Author's Note:
I know I need to write a new chapter for [Bahamut Effect: The Voidwalker Fleet], but I also want to finish writing Episode 1 of this story.
P.S. I received J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit as a gift, featuring illustrations by Alan Lee.
XXX
Story Arc: Out-of-Town Visitors
Episode 1: A Ruined Evening (IV)
Chapter 4: Fight at the Museum
Plot: Black Warlock and Motoko Kusanagi join forces to stop a robbery at the Nightfall City museum. However, it won't be an easy victory: Captain Cold and Heat Wave have new toys, and they aren't afraid to use them.
XXX
POV Narrator
The local hero and the sexiest policewoman in the city dashed forward in unison. Once she and Warlock found safe cover near the main entrance of the museum, they pressed their backs against the marble wall.
Warlock tightly gripped the cold metal of his staff, ready to channel his power. Beside him, Motoko checked the fastening of the heavy bulletproof vest wrapping around her torso. She held a military-grade assault rifle, a massive black weapon capable of causing utter devastation and a massacre in a matter of seconds.
"Do we kick down the door, yell 'hands up,' then spray lead and fire, and after that, we both go back to our homes and our beds?" Warlock asked. His tone was clearly playful, accompanied by a crooked smile that betrayed the gravity of the situation.
"You've watched too many action movies," Motoko said. She sharply turned her head to the side and scoffed, dismissing that ridiculous proposal for a frontal assault with a piercing glare.
"Don't underestimate the power of cinema. I know the best move would be to scout ahead, figure out where all the pieces on the board are, and how to strike," Warlock said. He had learned many tricks from Hollywood films, blending them with real concepts of tactics and strategy—two ideas he knew perfectly well were completely different from one another.
"Do you have some gadget in your belt, or do you know a trick to see through walls? Right now, I only have standard policewoman gear," Motoko said, gritting her teeth. Her frustration was evident: she no longer had official access to SHIELD's sophisticated high-tech equipment.
Warlock nodded. Then, with a fluid motion, he raised his hands and covered his eyes with his palms. The staff did not fall to the ground; the weapon simply remained floating in mid-air, hovering lazily beside its owner's hip.
"What are you doing?" Motoko asked. She arched an eyebrow, eyeing him up and down in the face of Warlock's latest magical eccentricity.
"Give me a minute, I'm concentrating," Warlock said, keeping his palms pressed to his face, motionless.
"If you're playing peek-a-boo, I'm telling you to go back to the bench and rest. Maybe the fall gave you a concussion," Motoko said. Her lips twitched into a slightly worried expression as she studied the hero's reflexes.
"To put it simply, I'm finding the right frequency for my eyes," Warlock explained. His facial muscles strained from the effort; he had almost managed to perform the feat.
"Right frequency? What are you, a cyborg?" Motoko asked. She crossed her arms over her chest with a skeptical look, finding it hard to believe that the man in front of her could resemble Cyborg from the Teen Titans.
"If you don't want to see my eyes explode and mess up your clothes, give me a moment of silence. It's a delicate process," Warlock said, raising his voice slightly. A vein began to throb on his temple, a sign that he was extremely close to the critical point.
Motoko froze and remained completely silent. She clutched the weapon to her chest, well aware that disturbing scientists—or anyone with latent powers during such intense concentration—could end in disaster, or at the very least, a massive explosion.
"I did it!" Black Warlock exclaimed loudly with joy. He gave a little hop, celebrating as if he had finally solved an incredibly difficult puzzle.
Warlock slowly lowered his hands from his face, revealing a radical change in his eyes. His irises now glowed with a vibrant pink light, and the symbol inside them had altered. Thin luminous streaks had appeared around his eye sockets—veins of pure stroboscopic energy resembling pink computer circuits throbbing in rhythm on his face.
'Could he perhaps be a Bio-Android?' Motoko thought. She narrowed her eyes, studying the appearance of those technological symbols on her ally's skin with professional coldness.
Black Warlock, for his part, had never confirmed or denied the numerous theories regarding his mysterious origins.
Most people in the city, especially the younger crowd, thought Warlock was an alien who had arrived on Earth with technology so advanced it looked like magic, much like Thor. This theory was heavily supported by The Adventures of Black Warlock comic books circulating and constantly discussed on niche web forums.
Others, however, thought Warlock was an unregistered Mutant, a fugitive who simply didn't want to get dragged into the political feuds between the X-Men, the Brotherhood of Mutants, and the various anti-Mutant human factions.
Then there were even wilder theories. Some were pure conspiracy theories about secret labs and mad scientists; other urban legends even claimed that Sirius Black had taken some Wolfsbane potion, and the product of that night had then been mystically raised by Magik or Doctor Strange.
"I see five people inside the museum," Warlock said. He began to jerk his head, shifting his gaze up, down, left, and right to scan the building.
"Now you see through walls like Superman. Useful," Motoko commented. She remained unfazed, not seeming surprised at all by that marvel, given that she had seen far grander and more shocking things during her career.
"Three of them are night guards who should already be retired. They are tied up and locked in a closet," Warlock said, pointing to a specific spot past the thick marble wall.
"Do you recognize the criminals? Are they classic thieves in ski masks, or are they more infamous and colorful?" Motoko asked. She tightened her grip on the rifle, wanting to know if she was about to face ordinary robbers or actual supervillains.
"Two men in their forties. They look like Wentworth Miller and Dominic Purcell; they're stealing the diamonds right now," Warlock said. He chuckled to himself, speaking of things only he could understand, referencing the series Prison Break and other pop culture trivia.
"Who do they look like?" Motoko asked, furrowing her brow. She didn't catch the reference at all, and not just because her life left her no time to watch TV.
"I can do better than a verbal description," Warlock said, suddenly snapping his head toward the sexy policewoman.
All of a sudden, the D&D-themed hero's pupils dilated visibly. He abruptly dropped his gaze, his face flushing a deep burgundy red, then he looked up again, keeping his eyes locked onto Motoko's face.
