5 Ebb and Flow - part 1

Words 4,147

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One Year Later...

Unnamed forest outside Gotham City

You peered down at the warehouse illuminated in the moonlight through the lenses of your binoculars.

You had lost count of how long you had been stuck up in this decrepit building, the world fading into a monotonous silence interspersed with the rustling from the forest that ringed the building.

Actually, that was a lie, it's been exactly seven hours, eight minutes, nine- no, now ten seconds, since you and Ravager located where Carissa Pontias had been dragged off to.

Who was Carissa Pontias, you ask? Well going by the rather hefty folder provided by Deathstroke, she was an award-winning Greek movie star, accomplished stuntwoman, and world-renowned model.

She was also at the center of nearly every scandal within the country for the past decade. Dating politicians, vacationing with married movie stars and having a penchant for shattering decades-long relationships in the span of a day.

And It seemed someone finally had enough of her. Her kidnappers had so far not demanded a ransom, and by the number of guards, whoever hired them clearly wasn't messing around. The client, only known to you as Sethlans, was clearly vested in seeing Pontias rescued, for unknown reasons.

Not that you were complaining, of course, the money on the table, well, there were more zeroes attached to that check than you've ever seen in your class at Gotham Academy.

"Four cars on the ground, another five pulled around back," you tell your partner who was currently leaning against the wall twirling a knife in her hand like it's a keychain.

Ravager and you had been paired together by necessity rather than choice, though you had a sinking suspicion that Deathstroke took a perverse pleasure in watching the two of you tear into each other.

Of course, in the years you've known each other, you would confidently say she's mellowed out.

Attempted homicide and mutilation are now only a rare occurrence compared to the daily routine that it used to be.

"Three goons at the main doors and there's six more watching the lot."

"Overwatch?"

"I can count maybe a dozen on the roof. Honestly, you would think they're guarding Fort Knox instead of just some act-"

A sharp pinprick of warning rises up in the back of your mind and you lean to your right, raising your left hand to casually catch the hilt of the blade that she had thrown.

The wonders of precognition.

"You know, there are easier...and less permanent ways of telling me to shut up." You toss her back the butterfly knife.

Ravager smiles behind her mask. "But where's the fun in that?"

It swiftly dies when both of your earpieces crackle to life.

"Get your heads in the game," Slade's warbling voice echoes through the communicator. "or I'll pull you both out."

"Yes, boss. Got it." You both reply, all traces of humor and animosity gone.

"Pontias is supposed to be held in the storage area, at least she would be if these thugs had any sense," Rose tells you.

You nod. There's no direct access to the storage areas. The fastest would be to go straight through the building and the no doubt dozens of guards in between you and her.

Or you could go the long way, through the rooftop.

"Watch out for cameras," you say as you finish suiting up, sliding your goggles down and checking to make your sword wouldn't catch in the scabbard.

You could feel her dry look even through the mask. "Noted." She deadpans.

It's progress. At least she didn't throw a knife at you this time.

You left your watchpoint behind you, leaving no trace that it there had even been anybody inside.

You both slip through the underbrush, mindful to not be spotted by the floodlights that dotted the perimeter, dodging behind trees and slinking low to the ground when the lights or an errant guard got too close. Two minutes later, you're pressing up against the side of the building.

The grappling hooks let out a low hiss before clanging dully as they catch upon the ledge above.

Lady's first, you sign. For a long tense moment, she doesn't respond and your hand slowly reaches for your blade.

You've known Ravager long enough to know that she can go batshit insane at the drop of a hat.

She slowly nods, and you definitely don't let out a little sigh of relief, not at all.

Nerves and jitters run through you as you follow after her, doing your best to keep your straying eyes focused. You watch the space behind the ledge expecting for a guard to pop out any moment and riddle you with bullets.

A shadowed silhouette passes right above Ravager and you both stop abruptly, the tinkling sound of gravel rumbling like thunder in your ears.

