Nightwolf had felt pain before but nothing like this, his body felt destroyed, he didn't even want to move. In actuality he had two broken ribs, and bruises all over. He had been betrayed, and left for dead. The last things that he remembered were trying to corrupt Paragon in the middle of his battle with Darkchild. Then something hit him. He knew it wasn't just a stray blast from a fight, or an attack because he seemed like an easy target, someone had been gunning for him, and he was going to figure out who, and why.
Nightwolf looked down at his finger, and saw the yellow ring still there. "I hate this thing" grunted Nightwolf, "Ring, move a safe distance from me, and self-destruct." That would be the last order Nightwolf woulld ever give a power ring, and anybody wearing one was now added to his growing list of enemies. On his left, Nightwolf saw an alien who was doing teleports for the DC corps. He limped over to him and screamed, "Medical emergency! I need a teleport back to Earth, NOW!!" The alien didn't even realize that Nightwolf was no longer wearing the ring, and started the teleport. Nightwolf patted him on the back, and said "Good work man" The teleportation process was nearly complete, and as Nightwolf faded away he snarled "By the way, I hate ring-bearers." The alien screamed in pain. When Nightwolf had patted him on the back he had planted a small mini-explosive that packed enough punch to take out a wall. Seconds later, the DC corps member was consumed by the explosion.
Seconds later, Nightwolf found himself in his sky rise office. He pressed a button, one of the many, on his desk, and a secret passage on the wall to his left opened. He was the only person who knew about this passage-way, and this was where he kept all of his gear. His Nightwolf suit that he was wearing was ripped and destroyed. Most of the weaponry he had brought to Mogo was now useless, in fact all of it except the sword he had wished from Gloom was now dead to him. Nightwolf slipped into a new suit, picked up two more katanas, and strapped NightFang (the wish sword) to his back.
Nightwolf then began to wonder what his team was doing and where they were, in order to begin the next phase of his plan, he would need them by his side.
Nightwolf quickly moved outside of his office, told his secretary that if any members of the team arrived to call his personal communicator, and moved to the roof, where his helicopter was waiting.
"You know where our destination is, correct?" Nightwolf asked his pilot, "Yes sir" said the pilot, attentive to every word Nightwolf said. The helicopter was off, and Nightwolf was one step closer to completing his greatest move yet for the Quantum Syndicate.
World On Fire
The Arach-Knight sat perched upon a stone gargoyle, his back leaning against the rough brick wall. The wind still carried with it the last chills of early spring, and he rubbed his arms to keep them warm. Sitting up here was peaceful, one of the few places in the world someone could truly disconnect and take a breath. It was long past due.
The past week had been hectic in the city. Ring bearers who were thought to have lost their power suddenly regained it and used the planet as a boxing match, until just as suddenly, they all left. And what they left behind were the people that had been caught in the cross fire. For three days straight the Arach-Knight had helped police and rescue workers dig victims out of collapsed buildings, put out fires and ferry those who needed it to emergency centers. Three days with only an hour or two of sleep here and there. There wasn’t time for anything else. All the while, those cops and firemen had been patting him on the shoulder, telling him what a savior he had been. It was a new experience, and sadly, one that did not last. No sooner than the last building had been cleared, a SWAT team showed up. They still wanted the Arach-Knight in connection with the murder of a mob boss named Walter Carmichael. They had it all backwards of course, but he couldn’t just tell them that. If they only knew what had been up to. If only.
The Arach-Knight lifted up his mask and let the cool air brush across his face. Without the mask he was Andrew O’Gill, college drop out, bar owner, son of an old partner of ’s. That had been a tough pill to swallow, as was learning that was behind his father’s death. So naturally, when the Woven arrived and activated his powers, he went after the bastard. And discovered what a horrible thing had been trying to turn himself into. The Arach-Knight didn’t kill , but he was there when the man died. Now, both the mob and the cops wanted him. Like the old song said, nowhere to run to baby…nowhere to hide. And that didn’t even include the Woven; a crazy bunch of self-styled spider-gods tinkering with the human race, trying to build an army of acolytes. Well they picked the wrong guy. He’d accept their powers as long as he could help others, but he wasn’t going to play ball with their domination scheme.
Off in the distance, a helicopter set down on top of a building, maybe a mile or two off. Two minutes later it took off once more and passed by fairly close to where he was sitting. A chill that had nothing to do with the wind or his danger sense overcame him then. It felt more like the cold breath of death herself. O’Gill pulled down his mask and became the Arach-Knight once more. He was being stupid of course. Carmichael wasn’t in that helicopter, just some rich man trying to lord it over the rest of the city. Whoever it was was likely insignificant in the greater scheme of things, so the Knight turned away from that passing copter, focusing instead on the city below. The damage from the ring bearers was fading away, but there was still a city full of people that needed help. His help.