Even though he was acting as Warlock right now, there was still a shred of Welt's shyness inside him.
The former SHIELD agent had spent years dealing with international espionage missions, leading interrogations against foreign spies with decades of training. It took her only a single glance to understand the exact dynamic of what had just happened.
"Did you just see me naked?" Motoko asked. Her voice remained steady, showing not the slightest discomfort or anger; after all, she had never been a modest woman.
"Sorry! I saw something I shouldn't have seen... but only the first layer of clothing!" Warlock apologized, visibly panicking. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment as he turned off his pink eyes and cut off the X-ray vision.
"Aside from my panties and bra, did you see anything else?" Motoko asked out of pure curiosity. She was definitely more interested in discovering the scientific limits of Warlock's abilities than in defending her modesty.
'I know it's bad to think this, but Megan Fox or Halle Berry will surely never appear in my dreams again,' Warlock thought. He felt a shred of guilt and, to maintain his composure, turned his back and firmly grabbed his floating staff.
"Your arms and legs are artificial. You'd never know; you have a really realistic layer of fake skin," Warlock commented, impressed by what he had seen beneath the fabric.
"In my previous job, one of my superiors hid crucial information from me. I completed the mission, yes, but at the cost of losing my limbs. At least they gave me a decent severance package: gear built by Stark himself," Motoko said. She anticipated the question, knowing that Warlock would want an explanation about that incident.
"I'm sorry... about what happened to you, and for peeking by mistake," Warlock said. His playful tone was gone, replaced by a sincere note of sorrow for the woman's past.
The purple-haired policewoman scoffed, a half-smile brushing her face for a brief second.
'I'm ignoring quite a few rules of engagement... but it's so refreshing to work with someone so honest who wears his heart on his sleeve. Leaving SHIELD was definitely a good move,' Motoko thought. She had to admit it to herself: SHIELD's upper management was a toxic and manipulative environment, whereas the local police department offered her a stimulating and decidedly more genuine atmosphere.
"Well... would it be rude to say that you're a beautiful cyborg woman?" Warlock asked. His smile returned to his face, making him the usual extroverted, talkative guy again.
"You're a good kid, Warlock. But now let's focus on stopping the robbery," Motoko said. Her face turned back to ice, and her expression grew serious. There was a job to finish.
"Here are the men I saw," Welt said. With a swift, precise motion, he drew a perfect rectangle in the air using the tip of his staff.
From the glowing trail, the magical equivalent of a holographic screen was generated. The floating projection, sharp and vibrant with a pale blue light, showed the two criminals at work inside the museum's main hall in real time.
"They are Leonard Snart and Mick Rory, better known as Captain Cold and Heat Wave," Motoko said. She identified the two faces at a glance, immediately drawing from her photographic memory, where she had memorized hundreds of dossiers on dangerous people or individuals of interest to SHIELD.
"Are they famous bad guys?" Black Warlock asked. He had no idea who they were, other than the fact that their faces strikingly resembled two movie actors he knew very well in his old life.
"They're among Flash's enemies. Snart is the brains of the duo, a clever thief. His signature weapon is a cold gun," Motoko said, giving a brief, cold overview of who Captain Cold was.
The policewoman didn't think much of Warlock's total lack of knowledge regarding the supervillain landscape. After all, the world was immense, and so many had appeared over the last few decades that you had to be truly obsessive to know them all by heart.
At that very same moment, thousands of miles away from Nightfall City, two people felt a sudden chill and sneezed in unison. The first was a Dark Knight wrapped in his cape in Gotham; the second was a legendary spy wearing an eyepatch in a secret base.
"Is today ice day? Ice Cream Man in the morning, Captain Cold in the evening... I should have worn thicker clothes," Warlock said, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he simulated a cold shiver running down his spine.
"Rory is Snart's attack dog. Crude, but he isn't stupid. He can take a punch, and he can throw one. He's a notorious pyromaniac, and his flamethrower gun proves it," Motoko continued. She never made the mistake of underestimating the so-called "dumb muscle," especially when dealing with a criminal who had survived in that ruthless business for decades.
"Fire and ice together, a classic," Warlock commented, a smile playing on his lips. He had no fear of fire for several personal reasons related to his abilities.
"Months ago, these two tried to rob the Central City museum, which was hosting the exact same diamond exhibit found here. But they were stopped by Flash," Motoko concluded, completing the tactical briefing.
"Those diamonds must be extremely valuable if they're trying again in a completely different city," Black Warlock observed, mentally giving a point to the two thieves for their incredible perseverance.
"But how do you know all these things? Did you happen to work with other heroes in the past? Should I expect a jealous, caped former partner?" Warlock asked, arching his eyebrows. He still had no idea that the sexy policewoman he was flirting with was actually a former international elite spy.
"Old habits. I keep myself informed about a bit of everything," Motoko cut her answer short. She had abandoned official work and SHIELD gadgets, but not her immense knowledge, her martial skills, and her dense network of contacts.
"Answering me without saying anything. I get it, you're an adult woman, you have your mysterious Femme Fatale past, your privacy is there and I respect it. We're just a policewoman and a hero saving the night," Warlock said. His tone suddenly became mature and relaxed, showing sincere respect toward Motoko's secrets.
'I can't believe what I'm about to think... but Nick Fury could definitely learn a thing or two from this Warlock,' Motoko thought. She blinked in surprise, struck by the boy's unexpected sensitivity.
"Unlock," Warlock said, turning abruptly and pointing his staff straight at the museum's massive front door.
As if by magic, the heavy gears of the lock clicked in unison. The wood and metal doors swung open gently inward, as though an invisible key had been inserted and turned by a ghost hand.
"You know, if the hero thing doesn't work out, you could make a pretty good thief," Motoko said, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips. She was sure such a trick would prove incredibly useful in many operations.
