Surprise

Surprise at Cowboy's going away conference...

Parahumans are humans who have undergone a traumatic experience (known as a “trigger event”) and awakened with superpowers. The slang/colloquial term for parahumans is “cape”, which is typically (but not always) used to refer to people who wear costumes, but may refer to Rogues.

Thats the Union approved definition of parahumans, and is surprisingly classified. The logic behind it being classified is that the authority worries if citizens were to know what causes the manifestation of powers, they will try to replicate these scenarios. I don’t really understand the science of my powers, and I don’t think we will ever fully understand powers as a whole, at least within my lifetime or the foreseeable future. Personally, I think we should tell the masses and let Darwin’s theory work its magic.

If you ask me, I think that the whole label of parahumans as a different species is a problem. I think it causes unnecessary conflict by sowing the field for ideologies rooted in the “us” versus “them” mentality. Regardless of society’s general acceptance of parahumans, good or bad, as a fixture in day to day life; I think it is only a delicate illusion that can dissipate at any moment.

Lazarus and Angel.

I have never taken the time to read the entirety of their profiles in the Union database, but I’ve had enough run-ins with them to know their powers and how they operate.

Lazarus, a bio-tinker, is able to manipulate and reanimate dead organic material to unprecedented extremes. One of his most notable creations was an unassuming 90-year old lady crossed with venom sacks from a dead King Cobra. With his abomination he was able to assassinate the mayor of Steelport, thus triggering its fall into chaos.

Angel, a parahuman whose power physically altered himself to represent the traditional Catholic idea of an Angel. I don’t know what his full arsenal of abilities are, but his most prevalent are flight, the ability to influence regular humans, and, most noteworthy, his ability to resurrect those loyal to him. I’m not entirely sure how his last one works. F**k it, just means I have to use more ammunition. 

Enough about philosophy and contemplation, time to act.

“So nice of you not to die so soon Cowboy! I was hoping that we would be able to have a few words before killing you.” Angel’s voice mocked me as I stepped out from the rubble that was the stage. It’s odd, but his voice has a heavenly tone to it, like wind-chimes being gently teased in a summer breeze.

I drew my gun, with the sights directing my eyes to Angel’s, “I’m flattered that you two decided to come see me for my send off. I don’t remember sending you guys invites, and I don’t think we are close enough for you two to drop in uninvited. So, I think it’s a good idea if you two come with me, or just f**k off out of here.”

I closed the gap between myself and Angel by a few steps, “If you decide to come with me it can be in handcuffs or a body bag, your choice.”

Angel countered by rising up in the air, my sights were still on him, but I could see his feet dangling out the corners of my eyes.

Lazarus, who had previously been sitting on the ground, stood up and dusted off his pristine white medical coat, “Now, now Cowboy, calm down. It will all be over shortly, but I’d like to take this moment to-”

An ominous crack of gunfire rang in the air, and not a moment later, Lazarus’s head was no longer attached to his body. Blood spewed forth from where his head once was. My instincts kicked in, and I dove behind some nearby rubble for cover.

I opened the com line with Bump, “SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!”

No response.

Only static, hopefully he heard.

What remained of his head was a varied assortment of flesh and bone mush clinging to the environment. I could see some bits and pieces of Lazarus had made its way onto Angel’s feet, dripping slowly back to what remained of Lazarus below.

“Nice shot!” Angel’s mocking voice chimed again.

F**k this guy!

Without thought, my body moved from its will alone. I popped up from cover and lined Angel’s chest in my sights, and began to charge in for a follow-up.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I didn’t even register my finger pulling the trigger, but I sensed the three bullets that I shot.

I never know how to explain to those with or without powers, what it’s like being able to perceive the world through a bullet, let alone what it is like controlling said bullet. The best explanation I can give is that it’s almost as if I become the bullet, without sacrificing control of myself. If I miss my shot, no worries. I can always make sure my bullets hit their mark.

I’m able to see, hear, smell, and, surprisingly, feel through the bullets that I shoot. I’m able to see the faces of those that are about to receive a bullet straight to the face. I can hear their dying breath, and smell their death emissions as the bullet is lodged inside of them. I can feel the anxiety of my bullets sitting in the magazine, awaiting to be fired at my enemies. During these sensations I enter into a trance that is equitable to bullet time in some sort of video game.

The first shot whistled right into Angel’s abdomen, creating a small flesh wound and producing a small trickle of blood.

My second shot was destined for his shoulder, but I willed the bullet to abandon a straight path in favor of a curved trajectory. I saw skin and muscle break, and felt the bone splinter as the bullet lodged itself deep.

The third bullet was making its way around Angel’s back in order to clip a wing.

Before the bullet could hit, Angel dashed forward towards me. His fist aimed straight for my face.

I waited as long as I could before jumping to the side, popping off a few more shots as I did. Angel flew by me, missing completely with a few bullets hounding behind him. 

I weaved my four bullets towards Angel as he began preparing for another attack, unfortunately there wasn’t much cover around me except for the sole roadblock I was stationed behind earlier. 