Darkness. Rotten, stale, darkness. Something he had become found to within his period inside the facility. The Titan, had been detained by two metallic braces around his body. Braces composed of the Asgardian ore known as “Uru.” Something that even he himself had not been capable of breaching. He was seized about twenty feet above the surface of the chamber. The only thing below him was a large outlet for him to dispose of his waste. He cursed, the Blue Lantern who had caused this.
For the first time in months, he saw a glimpse of light seep in from an opening door. It was no one, well no one important anyways. It was the blind janitor, who entered the room every three months to clean up any scattered waste. The Titan’s eyes took much time to adjust to the light, it was almost painful. Then he saw it. Staring eye to eye with him was the blind janitor. Who, as of now didn’t seem so blind.
“You are Kado, I presume?”
“Correct.”
“You don’t like it here do you?”
“Correct, again.”
“I have an off for you. One you cant resist.”
“Humor me.”
“See the problem with you, is you don’t know how powerful you are. And even when you do know, you hold back. Which is exactly why your in here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well long time ago, I constructed a suit. A suit with abilities not even known to the super human society, but see the best thing about this suit is…it never holds back.”
“Keep talking.”
“It attacks for you. Yeah, maybe you do lose control over your own actions, but how can you complain if it keeps you out of this place. I guess you could call it a seventh sense, and you know what they say seven is a lucky number.”
“And what do you want from me?”
“I’ve been watching you. You don’t have power, you are power. Your its living embodiment. Can’t you see? Everything you can do, you can do it to cosmic level. Something I wish I could have attained long ago.”
“Can we get to the offer?”
“Surely. Grant me, the power of duplication. I’ve watched you use it before, its amazing how you can replicate yourself a hundred times over. And in return, I’ll give you the suit. Which at one point was my own, but in your hands it could be so much more…what’s the word?…HAZARDOUS!”
“Who exactly are you?”
“Oh little ole me? I’m no one. But people call me M. Bison.”
The man, pulled a lever, as the braces around Kado released. He fell head first, to the ground. His long dirty hair, covering his face. He hadn’t had a bath in…he didn’t know how long. There was one thing the man didn’t mention. It was going to be Kado’s job to apprehend the suit. He just hoped it was worth it. Kado placed his hand on “M. bison’s” head as the black energy began to enter the ears, mouth, and nose of the janitor. Seconds later the man fell to the ground, unconscious. Whenever he would awake, he would have the power of replication.
The corrupt goliath peeped, through the door to see that his penitentiary unit had been profoundly guarded. Sixty, maybe seventy heavily armed men with their backs faced to him. Any other time, he could wipe out such a squad with small effort. But this was different. He felt drained and weak. He needed to get to the suit, and fast. He bent his back low, and propelled himself over the military defense group and ran as they pursued him through the facility. Damn, he forgot to ask where he suit was. After being chased through sever corridors, he had reached his destination. A glass container, in which the suit had been on a manikin.
He smashed his enormous fist into the glass as it shattered, and the suit came falling down. He didn’t hesitate, to put it on. In fact within seconds he was already dressed….
"Where is he? Where is the ringless Black Lantern?!" A Soul Reaper barked, with an impatient-like and demanding tone that caused the young woman he was speaking with to cower in fear.
"That way, h-he went that way!" The young woman said pointing off to the North.
Hyperion ran as fast as he could, but being a techincally powerless rotten corpse he could only go so far before his tendons would snap or worse, Death was not all it was cracked up to be. Day in and Day out he was always running from them. The Soul Reapers. They could sense the power he held inside of him, that blackness which had given unlife to dark entities such as The Hollows, The Heartless and of course The Black Lantern Corps. But for Hyperion that power was useless, he was a loaded gun with the safety on, he might have the power but he did not have the proper tool with which to channel that power...a Black Lantern Ring.
With Renegade Lantern dead, the Lights of Fear, Avarice, Rage, Love, Compassion, Hope, Willpower and Death had ended up in The Realm of The Dead and then they departed for other places. Possibly to return to the original Power Batteries from whence they came. Hyperion didn't know the exact details, that is what he had always assummed would naturally happen upon Renegade Lantern's death. But what he did know was that his soul had been caught in the tide of Black that remained in The Realm of The Dead, he had been doused in The Power of The Black and had been given a sizable amount of it's power. There was a catch though...he needed a Ring to harness that Power and as far as he knew there were no Black Lantern Rings in The Realm of The Dead.
At least in The Soul Society for that matter, Hyperion had yet to explore the other realms and given the amount of Soul Reapers hunting him down like he was an animal he might never get that chance. Though...there had been rumors that a gateway to The Land of The Living, specifically leading into the shop of a mystic named Miko Tsukinami...a former Avatar of Death itself. If Hyperion could get to that gateway then he could acquire that which he needed the most: a Black Lantern Ring. With it he would finally be able to properly protect himself against those imbecilic Soul Reapers. But what could he possibly offer this Miko Tsukinami in exchange for such a powerful object?
