Gerard Jager
Gerard was tired.
Way too tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep fixed. The kind that stacked—layer after layer—until even thinking felt heavy. His body couldn't feel it, not really. But his mind was begging for rest.
The cool night air usually helped. It always had before. Tonight, it did nothing.
Panicked screams tore through the street, sharp with despair and raw terror. Police rushed about in frantic disarray, barking orders into crackling walkie-talkies. A chopper thundered overhead, its downdraft parting the curtain of cream-colored hair that fell across Gerard's face.
Normally, the police secured a scene before heroes arrived—cleared civilians, set perimeters, minimized casualties. Today, they were barely holding things together.
He couldn't blame them.
More than half their manpower had been redeployed to the Crown Dome after the Horror Show Guild's attack. Minutes later, another report came in. Another fire. Another massacre.
Gerard tightened his coat and adjusted his sunglasses.
A stocky officer approached and shook his hand with a grip that lingered a little too long.
"What's the situation, Captain?" Gerard asked calmly.
"We can't get through," the officer said, voice tight with strain. "Every time we advance, one of my men turns into a flaming candle. I can't risk sending anyone else."
He exhaled heavily, then slapped Gerard on the back.
"You'll have to handle this one alone, son. Sorry we can't do more."
"No worries," Gerard replied, already pulling a cigar from his coat. "Just keep the perimeter secure. I'll put the flaming pain in the ass on the ground."
He lit the cigar and walked toward the recreation center, its frame wreathed in roaring fire. The heat had already melted the pavement around it.
At the open doorway, a curtain of flames waited.
Gerard stepped through.
He took a long drag, exhaled smoke—and the haze cleared to reveal a burning, leather-clad corpse staring back at him. Flaming hair. Charred skin. Eyes burning with something far worse than fire.
"Long time no see, Roadrunner," Gerard said casually.
"Don't call me that," Hellracer hissed, his voice a cacophony of overlapping echoes.
"So we're burning buildings and killing civilians now? Didn't think you had it in you."
"Stop calling me that."
"So you quit being a hero. What are you now—someone's lackey?" Gerard shrugged. "As long as it pays the bills, I guess. Roadrunner."
"Say it again," Hellracer snarled. "I'll show you hell."
"Oh yeah?" Gerard tilted his head. "Show me what you've got… Roadrunner."
Hellracer vanished in a pillar of flame and reappeared behind him. His jaw unhinged, releasing a condensed blast of white-hot fire that ripped through the building and out the far wall.
Gerard blinked once.
"…Damn," he muttered. "You burned my cigar. Those things aren't cheap."
"Shut up, you walking depression model," Hellracer snapped.
He yanked a chain from the rubble. Flames surged along it, warping the metal into a living, spiked whip that tore across the floor toward Gerard.
Gerard caught it bare-handed.
The spikes shattered on impact.
He reached into his coat, drew a revolver, and leveled it at Hellracer's head.
The whip detonated into flaming shrapnel, shredding the room.
"Same old tricks," Gerard said.
The flames parted. Hellracer advanced, a blazing greatsword in hand.
Gerard clicked off the safety.
The first bullet shattered Hellracer's knee, sending him crashing to the ground. The second punched straight through his burning skull.
Hellracer went still.
"Get up, Roadrunner," Gerard said flatly. "That wasn't enough to hurt you. Stop playing dead. It's creepy."
Fire coiled around the corpse.
Hellracer was suddenly in front of him.
A flaming hand pressed into Gerard's abdomen.
"Bon voyage, mon ami."
A lance of condensed fire tore through Gerard's stomach, obliterating the wall behind him. His coat burned away. Hellracer pulled back, grinning at the smoking hole left behind.
"How's that?" he laughed. "Monster. Hole in one."
A white-gloved fist slammed into his face, sending him flying.
Gerard stood there, unharmed. The hole in his abdomen sealed itself as if it had never existed.
"Don't call me that," Gerard said quietly. "You hear me?"
Hellracer laughed, unhinged. "Oh, I really wonder who's going to win this one. Monster versus Roadrunner. Tune in next time!"
His flames surged.
"Anyway," Hellracer continued, voice echoing unnaturally, "now that our esteemed guest—the legendary hero Mr. Hex—has taken the bait, it's time for phase two."
The fire collapsed inward.
The world reshaped itself into a black chamber veined with molten light.
Gerard was alone.
A holographic screen ignited in front of him, Hellracer's burning grin filling the display.
"Now that the monster's contained," Hellracer crooned, "it's time for you to enjoy a live performance."
The feed switched.
Outside, the officers stood frozen as a pillar of fire erupted among them.
"Damn it," Gerard growled. "The beef's between us, Roadrunner. Leave them out of it."
"That name still irritates me," Hellracer said pleasantly. "Don't worry. Today, you'll witness the beginning of the end of the world you protect."
Flames roared louder.
"Today," Hellracer screamed, "I welcome you to hell!"
Gerard clenched his fists.
He knew what came next.
And he knew he had to break free—before the people outside saw what a real nightmare looked like.