passing the obligatory newspaper cuttings, hit lists, and plans for world domination pinned to his walls, Baron Blitzman picked up the steel chair he had thrown and set it upright. Had it truly come to this? The infamous Baron Blitzman throwing temper tantrums while surrounded by primates? He let out a large sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. Who was he kidding. No-one knew his name. He wasn't infamous. He doubted Xanatos even remembered him.

A twinge of anxiety shot up his back as the image of Xanatos crept into his mind again. Dammed hero. Even in Delta Wing, years after the arrest, Baron Blitzman was still inexplicably angry towards the man that had subdued him. As he moved to his small bed, and fell in a heap pathetically, only one thing burned through his mind.

He would have his chance.

***

Nicolai awoke to the sound of explosions. As he rose groggily from his bed, he could hear and feel the explosions in the distance getting increasingly louder. It was most likely an Arachnos raid. They tended to invade the Ziggurat on a regular basis for fresh recruits. It was something to do with Lord Recluse's "destined ones" programme. The incursions never made it to Delta Wing. Apparently such gems as "The Luddite King" and "Bad Penny" weren't destined one material.

As a groggy Nicolai sat there berating himself, another explosion shook his cell. It was much closer than the last. Confused, he moved under his bed. It may have been a misfire, but Nicolai wanted to be ready in case of any more explosions. As if on cue; a large explosion wracked his cell - tearing the large metal door from its hinges, throwing it across the room and into the wall opposite. The cell now fully exposed to the sounds of sirens and rioting in the distance.

Now buried underneath a pile of rubble, it took what little strength Nicolai had left to pull himself to his feet. As he did so, and as the smoke surrounding the open doorway to his cell began to clear, Nicolai looked upon the image of his would-be saviour. Clad head-to-toe in a suite of demonic-looking power armour, and standing over six feet in height, was the most intimidating man he had ever laid eyes on.

“My name is Sebastian Kain," said the armoured figure, "And I have need of you Nicolai Furst."

PART II: WHO FERRIES THE FERRYMAN?
Two Weeks Before the Attack
King’s Row Cemetery, King’s Row
King's Row Cemetery is not a pleasant place. The graves are largely abandoned and in some cases have been looted, the identities of the deceased long having been forgotten. Foliage grows unchecked, government expenditure not covering those on the lower end of the social spectrum. Even the makeshift iron railings are worn and rusted with age, never having been replaced despite their many years of service. In spite of all this, and undeterred by the terrible weather, a small group of people were slowly shuffling their way out of the graveyard. Though you could not tell from the cheap black suits the majority of the funeral-goers wore, the people leaving were all heroes. Some with super powers. Some with special abilities. Some with mere martial training. All of them here to pay respect to a fallen comrade. In some circles…a fallen icon.

The protector of King's Row was no more. Charon, the bone breaker, had been murdered.

The typical vigilantes had come to pay their respects, clad head to toe in all black and sporting sunglasses at night. (With a few more serious individuals looked on from the shadows and from neighbouring rooftops.) A few more colourful heroes had also had come to pay their respects, still in costume – the praetorian invasion not giving them a moment’s rest. Mr. Mud was there, a long-time foe of Charon’s, more out of duty or obligation than any real compassion towards the fallen vigilante. By his side were two men, one old and sporting a dusty suit, the other wheelchair bound, and wearing a look of pure despair. In the distance, just outside the gates of cemetery, the head of the Paragonian Mafia watched on and smiled. Sebastian Frost was happy, Charon’s antics had cost him a small fortune over the years.

As the assembled heroes began to make their way out of the graveyard, quietly nodding and paying their respects as they did so, two lone figures remained glued in place by the graveside. Their eyes not moving from the headstone in front of them, their fists clenched, their chests rising and falling heavily in the soaking rain. One man stood clad head to toe in a gaudy costume of yellow and blue. The other, almost impossible to identify, stood enveloped by a large billowing brown trench-coat, his face obscured by an oversized duster.

These two men were Xanatos and Joe. Arguably the two closest allies Charon, the bone breaker, had ever had.

They stood side-by-side in silence for what seemed like hours. Neither man could believe their friend and ally was truly gone. Charon had become such a fixture in King's Row, almost to the extent of becoming part of the neighbourhood itself. His tenure as the guardian of the Row was not uncontested, many vigilante's often laid claim to such a title. But none had done so with such selfless sacrifice. Many would-be vigilante's often graduated from the Row, moving on to bigger and brighter things; flashier enemies, bigger stakes, greater rewards. So many of these vigilante-turned-heroes had forgotten the streets that forged them. Not Charon, he could never forget. It didn't matter how many aliens invaded or supervillains tried to destroy the world. He had remained a man of the people. He had remained a man of the streets.