The guard stands there for a few long moments. "I thought I heard something." he shrugs and continues on his route.

You can feel Ravager glaring at you as though it was your fault you were almost caught.

You take left, I'll take the right. her blade gleams brightly and she takes off without a word, slipping through the shadows without a word.

Your blade comes free with a low hiss as you stalk around the edge of the rooftop.

There's six of them, each one dressed in military fatigues and looking like they were armed with everything from a Texan gun show, and walking an abrupt and precise path across a width of the ground.

These weren't the garden-variety goons you'd find in Gotham, these were professional mercenaries, most likely ex-military.

That begs the question, who exactly had Carissa Pontias pissed off so much to warrant this? Maybe she lived a secret life as a superheroine and her arch-nemesis had finally come for payback.

You smother the laugh bubbling up in your throat. More likely she had some dirt on some very powerful people, either that or she was a drug lord and this was a hostile takeover.

You clap your hand firmly across the first guard's mouth, muffling his pained grunts as you lock him in a sleeper hold.

He claws at your forearm feebly trying to force your arm off, but you simply press down harder. His grip goes slack and you let the limp form drop to the ground with a quiet thud.

You requisition his communicator and place it into your open ear after cutting the input feed.

The little thing about these military types, the hard part is making the chink in the armor, after that, with their cohesion shattered, they fall like dominoes.

And that they do over the next two minutes and eighteen seconds, as you and Ravager dispatch them with practiced ease, the communicator hissing all the while with the muffled sounds of violence.

By the end, all dozen mercenaries are neutralized in varying states of permanence.

You sheathe your blade after wiping the remaining blood off on a guard's clothes.

What took you so long? is the first thing you ask when Ravager finally meets you at the skylight.

The second thing that crossed your mind is, Holy shit, that's a lot of blood.

It's like she decided to get an impromptu paint job mid-mission. With a really heavy emphasis on red.

She flicks her katana deftly, cleaning it and scattering a trail of scarlet droplets on the ground.

She looks at you with eerily cool blue eyes.

You'll have all the time to stare after the mission. She signs.

Is that a promise? Her blade glints dangerously and you wisely shut up, for now.

Through the skylight, you can see teams of mercs patrolling the catwalks and the grounds below, each one as heavily-armed as the one below.

You check your ammo. A full clip and four in reserve, not nearly enough to deal with all of them.

Pontias shouldn't be far away, Ravager says. Storage areas are right through those doors.

The doors in question sit at the end of the warehouse, separated from you both by a maze of walkways and enough guards to conquer a small island nation.

Ready?

Do you even need to ask?

You slowly open the skylight and drop silently into the catwalk below.

You both slip onto the catwalks without a sound, staying close to the shadows to avoid the errant eyes of anyone who looked up.

Down below, you spot the mass of guards gathering around a guy dressed in ancient Greek armor giving what sounded like a monologue from atop of podium held aloft on the backs of what looked like slaves.

Did you accidentally stumble into some Southern Antebellum reenactment?

"And our enemies shall crumble before us! Their skulls will be paved into our roads!" He proclaims boisterously to the gathered audience.

Definitely a theatre kid, you know more than a couple like him at Gotham Academy.

Whatever he's doing, it's letting you and Ravager pass through the catwalks without any trouble.

And just like when everything's going peachy, it inevitably goes to shit.

The Greek cosplayer's burning red eyes fixate upon you, you swear you can see licks of fire inside those orbs.

"Interlopers! Seize them!" He shouts and all the room's eyes swivel onto you and Ravager.

"Well shit," you said succinctly before jumping into action.

You push the guard's rifle upwards and a hail of bullets peppers the ceiling and with a strike from your right palm, he goes over the catwalk and plummets to the floor.

The back of your mind is constantly blaring DEFCON-level warnings as you push through the guards on the catwalk, and your body instinctually pivots, slides, and does a variety of acrobatics that would leave Dick green with envy to dodge the array of projectiles coming your way.

