He was floating in the night sky. Dark clouds shrouded the stars, yet the light of the moon persisted through the cracks to bathe the world below in its pale light.
He wore a white suit — tactical, modern, effective for stealth and espionage. A pale, featureless helmet that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight hid his face.
"01, status report," the voice of his commanding officer demanded.
"I am… on site." His reply was stoic, devoid of any emotion.
He looked down. Below him was a campsite filled with armed men, surrounded by military equipment, vehicles and war machines.
"State your mission." The voice said.
"Eliminate all enemy combatants. Retrieve Package. Leave no survivors. No witnesses."
This is what he trained for, what they prepared him for. This is what heroes do.
"Good. Commence Op." the voice commanded.
He lets himself fall.
He hit the camp like a meteor.
The impact ripped the ground apart. Explosions erupted outward in a violent ring, shredding tents, flipping vehicles, throwing bodies through the air like paper.
They screamed, panicked, and fired everything they had.
Bullets vanished on impact. Rockets detonated against him and became nothing. Heavy weapons screamed until their barrels glowed, until hands bled from recoil.
Nothing could stop him.
They struggled, cursed him and turned their war machines on him.
Fire and more explosions filled their camp.
They tried to flee in their vehicles.
They failed
They died.
He made them disappear, folded its existence into a single thought and pressed it into nothingness. No smoke, wreckage or evidence.
Only the wind.
Then he heard it.
Noise.
Not soldiers.
Smaller. Sharper. Shaking.
He turned.
Others had been hiding nearby.
Children.
Children holding weapons too big for their hands, eyes wide and wet with terror. Some raised their guns at him anyway, trembling so badly the barrels danced. Some older ones stepped in front of them, trying to shield them with their bodies
His hand lifted.
They stilled.
Among the children, one stood out: blond hair, blue eyes, a rosary hang loosely around her neck, a scar ran across her nose, wet eyes glared at him with hate.
For a moment she reminded him of the doctor when she was younger.
For a moment he wanted to stop. But then he remembered.
They were the bad guys.
He was the hero.
This is what heroes do.
The children shot first.
He waved his hand.
A whining sound pierced the air, and atoms separated.
The adults disappeared first.
Then the children.
Ghostly blue eyes still glared at him as he left.
He left with the package.
"Mission complete."
He hated his voice. It didn't sound like him.
He stood inside a sealed room a few hours later. Arms at his side, face forward, expression blank. Armed guards flanked him, and more armed guards stood outside guarding the metal corridor outside the door, bright lights glared at his pale skin as he watched the doctor in the white coat slam her hands onto his commander's desk.
"You can't just—" She snapped "You had no right to use him like that, General. Mathew wasn't ready for field op, and regardless of his readiness, your actions broke our agreement and were utterly barbaric."
She leaned forward, eyes burning.
"He isn't a tool you pull out of storage for a trial run. For God's sake, he's a child. Am I the only one who sees that?"
He watched her in silent fascination as the doctor berated his commander.
Her blond hair almost looked like it glowed—each strand lit by fury. Her blue eyes burned with an intensity that made the air feel hot.
His commander, the General, met her glare without flinching.
Hardened with scars, an eyepatch over one eye, he closed the open folder on his desk with slow, deliberate calm.
"12 minutes and 23 seconds," the General said.
The doctor blinked. "What?"
He ignored the doctor's question and continued. "It took him 12 minutes and 23 seconds. No civilian casualties. Clean and surgical. An entire base crawling with insurgents, armed to the teeth with weapons and equipment gone."
He leaned forward slightly, voice cold and measured. "That would've cost me a dent in my budget and a body count of my best men to take out efficiently… let alone run a retrieval op for stolen military-grade tech."
The General stood up to his full height, towering over the doctor with his lean yet muscular stature, dangerous in a quiet way.
"The only job you have is to keep him operating at his best. Mine is to point and shoot." His voice sharpened. "He is, whatever we need him to be, or have you forgotten what that 'child' is capable of?"
The doctor flinched under his stare… but she didn't back down.
"Oh, I'm well aware of Mathew's capabilities," she said, steady and venomous. "Are you?"
For a moment, the General held her gaze.
Then he sighed. The fire faded.
He sat back down, rubbed his temple with two fingers, and slid the file across the desk toward her.
The doctor picked up the file cautiously.
"Contingency Code: Blue? What is this?" she asked as she casually flipped through the pages then frowned.
"For now," the General said, "just an idea."
He paused, then added, quieter:
"Coincidentally… it may also be the only chance you have if you really plan on saving the kid."