"I'm sorry, but if I have to choose between Mage, Warrior, and Thief, I'll always choose to play the Mage. I love magic, I can do things like this... Shield," Warlock said. He twirled his staff and used the top end to gently tap Motoko's protected shoulders twice.
All of a sudden, the purple-haired woman felt a sudden warmth, as if an invisible thermal blanket had been instantaneously wrapped around her body. The sub-dermal sensors in her Stark limbs registered an unknown energy barrier.
"What did you do, Warlock?" Motoko asked, tightening her grip on the rifle as she checked the strange sensation.
"A little protection. Imagine being surrounded by an invisible bubble. It can withstand one to three heavy hits, so don't do anything reckless," Warlock explained. Without hesitation, he stepped over the threshold and entered the darkness of the museum first.
'In six months, I've had a thousand second thoughts about choosing Nightfall City as the place to restart my life... but when things like this happen, I realize I was right not to settle down in Metropolis, Gotham, or New York,' Motoko thought. She followed the hero into the shadows, well-aware that the great protectors of those metropolises would have ignored her, pushed her aside, or offered her, at most, only symbolic protection.
XXX
The two found themselves inside the Museum of Natural History, surrounded by towering glass display cases filled with ancient artifacts of inestimable historical value.
The hall where the robbery was taking place was a vast, open, rectangular space spread across two floors. A monumental T-shaped staircase dominated the center, leading to the second-floor balcony where dozens of stained-glass windows were on display. On the ground floor, arranged in a geometric order, stood the pedestals and reinforced showcases reserved for the largest diamonds in the world and a famous necklace of pure gems that had once belonged to Marie Antoinette.
Right in the middle of it all, Snart and Rory were frantically filling their black canvas duffel bags with the newly stolen diamonds.
For the occasion, the two criminals had abandoned their classic work jumpsuits in favor of semi-professional clothing; no full supervillain costumes, in short, but regular clothes topped with custom technical jackets and high-tech protective goggles that reflected the room's light.
"Snart, I don't think we should come out of the sewers... For a second there, I saw some penguins and a crocodile," Rory commented. He shook his massive head, certain that something damn strange was happening down there, in the city's underground tunnels.
"Rory, from now on, no alcohol on a work day. Not even if we have a ten-hour window," Snart replied without looking away. With the tips of his gloved fingers, he was examining a diamond necklace of extremely high economic value.
"You can't do that, Snart. Maybe I'm no genius, but I know a beer gets cleared by the human body in a few hours," Rory retorted. He showed a hint of pride, happy to show off a piece or two of basic science trivia.
"When I asked you to broaden your horizons, I didn't mean this," Snart commented. He sighed, torn between sadness and the partial happiness that his partner had finally read a science book, even if it only applied to alcohol.
Suddenly, Captain Cold's muscles tensed. He instinctively grabbed his cold gun; the numerous years spent facing scarlet speedsters and superheroes with superhuman quickness had sharpened his reflexes beyond any human limit.
Spinning around abruptly, Snart pivoted on his heels and fired his iconic weapon!
FZZZZZZ!
A mass of purple slime, resembling a fluorescent spiderweb that had been launched from the shadow of the entrance door, was hit full-on by the cryogenic blast. It froze instantly in mid-air, turning into a rigid block of ice that crashed onto the floor and shattered into a thousand crystalline pieces with a metallic sound.
"Come on out, hero!" Captain Cold exclaimed. He lowered his center of gravity slightly, keeping the smoking gun leveled and ready for a second deadly shot.
Rory, unfazed, slipped Marie Antoinette's necklace into the deep pocket of his old technical jacket. Then he pulled out his heavy flamethrower weapon, taking the opportunity to secretly stuff some of the new technological toys Snart had brought along into his pockets as well.
Black Warlock made his formal entrance into the museum area dedicated to the diamond exhibition, advancing with a calm and confident step directly from the main door.
"The local hero, Black Warlock... How did you find us?" Snart asked, narrowing his eyes behind his protective lenses, confident he had planned every single detail of the heist to perfection.
"You're noisier than you think," Warlock commented, keeping his staff ready. He certainly couldn't forget the screeching sound that had abruptly interrupted the peace of his flight earlier.
Captain Cold kept the cold gun pointed straight at his new opponent's chest, studying his movements.
"I am the hero, you two are the thieves. Can we avoid wasting time and energy on a useless fistfight? After all, ninety-seven times out of a hundred, the hero wins. So, surrender and nobody gets hurt," Black Warlock said. He made a vague gesture with his free hand, treating the situation with the total casualness of any boring day on patrol.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing," Snart said with a cynical smirk. And without warning, he suddenly pulled the trigger of his sci-fi weapon.
FZZZZZZ!
A dart of blue-white light, a beam of concentrated absolute zero, streaked at a breakneck speed toward Warlock's chest. The hero, thanks to his quick reflexes, dashed sideways to the left with a lightning-fast feint, dodging the shot by a hair. The freezing beam violently struck a section of the marble floor, instantly turning it into a shiny and slippery sheet of ice.
"You're fast, but you're no Flash," Snart said. His eyes, used to tracking the scarlet trail of Central City's speedster, followed Warlock's movements with ease. And if Snart could do it, Rory was perfectly capable of doing it too.
The exact moment Warlock moved, anticipating his escape trajectory, Rory thrust his hand into his pocket and hurled three small, shiny metal marbles: tactical pressure mini-explosives.
Suddenly, Warlock's legs began to glow with blue light. Geometric symbols resembling computer circuits appeared on his pants, illuminating his lower limbs and overloading his muscles.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Three violent, sequential detonations ripped through the air right in the hero's path, kicking up smoke and marble debris. But at the very last fraction of a second, capitalizing on the boost from the blue circuits, Warlock took a superhuman leap at incredibly high speed. He literally flew upward, landing unscathed on the balcony of the exhibition area's second floor.