Their minds lost in nostalgia, the two remaining men didn't notice that they were now alone at the gravesite. Alone, save for one another. Eventually one of them spoke, albeit not verbally.

"I can't believe it..." signed Joe, the silence all the more apparent in lieu of his hand movements, "We all knew this day was bound to come eventually. But I still can't believe it..."

"They never found his body Joe." replied Xanatos, his eyes not moving from the tombstone. Apparently his peripheral vision picked up Joe’s signing.

Joe fidgeted nervously. He didn’t like awkward situations. In truth he didn’t really like any social situation.

"No I guess not..." replied Joe, absent-mindedly checking his police scanner with his spare hand, "Did you and Charon make up in the end?"

"No Joe we didn’t,” beneath his mask, Xanatos smiled, “He never forgave me for marrying a reformed villain."

"He was a hero to the end, despite himself." signed Joe. The look in his eyes an odd mixture of spite and respect.

"He was more than that," said Xanatos, now finally turning to face Joe, "He was a role model. It's easy to think you're a god when you have the power to rival Zeus himself. Charon may not have had any super powers but he fought alongside those that did. He trained countless heroes in the Bone Squad over the years. Makis, Icelander, Sable Phoenix...all of these guys and gals with more power than him. Yet he kept them all grounded….“

Xanatos paused, before turning back to the headstone, a strange look in his eyes.

“…He kept me grounded."

Joe smiled as he heard the golden age hero eulogise their departed friend. The rain having long since stopped, he crouched down and placed a gloved hand on the freshly filled-in grave. Almost as if he was searching for a heartbeat.

"He's part of the inspiration behind me retiring from active heroing and forming the Old Guard Academy back in 2009" continued Xanatos, turning and looking towards the exit, "I knew someone had to teach the youngster heroes of today what it means to be a hero. Not just flying high in the sky or travelling to the depths of space, but here in the streets as well. There's a whole generation of heroes with bright futures ahead of them now."

Joe frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his notebook. With his spare-hand he lazily scribbled Xanatos a note and handed it to him.

"Lucky for them. I just buried my best friend."

Once again silence struck them. The two men waited, their eyes affixed on the headstone, their minds withdrawn. Neither man wanted to be the first to say something, nor the first to leave. Pride kept them there. Not mourning, not guilt, not respect. Pride. Pride for their friend borne of anger against his untimely passing.

Eventually Xanatos spoke.

"Be well Joe." said Xanatos as he turned to leave, "I very much doubt we will meet again."

Joe didn’t move. He just let him leave. His right hand, now shaking, still pressed against the mound of earth where his friend now lay.

***


Baron Blitzman had never felt so alive. While he had not saved his life in the strictest definition of the term, Sebastian Kain had certainly given Blitzman a new lease on it. And now, as he tore through the streets of Paragon, Baron Blitzman truly felt like he was living for the first time in years.

Baron Blitzman had never been a powerful villain. He was a speedster that could not top sixty miles per hour. He was a man that could control electricity, but only with the aid of a mechanical device known as a zapp gun. Sebastian Kain had changed all that. In only three weeks, Kain had shown him the true extent of his powers. According to Kain, Blitzman had been holding back all these years. His lack of confidence in himself, and him believing he was only a small time crook, led to him subconsciously limiting his own powers.

…But no more! With the help of Sebastian Kain and the many laboratories he owned in Paragon and beyond, Blitzman was now fighting at full strength. He could control electricity and lightning like never before and without mechanical assistance. He could clock in at around 200 million miles per hour - roughly a third the speed of light. The speed was glorious, and Baron Blitzman often found himself in two places at once due to his impressive speed. The increase in power brought with it certain downfalls however, the increased heat due to friction created a build-up of thermal radiation within Baron Blitzman - a power source he was still learning to control.

While he seemed like a guardian angel at first, it soon became apparent that Kain's assistance was not entirely altruistic. Although the bargain was a simple one, and one that Baron Blitzman was more than happy to entertain. Kain was forging an army - a collective of the greatest and most powerful villains in the world. For this he would need a messenger. Someone loyal. And, more importantly, someone fast.

As he sped through Brickstown, the gargantuan form of The Ziggurat looming in the distance, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but smile. He was going to send a message alright.

