“This
is Kevin Tate, reporting live from inside of Kings Row. Deep inside
enemy territory, this reporter is now standing center stage, within
the ranks of the Ghost army. All around me, desolation and destruction,
and only through sheer luck was I able to be escorted here to talk
with the man responsible for the massacre.” The young reporter was
holding his ear speaker with his right hand, while the microphone
sat in his left. He was young to the reporting profession, and had
found a job as a field reporter in the most infamous tabloid TV station
of the city. He knew this was only the starting point of his career,
and bigger things would come his way, someday. But for now, him and
the camera operator were the only reporters inside the perimeter,
and that meant that every television broadcaster had bought the signal
off from his station, and were now broadcasting him all over the country.
Kevin Tate would now be a household name, and fame and fortune usually
followed closely any reporter who got his fifteen seconds of fame.
“In a few seconds, I will introduce to the world the man behind the
invasion of Kings Row, who graciously accepted to be interviewed by
yours truly, on this night.” He tried speaking calmly and to pronounce
every word right, doing his best to sound like an old reporter, who
had seen it all, done it all, said it all. They were standing in the
heart of the enemy force, right in front of the police headquarters
building, standing below the dedication to Atlas statue. On the perfect
circle granite design on which was engraved Atlas with the planet
earth on its back, you could read : Paragon City, Birthplace of Tomorrow,
1823.
“So, without further a due, ladies and gentlemen, meet General
Ghost Starr.” And with this last, the camera panned backwards to broadcast
the image of the young reporter and, that of Ghost Starr. Tall and
muscular, with raven black hair and a trimmed beard, dressed in a
red and black battle suit with a red cape, he looked the part of an
evil entity.
“Ghost Starr, in your own words, tell the world what
it is you are doing here, why did you come to Kings Row, why all the
blood shed?” Kevin directed the microphone towards Ghost Starr. The
Circle of Thorns leader looked at it for a second, more out of wonder
than anything else, he was unfamiliar with technology.
“We are summoning
the master.” He answered in a deep voice while his fiery red eyes
looked straight at the camera.
“What does this summoning require exactly,
can you tell us?” Went on the reporter, as he was looking at something
happening behind the camera.
“Twelve thousand souls must be gathered,
and we are now close, five hundred and two souls left to gather.”
Replied Ghost Starr, while the image of the camera suddenly shook
then fell to the side, as if the operator had dropped it. Then it
was picked up again, and the image returned to its formal position.
Kevin Tate, the reporter wasn’t looking at Ghost Starr anymore. He
was looking at this camera operator trying to run away from the acolytes
that were chasing him with crescent moon swords. The image that was
broadcasted then, showed the operator being wrestled to the ground
by the acolytes, where he tried to struggle free. He was hit once
by a sword, which sent his feet kicking, and the sound of a painful
yelp was heard. They hit him, this time, three blades carved him in
unison, and blood flew red on the ground in front of the Atlas Medallion
statue. Kevin went pale, microphone hand shaking as he suddenly understood
that Ghost Starr didn’t need him at all, only the broadcasting equipment.
Ghost Starr took the microphone away from him, in a rough gesture
that made sounds on every TV across the continent.
Kevin started to
run for his life, away from the police station, and the camera followed
in on him. It showed the young reporter fleeing down the street, chased
by ghosts and acolytes. They caught up to him, and the acolytes held
him up above the ground, arms stretched, chest exposed. One of the
ghosts started to claw at his chest, fleshing the skin away, exposing
the rib cage and the top of his belly. Kevin screamed in agony, pleading
mercy, but the ghost went on. Fifteen seconds went on, where the reporter
screamed and yelled in agony, while the ghosts fed themselves on his
internal organs, fifteen seconds of pure pain before Kevin Tate died
in front of millions of people that were glued to their TV screen,
looking at the grim spectacle, hypnotized by the surreal scene. Then,
the camera turned around and resumed its view of Ghost Starr, holding
the microphone and looking directly at the lens.
“Now five hundred
souls… We’re coming.” Spoke the general of the Ghost army, then the
image went blank. Kevin Tate had gotten his fifteen seconds of fame.
