Riekah

“Remember,” the man next to him says. “Be careful. They’re the strongest you’ve ever faced. You have to pick them off one by one. Attack, retreat. Evade their vision. Use the walls.”

Riekah nods silently. It’s not the first time the other has told him this. But he also knows how important it is. He’s strong. Both of them are. But you don’t just take out the elite of superheroes. Fortunately, they’re far from their peak strength. They’ve already lost Zeus, the biggest threat. Riekah can take the rest. Or rather, the monster can. The monster that shares this body with him.

“Take position,” the other man says. “Wait for the lights to turn off. Retreat if they don’t, we’ll find an other opportunity.”

He nods again. They’ve been over this.

The man pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Riekah shrugs. “I don’t need luck.”

And it’s true. They’ve never dealt with something like him before. The only variable in this is his own control over the monster. The rest… execution like the press of a button.

The man grins at him, mock-salutes, and leaves him. Riekah doesn’t wait for him to disappear at the other end of the parking lot. Instead, he makes his way to the abandoned warehouse the heroes are due to search.

Really, he doesn’t understand how they can be this stupid. They know their best man ran into a trap and they don’t expect the same to happen to them?

No, the mistake lies with administration. They have to somehow cover up the fact that they’re losing wielders left and right, find an achievement to present to the public. A cover-up.

With the ease of experience, he fades through the wall – doesn’t even have to slow his stride. The lights are turned on inside the warehouse. He can see stacks upon stacks of boxes, walls to a labyrinth. Won’t keep them from seeing him – they’ll have infrared goggles. But that’ll only make them come in further and they won’t shoot immediately.

With a sigh, he sits at the far end of the warehouse and leans against one of the boxes. Then he waits. What’s a few minutes more, compared to all these years? Years spent in hiding. Years spent running. Constantly hoping towns, never sure whether the next night would have a bed or food. Oh, the times he had to rummage through dumpsters, only to be chased away by security or angry homeowners. And not a single time he could fight back. Because he knew that would only make it worse.

But now it’s finally time to stop running. Finally, he can fight back. The revolution has come. And if they want it to be successful, he first has to take out their strongest weapons.

The sound of the gate sliding open snaps him back into his body. Calm, measured breaths.

A voice. “Show yourself!”

They know he’s there, but he doesn’t move. He closes his eyes.

Steps.

“Show yourself!” again, the voice calls. But there’s no panic, not even a hint of aggression more than the first time around.

That is how you know you’re dealing with professionals.

Won’t help them, unfortunately, he thinks and almost feels sympathy. The monster will take them. It’s something he likes to do. Dissociate. Even though it’s not really a different person living inside him. But the instincts that come with his powers change him, turn him into something close enough to a different person.

But then the lights turn off and the sound of the door slamming shut reverberates through the open air above the boxes, and he lets the monster take over.

Hunger.

A shiver of anticipation as his arms stretch. As skin grows taught with wiry muscles. Nails turn thick and long and sharp. Teeth grow.

Another shout. Still, no panic.

Steps closing in.

He breathes in and fades into the floor. He loves this part, their confusion as he disappears. Like a deep sea predator, he swims through the concrete underneath his targets, closes in on the first one. The one with the shields. He knows he only has a single try. Then the impenetrable shields will also cover the floor.

What luck he won’t need more.

His muscles tense, then he leaps. Out of the ground and right at the guy. Before the man can even make a sound, Riekah is on his back and his teeth draw blood.

For a split second, instinct threatens to take over.

Time slows. He feels the warmth of the body beneath him, savours the taste of blood on his tongue.

Then he’s back in control. Pulls back his head. Tears out a chunk of muscle and sinew and artery. Feels blood splatter on him. He spits and drops and disappears into the ground as gunshots shatter the silence.

They’re fast. One of the bullets hit him in the thigh.

Voices above him.

“He’s in the floor,” the man says, voice tense.

They don’t bother checking on their mate. They know it’s no use.

“Gain altitude,” the woman replies. “Follow protocol.”

Then he’s in position, leaps out at the woman. His claws slash at her, but she’s fast enough to narrowly dodge a lethal wound. He missed.

No matter. The momentum carries him into one of the many shelves and he hits the floor, but it takes only milliseconds before his hands and feet find purchase and he leaps at her again, this time with outstretched arms. She doesn’t stand a chance. A shard of ice narrowly misses his neck because he rotates mid-flight, then they collide and he’s on her, buries his claws in her stomach.

He doesn’t get deep, though.

A heavy body collides with his and together they roll over the floor as the sharp blade of a military knife methodically finds its way into his stomach again and again.

He really overestimated their will to live. Even now, running is the only chance they have. Not that that would do them any good. And this guy is the best he’s ever encountered. Hard to latch on to.

“Run!” the man shouts. “I’ll hold him off.”

It’s only a second the guy isn’t completely focused on their fight. All Riekah needs. He kicks out with his right foot and as the soldier below him gasps ever so slightly, Riekah leans into the knife and takes his throat.

What a pity. The guy had talent. What was his name? Viktor? He’ll make sure to remember his first worthy opponent.

He looks up. Shouldn’t the other have tried to take him out by now? The ice woman? He has to catch her quickly. His wounds will heal, but right now they slow him considerably. He can’t afford to let her get out of range.

There’s a sound to his left and he turns, red eyes searching the dark. But the movement he sees isn’t that of a frail human body. It’s a whole wall collapsing upon him.

Without missing a beat, he fades into the floor, swims as quickly as he can, but he knows it’s too late. In the ground he’s even slower and by the time he surfaces again, an ice ramp leads to a broken window above the gate and the warehouse lies abandoned.

A scream of rage tears through the night. He failed.

He finds the other man several hours later, at the top of a construction site, overlooking the city.

The bleeding has already stopped. That always happens quickly. But it won’t stop hurting for days to come.

“What happened?” his partner asks.

“The soldier,” Riekah says. “Stabbed me about ten times. Then the woman threw a shelf of boxes at me and ran.” He’s never seen the point in excuses.

The man next to him nods slowly. “So only Elsa survived?” He leans forwards and props his arms against the railing. Looks out at the scenic view of city lights below them.

Riekah doesn’t. He’s uncomfortable up here, feels exposed.

“Yes, I made sure the others were dead.”

Another nod, more decisive this time. “That’ll have to do. The plan continues. We wait until you’re recovered and as soon as the last piece has fallen into place-” he turns to face Riekah and his smile seems almost casual as he says, “we go to war.”

SeptemberMorgan

Huh? What was that about Buckler becoming some sorta major antagonist later on?
Honestly, one of the biggest reasons why writing Your Superhero is so much fun to me is because I get to play around with different narrative voices so much. Writing Riekah was A LOT of fun :)))