ERA of Challenge #1: Xanatos

PART V: When Giants Collide
Day of the Attack
Ziggursky Rehabilitation Penitentiary, Brickstown
Eight years. It had been eight years since Xanatos last saw Sovereign. No mere name. More a title, a birthright. A being of pure evil. A time-travelling terror from the year 5404 AD. Sovereign was, without doubt, the most powerful villain Xanatos had ever fought.

The two had first met in 2002, not long after Xanatos founded a supergroup known as The Defenders of Paragon. The group had been in action a mere year before Sovereign first came into conflict with them. He killed them in droves. The likes of Tomorrow Man, Titan, Eagle-Eye, Magestar, Toxin, Wildfire, Garbage-Man, Shadow Star, Shrike, Godly-man, and many others. The monster had his motives. Time-travelling villains always do. But rarely do they matter in the present moment. And in this present moment, all that matters is that the barbaric behemoth, capable of butchering battalions of brave heroes, now stood face-to-face with Xanatos and The Imperial. Two of the most powerful heroes on the planet. Two men hopelessly outclassed.

The first blast happened in an instant. The taunts of the wicked warrior turned to whispers in the wake of the resulting explosion. Xanatos was thrown backwards as the blast connected with his chest - slamming him into an empty prison cell. That old familiar pain; the burning and despair that came with it. A hole in his costume. The first of many to come.

"Imperial get down!" Roared Xanatos as another beam hurtled towards his oldest living ally. In the distance Sovereign remained stock still, a sadistic smirk lighting up his fearsome features.

The Imperial did not dodge however. He was one of the old school. The ones who liked to take a licking and keep on ticking. With a manoeuvre one part skill, one part experience, and both parts superhero, the golden age grandpa met Sovereign's beam with a weapon of his own: The weapon of legend renown enough to rival the old man himself: The Sceptre of Kings.

Mace met beam to the thunderous applause of prison cell doors, as they rattled back and forth on their hinges in the dark empty prison. Empty, save for the two icons now fighting for their lives against a monster more than capable of taking them.

Xanatos, now having found his feet, once again joined Imperial's side. Together they stood as one, and charged, pale faced, into death's open arms.

Sovereign responded in kind, slamming his hands together violently; sending a shockwave of energy towards the two heroes. Xanatos reacted first, using his powers of flight to soar above it. The Imperial reacted slightly slower, dodging under it, his gray whiskered face inches from the shockwave of destruction.

The two heroes continued their charge unabated. And with momentum on their side, they crashed into Sovereign.

This was going to be their one shot at ending the fight on their terms.

This was going to be their only shot.


***



"Rave Spider?"

Sat, exasperated, in the damaged dojo of the Old Guard Academy, were the two superheroes known only as Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo. They had been told to stay behind. To watch over the students. To house sit. Despite all of their collective power and ability, they had been placed on monitor duty. It had been tremendously boring. But if the buzzing from Rave Spider's comm-link was any indication, things were about to get interesting.

"Rave Spider are you there?" said the monotone robotic voice at the other end of the line.

Without turning away from the card game, Rave Spider pressed the receiving button on his comm link.

"This is Rave Spider, who is this and what do you want?"

"This is Joe,” said the robotic voice. It sounded almost panicked in tone despite being obviously synthesised, "There has been a breakout in the Ziggurat."

There was a pause.

"According to reports from Paladin and other heroes operating in the Steel Canyon district; every single one of Xanatos's enemies are heading in your direction."

In unison, both Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo dropped their cards.

"What's their ETA?" Said Rave Spider as he hauled himself to his feet. He began to crack his knuckles as he checked around the room idly.

A sudden loud bang answered Rave Spider's question. The explosion was so loud and so powerful that the Old Guard Academy had actually started shaking. Apparently the rogues had arrived, and they were already causing havoc. Despite this, Joe continued to answer in his robotic monotone voice:

"Five minutes ago,"

Rave Spider narrowed his eyes. This was not good. He looked over to Johnny Turbo. Despite the gravitas of the situation, Johnny had taken the opportunity to pick up Rave Spider's cards and look at them.

"Johnny?" said Rave Spider.