“Hang on, they will not pass… I will not fail them… They must not
pass…”
Control kept repeating these words in his head, as he was exerting
himself with all powers to hold at bay more than a thousand front
line troops heading straight for the barricade. Beads of sweat and
veins were throbbing on his forehead, as he looked on into the enemy
ranks. Compared to the previous charges of the Ghost Army, this one
was different, more aggressive and there was certainly more troops
coming for the heroes. It’s as if Ghost Starr had withheld them, in
order to keep a part of his army fresh and ready for a later use.
Regardless, the battalion of controllers, led by Control would hold
true and fast. Already, they had began the summoning for the most
terrible storm Paragon city had seen in a century, he could feel the
energy of it coming closer, a few more minutes, and the thunder and
the rain, the lighting and the wind would come crashing down on the
Ghost Army. Just a few more precious hundreds of seconds, during which
the controllers needed to stay alive, and more importantly stay conscious
to perform their task. Already some of them, the younger ones, were
passing out from the exertion. And the unlucky ones were dragged away
by the Demon Lords screaming, knowing that their deaths would come
faster than help would. Some had began to fall back some more, making
ready to run for their lives, and Control had to take the foremost
position on the barricade, in an attempt to inspire them.
Standing
there, at the front of the barricade, on the roof of an old Buick,
he could see the entire battle scene taking place ahead. The tankers
and the scrappers were overwhelmed, surrounded on all sides, they
fought on with desperation and fear. The Ghost Army used a tactic
of isolation, and moved into the ground fighting ranks of the heroes,
outnumbering one fighter at a time. Mase Lokrin and the defenders
were hard pressed to teleport the injured back to safety, healing
them just enough to send them back into more pain and suffering. Endurance
and power were running low, everyone was on the brink of collapse,
but the Ghost Army kept coming.
“Hold them!” Control screamed once
more as he looked up to the darkened sky. A few more seconds and the
storm would begin. In the distance, he could see Ghost Starr pulling
his sword out of yet, another fallen hero, another friend that would
not see the sunrise. Anger and sadness washed over him all at once,
what will it take to stop them, he asked himself, as he heard the
sound of an injured scrapper porting behind him, screaming in pain
and holding the stump of his left arm, which had been cut clean at
the elbow. Chromium Man was yelling orders, while Electrobolt and
the blasters were moving forward from the tunnel, to come and stand
at the edge of the barricade.
“Prepare for hand to hand combat!” Chromium
Man had tried his very best to lead the troops, since Cavalier had
left. Now that the chips were down, and that all was at stake, he
knew that the Ghostbuster Army was facing defeat now, more than ever.
There were simply too many Circle of Thorns, and so few heroes to
oppose them. The rumbling of thunder made its appearance, accompanied
by a soft falling rain. At the same time, a huge fireball projectile
coming from one of the rooftops to the east, came straight at Control’s
position.
“This is the end.” Control clenched his teeth, making ready
for the impact, as he sent another crowd controlling hold into the
thousands of Circle of Thorns troops, running for the barricade one
hundred meters ahead of him. The fireball hit the ground right behind
him, exploding and sending flames in all directions for ten feet.
Control was sent flying from the barricade, wind knocked out and cape
in flames. He landed on the ground and slid like a rag doll, about
to pass out, his last thoughts were cursing Ghost Starr to a thousand
deaths, while he felt the flames begin to burn through his battle
armour.
Right after the fireball hit the barricade, the first of hundreds
of lightning hit the ground, and a wall of rain began to fall. So
much rain and wind there was, that it was difficult to see in front
of you. The storm began, just in time to douse the flames that were
burning Control and the others that were hit by the fireball. The
lightings were striking into the ranks of the enemy, sending them
flying into the air, killing many without regard. Even heroes were
not spared by this, but it had been a last ditch effort to stop the
Ghost Army, and Control and Chromium Man had decided on this plan
if things turned for the worst. Forces of nature were now unleashed
on their position, and nothing could stop it now, it would run its
course until the end.
Mase Lokrin was beginning to feel the toll on
his endurance, even with all the radiant auras that were cast, there
was just too much damage taken too fast by the heroic army. He looked
around for another injured to teleport back to safety, seeing the
barricade about to be overran, the blasters fighting hand to hand,
drained controllers using whatever they could lay their hands on to
fight. But, so much rain fell that he couldn’t see well who needed
help, couldn’t discern friend from foe. Looking for Chromium Man,
he walked forward to the barricade, and stood on the same Buick Control
had used. When he saw him lying on the ground a few feet to the front,
he stepped down and ran to him, hoping he wasn’t too late.