You catch sight of Ravager out of the corner of your eye as she flips over a guard, her sword drawing a deadly arc as it separates his head from his body. She wasted no time in putting a clean shot in between the eyes of the next guard who got in her way.

Is it wrong that you thought it was kind of hot? No, definitely not.

You're drawn back into your own fight when a guard shouts loudly as he brings down a falcata on your undefended shoulder. The metal twists and bends as it hits the skin.

"That was my favorite undershirt," you say slowly as he backs away in fear under your glowing golden eyes.

The man doesn't have time to beg for forgiveness as his ribcage snaps and cracks under the force of your punch crashing into his chest.

He flies into the wall, leaving a bloody man-sized grease-stain on the wall as he slowly slides to the ground.

The storage doors open with a low groan and dozens of more men flood through the hallways between the store counters.

"Code Black," you hiss into the communicator as you finally duck behind cover. The air is filled with bullets, shouting and the clapping of boots as the rest of the kidnappers close in.

Why are there so many of them? you want to shout. The communicator comes to life in a flurry of static. "Affirmative. Attack Plan Chimera." Ravager responds.

You smile savagely in turn. Time to let the big guns out.

Your breaths come in heavy gasps as an anchor drives itself deep into your guts.

Drawing on the currents drifting around you, you seek out Ravager's presence and force the currents to swirl.

They slowly bend to your will, swirling and flaring violently as you force them to your purpose. The golden threads surround her, a roiling torrent of the very essence of time hugging and trailing over her figure.

They do the same to you and you can feel the world around you slow, the bullets moving like they were encased inside miasma, the shouts of the guards dull and muffled.

You rise from your crouch, casually tilting your head to the side and letting a hail of bullets pass by you. You flick one that gets too close, sending it spiraling into the mass of bodies.

Ravager lets out a war cry as she descends into the fray, you following right after her.

You cut a red ruin as you scythe apart anybody that stands in your way.

Your sword cuts through bone like butter and your fists cave in heavy-plated armor like it's wet paper.

They're helpless before you, realization dawning on them too late that this was a fight they could not win. In the end, only a dozen and a half guards are left, cowering before the man with fire in his eyes.

The man upon the podium watches you keenly and you belatedly realize he's almost unaffected, following your movements as though you were moving in slow-motion.

A great broad-sword shimmers into existence in his open hand and a Spartan-like helm covers his face. And with a casual flick of his hand, the warehouse explodes in a fiery inferno.

You and Ravager nimbly dodge the oncoming flames retreating onto the catwalk, but the others are not so lucky.

Their shrill cries filling your ears and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh overwhelming your senses.

Storage containers and forklifts are thrown like children's toys before the blast slamming into the walls and shaking the very foundations of the building.

You look upon the carnage with wide eyes as the armored giant steps off his podium and now into the empty clearing.

"Insolent worm," he booms from beneath his helm. "I challenge you to a duel. Face me and be crushed like the gnat you are beneath my heel."

"How long have you been practicing that line?" you ask.

"Humor will not bring you salvation. Come before me and see how truly feeble you are before a warrior such as me. Stay your hand, harlot, this is a matter between men." He gestures towards Ravager dismissively.

You can feel her visibly seething in anger, but she reluctantly remains where she is at your sign.

Go find Pontias, you tell her. I'll deal with him.

His words had had their intended effect upon you, no matter how loath you were to admit it.

You could feel your thoughts becoming foggy and a thin veil of red setting over your vision as smoke and fire roils in your lungs.

Kill him. Destroy him. Annihilate him. A voice cries from the depths of your thoughts. It is the same one that had goaded you to destroy the Gothic all those nights ago, a violent almost primal command that echoed through the confines of your mind.

"I accept." you drop down to face the armored warrior, sword at the ready and bloodlust consuming your mind.

Twin orbs of hellfire glow beneath the helm as you approach fanning the flames inside of you. His armor glows with a deep bloody light and he laughs lowly when you stop before him.