"Sup!" Said Johnny Turbo mock-innocently, slyly putting the cards back down on the ground. Etched across his features was a poker face Sonata himself would be proud of.

Rave Spider shook his head, smiling. No matter how grave the situation, Johnny could always make him laugh.

"Take my hand Johnny." said Rave Spider, offering it.

There was an awkward pause as Johnny Turbo eyed Rave Spider with as much contempt as he could manage. The look on his face reminiscent of a child not wanting to eat his vegetables.

"Dude…gay." Said Johnny Turbo, who placed his hand, hesitantly, in his friend's regardless. As he did so, Rave Spider's eyes glowed a dull orange. He was able to mimic powers, and he would need Johnny's superspeed for what was about to go down.

"Okay Joe," said Rave Spider as he and Johnny Turbo sped out of the dojo and into the Academy proper, "What do we need to do?"


***



The police line outside of the Ziggurat was still in position, guns trained on the single entrance to the prison. No-one got in or out except via this entrance. (Or at least, that is what was usually the case.) Today was going to be an exception. High above the policemen, three super powered beings blasted their way out of the side of the Ziggurat; showering the area with rubble as a hole roughly the size of a wrecking ball was blown outward through the thick prison walls.

The three beings slammed into the concrete streets of Brickstown with a thunderous crack. Each of them rolling as their bodies made impact, carried forward by the momentum of their descent. Xanatos was the first to his feet, turning briskly to the policemen. Policemen that were still watching, guns trained, completely dumbstruck.

"Run!" roared Xanatos, all pretence of superheroics gone from his voice. It was pure survival at this point.

As if to prove his point, a loud laugh echoed from behind him, as the gargantuan form of Sovereign raised itself to its feet. His eyes burned a bright red, little fires dancing in the rapidly approaching moonlight. The Imperial was unconscious somewhere, though Xanatos couldn't see him.

"Impressive hero," said Sovereign as he walked slowly forwards, "But not nearly impressive enough."

With speed deceptively quick for a beast of his size, Sovereign was upon Xanatos, his right fist connecting with the golden-age hero's chin like a freight train. Xanatos was thrown backwards by the indefensible attack, his body slamming into, and through the wall of, the nearby Architect Entertainment building. His body continued to be thrown backwards through the foyer, before crashing into the reception desk and coming to an abrupt halt.

"R-run..." Xanatos managed weakly as the Architect Entertainment staff looked on in horror. In the distance, Sovereign was swatting aside police drones as he lumbered forwards towards the fallen hero.

The pitter-patter of footsteps flooded Xanatos's ears as the AE staff began to scramble for their lives. Within minutes the building was empty - not a single person had stopped to help him or see if he was okay - collapsed as he was on the broken remains of what had once been the reception desk. The building now evacuated, Xanatos pulled himself to his feet, ice already forming around his hands and arms as he prepared to take on Sovereign by himself. As he finally found his feet, the lumbering form of the demi-god was standing there before him. A wicked snarl painted across his features.

"Die," said Sovereign simply, as he fired a beam of pure dark matter at Xanatos's chest from point blank range. The blast struck home, sending the hero flying backwards. Not wanting to prolong the fight, Sovereign immediately created a wall of solid energy behind Xanatos, causing the hero to collide into it and come to a crashing halt.

Xanatos fell to the floor weakly. He was undoubtedly one of the most powerful heroes on the planet, but he was little more than a child compared to Sovereign. As he pulled himself to his knees, another energy blast struck his shoulder, laying the hero flat out on his back. He blacked out for a moment, it was only seconds, but it was seconds enough for Sovereign to close the gap between them. As he came to, Xanatos felt a large boot connect with the side of his ribcage, cracking several bones, and sending him flying into another wall. As brick, mortar, and glass showered the broken hero, Sovereign looked on unimpressed.

He was growing bored.

Sovereign sauntering over towards Xanatos, a hero so broken he could barely stand. And with the nonchalance of a demagogue, he picked the hero up by his neck, holding him aloft with one large hand clasped tightly around his throat.

Xanatos's body began to shake and convulse as Sovereign began to squeeze...