Looks like I’m the matador and Angel is the bull. 

Two of my four shots found their way into his rib cage as he began his second attack. An orange blast illuminated the sky behind Angel. I can no longer feel my other two bullets, he probably destroyed them with his blast.

Toro m**********r!

Angel was accelerating towards me with no signs of slowing down. As he got closer, an orange hue began to emit from him. 

With no other viable option, I turned and began to run. Shooting more shots off and directing them at his f*****g head until I heard the gun click.

“THOSE WON’T DO ANYTHING, COWBOY!” 

I ordered the bullets to follow single file behind each other to make sure they dented his f*****g skull. Except, each bullet was disintegrated upon entering the orange aura around him. With the destruction of the first bullet, my body began to burn. Each subsequent bullet that hit, the burning sensation worsened.

I fired ten shots in total, and upon the final bullet coming into contact with the Orange, my legs refused to move further. Darkness came as my head slammed into the pavement.

XXX

Now is not the time to die Cowboy. You must return to the light and continue to fight. Never accept defeat. Keep fighting. Never stop. Keep fighting until your final breath.

XXX

A soft breeze caressed my face, trying to lead me back to awareness. The harmonic ringing of windchimes awoke me to the sun above, which seemed a lot closer than before, “Wake up Cowboy.”

“Angel!?” I could feel Angel’s hand digging his fingers into my head to hold me up. The pressure from his fingertips could cause it to rupture at any time. I can’t feel the ground beneath my feet. 

Great.

Before I blacked out, the sky was filled with clouds obstructing the sun, but now the sun is shining the brightest I have ever seen. The warmth is comfortable, despite the circumstances; I’d say it is therapeutic. 

“Cowboy, I’m going to miss being at odds with you. After you're dead, I don’t think there will be anyone with the same sort of flair as you. It’s a shame that I have to kill you. If things were different I imagine you and I would have been great friends.”

“Doubtful.” My hands flew all over my body looking for a weapon, any weapon at all. F**k! All my holsters are empty!

No other option. My hands made their way to bind Angel’s hands. I felt my finger tips puncturing his skin, tearing muscle and pinching his veins. Yet, his grip didn’t falter. He didn’t even seem to notice it.

“How pitiful. The great Cowboy can’t do anything without his silly guns,” Angel’s hand spazzed about, my body unwillingly followed as he jerked it. “Wouldn’t it be amusing if those fans of yours were able to watch your death live?”

Is this the end? If I am going to die, then I am doing it my way.

 “F**k you.” Despite my nerves pulsating with the burning sensation of despair, my words came off cold and collected.

“Now how do we get this mask off of you?” Even though I couldn’t see, Angel’s body motion signaled that he was reaching for his phone. He began to gently massage the base of my mask with his thumb, “I think it would be most divine if your fans got to see the face under the mask! Don’t you?”

Power moves only.

“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - 004 X-Ray!” My mask’s locks released from my armor. Gravity took me, while my helmet remained in Angel’s grasp.

No parachute. No viable option at the moment. No f***s given.

Despite my profession, and general gung-ho demeanor when dealing with adversaries, I am not that much of an adrenaline junkie. The thought of jumping out of a plane never appealed to me. By no means am I afraid of heights, but I prefer being within safe jumping distance from the ground. 

As if I were on a loop-de-loop on a roller coaster, I began my fall. My arms flailed aimlessly about the open air, making vain attempts to grab anything to stop my drop, or at least slow me down. My legs were of no better use. Kicking nothing but air.

Even though my rotating body and vision induced extreme nausea, I was able to catch a glimpse of Angel with my mask in hand, covered in his orange hue, accelerating towards me.

Just a little closer.

Angel was now within range of a kill shot, but not today. Today he dies, not me. My fists and feet punched outward in unison, rendering my body to an X formation. Wind bombarded my face, reminding me of how fucked I really was. 

Angel zoomed by. He didn’t even consider that I might try something like that. His orange hue now began to glow red. When he stopped the red glow disappeared, but by the time he turned to face me it glowed again. 

Time slowed to a crawl as Angel and I locked eye contact. He saw my face, and I saw his. I hope he remembers me, the man who killed him. I managed to make out the individual airstreams as they ran their course.

In this moment before his death, I finally realized just how monstrous Angel was. Perfect smile and jaw line, piercing sky-blue eyes, and luscious golden locks. What most would consider the perfect man, as if he were truly created by God himself. If there was a God who did create Angel to embody him on Earth, he must be a f*****g b*****d. How dare Angel bastardized the religions of the world.

Despite time moving like molasses, the red glow began to blink in faster intervals.

Angel’s perfect face and smile were contorted into an expression of absolute anger. Teeth bared, nostrils flared, and his eyes wide open. He had no clue what was about to happen.

Looking into Angel’s blue eyes, I drove my left middle finger upward while bringing my right hand down on my bicep, “SURPRISE FUC-”

Angel looked at my mask as it flashed red one last time, before exploding in his hand.