“God dammit
Control, didn’t I tell you not to play with matches.” He said to the
powerful controller, as he healed him by absorbing his pain. Right
away Mase felt the searing sensation of the injuries that were transferred
from Control to his body. His face went pale, some dizziness accompanied
the transfer. Control opened his eyes, to see Mase looking down at
him, smiling weakly.
“God dammit Mase, didn’t I tell not play with
controllers” He told the old defender, as he started to sit up, while
assessing his situation.
Then, Control vanished, teleported away.
Mase looked behind at the barricade, but Control wasn’t there, he
looked ahead and saw the familiar flash of a teleportation through
the wall of rain. Mase ported himself in that direction, uncertain
what was going on. He appeared next to Hammerhand the tank, who was
lying on the ground, bleeding from a huge cut to the chest. Using
a heal, he patched him up then teleported him into the bus stop shelter
to the left of the boulevard. Searching ahead for Control, his eyes
finally found him.
“NO!” Mase screamed as he teleported for his friend.
Control was held limp in the hand of Ghost Starr, who must’ve used
teleportation, to snatch him away from the old defender. The dark
blade was raised high in the sky, and lighting struck it as Ghost
Starr was about to bring it down. The electric shock held the Ghost
Army General’s hand long enough for Mase to appear next to them. Using
his electric blasting abilities, Mase sent a surge into Ghost Starr
that freed Control from his grasp.
Putting himself between them, Mase
knelt and held Control, then looked towards the barricade to locate
his next teleportation location. So much rain, that he had to look
harder, to get the right position in his mind’s eye. Behind him, he
heard Ghost Starr roar, but he didn’t look at the General, already
he was activating his travel power.
Mase reappeared on the other side
of the barricade, holding Control in his arms, and the troops there
cheered him up. He stood there, not saying anything, looking into
the Independence Port tunnel. Then, he fell to his knees, and Control
slid from his arms to land on the ground. Mase still looked ahead,
at a streak of light coming from the bend of the tunnel, coming towards
the barricade. Mastema Reign, who was the closest defender present
there, proceeded to heal Control who remained knocked out. Mase fell
on his side, and Mastema looked on him with worried eyes.
“Cavalier!”
Screamed one the soldiers that happened to be looking at the tunnel.
“Cavalier’s back!”
All eyes turned to look upon the sight of the scrapper
returning to the battle. All eyes but those of Mastema Reign, who
was now bending down on Mase Lokrin, who had become pale. She turned
him over, and comprehension hit her face. A deep gash, about two inches
deep, ran across his back from left to right. Blood had been flowing
free from it, and Mase was now too weak, from power exertion to heal
himself.
Cavalier jumped over the sand bags that had been put there
so the blasters could have a higher point of view, when they fired
into the ranks, and landed next to Mastema. The sword in his hand
glinted, his eyes were cold and hard. He knelt next to her, and looked
on at Mase Lokrin, one of the best defenders Paragon had known. Using
his fingers to feel for a pulse, he felt it weak and unsteady. But
Cavalier hadn’t come back to mourn a friend or to wallow in sorrow.
He was here for a purpose, a renewed sense of duty and faith were
now present in his soul. This time, he wouldn’t fail anyone, not himself
and certainly not his friends.
“You keep alive, Mastema.” He told
her in a steely voice, as he stood and walked forward for the barricade.
The tip of his sword raised sparks from the asphalt as he moved. The
troops at the barricade were cheering him on, but he didn’t notice,
some were waving hands and nodding heads in approval, but he didn’t
see them. His eyes were intent on a point in the distance, a sensation
calling him over the barricade, like metal to a magnet. He walked
slowly without being challenged by anyone, at times he swung his sword
and cut through an enemy that dared to stand between him and his target.
As he moved ahead, the Ghost Army started to fall back. Lightning
seemed to help him along, ploughing down on the Circle of Thorns and
sending them back towards the intersection, a little before they would
have to jump down and fall back into the Gish district. The tide had
turned, the missing element that was needed to save the day had finally
come, in the form of Cavalier. Steady and true, he stopped one hundred
meters from the intersection, sword and man making one, he looked
at the Ghost Army, looked directly into Ghost Starr’s eyes. He cracked
his neck and loosened his shoulders, looked down at his blade and
made a circular motion to train it back down on the ground, using
the Dauvignac variant, then said :
“Who’s first?”