He raises his sword, a crooked ancient-looking blade that still looked like it could cut you in half with ease, in an almost duelist's salute.

"Be honored, mortal, it is not often your ilk has the opportunity to meet their ends by my hand."

You ignore his taunts, sliding into your own stance, and a moment later he lunges forward with supernatural speed.

The threads of golden light slow to a stop and the world turns cold just as his blade comes down.

You gasp as a painful weight settles in your stomach.

The warrior's roar of anger sputters into silence as time itself comes to a standstill.

You waste no time bringing your blade down upon his still form.

The steel clangs loudly against his helm, forcefully denting it with the force of your blows.

It's not enough, not fast enough, you have to make him hurt. You cast your saber away and fall upon your frozen enemy like a frenzied animal.

You forcefully pry open the helm, the metal groaning as you bend it into scrap metal revealing his face.

Hellfire eyes glare up at you fruitlessly following your every move and you can feel him twitch beneath you as you rain blow upon blow upon his defenseless form.

The ground shakes and craters with each strike as the red haze thickens and enshrouds your thoughts. Bones shatter and crack loudly, cartilage pops, and golden blood splatters against your knuckles.

More. More! the voice cackles and you gladly oblige, putting every bit of anger and rage behind every punch.

And so consumed are you by bloodlust, you don't notice as the currents of time slowly begin their inexorable march forward, that is until you go flying to a wall.

"You will pay for this, gnat! Your mortal magics will have no more effect upon me." he proclaims, voice dropping octave by octave until it was booming like a low drum beat.

You watch in fascinated horror as his mangled features reset like he was undergoing some macabre real-time surgery. The helm reappears upon his head and a greatsword shimmers into existence.

"Let's dance," you reply, retrieving your own sword and diving back into the fight without hesitation.

Your blades come together in a flurry of sparks and resounding thunderclaps.

There's no form, no finesse in either your attacks only animal, instinctual brutality, each blow driven forward by a need to see their enemy dead.

You both laugh madly as you fight, circling around each other like two stags before locking blades again.

The building rumbles ominously under the aftershocks of your cataclysmic attacks.

Finally, he overextends and your blade slips beneath his guard, piercing through his armor and gouging the flesh beneath.

He lets out a sound that could best be compared to a thousand lion's roaring and a fountain of golden blood flows from the wound as you withdraw you sword.

He stumbles back clutching at his wound. "No more, I will not be humiliated by a mortal again!" He cries out with desperate, wild eyes.

Again?

Before you could voice your thought, licks of red fire sprout out around him, growing larger and angrier by the moment.

The fires in his eyes glow like supernovas.

"Burn!" he commands and the inferno consumes the world.

A strange sense of calmness comes over you even as the torrent of crimson flames comes approach.

You raise your hand and concentrate on the currents of golden threads forcing them into the shape of a net to enveloping the flames.

The inferno roars and quakes but the threads hold tight forcing them into stillness.

And then, you twist.

The flames curdle and wither before your eyes, reduced to mere embers in the span of seconds.

Their light is extinguished, leaving only the smell of ash and smoke in their wake.

You finally see something besides bloodlust in the helmed warrior as you turn to face him.

Fear.

It shines in his eyes like an all-consuming fever.

Your eyes burn and glow with fey light as you stalk towards him.

He stumbles on air in his attempt to flee.

"No...no, it's impossible," he murmurs in horror. "no mere mortal can withstand my flames."

"I am no mere mortal," you answer.

You raise your arms once again, channeling the currents to enshroud your enemy.

And you push.

The metal plate that encases his body groans lowly, rusting and falling apart before your very eyes.

The sword in his grip fades into dust, leaving only gray sand that trickles through his fingers.

Then, he himself begins to dissolve.

He lets out a strangled wail of agony.

Once youthful and bronze skin grows old and wrinkled and then begins to flake off his form like snow.

The flesh separates from bone and his face is reduced to a mess of sagging flesh.