PART III: SPAR THE ROD
Day of The Attack
Old Guard Academy, Steel Canyon
The Old Guard Academy is one of the largest buildings in Paragon City. It towers over the majority of the surrounding buildings in Steel Canyon, its large steel exterior an ominous sight for any hero or villain. It was originally constructed in 2009 by Xanatos based on his desire for a building that was grand enough not only to train new heroes, but also to act as a bastion of hope for the entirety of Paragon. While it operated as little more than a school for aspiring heroes and vigilantes, the academy was nevertheless built and designed very much like a modern-day fortress. Reinforced walls, bomb-proofed foundations, impenetrable impervium doors, and bullet proof glass windows were the academy's way of keeping its students safe. And on those rare occasions where the building itself was not sufficient enough to protect its students, there was the security detail. Two hundred heavily armed guards, each one personally trained by ex-Malta espionage veteran Fox Masters. Each one more than an equal to their counterparts in Longbow or Arachnos.

Not to mention...the place was absolutely teeming with super-powered heroes.

While The Old Guard Academy was one of the safest places in Paragon, its students were not averse to getting hurt when the situation warranted it. Because of this, the academy was full of dojos designed for all manner of super powered heroes looking to test their mettle against one another. And today was no exception. The main dojo of the academy, a room nicknamed “The Dungeon” due to the intense training that went on there, was open and humming with life. The dojo mats, dust free and warm in the intense summer heat, were now joined by two young heroes preparing to spar atop them. In the far corner of the room stood the head trainer of the academy; The Imperial. He was smiling.

The Imperial was one of the oldest heroes in the city and was one of Xanatos' closest friends. An aged hero, preserved in his later years by the potent and immortality-inducing magics of the Pearl of Gilgamesh. (An ancient relic he’d discovered many years before he became a superhero.) His battle experience and wisdom were second to none, and it is for this reason that Xanatos offered him the role of head trainer to the future icons of Paragon City. A role he graciously accepted.

Now the Imperial leant lazily against the warm wooden walls of the dojo, smiling to himself as he watched two new hopefuls square off with one another.

One of the heroes was Johnny Turbo, the enigmatic and egotistical speedster. Originally an enforcer for the Marcone crime family, Johnny Turbo later went on to become imbued with superhuman levels of speed after volunteering for one of Dr. Aeon's many experiments in Cap Au Diable. While originally a lone wolf, Johnny later became part of a family of crime-fighters. A family of superheroes that included the man he was now squaring off against. The man known only as...

Rave Spider. A fellow team-mate and ally to Johnny Turbo; Rave Spider is a principled martial artist with superhuman levels of power mimicry. Originally born a mutant, Rave Spider initially had poor control over his powers. After his younger brother was shot, things changed. The shooting shook Rave Spider to his core and set him on a path of self-discovery. A path that has, since the incident, granted him greater control over his superhuman ability to mimic other peoples' powers, and has granted him the level head to know when not to.

The two heroes glared at each other across the dojo. While they were close friends to the point of having a brotherly bond...they were nevertheless very competitive. They were going to spar. They both wanted to win.

"Okay heroes..." said The Imperial, his eyes giving each of them the once-over, "Xanatos was very impressed with what he saw in the two of you. He says you're the best of the new breed. And while I have never questioned his judgement, I'm not so sure I see it..."

Without warning Johnny Turbo interrupted. His usual wit and charm on full display.

"Maybe that's 'cause, like, you're old and you can't see ****."

The Imperial just stopped and glared. Johnny Turbo smiled at him, completely oblivious to the fact he'd just insulted one of the oldest heroes in Paragon City. Rave Spider, mouth hanging open in disbelief, slowly put his head in his hands. After an awkward silence, The Imperial continued talking.

"As I was saying", continued The Imperial, his eyes still lingering on Johnny Turbo, "You two are apparently two of the best this city's got to offer. But I haven't seen you fight." As he said this, The Imperial once again leant back against the wooden wall of the dojo, his hands beckoning them to move to the centre of the floor, "So let me see what you've got."

Johnny Turbo was halfway through yet another a witty retort, no doubt something to do with The Imperial saying "let me see what you've got", when Rave Spider's fist smashed into his mouth, sending him flying backwards into a nearby wall. To his credit, Johnny Turbo recovered well, ricocheting off the wall and leaping towards Rave Spider, his foot soaring through the air as he did so.