The doctor's jaw tightened.
"They—" the general corrected himself then continued. "I will never let the kid go. You know why we can't."
His voice hardened again with resolve.
"However, under the right conditions… he can live a relatively normal life." He gestured toward the file once.
"And also be what we need him to be." He exhaled slowly. "It may not be the life you want for him. But hopefully… it will be enough."
The doctor didn't speak.
"This world is full of monsters," he said. "Aliens. God only knows what else. Like it or not, we need a smoking gun to keep them at bay… or put them down permanently."
His voice went flat.
"One that isn't an alien from space. One that isn't dressed in colorful tights and spandex or some warrior princess."
He hesitated, like the words tasted bitter.
"Unfortunately for you, that smoking gun just happened to be—" the General trailed off as he cast a stony gaze at him, almost as if he could not say his name.
"Mathew Bale," the doctor cut in, sharp. "His name is Mathew Bale."
The General's mouth tightened.
"I know."
He still didn't understand what they were talking about.
Not then.
Not fully.
He thought he'd passed their final test—that they'd let him out of the white room, let him play with the other kids, let him fly and fight with the real heroes.
He didn't understand any of this.
But he knew one thing for certain…
From that moment on, something about the doctor changed.
And when she pulled him out of that room by the arm…
Her hands were warm.
Oddly soothing.
***
Mathew floated above the snow, enjoying the peace that Mount Everest brought with it.
He often flew up here to enjoy his dinner or just some alone time. Pizza boxes and coke cans surrounded him, seemingly unaffected by gravity as they hovered around him weightlessly.
The moon shone brightly above him.
While eating pizza and listening to his favorite song, he glanced at it. He leaned back sharply, lifting his head to both admire and loathe his handy work on its surface.
There on the surface of the moon, shining with dark and blueish shadow, was a wide horizontal line that started on one edge of the moon to the other, the remnants of his fight against the Pale Man years ago.
A symbol of his greatest mistake.
Doesn't look too bad from this angle. Almost looks like the moon's smiling on me. Maybe I should just go up there and turn the line into an actual smile… Mathew mused.
Returning his focus to his phone, he moved his head rhythmically to the beat of his favorite song as his fingers scrolled through the latest chapter of the web-comic. A translucent shield formed a sphere around him, protecting him from the harsh, inhospitable environment.
There wasn't much for him to do these days aside from the usual calls he got from Cecil Stedman to handle villains and natural disasters here and there. He was okay with that, things were peaceful like this.
This was freedom.
He chuckled lightly as he chewed, finding something funny in the comic he was reading. An incoming caller ID made his phone buzzed unexpectedly.
Speak of the devil… The caller was Stedman.
"Goddamnit." He cursed before answered the call after quickly finishing the last slice of pizza. "What do ya want, Stedman?"
"Contingency Code Blue. Scenario 3." Cecil's voice was calm. Hauntingly Calm.
Argh! Cough! Cough! Cough!
The shock of Cecil's statement caused the teen to cough out the pizza he was chewing. He wiped the crumbs and spit off his lips and stood up. His hands squeezed the phone lightly.
"The Immortal's dead?" Mathew muttered, disbelief turning cold in his stomach.
His lips thinned. Damn. The hell could kill that ancient brute? His annoyance disappeared, and his face grew cold. Scenario three was a dead-man's switch tied to the Immortals' heartbeat. The Immortal's heart stopped beating, which also meant that something had happened to the Guardians of the Globe.
Never thought I'd live to see the day. Wonder how far they'll push this time…
Although Mathew detested the idea of being used as a weapon, he understood the necessity of it. It was part of the agreement he made in order to gain his freedom. He had long since acknowledged the fact that he was one of the GDA's most effective weapons against otherworldly threats to humanity.
He'd made his peace with the fact that, to the Global Defense Agency, he wasn't a hero first.
He was an option.
A last resort.
A living doomsday button with attitude problems.
"Location?" Mathew asked. A pulse of energy shot through him and out of him as he began to hover.
"Guardians Headquarters, Utah."
"Rules of engagement?" Mathew cracked his neck as he spoke. For him, Rules of Engagement weren't guidelines. They were limits—how much damage he was allowed to do, and how dangerous the target really was.
Delta meant city-level threats.
Omega meant planet-level extinction.
I'm built for both. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that...
"Recon and target assessment only. If engagement becomes necessary, then proceed with Engagement Code: Ciera. We don't have a grasp of the situation yet," Cecil's voice was as calm as ever.