"I don't need to be the fastest man alive to beat you two," Warlock said. He casually rested a foot on the wrought-iron railing, looking down at the criminals and pointing the top of his staff straight at them.
Instead of unleashing a destructive attack, the crystal tip of the staff began to emit a pulsing glow. At that same moment, a dense aura of magical energy enveloped one of the heavy duffel bags full of diamonds at the thieves' feet.
Warlock, a cocky smile stamped on his face, abruptly jerked his staff upward. He made the exact same motion one makes with a fishing rod when setting the hook: snagged by an invisible line, the duffel bag was ripped from the floor and pulled violently toward the ceiling.
Rory, out of pure animal instinct, grabbed onto the canvas of the duffel bag with both hands, categorically refusing to give up his share of the loot. The result was grotesque: the massive pyromaniac was lifted off the ground, left hovering three feet in the air.
Warlock, using his free hand, rapidly drew a perfect circle in the air. Immediately after, three dense rings of purple slime were projected at high speed toward Snart and Rory.
FZZZZZZ!
Captain Cold reacted with his usual coolness. He raised his cryogenic gun and blasted the three viscous projectiles with his beam of blue energy. The purple slime crystallized instantly, turning into three rigid and fragile rings of pure ice that halted their forward momentum.
But Warlock wasn't done. He made a sharp, choreographed movement with the palm of his hand, as if to impart a kinetic push to his own projectiles. The frozen rings abruptly veered off course, changing direction in mid-air and hurtling like crazed bullets straight at Rory.
WHACK!
WHACK!
WHACK!
The three ice rings shattered violently on contact with the massive criminal's body. The close impact was so hard that it forced Rory to let go of the loot bag. A normal man would have fallen heavily on his back or on his bottom, but the pyromaniac, pivoting on his knees, absorbed the blow and landed firmly on his feet, just like the protagonist of an action movie.
"I'll make you pay for this," Rory growled through his teeth. He clenched his fists and ignored the dull pain starting to radiate from his shoulder, ribs, and thigh, which had been struck by the rock-hard fragments.
Meanwhile, the duffel bag flew straight into Warlock's outstretched hands on the second floor. As soon as the hero grabbed it firmly, the sack stopped glowing, and the shimmering aura vanished into thin air.
"Those little tricks don't work on us," Snart said. His tone was icy, absolutely confident that simple purple slime wouldn't be enough to stop two professionals of their caliber.
"But I have half of your loot. And if you want to get it, you have to come to me... Or are you afraid of this lovely Furry?" Warlock said with a carefree smile, dangling the captured duffel bag before their eyes like a prized trophy.
"I'm going to burn you, you damn dog!" Rory yelled. He lost his patience completely and spun around sharply, rushing up the museum stairs and turning his back on the exhibition hall's entrance door.
Snart had turned his back too, but luck would have it that he caught a lightning-fast reflection on one of the side glass windows. The mirrored image showed the sharp silhouette of Motoko, her assault rifle already leveled.
BANG!
"Rory, drop!" Snart shouted. At the same instant, he executed a fluid twist of his torso toward Motoko, raising his cryogenic gun.
The right-hand man of the team, moving out of blind trust that rivaled true brotherhood, literally threw his weight onto the marble steps of the staircase. He rolled awkwardly, picking up several bruises, but that desperate move allowed him to dodge a steel bullet directed straight at his legs.
"In magic shows, the beautiful woman is almost always the distraction to let the magician pull off his trick. This time, however, it's the exact opposite," Warlock explained from up on the balcony.
BANG!
Motoko pulled the trigger a second time. The bullet streaked straight toward Snart's chest, while the policewoman wisely maintained her tactical position, well beyond the effective range of the criminal's freezing weapon.
FZZZZZZ!
Releasing a concentrated blast of blue-white freezing beam, Captain Cold intercepted and blocked the bullet in mid-air, making it fall to the floor encased in a shell of ice.
"NCPD, surrender!" Motoko exclaimed, officially breaking into the crime scene in the open.
"Abominations, attack!" Black Warlock cried. He quickly drew two perfect circles in the air with his hand, one after the other.
Two massive, vaguely humanoid creatures composed entirely of fluorescent purple slime emerged out of nowhere at Warlock's sides.
Abomination number one threw itself directly over the balcony railing, plunging from above toward Snart. Abomination number two, on the other hand, rushed down the steps with long strides to seize Rory.
"We don't surrender without a fight!" the muscle of the team exclaimed. He quickly got back on his knees and pulled the trigger of his flamethrower.
FWOOSH!
A violent trail of liquid fire blazed from Rory's weapon, hitting Abomination number two full-on and instantly melting it into a smoking puddle on the marble. Taking advantage of the smoke screen, the pyromaniac leaped to his feet, performed an acrobatic jump, and landed firmly at the bottom of the main staircase.
Warlock began to walk calmly toward the top of the stairs, as if he wanted to study the unfolding situation from above or, more simply, just to show off a bit.
Meanwhile, Abomination number one lunged fiercely at Snart, but the thief stood ground and responded sharply with his gun.
FZZZZZZ!
The cryogenic stream enveloped the slime monster, instantly turning it into a rigid statue of opaque ice.
Motoko seized the exact moment Snart was distracted and fired a third pinpoint shot, aiming directly at the hand holding the weapon.
BANG!
However, Captain Cold had prepared for every eventuality. As soon as the bullet entered his field of vision, the fabric of one of his sleeves disintegrated suddenly, revealing a set of three high-tech metal bracelets strapped to his forearm. The devices activated instantly, creating a thin but extremely dense barrier of compact frost that intercepted and blocked Motoko's shot.
Leonard Snart and Mick Rory quickly regrouped in the center of the room, standing back-to-back with weapons leveled in every direction against their respective opponents.
"I admit you know how to move together. It's immediately clear that you are experienced veterans... But unfortunately for you, it won't be enough," Warlock said. He began to give a brief, ironic applause, momentarily tucking the shaft of his staff under his armpit.
