Capturam-XXIX
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DATE:21th of June, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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These dreams get stranger and stranger.
I was in my superhero suit and Emily was too in something tangent to what might be one. She had a hoodie, a mask over her face and a pair of big headphones.
But this wasn't all. I was back at the Maizo Commerce hub, the very same one I met Liliam in.
Yes, it was the scene of that robbery, but the masked men weren't here. No, instead of them I could smell the scent of animal blood. It was father's. He wasn't here yet.
The civilians were still acting aloof despite us supposedly dressing up as heroes.
Well, I think that also was a joke. I had the skull mask instead of the Aionis one and Emily's outfit was so random you'd think she picked it up from a TV show. Wait ...
"Hey Emily, did you choose how to dress yourself."
I could see her blushing through the mask.
'Well, no... But I did imagine this morning a hero outfit similar to this.... Do you- Like it?" As if. But there was no point in angering her.
" I think it looks cool" She covered her face as if the mask didn't already do that.
The bank was packed. Lines stretched from the counters, and clusters of people filled every available corner, yet there was something profoundly wrong with them. Their faces were blank, smooth where eyes, noses, and mouths should have been, like unfinished sculptures. Their bodies moved in unison, mechanically shuffling forward, heads angled downward, oblivious to everything around them.
Emily and I stood in the center, two distinct figures among a sea of faceless forms. She seemed nervous, her gaze flicking around as if taking it all in for the first time, but her posture remained steady, as if determined not to flinch.
Then, as if summoned, I heard his footsteps echo through the marble hall. My father appeared, moving slowly through the crowd. He held the butcher's knife in his hand, the edge gleaming beneath the bank's cold, artificial lights. The faceless crowd parted instinctively, like he was a force of nature, inevitable and impossible to ignore. They stepped aside, making a path straight to us, then continued their robotic routines, unaware of the menace in their midst.
Emily tensed beside me, her armor radiating a soft hum, almost as if it sensed danger and was trying to protect her. She raised her arm slightly, her fingers twitching in what could have been fear or defiance. "Is he... real?" she whispered.
"He's real enough," I muttered, watching his slow approach. He fixed his gaze on me, or maybe through me, that familiar look of contempt etched across his face.
"So this is your 'heroic' act?" he sneered, lifting the knife to gesture around us. "A faceless crowd, a fake setting. Just a lie, like everything else in your life."
"Back off," I warned, stepping in front of Emily. But she didn't shrink back; if anything, she moved with me, her hand lighting up with a faint electric glow, defiance sparking in her eyes.
He laughed softly, an unsettling sound that chilled me. "Your little toy thinks it can stand against me?" His gaze narrowed on Emily, as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience to be swept aside. "You don't get to hide behind it," he said, lifting the knife.
Emily looked at me for the briefest second, and I saw both fear and resolve in her expression. "I'm not just a toy," she whispered, and with a sudden surge of energy, she stepped forward, putting herself between us, facing him head-on.
The faceless crowd shifted around us, oblivious, endlessly moving in place. And as my father raised the knife, Emily raised her hand, and the light from her palm flared bright, clashing with the dark edge of his blade in a blinding flash that swallowed everything whole.
Emily's hand went up, instinctively trying to block his blade, but it sliced right through her, leaving her form flickering where her hand should have been. She recoiled, clutching the void where her hand used to be, eyes wide with pain she wasn't supposed to feel.
"Emily!" I heard myself shout, and in the rush of adrenaline, I didn't hesitate. I reached into my suit, fingers finding the small vial of powder. One sharp inhale, and the world stretched, sounds muffling as everything slowed down around me.
I drew my knife, watching each beat of my father's cold eyes as I approached. His form loomed, menacing yet unhurried, as if he was untouchable in his own warped dominion. But I didn't care. With time slowed to a crawl, I aimed right at his side, thrusting the blade deep.
For a split second, it felt like victory. My blade dug in, but he didn't flinch. Instead, his gaze turned colder, sharper, like he'd been waiting for this. Before I could pull back, his head lunged forward, and he slammed it into me with brutal force.
The world snapped back to speed. Stars exploded in my vision as I stumbled, pain pulsing through my skull. I hit the ground hard, feeling the sting of failure as I braced for another attack.
Through the daze, I saw Emily kneeling, clutching her damaged hand, her face etched in terror. And then, to my shock, I saw her gaze narrow, defiance sparking as she struggled to stand again, even with her form damaged.