PART VI: The Icon
Day of The Attack
Seven Gates District, Brickstown
Xanatos's vision began to blur. He was losing focus. Sovereign had the strength to snap the hero's neck in an instance. Why was he killing him slowly? Ah of course. It was simple; He wanted to watch him die. He wanted to watch the very essence of his soul slip away from his body piece by piece. He wanted confirmation that the blue-eyed boyscout was gone. That the iced wonder was no more. That the hero himself had ceased to be.

Unfortunately, Sovereign had forgotten about the OTHER blue-eyed boyscout: The Imperial. And as Xanatos slowly went limp in the grasp of his enemy, the burgundy and gold form of The Imperial hurtled towards Sovereign at breakneck speeds. His war mace, the Sceptre of Kings, held firmly in his right hand. His left hand clenched so hard that calluses had begun to form. The Imperial was out for blood.

The old man collided with the beast with the force of a freight train. As he did so, he wrapped his arms around him, carrying them forwards together. Sovereign was not prepared for the attack and, dropping Xanatos idly, he was thrown backwards by the force of the assault. The Imperial kept a hold on the demon, his arms forming a vice-like grip around the demi-god's midsection, as he flew the two of them forwards - ploughing through wall after wall of building after building. The attack began to weaken Sovereign, but not by much.

The assault slammed to a halt as the two superhumans ploughed into the Rikti War Wall. The powerful bristling energy field immediately sending them both cart-wheeling downwards into the unforgiving concrete streets of Brickstown. Two small craters formed as The Imperial and Sovereign crashed into the ground. The force of their impact shaking the Seven Gates district. Yet, no sooner had they touched down, than they were back on their feet again. Trading blows that would have killed lesser men, their costumes hanging in tatters, their eyes glowing with the raw magical and otherworldly energy that each of them was throwing back and forth.

"This ends now villain!" said the Imperial, as his fist connected with the monster's jaw with a sickening crack.

"I believe you are correct old man..." replied Sovereign as he lashed out at The Imperial, tearing at his costume with one beastly hand, while the other ripped off his belt, "Ah, what have we here?"

The Imperial took several steps backwards; Sovereign had done his homework. His belt contained a magical item known as the Pearl of Gilgamesh. It granted him his immortality, healing factor, and immunity to most forms of physical damage. He had originally found the Pearl in a deep catacomb underneath Salamanca back in 1942, and it was said to have granted those that could unlock it the powers of Gilgamesh himself. It was one of The Imperial's most treasured possessions.

Sovereign cared little for the item’s prestigious history, and with the indifference of a god, crushed the Pearl of Gilgamesh into dust. It’s pure white essence devoured by the brutal dark energy that pulsed through his hands.

The effect was instantaneous. The Imperial began to glow a dull white as the powers of Gilgamesh slowly seeped away from his body. Long term exposure to the Pearl over the years had allowed him to retain a lot of its powers internally, but now that the Pearl was destroyed he was fighting on borrowed time. His reserves could only last him so long. He could feel his healing factor slip away, the wounds he had sustained so far suddenly becoming more apparent and more real. His immunity to physical damage was also leaving him, and for the first time in years The Imperial could feel the wind against his skin.

But all was not lost. For while most of his powers now fled his body, he still had one more trick up his sleeve: The Sceptre of Kings. It was not only a weapon of magical renown, but it was also the source of his superhuman strength. While his now very human hands might break from the contact, The Imperial was still able to punch as hard as he ever had. And he was betting that Sovereign didn't know this.

"Do not be disheartened old man, you fought well..." said Sovereign as he cockily sauntered over to The Imperial, "...certainly better than that imbecile Xanatos."

As Sovereign moved closer and closer, The Imperial grabbed the sceptre all the more tightly. He was crouched down low, feigning defeat, feigning injury, luring Sovereign to him. He couldn't survive a direct assault from the monster; finesse was the name of the game now. While it would almost certainly destroy him to do it - he only needed one shot. Just one shot to end this.

"I do not know why Baron Blitzman chose to break me free from the Ziggurat," said Sovereign, suppressing laughter as he said the rogue's name out loud, "But I am certainly very grateful."