Caught completely off-guard, Rave Spider’s head snapped back as Johnny Turbo’s foot connected with his jaw. Surprised as always by the Turbo's speed, Rave Spider was thrown to the ground, the taste of blood thick in his mouth. The setback was only temporary. For as he fell, Rave Spider rolled, braced himself, and with a casual capoeira flip, was back on his feet.

The Imperial nodded in approval. Both men seemed evenly matched. And they hadn't resorted to using powers yet. He beckoned for them to continue.

The two men ran at each other, their arms raised. Rave Spider frowning, Johnny Turbo smiling. They came together like a thunderstorm - the two of them dancing around each other, fists flailing, looking for an opening. While Johnny Turbo was not as accomplished a martial artist as Rave Spider, he was significantly faster. For every punch that Rave Spider landed, Johnny Turbo was able to throw five. The only problem was that none of them were connecting.

The Imperial didn't say anything at first. He studied the two men as they fought. While he himself had no powers of superspeed, The Imperial had fought enough speedsters to know what telltale signs to look for when watching them fight. Sure Johnny Turbo was telegraphing his movements. (He was not a subtle hero by any stretch of the imagination.) But it did appear that Rave Spider was dodging his attacks before he'd even thrown them. The fight continued like this for a while, with Rave Spider wearing Johnny down defensively. It soon became apparent that Rave Spider was using one of the many powers he had collected over the years: clairvoyance. He knew what Johnny Turbo was going to do before Johnny even did it.

"HE'S LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE! THAT'S SO CHEAP!" Complained Johnny Turbo, suddenly angry. "STUPID GAY *** SPIDER! WHY'S THAT YOUR NAME ANYWAY YOU CAN'T WEBSLING OR ANYTHING!"

Apparently Johnny Turbo had figured it out also. Once again The Imperial shook his head in disbelief. Considering he was the fastest man in Paragon, Johnny Turbo could certainly be slow at times.

"Johnny, stop creating a future where he is able to dodge," said The Imperial, raising his hands in the air with exasperation, "You're a speedster. Limit him."

Realising the old guy might be talking some sense; Johnny Turbo decided to go for it. He pushed himself to his limit; as fast as he could go. Ten, twenty, thirty punches per second. Eventually his fists were moving so fast that the only future Rave Spider's clairvoyance was able to show was one where he was being punched in the face. While Johnny Turbo was not particularly strong, he was throwing his opponent around like a rag doll with pure kinetic energy. He was winning.

Eventually Johnny Turbo stopped to pose and deliver a witty one liner. This gave Rave Spider the split second he needed to compose himself. Closing his eyes briefly and inhaling deeply, Rave Spider used his powers of superhuman empathy to absorb and mimic Johnny's speed. When he opened his eyes, Rave Spider saw a very content looking speedster charging at him, leg raised, fully intent on knocking him out. It was only when his overly dramatic finishing manoeuvre missed that Johnny Turbo realised something was not quite right. When his second attack missed he went awkwardly silent and studied Rave Spider with suspicion. When his third attack missed his face became contorted into a mixture of horror and pure rage. It was most certainly not Turbo Time.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE IN THIS CITY HAVE SUPERSPEED? THAT'S LAME!" complained Johnny Turbo as he began to whirlwind around the room, tearing up the floorboards as he did so.

As the two heroes continued to fight at superhuman speeds, each one trying to outthink the other at many hundreds of miles per second, the doors to the dojo swung open, causing the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Thinking they were under attack, and with all pretence of competition and complaint swiftly forgotten, the two heroes stopped fighting. They stood side-by-side, eyeing the tall man now wading confidently into the room. Despite their exhaustion, the two young heroes were ready for a fight. However, when they saw who it was, they breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Xanatos.

Judging from the expression painted across his features, he was not happy.

"Heroes, suit up," Said Xanatos, looking at each of the three heroes in turn, nodding sternly as he did so, “There's been an incident at the Ziggurat."

The Imperial nodded and reached to his belt, his hands hovered over the buckle for a brief moment, before his entire body disappeared with a blinding flash. Another flash later and he was clad, head to toe, in his trademark purple and gold spandex. His famous war mace, The Sceptre of Kings, firmly clenched in his right hand. He stared at Xanatos, his deep voice echoing around the now heavily damaged dojo.

"Who's broken out?"

Xanatos exhaled and turned towards the door, his footsteps pounding against the wooden floorboards of the dojo as he did so. Reaching the doorway, he glanced back over his left shoulder, clenching his fists. He didn't meet The Imperial's gaze. But he did respond, coldly.