You have no coherent idea of what you're doing, but something is pushing you to continue.

Destroy, Annihilate, Desiccate. The voice within you whispers and you heed its call.

The skeleton picked bare of flesh and life stares back at you through hollow sockets.

A sudden cold wind sweeps through the warehouse and it disappears in a hail of golden dust.

His screams still linger even as the golden dust floats towards you.

You gasp as the first of the sands touch your skin seeping into you and filling you...with what could only be described as power.

Fire and lightning flood your veins.

The world around you disappears as your senses drown under the onslaught.

You breathe raggedly and shudder before all feeling leaves your body and you collapse to the floor.

The last thing you see before the darkness takes you are the golden currents swirling overhead.

You wake up to a sharp burning pain on your cheek.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Ravager says from above you.

That couldn't possibly be relief you hear in her voice, could it?

You rub the reddened and tender flesh. "Did you slap me?"

"Would you have had me rather use the taser?"

"No, no, it's fine," you say quickly rising from the ground.

It's never a good idea to give Ravager the advantage, you've learned that more than a few times.

"How long have I been out?" you ask as you pop all the kinks in your back.

"Only a couple of minutes, what happened to the other guy?"

"I took care of him." She looked like she wanted to ask more but hesitated at your look.

What is there something on your face? You're run a hand over to make sure.

Nothing out of the ordinary, just dirt, blood, and golden dust.

"Where's Pontias?" you ask after waking up the rest of your body, all dregs of tiredness lost as though you had just woken up from a goodnight's sleep.

"Still in the storage vaults, haven't checked inside. I was waiting for you to wake up from your beauty nap."

"Well, how do I look?" you ask teasingly.

"Like shit." Her lips unwillingly curl into a smile.

"Well, let's not leave our damsel in distress waiting any longer. Ladies first."

"You just want to stare at my ass don't you?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

She hmmphs but nonetheless takes the lead.

And if she sways her hips just a bit more than she usually does?

Well, neither of you comment on it.

You find Carissa Pontias in the center of an empty room, tied to a chair and her scandalously thin dress half-way peeling off of her.

"Oh, my hero," she purrs sultrily, pressing her substantial chest out into the direction of your footsteps. "I've been waiting so long for you." Her pink lips widen into a little o and your mouth goes strangely dry and wet at the sight.

So naturally, you gulp, loudly. Rose's nose curls in disgust.

She stops talking when you remove the blindfold. She blinks confusedly up at you with wide cerulean eyes. Her multi-colored white and black ringlets bounce as she tilts her to examine you.

"Well, you weren't exactly who I was expecting," she says huskily.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Rose snarks as you reach to cut her bindings.

What's wrong with her? you wonder.

She falls into your arms dramatically and her perfume fills your nose, drowning your thoughts. You gasp instinctively at the scent.

Your heart pounds dully and your breaths come just a bit faster. When did it get so hot in here?

"So strong," she croons into your ears as her touch sends sparks of fire and desire racing down your body. "How ever can I reward you?"

"The money will do just fine." Rose snaps harshly. Carissa looks at you expectantly.

You can physically feel Rose glaring daggers into the back of your head.

Mustering whatever willpower you had left, you nod dumbly.

Carissa hums and a mischievous light shines in her emerald eyes. "Then consider this, a gift," she whispers into your ear before her lips find their way onto your own.

A nuclear bomb could have gone off right next to your ear and you're pretty sure you wouldn't have noticed.

The very presence of her consumes you, the softness of her lips, the light plushness of her body pressed against yours, how her nails dug into your hair, gods, it was like you were drowning.

And you didn't want to escape.

You can hear Rose gasp in affront as you encircle your arms around her waist, melding your bodies together and then you pull back a flushed and panting mess.

Everything of substance is consumed in a pink haze that's overtaken your senses, and you can feel your member stirring to full mast already.

"I hope you enjoy it," and that's the last logical thought that crosses your mind...