The Imperial said nothing. His eyes faced the floor but in the corner of his vision he spied a weak spot in Sovereignl the demon had no fighting stance. His arms hung by his sides lazily as he strode forward. He was completely unprotected. The Imperial waited patiently until the shadow of the beast enveloped him entirely. He looked up, feigning weakness, into the eyes of his enemy.

"Consider your death at my hands an honour," said Sovereign, as he raised his right hand, now pulsing with raw cosmic energy, above his head.

"And the same to you...villain"

The world stopped as The Imperial leapt, with what little stamina he had, at the beast. His right hand holding the Sceptre of King's aloft. He seemed to glide through the air for an eternity, his tattered gold and burgundy costume draped about him as he did so. His sceptre sailing through the air, every bit his last chance at victory. His eyes closed, his teeth grit, his heart in his throat. This was The Imperial's final play.

And it was to be his greatest. For the sceptre connected to Sovereign's head, followed thereafter by a sickening "crack" as the force of the attack snapped the creature's neck instantly. As he died, Sovereign's face was a mixture of confusion and fear. He had thought himself invincible. But The Imperial, weakened now more than ever, had beaten him. As the villain's large hulking form slumped inelegantly to the floor, one thing became apparent.

The beast was dead.

The Imperial fell to the floor, exhausted. His mind dizzy with relief. Beside him, The Sceptre of Kings rattled across the concrete as he let it go. His injuries were many, and his vision was blurred, but he was alive. As he sat in the ruined Seven Gates district of Brickstown, The Imperial felt a strong hand firmly grip his shoulder. It said all it could. It was approval, despite the apparent murder of the beast. It was support when he most needed it. It was a friend in a City of Villains. It was Xanatos.

"Good work my friend..." said Xanatos as he eyed the deceased supervillain that lay unceremoniously on the concrete, "You did what I was never able to."

No words were exchanged. The death of any creature, no matter how evil, was not something these heroes took lightly. And as the two heroes stood in silence, reminiscing over the battle that had very nearly claimed both their lives, Xanatos' comm-link began to burst with life. Reports from all over the city were coming in thick and fast. The escaped convicts, united behind a mysterious leader, were wrecking the city. And at the heart of their campaign of terror was Xanatos' HQ - The Old Guard Academy. Even now, as the two heroes stood and caught their breath, many young heroes were fighting for their lives in the hallowed halls of Xanatos' school for heroes.

"Go to them," said The Imperial as he leaned backwards against a nearby building, his injuries masked by a disarming grin, "They need you."

Xanatos said nothing. He clearly did not want to leave his friend in such a vulnerable condition, but the city was falling to pieces and he had little choice. Still, he hesitated. His eyes met The Imperial’s.

"Go!" said The Imperial as he pushed Xanatos fiercely, "I will be alright, you needn’t worry about me old friend!"

Xanatos nodded solemnly and, without looking back, shot upwards into the night sky.

***

Throughout The Old Guard Academy siren's blazed. The powerful front gates had been torn apart by explosive devices, and the few remaining members of the security detail were doing their best to hold back the horde of villains and rogues that now descended upon the fortress-like school. Young heroes hid in dojos and classrooms, holding each other and fearing for their lives. The few remaining teachers; experts in their areas of superheroics, but rusty when it came to in-field action, did what they could to protect their charges. Though they too were scared witless.

Xanatos's Rogues gallery had arrived. ERA had arrived.

And leading them was perhaps the most dastardly rogue of them all…Baron Blitzman.

As the last of the security detail was cut down by a villain wielding a wicked looking Katana, the villains began to pour into the academy. Their savage grins matched only by the gaudiness of their costumes. Too many to name individually. Too many different powers and gimmicks to even hope to recall. Far too many to defeat.

And stood before them, the last hope for the academy, was Rave Spider. In his ear, as ever, was Joe. Informant to the heroes of Paragon City.

"Okay guys this isn't going to be as tough as it looks. Other than Baron Blitzman, none of the big name villains seem to be here." Said Joe into the comm-links of Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo as they stood, side by side, against the oncoming horde, “Longbow, S.E.R.A.P.H., and Portal Corps are all trying to lock onto your location to teleport you out…but it’s going to take a while.”