"Everyone."

PART IV: BLITZMAN’S BIG BREAK
Day of the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown
It had taken Baron Blitzman a full twenty minutes to overcome the Ziggurat security detail. While that may seem like an incredibly short time, to a speedster it is a lifetime. Blitzman had been playing carefully. Sebastian Kain had given him a layout of the security systems in the Zigg, and Blitzman had stealthed his way past them all. Cameras he disabled, guards he silenced, and computer systems he simply shut down. By no means was the Ziggurat was an easy place to break into. Indeed, it often took entire fleets of Arachnos fliers just to break out half a dozen inmates. But when you combine the speed of Baron Blitzman, with the cunning of Sebastian Kain…anything was possible. And right now, the faux Baron was proving that point oh so clearly. Blitzman was breaking out everyone he could. And he was loving very moment of it.

Stood, triumphant in the foyer of Delta Wing, Blitzman couldn’t help but let out a wry grin as he gazed around his former home. All around him lay the burnt and smouldering corpses of prison staff, policemen, heroes, and a couple of inmates that he didn't like the look of. They had tried to stop him. He had killed them all dead in seconds, his powers of electricity and lightning frying the poor suckers. He hadn’t forgotten. For seven years he'd rotted in his cell here. Seven dammed years. And now here he was; Fires blazing around him, inmates running amok, prison staff being slaughtered, store-rooms being raided. It was glorious.

The low class villains of Delta Wing had finally taken flight. And it was a marvellous site to behold.

Feelin sad at having to leave Delta-Wing for the first time in his life, Blitzman turned tail and sped deeper into the prison. He smiled again, noticing the rioting inmates and general chaos they brought with them had spread to the rest of the Ziggurat. All around him sirens blared and bullets fired as the hastily retreating prison staff tried desperately to get the situation under control. Unfortunately for them, Baron Blitzman was the situation. He had been sent to the Ziggurat with a specific list of people he had to break free. They were an odd bunch; they varied in power levels, names, and even themes. But they all had one thing in common: they were enemies of Xanatos.

As he reached his destination, a wing of the Ziggurat so secretive it didn’t even have a code-name, Blitzman cackled evilly as he noticed nearly every cell door hanging open. It appears the “big bads” had wasted no time in breaking free.

Baron Blitzman looked down the list and smiled. Checking off each empy cell as he passed them.

Emperor Xanatos...Check
[Classified]...Check
Showtime...Check
Powerlaser...Check
Vegas...Check
Lord Morcalivan...Check
Paniac...Check
Devil...Check
Professor Ape...Check
Revolver II...Check
Face-Lift...Check
Water Wizard...Check
Daggeroth...Check
Kid Vamp...Check
Galacton...Check
Cable...Check
Cackle...Check
Chimera II...Check
Tactic...Check
The Harbinger...Check
Rakescar...Blank

Baron Blitzman looked up from the list to the cell now in front of him. On the door was written "Tyler Preston". Inside was what appeared to be a frozen demon of some kind. Its skin looked to be made of solid stone. About its hulking body was a tattered prison jumpsuit, stained with blood clearly not belonging to the creature. Blitzman didn't like the look of this inmate...he'd heard rumours about Rakescar. He was unstable. Incredibly powerful. A liability. A demon. A god. A sick ******* from all accounts.

"I don't think we need you," Said Baron Blitzman, crossing Rakescar's name off the list "ERA isn't a halfway house for freaks like you."

Rakescar said nothing. Frozen as he was by the sub-zero temperature of his cell. But despite his immobility, Baron Blitzman couldn't help but notice the Golem glaring at him.

"So creepy,” Said Baron Blitzman as he went back to checking the list.


***


"We'll take it from here officers."

The steely words of the ice-cold avenger caused everyone in the Ziggurat courtyard to pause for a moment as Xanatos touched down. Following behind him was The Imperial, another icon of the city, his gold and purple costume inspiring hope in the tired looking men around him. The presence of these two heroes almost certainly assured the guards that the prison riot was over for the most part. It would be contained. It would be controlled. The belligerent prison guards would soon be able to go home and rest.

Xanatos and The Imperial’s arrival clearly sparked pangs of desperation in the remaining escapees. For no sooner had the two heroes' feet touched the ground than one hundred convicts erupted violently out of the prison entrance towards them. The desperation in their eyes matched only by the pure verbal rage they spewed towards the prison guards. They moved like savages. Slaves, finally free from their masters and anxious to enact just retribution.