KRA-KOOOOOMMMMM!!!!
An incredibly loud crack of thunder roared through the Heavens as a red-green glowing object descended from a large rift in time/space similar to the one that Hyperion had entered The Soul Society through. For a moment it seemed as if the object was on a crash-course with The Sereitei, but then it made a sharp right and began zigging and zagging through the skies until finally it came to a halt, dimmed it's red-green light and fell to the ground at Hyperion's feet. Looking around to make sure there weren't any Soul Reapers nearby Hyperion quickly grabbed the object and leapt into a nearby series of large overgrown bushes.
He waited for a second and watched as two Soul Reapers zoomed by, oddly unaware of the object having fallen from the sky through a clearly visible rift in time/space. If he was capable of breathing Hyperion would have sighed one of relief, instead he held the object up in front of him and dropped his rotted jaw in disbelief. It was his old Red Lantern Power Ring, of that he was certain but it had changed dramatically, the infusion of all that Willpower the hero Nighthunter poured into Hyperion's body just prior to his death had turned his old Ring into a hybrid between his old Red Lantern Power Ring and possibly an echo of Nighthunter's Green Lantern Power Ring. As Hyperion continued to examine it he felt a third source of power emanating from the Ring.
This third power source was none other than his living form's natural abilities, how they had ended up inside of the hybridized Ring was a mystery but there was no doubting the fact that they were there. But as Hyperion continued to examine the ring he frowned, he had been fundamentally changed in every aspect by The Power of The Black, he could not use the incredible amount of power that lay within this Ring. Then it came to him...the Ring did not come here to arm him with the power to defend himself...at least not it's power. No, it had come here so that Hyperion would have something to pay Miko Tsukinami in case she decided to grant his wish and bequeath unto him a Black Lantern Power Ring!
Hyperion kissed the Hybridized Power Ring and placed it in a small pouch he had gotten ahold of when he first arrived in the Soul Society. The gateway to Miko Tsukinami's "Wish-Granting Shop" was said to be a day's journey eastward of his current location. Taking a moment to check around for anymore Soul Reapers, Hyperion stood up and took off as fast as his rotten legs would carry him. Hyperion had finally caught a lucky break, soon he would be able to defend himself against The Soul Reapers and anyone else who dared to get in his way, not to mention he'd finally be able to begin work on completing the first of his assigned tasks. Yes, things were finally looking up.
The darkness in the cell had become a sort of comfort for him, so that anytime the guards removed him from it, exposing him to the light of day, it became…uncomfortable. Here, within his pathetic little room, the air tinged with stale urine and feces from a toilet that had overrun and rotting pieces of food carelessly discarded, he was a king and a god. This was his home and his temple both, and it was a stark contrast from where he had once come from. His father had been a great man, ruling the smaller criminal empires of the American northeast, and anything he had ever wanted had been provided to him. Money, cars, women, literally anything he could imagine was within his grasp, or it had been.
Now, he sat within the confines of a cell, his back against the wall as pontificated to the roaches who shared the space with him. Everyday he lost a little more of what passed for his sanity and fragmented memories, but it mattered little to him. As long as he held on to one memory, all of the others could burn. His father, the great Walter Carmichael, was murdered by the Arach-Knight. And he would not sit idly by and let such a thing pass, he could not let such an affront to the dignity of the family go unpunished. It was what had landed him here, and it was what he would trade away his kingdom of darkness for.
“Give me the head of the Arach-Knight,” he croaked in a voice unused to speaking. “Let me drink of the blood draining from his severed head. And I give to you this kingdom. I give it right to you!” Who his words were meant for; who the vow was being made to; no one could know. It was just as likely he did not know himself, but he meant it. Every single word of it.
And as if in answer to his prayer, alarm bells rang out through the prison, followed closely after by the chaotic shouts of guards dealing with a situation well beyond their pay grade. A deep rumble shook the walls, as the sound of a freight train smashing through everyone and everything filled his dark little world. He smiled. Such chaos was welcomed, even expected. Then the door to his cell flew wide and spilled light into his demented sanctuary. And Jack Carmichael, son of Walter, shielded his eyes against it. He wanted so very much to crawl under the bed beside him and hide form this intrusion, but the vow he had just made kept tickling at his mind.
So barefooted, and in bedraggled clothing, Jack stood, stretching muscles that had rarely been used, and stepped forward into the hall. His greasy, tangled blond hair flopped against his neck with each step, having grown too long while he was incarcerated here. Immediately to his left a guard was beating down another inmate attempting to escape. Jack stepped over and slid one arm around the guard’s chest and the other around the man’s head and snapped his neck like a dry twig. The gurgling sound the dying man made as he slipped to the floor was an opera to Jack’s ears. Beneath him, the escapee, a rat-like man named Rollo, was staring up at his savior with wide-eyed terror. He was right to be afraid.