Rave Spider said nothing. He just clenched his jaw shut and prepared for battle. Johnny Turbo on the other hand, was looking in the opposite direction.

"Don't even think about running Johnny." said Rave Spider, his eyes set on the villains who were still moving towards them. (The Old Guard Academy foyer being conveniently large enough for drawn out exposition.)

"I'm not," said Johnny Turbo as he pointed behind him, "Rave...look..."

Glancing backwards, Rave Spider saw that the younger heroes and teachers had gathered behind him and Johnny Turbo. They were not running. They were not going down without a fight. Despite the fear in their eyes, they were not prepared to simply roll over to the first villain that came knocking. As Rave Spider glanced across a sea of young heroes he saw a few faces he recognised, a lot of interesting costumes, and not a single person with the slightest inclination to back down.

"Then it's settled," said Rave Spider, as flames began to dart around his arms, "Follow me newbies."

And with that, the heroes charged to meet the oncoming horde.

***

As Xanatos disappeared into the distance, his yellow and blue form engulfed by the dark grey rainclouds, The Imperial took stock of his situation. His wounds were not life threatening, but they were serious. He needed to get to a hospital. Fortunately Brickstown Infirmary was not far from his location. And so, with strength apparently from hidden reserves, the old man pulled himself to his feet and began to amble along the sidewalk. He staggered, leaning on the many damaged buildings for support as he journeyed onwards.

As he walked his vision began to falter. Without the Pearl of Gilgamesh his old age had now caught up with him. Everything was a blur, nothing was in focus. Perhaps it was due to his injuries as well? The Imperial was not sure. But within moments the solid architecture of Brickstown had transformed into ethereal and translucent swirls of energy. A dull ache began to pulsate in the back of his head. Suddenly strange colours began to wisp around him, through him, and beyond him. He felt like he was floating on air. The heaviness of his footsteps replaced by an unnatural lightness. The pain from his injuries replaced by a warm friendly numbness. He shook his head several times but it did not remove the sensation. Nor did it prepare him for what was about to happen...

"Hello my love"

The Imperial pivoted, as quickly as one can in a euphoric state, to meet eyes with Eleanor: His wife. As she stood by his side, that familiar smile on her face, that alluring look in her eyes, that reassuring hand on his arm, The Imperial knew what was happening. He had not seen Eleanor for many years. And his heart jumped at the sight of her. There was a great sadness in meeting her, but it was met with a great joy. Oh how he had missed her.

"I-is this real...?" said The Imperial, his strong hands shaking slightly as he tried to hold her. His arms passing through her ethereal form as he did so. "Oh how I have missed you..."

Eleanor just smiled. It was a smile that was just for him. It was a smile that was entirely his. As he looked on her lovingly, the surrounding swirls of colour began to take shape. Twisting and cavorting as they did so, until they formed bookshelves, desks, walls, chandeliers, and many various items from an era long since passed. The explosion of colour was surreal and wonderful. And it was only when the colours stopped that The Imperial realised where they were. They were in the library in which they had first met all those years ago.

Before he could say anything she was upon him. Her ethereal form suddenly tangible, her arms wrapped around him as they embraced. Ghostly tears streaming down her porcelain-like face. He closed his eyes, thankful for peace at last. He was ready to move on. All he wanted in the world was the woman he held, for the first time in decades, in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to be with her. The embrace continued for what seemed like hours, his arms around her, holding her, cherishing her. Eventually though, Eleanor's hands began to move. They rose upwards over The Imperial's arms, tenderly touching his wounds, careful not to harm him, but rather provide him comfort in his weakest moment. He smiled as she did so, as her hands came to a slow halt – each one placed daintily on the old man’s rugged and weathered cheeks. She cradles his head in her hands, and in his eyes she saw only love.

"I love you Eleanor," said The Imperial, the warm numbness returning as he struggled to stand. His wounds would soon get the better of him. But at least she was here in his final moments.