"An idiot and a chatterbox, just like Flash," Rory muttered through his teeth, trembling with the desire to shoot him in the face.
"Let's see how good this hero is," Captain Cold said. With a lightning-fast movement of his free hand, he slipped a small device from his belt and threw it upward, right into the center of the room.
Black Warlock followed the object spinning in mid-air with an inquisitive gaze. Motoko, on the contrary, immediately lowered her head, sensing the nature of the danger at once. Although the D&D-themed hero was indisputably the strongest person in the room, he was also the least experienced in urban combat; for this reason, certain dirty tactical tricks still worked against him.
FLASH!
A flash of white light, blinding and incredibly violent, ripped through the darkness of the museum: the object had turned out to be a high-power flashbang grenade.
Black Warlock was hit full-on by the glare; he couldn't help but let out a groan and cover his eyes with his hands in pain. Motoko, despite having lowered her gaze, felt the impact of the light filtering through her eyelids, but she managed to avoid the worst of it.
"Tonight we're having roast dog for dinner!" Rory shouted, laughing coarsely as he pressed the trigger of his flamethrower all the way down.
FWOOSH!
A column of hellish fire unleashed upward, surging up the steps of the T-shaped staircase and engulfing Black Warlock entirely, wrapping him completely from head to toe.
Rory shouted with pure joy: it wasn't every day he got the golden opportunity to set a superhero on fire.
"Better luck next time, gorgeous," Snart said. With absolute coldness, he pulled the trigger of his weapon again, releasing a swift, blue-white freezing beam.
FZZZZZZ!
Motoko, sensing that a delay of even a tenth of a second would turn her into a permanent ice statue, made a drastic decision: she sacrificed her service weapon. With feline reflexes, she hurled the heavy military assault rifle directly into Captain Cold's cryogenic stream.
The impact was immediate. The rifle, instantaneously covered in a thick layer of solid ice, bounced off and grazed Motoko on her torso. Her vision was still partially blurred and disrupted by the effects of the flashbang grenade, but her eyes were already managing to distinguish the surrounding geometric shapes and colors.
"What are you going to defend yourself with now, gorgeous?" Snart asked with a cynical smirk, raising the barrel of the weapon again, ready to fire a second time at point-blank range.
"You won't touch her!" Warlock screamed. His voice resonated powerful and deep, coming directly from inside the column of liquid fire unleashed by Rory's weapon.
Through the destructive flames, the hero's silhouette could be clearly distinguished as he heatedly raised his staff toward the ceiling, making the crystal gem glow with an incredibly intense light.
Suddenly, a dense, shimmering magnetic aura enveloped both Snart's cold gun and Rory's flamethrower. With a violent telekinetic yank, the two sci-fi weapons were literally ripped away from the criminals' hands, flying high out of their reach.
"How... How are you still alive?!" Rory exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock. He was absolutely certain he had cooked his opponent to a crisp under that hellish heat.
With the trail of flames no longer covering him, Warlock revealed himself in the center of the staircase: he was completely unscathed. Only the edges of his clothes appeared slightly blackened and a tiny bit singed by the heat.
"My fur forces me to clean up every single day, true, but in return, it offers splendid biological protection against high temperatures," Warlock explained, flashing a teasing smile and adjusting his collar with mock indifference.
"You're a damn fireproof dog," Rory growled through his teeth. He clenched his massive fists until his knuckles turned white, preparing to settle the matter the old-fashioned way: the hard way.
"My vision has cleared," Motoko announced. With a lightning-fast movement of her right hand, she extended her arm and snapped open a retractable steel baton, which lengthened with a sharp metallic click.
"Time for some old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat," Snart said. He raised his fists to chin height, bobbing and weaving on his center of gravity, perfectly mimicking a professional boxer's stance.
"I like the idea," Warlock replied with an enthusiastic smile. He opened his fingers and let go of his staff; instead of crashing onto the marble, the weapon simply remained suspended in mid-air, floating lazily in place beside him.
Motoko dashed forward with the power and grace of a professional athlete, closing the one-hundred-meter distance separating her from the target in just a few seconds.
The former SHIELD spy immediately aimed for a lightning-fast strike to the throat to neutralize her opponent and end the dispute in the blink of an eye, but Snart had a clinically trained eye for fighting superheroes. Anticipating the trajectory of the blow, the thief slipped to the side at the very last millisecond and instinctively raised his right forearm to shield against the steel baton.
Under normal circumstances, such an impact would have instantly shattered the criminal's radius or ulna. However, upon contact, the fabric of Snart's sleeve disintegrated entirely, revealing an additional set of armored high-tech bracelets. The impact produced a bluish spark and blocked the blow.
'Damn it, how I miss my old gadgets...' Motoko thought in frustration, arching her back sharply backward to narrowly avoid a left hook directed straight at her face.
On the other side, Warlock handled the situation by combining striking choreographic theatricality with martial movements directly inspired by the Ip Man movies—the legendary Wing Chun master who trained Bruce Lee.
His legs began to glow with blue light, once again showing the luminous networks resembling subdermal circuits. Rory, seeing him charge, tensed his torso muscles, preparing to take the first hit and then unleash an infinitely more destructive one.
Warlock leaped forward, fast and lethal as a hunting cheetah, but to Rory's hyper-trained eyes, that movement appeared predictable, almost like a snail.
However, instead of throwing a straight punch to the face, Warlock used the energy from his legs to perform an acrobatic leap over Rory's head. He spun in mid-air, landed firmly on his hands on the ground, and, spreading his legs straight out, executed a spinning helicopter sweep of devastating kinetic power.
His feet struck Rory's flank with force. The crushing impact forced the gargantuan pyromaniac to leap backward just a few meters; despite his massive size, Rory managed to pivot on his heels and land with style, avoiding serious damage or breaking his nose on the floor.