Emily lifted her hand from the floor, and with a determined glare, placed it back at the end of her wrist. Sparks of energy crackled as it reattached itself, glowing for a moment before solidifying, her stance firm and unwavering.
"You don't own us," she declared, voice steady.
My father's face twisted, his lips curling into a dark, mocking smile before he let out a laugh—low, disturbed, the kind that made my skin crawl. With a smooth motion, he gripped the knife still embedded in his chest, yanking it out as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience. He tossed it aside without a second thought, the clatter echoing in the empty space around us.
"Oh, that's precious," he sneered, his eyes flicking dismissively between us. "Do you really think you're anything but tools? You—" he jabbed a finger toward Emily, "a broken machine pretending it matters. And you," his eyes bore into me, filled with contempt, "parading around in that costume, playing hero. But we both know the truth, don't we? You're nothing but a fraud, hiding behind the mask, too weak to stand on your own."
He stepped closer, looming over us with that same twisted grin. "You think you can play hero, stop me with your little tricks? Pathetic. You'll never escape me—because I am the part of you you'll never outrun."
Emily didn't shrink back, though I could feel the tremor in her form. And as his words hit me, each one like a jab, I wanted to turn away, to ignore them. But even then, a surge of something deeper stirred within me. Not defiance, not courage—something quieter, colder. I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself as the familiar anger rose, every muscle tensing as I waited for his next move.
This might seem frightening, but the fact he bothered to talk, and so long at that speaks wonders of how strange this was. Father used to not exchange even a phrase. Mocking us, trying to "put us back into our place", he felt threatened. At least for his authority over me.
Yes, it has been so long since I fought back...
As he lunged at Alice, she dived out of the way, rolling just in time to avoid the glinting edge of his butcher's knife. She sprang back up, eyes narrowed, her stance ready, but I could see the tension in her every movement, the weight of facing him pressing down on her.
He let out a cold, derisive laugh. "Running away, are we?" he sneered. "Afraid to face me head-on?"
Alice's gaze hardened, and a bitter smirk crept onto her lips. "Funny, coming from you," she shot back. "The real puppet in the room." Her voice was calm, cutting through his mocking tone with an edge I hadn't heard before. "Who are you, really? Just another tool for someone else's game?"
For a split second, I saw something flicker across his face—a crack in that relentless, assured mask. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a shadow of fury. He tightened his grip on the knife, his voice lowering to a venomous growl.
"You're in no position to lecture me," he spat, stepping forward. "You think you have any control here? Any power to stand against me?"
Father was losing himself, slashing wildly at Alice as she kept dodging, her movements agile, slipping just out of reach each time. He growled in frustration, his strikes growing more erratic, more vicious.
Seizing the moment, I edged back toward the wall, spotting a fire extinguisher within arm's reach. Gripping it tightly, I waited, watching for the briefest slip in his focus. Finally, he overextended on a swing, leaving himself open.
Without hesitation, I swung the extinguisher with everything I had, aiming for the side of his head. The impact rang out, but Father barely flinched. Instead, he turned, eyes blazing with fury, and shoved me back with a force that sent me stumbling to the ground.
The extinguisher slipped from my grasp, skittering across the floor. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up and scanned the room, searching for anything I could use. My gaze landed on a nearby guard, standing frozen like the other shadowy figures in this twisted vision. I lunged at him, my hand striking out to grab the gun at his waist.
The guard barely reacted as I twisted his arm, forcing the weapon free. He didn't fight back, didn't even look at me—just stared ahead with a vacant gaze, as if his only purpose was to provide exactly what I needed.
Father's hand clamped around Emily's throat, lifting her off the ground as she struggled, her face twisted in agony. With a sickening slice, he drove his knife across her torso, and I saw her shudder as her insides were exposed, but she didn't scream—her body just convulsed, her binary expression fixed in defiance. I couldn't let it end like this.
I raised the pistol and took aim, firing at his head. The shots echoed sharply, each one hitting its mark, but Father barely flinched. I emptied the magazine, desperation rising with each squeeze of the trigger, but he only laughed, his grip on Emily tightening as her movements weakened.
His mocking voice cut through the haze. "Is that all you've got?" His eyes glinted, twisted satisfaction radiating as he squeezed Emily's throat, the light in her eyes flickering.