"Goodbye my love," said Eleanor, tears covering her pretty face, as she slowly, almost reluctantly, moved her hands around his throat. “I am so sorry…”

His eyes poured into hers as she began to choke him. Despair, upset, anger, but most of all pain. Why was she doing this? Had he failed her? Did she not want to be with him in the afterlife? Did she blame him for her death all those years ago and now, at the time of his death, was she finally exacting her revenge? All of these questions seemed plausible, and The Imperial would never know the answer to them, for try as he might, the numbness in his limbs forbade him from moving against her. His arms were heavy, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He fell to the ground, his aged mouth gasping for air as his lovers hands were still gripped, vice-like, around his neck.

But at that very last instance. As he felt his life force slipping away. As he felt the hands of his former lover finally granting him the freedom he had longed for all the long years of his life, The Imperial found a strange stillness. The great unknown threatened to engulf him, and in his own way he embraced it. In his own way, in the final moments of his life, The Imperial knew that the creature throttling the life out of him was not Eleanor. It could be any number of things. But it was not her. And for that reason alone; Alastair Victor Cromwell, The Imperial, was at peace.


***

Phanto crouched, straddling The Imperial, his gloved hands wrapped around the golden age hero's neck. He held tight, for fear of his life should he dare to let go too soon.

This had been an opportunity like no other. The Imperial, weakened and depowered after his fight with Sovereign, was not an easy target. But for Phanto, the master of illusion, it had taken little to persuade the old man that his time was up. All he had done was prey upon The Imperial's deepest desires and fears. The old man missed his wife. That much was clear. And from that point on, killing one of the greatest heroes Paragon City had ever known had been painfully simple. It was almost...textbook. Phanto felt cheated. Or was it that he HAD cheated? He wasn’t sure.

His gloved hands shook as he eventually let go of The Imperial. The gold and burgundy body of the aged hero falling lifelessly to the ground. Phanto looked down at the cold and still old man. In the moonlight he looked positively regal, despite the damage that had been done to him. Phanto, the master of illusion, was very much in shock. He couldn’t believe he'd killed him.

But it was shock that quickly turned to arrogance: He had killed The Imperial! His own hands had squeezed the life out of one of Paragon’s finest. Were he able to smile, Phanto would have been beaming. He slowly reared himself to his feet. Not due to weariness from the battle just fought, but for a much darker reason...

He was savouring the moment.

The rain began to fall heavily, the little droplets of water bouncing off-of the fish-tank Phanto seemingly now wore in place of his head. The dull patter of raindrops calming the illusionist’s mood. With an aloofness borne of victory, Phanto slowly raised one gloved hand to where his face should be, and spoke into his wrist-mounted comm-link. He tried to suppress his giddiness.

"Baron Blitzman, this is Phanto," said the master of illusion as he began to walk away from the scene, "The Imperial is down."

As he walked slowly through the heavily damaged streets of Brickstown, away from the scene of the battle, Phanto risked looking over his shoulder. Sure enough there, alone on the sidewalk, the body of The Imperial still laid stock still. The rain falling down hard against him as if he were nothing more than part of the scenery.

"I repeat. The Imperial is down."

@Vince

Johnny Turbo | Phanto
THE CHALLENGERS: Challenge Accepted
HONORARY MEMBER: WARE.gov (Said I couldn't officially join because I'm too good at PvP)

@Kyuu

PART VII: Blitzkrieg
Day of The Attack
Old Guard Academy, Steel Canyon
As the sounds of battle erupted around him, Baron Blitzman was smiling wide from ear to ear. He had just heard the most wonderful news. Alastair Cromwell, The Imperial, an icon and a hero to many throughout Paragon City, had finally been killed. He was dead. Everything was going according to plan. And what a plan it was! Baron Blitzman couldn't help but reminisce. It was such a simple plan. First Sebastian Kain, the mysterious benefactor, broke Baron Blitzman free from jail. And then, three weeks later, Baron Blitzman had broken everyone else from jail. Voila...instant supervillain army!

Blitzman and the escapees had formed a group, a collective of like minded villains. They called themselves ERA. The aforementioned Sebastian Kain was the figurehead and financial backing of the group, but it was guys like Baron Blitzman and Phanto who did all the heavy lifting. The pack mentality was rife in ERA. If you weren't in their gang, it didn't matter who you were. If you're not part of their group, you're the enemy.