“We gonna escape now, Jackie? I’ll help you get out of here,” Rollo wheezed as he slid himself along the floor upon his back. Jack didn’t respond, and instead bent down and picked up the night-stick the guard had so ably been using to hurt Rollo. “Watcha gonna do with that, Jackie?” It was a stupid question when the answer was so plain. Jack swung the baton down and ended Rollo with one swing. All of the man’s memories spilled out and pooled around Jack’s feet like paint upon a canvas. Here was a Picasso for a new age.
Jack strolled forward, leaving a grisly blood trail of footprints behind him. The guards in the prison were busy dealing with bigger fish, and not doing a good job of it at all by the screams he heard. Doors were left open, cages left unlocked, and on a sunny day in the month of May, Jack Carmichael walked out of prison.
****
Two days later, in the city, Andrew O’Gill was rinsing out a mug and putting it back on the shelf. His bar, the Drunken Mick, was full of the regulars, and not much of anyone else. Currently, the discussion was raging about whether drinking blood amounted to cannibalism or not. Andrew was only half listening, as he always did while the others bickered, and every so often would offer a non-committal grunt to the argument if his opinion were asked. Still, he loved this bar. It was the only holding he had left from what his father had left to him. The rest he sold off, giving the money to charity. It was blood money anyways, mob money and he wanted no part of it. Except for this, it had been run down when he took it over and he worked hard to build it back up. This place was his.
The phone next to the register rang and he reached over to answer it. “Yeah,” he said, not bothering to identify the name of the establishment.
“Andrew,” came a hurried whisper. “It’s Maddie.”
“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you whispering?”
“Pine went crazy,” she said. “I don’t know how long it’ll be before he comes for me.”
“What,” he replied, anger entering his tone. “I’ll be right there.”
“No,” she hissed. “That’s why I’m calling. You have to disappear. He’s coming for you. Pine is coming for you.”
“I’m not afraid of Dr. Pine,” he replied.
“He’s found a way to track the radiation in your blood. You’re a danger…” then the line went dead. The silence was overwhelming. So Andrew slammed the receiver back down and looked around the bar. His bar. He’d have to leave it now, leave it all behind, unless he put a stop to Dr. Pine. Making the decision, he left the bar in the hands of his assistant and raced upstairs, taking the steps three at a time. He kept a spare suit in the office above the bar, and he donned it now, becoming the Arach-Knight.
Minutes later he was swinging over the city streets, searching and scanning below for any sign of Dr. Pine and his Arbor Black Watch Guards. A dark colored van with the Arbor logo took a corner sharply, it’s wheels squaleing. The Knight’s danger sense started rattling off like a five alarm fire as he dropped from the sky to land in the van’s path. The lumbering vehicle slammed on its breaks and sat idling menacingly a few feet ahead. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the side door slid open and several of the Black Watch Guards spilled out, their high-tech armor gleaming.
“Thank you for making this easy,” Dr. Pine’s voice called out over a loud speaker. “Now kindly turn yourself over to the guards and we can be on our way.”
“Over my dead body,” the Arach-Knight growled.
“As you wish,” came the curt reply.
As Ray tried to get up off of the hot ground, sweat dripping off of his forehead, vision blurred, and air running thin, all he could see was a light of destruction upon his present area. He gazed up in the sky to see it burning red with vengence, as if it was angered with the world. The once peaceful worl he knew was know a distant memory. "This doesnt feel like home, this......this feels wrong........." he thought to himself. Trying to get off of the ground he looked around to see nothing more than the burning light causing destruction, and the smoke that caused his air to be limited. "I feel weak on the inside...." he said to himself. What was it that was going on around him, that caused him to be so weak? what is it that is causing all this destruction. Then he remembered his team. And as he remembered them, he looks to his left to see one of Angel's feathers from his wings, slowly burning as it floats to the ground. It lands upon Phaser's broken staff, which is next to a burning picture of Ray and Aurora, his teammate, and the love of his life.
"Angel.........Fire.......................Genie, Ice.......Phaser............Rush.........................................................{with a pause and a quick beat of the heart, he wispers}............*Aurora*............."
With all the emotions, and feelings of sorrow running through his body, Ray can not control his emotions any more, all he feels is hurt and pain and sorrow. All his friends were now gone, with no explanation he could remember. "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", he yells out with every bit of sorrow he had, and as he did the ground started shaking around him, and a big energy was felt throughout the burning lands, followed by a light that could be seen for miles. Ray's powers were released with all of his might.
All who were anywhere near could hear the crying and hurt of a hero........................
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