The tail end of Warlock's spinning attack, though, didn't end there: it grazed Snart's supporting leg, making him violently lose his balance right while he was engaged in countering the policewoman.
Motoko did not miss the golden opportunity: with lightning reflexes, she delivered a sharp kick behind Snart's knee to make him buckle, completing the action with a devastating elbow strike straight to his chest that slammed him to the ground on his back.
"You're under arrest," Motoko said with short breath but a firm voice. She found herself on top of Snart's body, pinning him to the ground with her own weight and forcefully pressing the steel of the baton against her opponent's throat to prevent his slightest movement.
"Are you sure about that?" Snart asked. He suddenly snapped his palms open, revealing at the last second that he was gripping two small high-tech discs.
ZIIIIIIIIII!
The disc placed in his left hand detonated instantly, releasing an invisible shockwave. Snart's hand took the brunt of the impact, feeling a sharp, dull pain, but his flesh was partially protected by the metal bracelets he wore. Motoko, unfortunately, was not as lucky: the close-range sonic explosion hit her full-on, blasting her violently into the air. The woman flew for several meters before landing heavily on the marble floor, motionless like a ragdoll.
Warlock, whose amplified senses could clearly perceive the destructive frequency of the sonic weapon, instinctively brought his hands to his ears, letting out a groan of pain as he nearly fell to his knees.
At that exact same moment, both the cryogenic gun and the flamethrower—which until then had been suspended in the air out of the thieves' reach—fell ruinously to the floor with a loud metallic clatter. Warlock's magic could in no way be maintained without active concentration.
"Sensitive to ultrasound," Snart commented with a cynical smile, finally getting the scientific answer to the question he had asked himself at the beginning of the battle.
Without wasting a single second, Captain Cold hurled the second sonic explosive straight at the hero.
ZIIIIIIIIII!
The device detonated just inches from his face. The invisible shockwave mowed Warlock down, throwing him backward. The hero collapsed to the ground, completely stunned by the reverberation, his eyes wide open and his glassy gaze directed rigidly toward the museum's high ceilings.
"You're not half bad, Warlock," Captain Cold admitted. He dragged himself back to his feet with effort and, moving with a calm pace, leaned down to recover his iconic weapon.
The brains of the thieves' team advanced, limping slightly, approaching the body of the hero who was still unable to react.
"You made me sweat a bit. I'll grant you my respect and a well-deserved rest in the cooler," Snart said. He raised the barrel and firmly pulled the trigger...
FZZZZZZ!
A continuous stream of cryogenic energy entirely enveloped Black Warlock, trapping him inside a thick, massive layer of compact ice.
"Warlock!" Motoko screamed. The policewoman shook herself out of the numbness, recovering just enough to witness the tragic scene. Remaining with her stomach pressed against the floor, she stretched her arms forward, gripped her service pistol with both hands, and fired a desperate shot...
BANG!
A single bullet pierced the air and struck Snart in the leg. Out of pure reflex conditioned by pain, the criminal swung his cold gun downward and fired: the freezing beam hit Motoko's weapon and right hand full-on, instantly enclosing them in a block of solid ice.
'In this situation, having prosthetics capable of simulating sensitivity and the sense of touch is turning out to be torture...' Motoko thought, gritting her teeth as a sensation of icy cold and total numbness crept up the circuits of her frozen hand.
'Curious... At the very least, her entire arm should have been frozen instantly,' Snart thought instead, furrowing his brow and observing the strange result of his shot on the woman's flesh with a hint of suspicion.
"You're going to pay for this!" Rory shouted, aggressively returning to the scene. The massive pyromaniac walked with long strides, visibly furious, while clutching his flamethrower in his hands, ready to spit liquid fire. He headed menacingly toward Motoko, intending to incinerate her.
"Don't do anything crazy, Rory! She is a policewoman; if you overdo it, we'll have a thousand problems later with the entire police department," Snart said, limping noticeably because of the bullet in his leg to step in front of his crime partner and block his path.
"She shot you!" Rory exclaimed, his voice twisted with rage, pointing at his companion's wound.
"It's an occupational hazard," Snart replied in a flat, detached tone, as if getting shot during a robbery was the most normal thing in the world for him.
CRACK!
A web of deep white lines suddenly ripped across the shiny surface of the block. The ice surrounding Black Warlock began to give way under unsustainable internal pressure.
"Don't tell me that dog has ice-proof fur! What is he, Superman's bastard son born from some crazy fangirl?" Rory asked. He growled furiously, finding the whole situation deeply unfair: they had come there to pull off a ghost-like heist, not to fight a hairy bastard endowed with superpowers.
A second later, the crystalline structure imploded into a thousand shards. The ice shattered completely, and Warlock broke free from the cryogenic embrace, straightening his back and standing up on the marble.
"Captain Cold, your weapon is definitely more effective than Ice Cream Man's, but it's much less delicious. This ice has no flavor at all," Black Warlock commented. He made a face, sensing a strange artificial aftertaste in his mouth.
With a theatrical flourish, the local hero slipped off his Speaker's cape and threw it to the ground. Without that fabric covering him, he revealed that his entire body was now completely covered in glowing streaks—pulsing veins resembling integrated circuits that shone with a deep blue light.
"Gust of Wind!" Warlock exclaimed. He took a step forward and thrust the flat palms of his hands toward his enemies.
A powerful and violent blast of concentrated wind erupted from his fingers. The kinetic impact hit Captain Cold and Heat Wave full-on, lifting them off the ground and slamming them brutally against the museum's back wall.
Capitalizing on an action speed infinitely superior to what he had displayed earlier, Warlock covered the distance and reached the policewoman lying on the ground.
"Are you okay, Motoko?!" Warlock exclaimed. He quickly clapped his hands together and touched the frozen right hand of the former spy. Upon contact, brief bluish electrical sparks appeared, and within a single second, the block of ice turned into harmless, lukewarm water.