But why? What was the point of all this? Why break all these lunatics out of the ziggurat? Why kill The Imperial? Why attack Xanatos' school for heroes?

Too many reasons. Entertainment? Perhaps. Chaos and destruction certainly passed the time. Revenge? Most definitely; many of the escaped convicts had scores to settle. Ideology? Probably. There would undoubtedly be complete nutcases within ERA that thought that the world needed changing. Money? Without question. But perhaps most importantly...protection. ERA was something that the villains of Paragon City had been lacking for a long time; it was support. Money and muscle whenever you needed it. An unparalleled underground network of contacts and opportunities. Access to black markets the world over and, in some cases, across dimensions. To preserve all of this, to preserve all these fantastic supports, any and all who dared to oppose it had to be dealt with.

Charon had been dealt with. Beaten to death by his Rogues Gallery.

The Imperial had been dealt with. The life squeezed out of him by the infamous Phanto.

And now it was Xanatos' turn. He wasn't even particularly special. He just happened to be #3 on the hit list.

The sound of battle brought Baron Blitzman's focus back to the present. Yes. Here he was. Finally. The Old Guard Academy. Xanatos' gift to the city. His school for heroes. His legacy. It was going to be so much fun taking it apart brick by brick. Unfortunately though, the teachers and students here didn't want that to happen. Not to worry; more fuel for the fire.

With a snarl, the purple-headed speedster shot towards the crowd of rookie heroes, the bloodlust in his eyes plain for all to see, as throughout the Old Guard Academy, heroes and villains were fighting for their lives.

***

"Rave Spider we're losing!"

Johnny Turbo, a man who's superhuman speed could be matched only by his superhuman ego, was zipping about the battle-ground that had once been the central hall of the Old Guard Academy. Things had gone from bad to worse. The large open hall, not too dissimilar to a Roman temple of old, was quickly falling into ruin. The solid marble flooring was now little more than rubble. Turned to dust and ash by all the superpowers being thrown around. Piles of glass shards littered the floor, some from the many large doors that had been ripped from their hinges and used as makeshift weapons, but mostly as remnants of the glass ceiling that had been the academy's view of the stars. Now it was little more than a point of entry for any villain capable of flying.

All around Johnny Turbo various costumed heroes and villains fought tooth-and-nail for their lives. Their powers varied in form and function, but the result was always the same: destruction. Entire wings of the academy had been destroyed by gunfire, energy blasts, fire balls, and all other manner of super powered projectile. Walls had been caved in as countless heroes had either been thrown through, or decided to walk through, them. Various parts of the building were on fire; dead bodies, both hero and villain, slowly roasting amidst the sound of battle.

And in the middle of this conflict were two men, two heroes. Xanatos' friends, allies, and in many ways his protégés; Rave Spider and Johnny Turbo.

"Did you hear what I said? Did you hear what I said? Did you hear what I said? Did you hear what I said? Did you hear what I said?" pestered Johnny Turbo as he fought off two sword-wielding villains at once. His powers of superspeed keeping him one step ahead of them.

Rave Spider said nothing in response. He was too busy focusing on the task at hand. While Johnny Turbo was taking on two sword wielding fanatics, Rave Spider was taking on ten times that many. Not all of them used swords. Some used guns, some use staves, a few of them even had genuine superpowers. It was all for nothing though. Rave Spider was a man blessed with two things. An extraordinary healing factor, and superior martial arts training. He danced around the villains, almost effortlessly, one-shotting them as if he were swatting flies.

"Fine, ignore me..." Johnny Turbo huffed as he continued to fight the two swordsmen. They had adapted to his fighting style, and were swinging their weapons randomly in an attempt to catch the speedster off-guard. It didn't work; they were unconscious within seconds.

A momentary lapse in concentration was all the two dozen villains needed in order to dog pile Rave Spider. Within moments the young hero was covered in rogues, each of them clawing, stabbing and shooting at him. His costume was torn to shreds, ripped almost entirely from him by the hungry criminals. Their bid for domination was short-lived however, for their attacks had ignited within Rave Spider something extremely powerful. The young hero began to glow a dull orange as blow after blow continued to rain down upon his skinny form. Mistaking the glow for an attempt at a counter-attack, the villains continued to strike at the helpless hero...to no affect. Unbeknown to the villains, Rave Spider was storing the energy from their attacks. They were pushing him to boiling point. With a smile too sadistic for a hero, Rave Spider allowed them to.