The makeshift barrier the prison guards had erected outside the main entrance of the Ziggurat was unlikely to hold the inmates back for long, despite how well armed the guards were. The Imperial knew this, and he knew that lives would be lost if he did not act fast. Without a second thought, the golden age hero leapt into the air with the grace of a free-flying bird, soaring over the small criminal army. As the mob looked up, they could not help but admire the hero in his elegance. The admiration turned to fear however, as the bulky form of The Imperial began to plummet towards them.

Xanatos smiled as his friend touched down in the centre of the crowd of convicts. His landing creating a small explosive shockwave that knocked each of them from their feet. As the familiar sight of Orange jumpsuits flailing through the air met his gaze, Xanatos decided it was time to enter the fray. He moved quickly to The Imperials side and, wordlessly, the two men adopted a classic fighting stance back-to-back. They had fought alongside each other for so many years that they hardly needed to communicate when in battle, least of all for something as small as a prison riot. Both men were armed. The Imperial with his magical war mace The Sceptre of Kings. Xanatos with a makeshift ice-sword.

As the inmates groggily found their feet, eyed the two heroes, and ultimately charged towards them, Xanatos couldn't help but grimace. The inmates were hopelessly outclassed. These criminals possessed no powers. They were the thugs, the mooks, and the henchmen of the real villains. They were little more than pawns in the game of crime within Paragon City. While they fought with all the vigour and courage they could summon...tey lasted less than five minutes against the combined might of Xanatos and The Imperial. For two men used to fighting cosmic villains and battling hordes of Nazis, a hundred or so escaped convicts were little more than simple sport.

As Xanatos froze the last of the escaping inmates in place, the leader of the prison guardsmen ran forward, his radio abuzz with static from the Ziggurat's interior.

"The supers are all in there..." said an exhausted looking prison guard, pointing into the Ziggurat, "...s-someone is teleporting them out from INSIDE!"

"Maintain your position friend," said The Imperial, before gesturing to the the large groups of unconscious inmates around him, "And get these prisoners somewhere safe."

"Leave the capes to us, son" said Xanatos, before giving the prison guard a thumbs up, "Good job!"

Again, without a word, the two heroes flew full-pelt into The Ziggurat.


***


"That's the last of them," said Baron Blitzman as Showtime stepped through the makeshift portal. Blitzman's benefactor, the infamous Sebastian Kain, had managed to hijack several of Portal Corp's interdimensional portals. Baron Blitzman was now using them to tunnel Xanatos' Rogues Gallery out of the Ziggurat. Well, all of them save one special person. An old enemy of Xanatos. One he had not seen for many many years.

As Baron Blitzman stepped into the portal himself, he risked a glance backwards to admire his handiwork. Sure enough in the distance, barely visible, were the iconic forms of Xanatos and The Imperial hurtling towards his position. While he was a powerful villain, Blitzman knew he couldn't take both of them at once. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to. With a wicked grin and a casual wave, he closed the portal behind him.

Xanatos and The Imperial arrived on the scene mere moments after the portal snapped shut, taking with it Baron Blitzman and the rest of the escapees. A loud electrical *POP* resonating around the solid steel interior of the superhuman prison, as Blitzman’s grinning face was burned into the two heroes retinas. Glancing around the silent prison, Xanatos noticed nearly every cell door was swinging wide open, with the bodies of police officers, and lesser villains that had died in the escape, strewn all across the hallways.

"Stars and stripes!" said Xanatos, his face awash with anger, "We're too late!"

The words barely out of his mouth, two steel doors slammed down shut behind him. Locking him and his closest living ally in place.

"It appears we have walked into a trap my friend," said The Imperial as he tossed his war mace, the sceptre of kings, idly from hand to hand, "Be on you guard."

A loud, deep, bellowing laugh lit up the eerie silence of the prison hallway. Resonating as it did so, with all of the empty cells.

The laugher died down. And Xanatos heard a voice that chilled him to his very core.

"Hello old friend."

"Who goes there?" bellowed The Imperial, clutching the sceptre of kings in his right hand and raising his left in front of him defensively.

From the darkness of the decrepit prison lurched a giant of a man. Each of his footsteps causing the hallways to tremble slightly against the raw magnitude of his power. After what seemed like a small age, the gargantuan man spoke, stepping into the flickering light as he did so.

"I go by many names hero," said the fiend, his all white eyes burning with furious energy, his muscles taught and ready for combat, "But you may call me Sovereign."