Possible large city-level threat, huh…
Mathew exhaled through his nose. "ETA?"
"Five minutes after your arrival on site. How fast can you get there?"
Mathew closed eyes to calculate the distance. His psychic abilities were a lot more scientific that most people gave him credit for. In some odd way, physics calculations came naturally to him as breathing was to others.
Everest to Utah…
His spatial awareness constantly quantified the world around him, turning distance into numbers and numbers into certainty.
Remove friction, distance in a straight line is roughly 7,400 miles, in one minute, that's roughly… Mach 578… Shit, can't do that in this atmosphere… Atmosphere won't take it. Not at that speed. Mathew glanced back at the moon.
Then smirked. Free fall from space it is…
"I can make it in a minute. Watch for fireworks, I'll be dropping in from orbit."
"Alright." The call ended after that.
Mathew tucked his phone into his pocket before pulling a small high-tech earbud out and pushed it into his left ear.
"Time to go to work."
Mathew bent his knee as a translucent telekinetic barrier formed under his feet. His form flickered briefly— Boom!
A sonic boom shook the mountainside as he launched upward. The world blurred as he zoomed through the clouds.
Three more sonic booms echoed in rapid succession in the sky as he pushed himself to go even faster. His psychic barrier negated friction to a degree, allowing him to speed up as his momentum increased. A few second later, silence swallowed him whole.
Space. Gotta love the peace up here… Mathew twisted midair, flipped one, and angled himself downward.
Then he fell. The world rushed to meet him. Clouds parted as Utah went from destination to target.
The mountain that housed Guardian's Headquarters filled his vision.
Only one life signature pulsed in the mountain fortress.
Mathew's expression hardened. Recon and target assessment only, my ass. If something waxed the Guardians, it was strong—engagement inevitable…
Mathew knew the GDA would never allow him to go all out for obvious reasons, but he liked a challenge sometimes.
He hit the mountain like a bullet.
Boom!
Dirt and metal parted like tissue as he blasted through the side of it, tunneling inward in a violent line.
Debris followed him like a comet's trail.
He halted mid-air, hovering above the main hall. Smoke and dust churned around him. Then he snapped his fingers, and a telekinetic burst swept outward, clearing air in an instant. Wisps curled from his re-entry glow.
The hallway revealed itself.
Mathew's eyes widened. What the fuck?
Blood, lots of blood and guts, gore and brain matter. He would have vomited if he hadn't already gotten used to seeing things like this.
Something wet crunched beneath his boots as he lowered himself. He looked down. Is that a tooth? Damn…
Redrush had his head caved in, skull crushed as if it had been put through a hydraulic press set to max. Dark-wing looked like a used baseball bat with his twisted limbs, spewed out guts, and shattered cranium. The Green Ghost had a gaping hole in her head, and her body looked shredded, torn and crushed all at the same time. The Immortal was missing his head, and Warwoman's head was facing the wrong way.
What the hell happened here? This is disturbing, even for me.
Mathew once worshiped this people, but time and experience hollowed his childish naiveté. As he is now, he has nothing but respect for them. He wasn't close enough to any of them to mourn their loss. Mathew was sure they had more than enough people for that.
Their jobs implied danger, and eventually they all knew that they were gonna die at one point.
How or when was up to Lady Luck or if you're unlucky enough, Omniman's mood. At leasts that's how the jokes supposed to go…
In the center of all the carnage was Omniman. The world's strongest hero was on his knees. That said something, because very few beings could challenge the mighty Viltrumite in a contest of strength. A test of strength, he may have won from the looks of it.
He was after all, the only life signature here.
Mathew extended his psychic senses, and his awareness increased to cover the entire base, he had to secure the area first. He closed his eyes to better allow himself to process the information. Another small pulse of energy spread out of him as his sphere of influence increased to cover the whole mountain and then some.
There's nothing here. Did something just kill the Guardians and run? If that's the case I guess I can say I've seen it all…
There was no one else around here. Mathew couldn't sense anything else aside from Omniman. The entire base was empty, and apart from natural wildlife, flora, and fauna, there was nothing in the vicinity for miles.
Mathew felt a sudden burst of migraine. He shook it off effortlessly. No, there was definitely something here. Weird, it's here but not here at the same time… It was faint, but he could feel something stir, a force of some kind permeated the air around him as if to conceal secrets in plain sight. He tried to hone in on it but could not pinpoint the exact source of the disturbance. It's esoteric maybe, I don't think's there's any tech here that could mess with my senses like this.
"Blue." Cecil's voice cracked through his ears. "Blue. Report. What's happening over there?"