The explosion, centred on Rave Spider, shook the Old Guard Academy to its core. The attack, reminiscent of a nova, had sent large waves of energy blasting violently outwards into the colosseum -esq foyer. Pillars were sliced in two, the few windows not yet broken shattered into tiny pieces, and the sound of battle was bellowed into a whisper as all eyes fell upon Rave Spider.

"Aw yeah! It's TURBO TIME!" said the enigmatic speedster for no apparent reason as he began to whirlwind towards his semi-conscious friend, all the while oddly smirking. "Hey Rave Spider d'ya think we've won ye-"

A single raised hand silenced Johnny Turbo. Rave Spider had stopped to catch his breath, and had little interest towards Johnny Turbo's claims of an early victory. They were still surrounded by villains. Villains that were doubling in number every minute as more and more piled into the academy. All around them the sound of battle raged on, despite how many villains now lay unconscious courtesy of the nova manoeuvre.

"Come on buddy," said Johnny Turbo as he helped his friend to his feet, "Let's keep going..."

***

Twelve more dead. Died on impact. This was fantastic. Baron Blitzman was carving through the newbie heroes like a man possessed. His powers of superspeed almost unmatched by anyone in Paragon City. He was the fastest. He could sense it. No-one else could possibly match him!

As he tore a path of destruction through the Academy, sparks of yellowish lightning trailing behind him as he left a pile of bodies in his wake, Baron Blitzman could not help but feel uneasy. In the back of his mind he could sense something. A tingling sensation that threatened to undo him. He could sense another. Another man with tremendous speed not dissimilar to his own. Another speedster.

"No!" roared Baron Blitzman as he scanned the smouldering battlefield for signs of his enemy. He refused to accept that anyone could match his speed! He was the fastest. He was Baron Blitzman. "Who would dare...?"

And it was then that he spotted him; Johnny Turbo. In Blitzman's eyes; little more than a careless, chauvinistic, egotistical, sorry excuse for a hero. A man who took his speed for granted. A man who squalored it chasing women and partying. Speed was a gift from on high. It was as much a divine blessing as it was a super power. To see someone so...unworthy yielding such impressive speed made Baron Blitzman's blood boil.

As he pondered these thoughts, Baron Blitzman ran full pelt towards the rival speedster, yellow lightning dancing around his hands as he prepared to attack the young hero. His feet burning a pathway across the ruined marble floor of the Old Guard Academy. A cloud of dust surrounded him as he advanced, turning the purple headed speedster into a lightning-fuelled dust cloud.

***

"Johnny no!" Rave Spider roared, seconds too late, as the two speedsters connected. A yellow lightning bolt tearing through the ceiling of the Old guard Academy as Baron Blitzman struck home. Rave Spider could only watch in despair as the body of his friend was quickly thrown aside by the rampaging supervillain. It hit a nearby wall hard, leaving a full body indentation, before crumpling to the floor. The Turbo was down.

Before Rave Spider had the chance to raise his hands to defend himself, Baron Blitzman was upon him as well. Pummelling him with punch after punch after punch. His eyes awash with madness. The sheer speed of his attacks almost overwhelming the mutant's healing factor. Rave Spider slipped in and out of consciousness as his head and torso were brutalised by the Baron. As the darkness slowly crept in, Rave Spider saw a blue and yellow blur hovering in the distance. It seemed vaguely familiar.

"E-everything will be al-alright..." said Rave Spider, as he passed out.

"If you say so, boy." replied Baron Blitzman as he tossed the limp hero aside, landing next to the similarly unconscious form of Johnny Turbo. Blitzman smiled as he saw them lying there. It was a smile that lasted only moments. Something was wrong. Something didn't feel right.

And that was when it hit Blitzman. That old familiar chill.

Xanatos.

"It's been a while Baron."

The Last of the Old Guard had arrived.