I spotted the glint of my knife nearby, kicked aside during the scuffle. Moving fast, I darted forward, snatching it up and plunging it into his back, directly into his heart. The blade cut deep, sliding through skin and muscle, and for the first time, he paused, staggering forward.
But he wasn't done. With a grimace, he swung Emily like a club, using her broken body to slam me back, sending me crashing to the ground. I tasted blood, choking back pain as he laughed again, clutching at his own wound as blood poured freely, too much for even him to hide.
Father tried to regain his composure, but his legs gave out, and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his face going pale.
I thought I finally did it. I thought I had put an end to him once and for all. But as I stared down at Father, something shifted. His eyes began to glow with an ominous black light, the brilliance cutting through the darkness of the bank. The room filled with an unnatural energy, shadows warping and twisting around him, stretching into grotesque shapes.
Then came the scream—an Eldritch wail that pierced my ears and sent a wave of panic coursing through me. It was a sound that resonated deep in my bones, a primal call that spoke of madness and despair. Red, erratic lines flared to life across his body, glowing ominously against the encroaching darkness.
I could feel my heart racing as the fear settled in, tightening like a vice. I blinked, and the scene dissolved into a swirl of chaos.
Suddenly, I jolted awake, disoriented, my breath coming in quick gasps. Blinking against the soft glow of the night, I looked down to see Alice curled up against me, her hair spilling over my chest. The warmth of her body contrasted sharply with the dread still lingering in my mind.
The room was quiet, the only sound being her gentle breathing, but the echo of that horrifying scream still rattled in my head. I glanced around the dimly lit room, my heart slowing as I took in the familiar surroundings. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare that felt all too real.
But as I lay there, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Something beyond the nightmare, something that still lingered in the shadows.
But that was besides the subject. I won. For once, I actually won.
I tried to sleep again, but my heart raced for this strange excitement.
But I wouldn't remain the whole night in bed. I moved Alice to the side and opened the TV.
It started on the BubbleTV news channel.
" Chemical plant explosion in northeastern Concord. Secundo Manus thought to be involved."
Wow. Things are really starting to get chaotic. His first he sends his subordinates to steal something from that chip factory then he strikes a chemical facility. Secundo Manus certainly has a scheme in mind.
I thought about what Alice said about those men we fought, how they have been experimented on by this crazed professor. Had he wanted to make the perfect soldier? They certainly could be. Has they been armed? It would have been the end of us even with Alice there.
Whatever.
I thought about messaging Emily about what he had done, manipulating her hand in place and all that, but I think the explanation is pretty obvious. In that place the person's will is everything. It is. Either that or something else, because I for one couldn't do things like her, but at the same time she processes thoughts as if she was 10 people, no, perhaps 100. There is a miles difference between our willpower.
Nothing of importance happened the rest of the day.
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DATE:26th of June, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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The rest of the week dragged on, with T putting Alice and me through extra training sessions that felt more like punishment than preparation. Each time we sparred, I couldn't shake the feeling that these drills were awfully pointless, especially given the stakes we were facing.
One afternoon, as Alice remained behind to discuss something with Superior Woman, I decided to take a break and headed to the shared locker room. Pushing the door open, I was hit with a scene that made me excited. I finally caught this bastard red-handed.
There, in the dim light of the locker room, was T, his hands groping Nimbus, who was completely naked and clearly distressed. Tears streamed down the small boy's face, and my heart raced as I processed what I was witnessing.
"Hey!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. T looked up, surprise flashing across his face, but I didn't wait for an explanation. My fist connected with his jaw in an instant, sending him sprawling back against the lockers.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I yelled in a false fury.
T recovered quickly, rising to his feet with an expression that shifted from shock to rage. "You don't know what you're—"
"I don't need to know anything," I interrupted, stepping between him and Nimbus, who had curled up on the floor, clearly terrified. "You think this is acceptable? You're supposed to be a leader, and this is how you act?"
T straightened, his demeanor hardening. "I was just—"
"Just what? Taking advantage of someone weaker than you?" I growled, my fists clenched at my sides, ready to pretend to care about the boy."You're supposed to protect the people in this team, not prey on them."
He opened his mouth to retort, but the weight of my accusation hung heavily in the air. The reality of what he had done was settling in, and I could see the anger in his eyes begin to flicker with uncertainty.
Before he could respond, Alice rushed in, drawn by the commotion. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes darting between us. When she saw Nimbus, her face fell. "Nimbus!"