"You're gonna wanna see this yourself. No threat on site. Area secure, clear for entry. " Mathew lowered himself down in front of Omniman. He reached out and placed his hand Omniman's head to scan his body.
It was somewhat difficult to do since Viltrumite biology was naturally dense, and Omniman's innate ability to manipulate their center of gravity made it a little difficult for him to spread his energy throughout the Viltrumite's body. It's like pushing water through rock… He spread his psionic energy throughout Omniman's body, his skin, muscles, bones, and nerves. He couldn't go any deeper than that, or the Viltrumite's physiology would adapt to his energy and kick him out.
Some ridiculously sturdy stuff made up the Viltrumite's cells. Cracked ribs, friction burns, major blunt force trauma to the skull and chest, muscle tear…
Mathew noted a few more injuries; most of his major injuries stemmed from his chest area. His face was heavily bruised with dark patches of purple skin and swelling; he had a busted lip and a broken nose. Surprisingly, Omniman didn't suffer any fatal injuries, but his brain activity was spiking like crazy.
He's unresponsive, his brainwaves are a little hazy too… He let go of Omniman's head and glanced around the area. Is he in shock?
Or something worse. If I lost my whole team in front of me… I'd probably break too…
He blinked once.
Lucky for me, I work alone…
There was a flash of blue light, but he paid it no mind. He knew who it was.
"Jesus Christ. What the hell happened here?" Cecil walked up beside him as his team rushed through a metal door a few meters to his left.
"Check for pulse."
"Clear."
"Is that Green Ghost? Fuck that's brutal."
"Scan for vital signs."
Soon the halls were buzzing with activity as medical staff and security flooded the room, pulling out various high-tech devices and medical equipment.
Mathew turned to him, his gaze calm. Cecil looked as he always did in his blue suit, grey hair, and scarred face.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Mathew replied. He turned back to the scene and made his way over to Redrush.
Mathew took a knee, stretched his hand out, and placed his palm softly on Redrush's body. He closed his eyes and focused, digging into his mind in an attempt to decipher the history of his death. His hands glowed with a faint blue aura.
Mysterious whispers and faint murmurs resounded in his thoughts.
Darkness. Speed. Run. A blur. Too fast. Talisman burned. Rune. Conceal. Erase. NOTHING…WHITE!… I SEE YOU, CHILD… Pale moon. Star child. Eye of Horus. Nothingness. BEGONE!
Mathew pulled his hand back as if it burned. The strange concealing force was esoteric after all. Great, just great. It's goddamn magic. God, I hate magic. Cult of Athena, maybe? No, close though, symbolism matches, but this is too strong. Closest guess would be Sorcerer, the man is dead though… His eyes squinted as he stared at the dead body in confusion for a moment. He was attempting psychometry, one of his many abilities, but the results were less than comforting.
"What is it?" Cecil asked.
"Magic," Mathew said "Single use. Someone burned some sort of talisman here."
He exhaled.
"And before you ask—yeah. It was meant for me."
Cecil's jaw tightened.
Mathew rose to his feet. "It's a concealment spell. Shrouded. Stolen. Hard to tell."
He glanced around at the massacre again.
"But it's designed to block esoteric reads—psychic reads. Anything supernatural."
He pointed at the air like the answer was written there.
"Whoever did this knew I'd respond first. They came prepared."
Cecil looked like he wanted to punch a wall.
"I'm thinking Sorcerer…" Mathew tilted his head in thought. "But that guy is already dead. Check your vaults. A page from his Grimoire was used here. The 'history' here is 'shrouded' or rather 'stolen'? Seriously, can't tell with all this magic mambo jumbo. "
"And I'm assuming security footage got scrubbed too." Mathew tilted his head curiously and observed his hand. He clenched and unclenched his fist, rubbing his thumb and pointer together, weirdly fascinated with the blood on his fingers. "Some higher being is concealing the shit that went down here. Good news, it's only temporary. Bad news, for the next year, no one's finding out what happened in the last twenty-four hours through psychic means. Or rituals. Or whatever other magical crap people use when they don't feel like doing detective work."
Unless you have a couple of hundred years of lifespan to trade, or you wanna go through a sacrificial pagan ritual to open a portal to some self-proclaimed god's domain and fight or bargain your soul for info that is."
Cecil's eyes narrowed. "So what do we have?"
Mathew nodded toward Omni-Man.
"Him."
Cecil breathed out slow, heavy.
"Goddamn it." Cecil cursed. He suddenly looked old, way older than he already looked. Only for a moment, and it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with steel.