"I took a sonic explosion at point-blank range, flew and fell seven meters, and to top it off, I got a cryogenic refreshment... But I'm surprisingly fine. Only my pride is hurt," Motoko replied. She tried to clench her fist, feeling only the residual cold on the artificial skin of her right hand, but no kind of discomfort, injury, or pain in the rest of her body.
"Thank the Titan that I gave you that protection before entering the museum," Warlock said, offering her his arm and helping Motoko back up to her feet.
FZZZZZZ!
FWOOSH!
Two converging trails of energy—one of liquid fire and one of absolute zero—streaked through the air, ready to strike the hero and the policewoman once again.
Warlock's staff obeyed the call and flew straight into his six outstretched fingers. The hero sharply struck the ground with the lower end of the magical object. Instantly, a protective dome of pure purple energy generated, its shaped surface resembling the stylized skull of a dog, or more precisely, the bone head of a Titan from the Boiling Isles.
As soon as the combined attacks of the two thieves shattered uselessly against the magical defense, Warlock went on an immediate counterattack.
"Gust of Wind!" the hero exclaimed. He swung his staff, making a sharp horizontal sweep from right to left.
A cyclonic blast of wind, much more destructive and brutal than the previous one, exploded from the tip of the staff. The shockwave struck the two criminals from the side, lifting them into the air like twigs and sending them flying for several meters, until they landed heavily near the base of the T-shaped staircase.
"Warlock doesn't like the cold at all, nor does he like the policewoman being touched," Snart commented through his teeth. He wiped a hand across his face, noting a drastic and dangerous increase in strength and aggressiveness in his opponent's strikes.
"No kidding? My broken ribs and I hadn't noticed at all," Rory replied, spitting on the ground in a heavily sarcastic tone.
"Heirloom Sword Familiar," Warlock solemnly declared.
With a blinding flash, he made a magnificent sword appear in his right hand. The blade was extremely long, straight, and very narrow, characterized by a geometric diamond cross-section that made it incredibly rigid, sturdy, and devoid of unnecessary fullers. The steel gleamed with a pure, clean silver light.
The guard was composed of two straight, slender golden arms, arranged to form a perfect cross with the blade. The gold of the guard and the pommel was matte, understated, and elegant, free of tacky reflections. The handle was entirely wrapped in a dark, contoured material, designed to ensure a firm single-handed grip. Finally, the pommel at the base of the hilt ended in a golden spindle shape, perfect for balancing the weapon and usable for striking blunt blows at close range.
'This is only the second time I've seen that sword,' Motoko thought, narrowing her eyes as she observed the majestic weapon. The last time the hero had drawn it was during the operation against those circus-themed criminals who had kidnapped the children.
"Captain Cold, Heat Wave... You are strong and tenacious. So prepare to face me with everything you've got, or surrender right now, because I've just pulled out the heavy artillery!" Warlock exclaimed. He began to advance with a studied calm toward his opponents, while the sword's steel blade became entirely enveloped in vivid blue flames.
"Snart, what do we do?!" Rory asked, snapping his head around. He had no useful ideas left: most of his repertoire relied on burning things or breaking bones, and at that moment, neither option was viable against such an opponent.
"We surrender, Rory," Snart said in a flat tone. He loosened his grip on the cold gun, letting it fall onto the marble, and slowly raised his open hands into the air.
"What are you saying, Snart?!" Rory exclaimed with an altered voice, his eyes widening.
"I have a leg wound from a bullet, and we can't run far. Besides, this hero seems decidedly more capable and dangerous than his reputation around town says," Snart explained with cold pragmatism. He had no intention of suffering further physical damage in a conflict he knew perfectly well he could not win.
"You give me too much credit. I'm just a Rank-B Pragmatic-Hedonist Hero," Warlock commented in a mock-humble tone, making a slight flick of his wrist to extinguish the blue flames on his blade.
"We can still make it! I'll carry you on my back, grab the duffel bag with the diamonds, and we'll go on a very long vacation to Tahiti," Rory insisted, convinced there was still a way out.
NINO! NINO! NINO!
The sharp, rhythmic sound of blaring police sirens began to echo from the outside, penetrating through the museum windows.
"The reinforcements are finally here," Motoko announced. She stepped to Warlock's side, reaching behind her back to pull out a pair of heavy steel handcuffs.
"■■■," Rory muttered, chewing on a series of curses that no one was supposed to hear. Then, with a resigned gesture, he let his flamethrower drop onto the floor.
"Don't worry, Rory. I always find the gold, in any situation," Snart whispered to him, flashing a subtle, fox-like smile. The right-hand man of the team remained visibly vexed, but he held out his wrists to calm down.
"Leonard Snart and Mick Rory, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you," Motoko recited from memory in a firm voice.
The policewoman snapped the handcuffs onto the two criminals' wrists, drawing on the silent help of Warlock, who, with a quick sleight of hand, made both the silver sword and the floating staff vanish into thin air.
As the two prisoners were made to stand straight, Warlock's gaze fell upon the weapons abandoned on the hall floor. Nearby gleamed the famous diamond necklace that had belonged to Marie Antoinette, clearly slipped away from Rory's pockets during the last kinetic impact.
'Let's do a little vanishing and reappearing trick,' Warlock thought to himself. He mentally summoned his Bag of Holding and, taking advantage of the rescue chaos, quickly slipped the three precious objects inside his magical bag.
XXX
Twenty minutes later, the perimeter of the Museum of Natural History was completely surrounded by a sea of police cars with flashing lights. Not far away, an ambulance stood with its engine running, alongside forensic squad vans, and, hidden somewhere in the crowd, a certain pink-haired journalist was frantically snapping a rapid succession of photographs and taking notes in her notebook.
Warlock and Motoko sat on the dented hood of the woman's personal car, tired but visibly relieved.
The hero had already repossessed his heavy Speaker's cape, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders.
