Lightning cascaded across the sky. John stroked his formerly salt and pepper, now more salty beard. “Zed, old friend, is it truly time for this to end.” No answer came. He had a long life. Many lives over many different types of stories, there was moments as he watched the rain fall that he truly felt he was living more inside a comic book than the real world with the types of adventures he had.
His smartphone vibrates, MacCurtis glances down, Rick Saturn, lifelong friend. But in this moment he did not see him as his a friend or even the partner he was in the old Great Crime Fighter days, but as a reminder of where John was now. Alone, and waiting for those he once called proteges that he led into a life of mayhem and murder. Who knew the murder of Reesa would start the end game, then finding the body of Daemon in the gutted bunker, and now Malcolm dead as well. Just Sax and Natan left.
Much more death than when Thor had control of him, yet there was something more to be thought of in all this. From the corner of his eye he notes Jacqueline moving from the couch in his office towards him. “Going to answer that boss?”
John just shakes his head. It shocked him to find out that the crazy former agent Jake “Shades” Slick had a daughter, he always thought the man whore was infertile or at the very least was smart enough to get a vasectomy. But here was proof.
The phone’s annoying ring tone that was a factory setting signals Rick had left a voicemail. John looks to the clock on the phone, 15 minutes until the kids arrival. The last of the Martyrs, who depending on what one believed about the murderers in the last several days were living up to their names.
“Remember the plan Jacqueline, when they walk in…”
“I shoot them both and drop the extra guns so it looks like I stopped an assassination attempt, but what about Speare boss?” She asks.
John chuckles. “Speare is an idiot, we will easily pay him off.” The thunder cracked loudly and the lights dipped. The Mayor wondered if the privatized energy companies were screwing around with the power grid once more. One of the worst things Ralph Klein ever did on the day California proved de-regulated/privatized power didn’t work, was to then follow through blindly, the one thing he hoped by being in office was to follow the money in the city to see who got the pay offs for the privatization. Unfortunately the tracts were covered to well.
Another flickering, what was the term—brown out?
A loud crack. The room was bathed in lightning.
3 new forms?
A thud. A bullet shot.
Speare felt the stickiness of blood on his cheek as another flash of lightning illuminated the room. “Oh shit.”