She knelt beside him, her expression shifting to one of concern and comfort as she wrapped her arms around the small boy. "It's okay, I'm here," she whispered softly.
T shifted awkwardly, trying to regain his composure. "This isn't what it looks like—"
"Then explain it," I snapped. "Because it looks like you're a monster."
Alice glared at T, her protective instincts kicking in. "You're going to answer for this," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of anger beneath it.
The tension in the room was palpable, and I knew that this wasn't just a confrontation; it was a breaking point. Underneath all that facade I was so happy because I just couldn't stand being another day under this man. It was just a matter of when I would find him doing inappropriate things. So much for a team effort.
T's expression hardened as he realized he was outnumbered. His eyes narrowed on Nimbus, and he called out, "You tell them it was consensual, kid. Just say it."
The small boy hesitated, his eyes darting between us, fear etched on his face. "I... it was consensual," he finally stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
Alice and I exchanged a glance, disbelief flooding through me. "That's not true," Alice said, her voice steady but laced with anger. "You don't have to say anything, Nimbus."
I clenched my fists, my desire to throw another punch bubbling just beneath the surface. "You think I won't hit you again?" I growled, stepping forward.
T straightened, his tone suddenly authoritative. "You better think twice, Aionis. I'm still the leader here. Under superhero rules, you don't have the right to hurt me, no matter what I've done."
I felt a surge of frustration. "That's complete bullshit," I snapped, shaking my head. "You think you can just get away with this?"
"Maybe so," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his face as he leaned against the lockers. "But it doesn't matter if you believe it or not. You know the rules."
I took a deep breath, knowing I wouldn't win this fight in the locker room, especially not with Alice and Nimbus in the crossfire. I turned on my heel and made my way to the exit, the weight of T's presence heavy behind me.
Alice, still kneeling beside Nimbus, wrapped him in a comforting embrace. "It's okay, Nimbus. We'll talk about this, I promise," she said softly, her voice soothing as she guided him to his feet.
As I stepped outside, I could feel the tension still crackling in the air behind me. I needed to find Superior Woman and tell her what had just happened. This was finally a chance to get rid of this bastard!
I found Superior Woman in her office. She was probably doing her reporting job for the BubbleTV
"Aionis," she said, gesturing for me to take a seat. "What's going on?"
I wasted no time diving into the details, recounting everything I had witnessed in the locker room. "T was groping Nimbus. It wasn't consensual, and the kid was clearly scared," I said, anger flaring in my voice. "I punched T, but he just brushed it off like it was nothing."
Superior Woman listened intently, her brow furrowing as I spoke. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair, the weight of my words settling in the air between us. "I believe you, Aionis. But we need to be careful about how we handle this. The morale among the heroes is already low, and I can't afford to let this escalate into a public scandal. It could tear the team apart." Fuck you. No matter what I believed before, this just spoke of how little integrity she had. UltraMan would never have done this.
I was in disbelief. "But he can't just get away with this! Nimbus is vulnerable, and T's abusing his authority."
"I understand that, and I'll speak with T personally," she replied, her tone firm. "But for now, I need you to act like nothing happened. We can't have any more drama on the team, not when we're already stretched thin."
I clenched my jaw, wanting to argue but knowing she was right about the team's fragile state. "Fine, but this isn't over," I said, determination lacing my words. "Nimbus deserves better, and I won't let T's actions slide."
Superior Woman nodded, her expression softening. "I'll make sure to address it, but we need to be strategic. Thank you for bringing this to me, Aionis. I'll handle it."
I left her office, the tension still simmering in my gut. Even a cold-hearted killer like me was surprised by her indifference.
As I made my way back to the common area, I spotted Alice waiting for me, her expression a mix of concern and resolve. I took a deep breath, ready to share what had transpired.
She didn't like that. Not at all.
I could see a glint of anger in her eyes, an anger that is unnatural for her.
Perhaps she finally matures and stops leaving inside her fiction stories.
Today I learned a very important lesson. Heroes suck. I was right in in killing UltraMan. Not because he may have been like his cousin, but because people like her and like T would have remained in their cushy lifestyle protected by the omnipotent God that was their leader. They wouldn't have received the scrutiny they deserved.
Surely fate wouldn't forgive SuperiorWoman. No matter how much she wants to keep hold of her cousin's legacy, this balance ignorance of morality will be her Doom. I am sure of it.
I felt too disgusted to write anymore about that day.