"Alright," Cecil said. "Follow the team to the med bay. Stay close to Omni-Man. Nothing gets near him without my say-so."
Mathew shrugged. "Sounds like guard duty."
"There's a chance whoever did this comes back to finish the job. I'm authorizing Engagement Code: Alpha if anything shows up."
Mathew blinked. "Alpha? That's a little extreme."
Cecil didn't smile. "Do it anyway."
Mathew lifted both hands slightly. "Hey. You sign the checks."
The medical team moved with practiced speed, securing Nolan's body and rushing him out.
Mathew floated behind them.
Guess I'm stuck babysitting Omniman…
***
This place hasn't changed much since the last time he was here. Bright lights, metal corridors, armed guards, white coats. Home sweet home…
He trudged through the metal corridor with one hand in his pocket and the other holding on to a half-eaten packet of chips.
Thank god for free vending machines, 18 hours with no food is no joke…
Since their arrival thirty-eight hours ago, there hasn't been much he could do. Omniman was resting in a secure recovery room, pumped full of drugs to boost his healing factor.
Mathew wouldn't have been surprised if Nolan healed fully within a week. Alien physiology sure has its perks…
A set of dense metallic doors slid open with a hiss as Mathew walked into the secure room. He paused for a moment.
There's someone else here…Korean, average height, slim but athletic frame, black hair, brown eyes. Deborah Grayson. She's still here…
Cecil had told him that Omniman's family was coming, so he left the room a few hours ago to stretch his legs and get something to eat. He figured they would have left by now, but it turns out he was wrong.
Deborah Grayson placed a trembling hand over the reinforced glass that separated her from her husband, her eyes red from crying, and the long sleeves of her green shirt were stained with what Mathew guessed were tears.
"Mrs. Grayson," Mathew said softly.
Deborah flinched, startled, like she'd been trapped too deep in her own thoughts to notice the world.
She looked at him with wet eyes.
Mathew kept his voice gentle—not warm, but respectful.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you."
He gestured to himself. "I'm Mathew Bale. Cecil probably briefed you. I'm your husband's security detail until he recovers."
Deborah blinked hard and wiped at her face quickly, trying to pull herself together.
"Oh…" Her voice cracked. "R-right."
Mathew shifted awkwardly.
Everything he knew about her came from GDA files and Cecil's debriefs. He'd worked alongside Omni-Man before, but this was the first time they'd officially met.
He cleared his throat. "I'll just wait outside."
Deborah shook her head. "No… it's alright."
She sniffed.
"You're younger than I thought you'd be."
Mathew gave a tired half-smile. "I get that a lot."
He stepped farther into the room as the doors sealed behind him. Shoved his chips into the pocket of his hood and awkwardly stood a few feet from her. His gaze lingered on Omniman as Deborah took a moment to gather herself.
Would anyone cry for me if something like this happened to me? Maybe Doc would. Nah. She'd probably dissect my corpse if she got the chance. Take it in, Mat, this is what a loving family member looks like…
"They said he'll recover," Mathew wasn't very good at comforting others, he was painfully aware of that, but he tried, anyway. "Give it a few days. The GDA has the best tech on Earth and then some, they managed a stitch Cecil back together so… and he's Omni-Man."
Deborah chuckled lightly. Her posture straightened slightly, like she were forcing strength into her spine.
"I know," she whispered. "I've seen him endure worse."
Her voice tightened.
"But… I'll still worry about him."
She turned her gaze back to her husband. "He may be the strongest hero to the world, but he's still my husband."
She swallowed.
"Did Cecil find out anything? About what happened?"
"They're still looking into it. Right now, the whole thing is a mystery. If we're lucky, I'll be sure to nuke em for you, Omniman's one of—" Mathew paused as his ear-piece beeped, indicating that a call was connecting.
Incoming call.
Cecil.
Of course. Speak of the devil…
"Blue. I need you." Cecil's voice echoed through his ears. Mathew let out an exasperated sigh.
Deborah looked at him, confused.
Mathew straightened. "Apologies, Mrs. Grayson. Duty calls." He nodded respectfully and turned to leave.
Deborah watched him go without speaking.
When the doors slid shut behind him, she turned back toward the glass.
Back to her husband.
Mathew stepped into the corridor and muttered, "I thought I was on guard duty."
"You Were. New mission. The portal invasion is getting out of hand. Get over there now," Cecil finished.
Mathew rubbed his face. "Roger. Be there in five."
Work time.
***Chapter End***