"You know, if your career in the police force doesn't work out, I could give you feline ears and a tail, a tight cat-ninja costume, a couple of magical stat-boosting artifacts, and officially make you my partner," Warlock proposed. He vigorously rubbed his fur-covered arms; apparently, his biology was significantly more resistant to hellish fire than to the chill of absolute zero.
"Black Warlock and Purple Panther—we would be completely unstoppable," the local hero continued, flashing a knowing smile.
"Cute name. But I highly doubt you could afford my professional fee," Motoko replied, letting a rare, small, amused smile slip across her face.
"Hey, I have several chests jam-packed with gold coins in my fortress. And if needed, I even have some diamonds fresh out of the bag," Warlock retorted, maintaining a visibly entertained expression.
'Purple Panther is never going to happen; I have absolutely no intention of becoming a costumed superheroine,' Motoko thought to herself, observing the flashing lights reflecting off the car's metal. 'But it's still a better code name than Agent SHIELD Chroma or my old identity for undercover missions, the thief Cash Eye.'
"I found this on the ground. I believe it belongs to the museum's collection, but I was sure it would look stunning on you," Warlock said. With a fluid motion of his hand, he slipped his fingers into his Bag of Holding and pulled out Marie Antoinette's legendary necklace; then, with a sharp snap of his fingers, he used a magic trick to make it instantly appear around Motoko's neck.
The woman didn't say a single word. She simply let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head slightly.
"I am taking this necklace back to its rightful place in the display cases immediately. And you absolutely should not steal items of such historical value just to play your usual pranks," Motoko said, lifting herself off the car hood and tracing the gems with her fingers.
"I promise nothing. Diamonds really suit you, Purple Panther... Or perhaps you prefer Pink Panther?" Warlock teased, completely abandoning the seriousness he had shown during the battle.
The sudden appearance of Sergeant Wu abruptly cut short the moment of intimacy between the two.
"Warlock, Captain Motoko... The forensic paramedics have finished bandaging Snart's leg. They are about to load him into the armored van to take him away, but before that, he specifically asked to speak with you," Sergeant Wu said, nodding his head to invite them to follow him to the back.
Walking side by side, the furry hero and the sexiest policewoman in the city reached the open rear doors of a patrol van, where Snart and Rory sat handcuffed and under close watch.
"The police officers in this small provincial town are significantly nicer than the ones I am used to in Central City," Snart commented in a calm tone, beginning to understand the bizarre charm of the place.
"What do you want, Snart?" Motoko asked sharply. Her face turned hard, cold, and incredibly serious once again; the rapport and softness she had shown with the hero just a moment prior had completely vanished.
"Black Warlock, you managed to defeat me this time, but only because I made the mistake of underestimating you. Next time, I will be perfectly prepared," Snart declared, locking his blue eyes onto those of the D&D-themed hero.
"Challenge accepted, Captain Cold! But next time, make sure to bring more friends with you. You know perfectly well that a game session becomes much more fun when there are at least four or five players at the table," Warlock replied. He treated that threat with the total lightheartedness of a promise for the next tabletop campaign.
Snart scoffed, letting a half-amused laugh slip out.
"And rest assured, I won't forget about you at all, Lady Gordon of Nightfall City," Captain Cold added, giving a knowing look to the purple-haired policewoman.
"My name is Motoko Kusanagi, Head of the NCPD Detective Department," the woman corrected him immediately, having absolutely no intention of being compared to Gotham City's famous Commissioner.
"Damn dog and Miss Zoophilia, I swear next time I'll burn you both alive!" Rory yelled from the back of the van, participating in the conversation the only way he knew how.
"Cool it, Rory. Save your anger for when we're inside," Snart told his partner-in-crime, silencing him with a single look. Then he turned outward one last time. "Good evening and cold dreams, Hero and Captain."
Snart flashed a charming, fox-like smile before the patrol officers grabbed the handles of the doors, slamming them shut with a loud metallic clang and driving the two supervillains away to the penitentiary for good.
"Congratulations, Warlock. You have officially stolen Flash's historical nemesis," Sergeant Wu declared, giving a clearly sarcastic, small round of applause.
"Half the credit goes to Motoko. Give her a gold medal or an official cape," Warlock replied, stepping back so as not to take all the night's glory.
"I don't want either of those things. If anything, I would like to get a day off—a matter I will have to thoroughly discuss with Commissioner Itami," Motoko commented. She vastly preferred something useful and concrete over a shiny metal decoration, given that she already had her home closet jam-packed with commendations and medals.
"As for me, I think I have officially wrapped up my night shift. I'm heading home to take a nice hot bath. See you at the next crime... or when I come to fix your car," Warlock said. He twirled his fingers, summoning his staff, mounted it like a steed, and took flight, streaking upward.
"Is... is he serious about fixing your car?" Sergeant Wu asked, assuming a deeply intrigued and confused expression.
"Honestly, I don't know. But I have a strong feeling that he actually will," Motoko admitted. She knew well that Warlock had grown fond of her after all those months spent working together—or whatever the correct way to label what the two of them did was.
"Now that would be a bombshell story for the local newspapers! Black Warlock acting as your personal mechanic... I mean, I've heard wild stories about Spider-Man helping kids in neighborhoods and strange urban rumors about Batman and Commissioner Gordon, but this beats them all..." Sergeant Wu cut his sentence short the moment he crossed Motoko's icy glare.
"I'm going... I'm going to go help the patrol officers keep the onlookers and the press away," Sergeant Wu quickly corrected himself, walking briskly toward the yellow police tape.
"This is Nightfall City. Things are always a bit absurd here," Motoko commented quietly to herself. She kept her gaze directed upward toward the vault of the night sky, at the exact spot where Warlock's glowing trail had just vanished behind the blanket of clouds.
"You can say that twice!" Sergeant Wu shouted from afar, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the sirens.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
The fight scene was more complex and difficult to write than I expected, but I really enjoyed doing it. I wanted to write a scene where she returns to her home and enters her secret base, but I thought it was best to stop there.