Lazarus stared at the old witch, who was noisily eating a plate of bacon and eggs. Eun sat nearby, a frown on his handsome face. He didn’t care for the relatively nice treatment afforded to their prisoners but he had learned to hold his tongue about such matters. Lazarus was not a cruel man, though he could be a stern one, and he had long ago decided that their prisoners would be treated as human beings.
“We know your name,” Lazarus said, eliciting a grunt from the witch. “Greta Von Michaels. Born a gypsy, immigrated to the United States about four years ago. Since then, you’ve mostly vanished from the public eye, though the police have records that you’ve been warned multiple times about vagrancy. What we don’t know is why you were in that hotel room. What’s your connection to McIness?”
“McIness and I both work for another,” Greta said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She maintained that look of amusement, no matter what she was saying or doing. “He is planning an expedition to South America. And there he hopes to find the ultimate power.”
Lazarus moved towards her, drawing up a chair so that he was close to her. “What kind of power?”
“There was once a tribe called the Indui. Spirits had visited them from the sky long ago. They were given the ability to create living weapons, defenders of their tribe. But one day a White Man came to them, injured and near death. The Indui had never seen anyone like him so they assumed he must be one of the Sky Spirits the elders had talked about. They nursed him back to health and taught them their tongue so that he might have the answers he sought. Then they set him loose.” Greta cackled, shaking her head. “They’d have been better off if they’d let him die. Instead, he went off and told people of what he’d seen. Men came there with guns and tanks, taking what they wanted and killing the Indui. These evil men set about fashioning their own living weapons but they were missing crucial parts of the ritual. Only one was successfully made. The others were deemed failures. McIness is one of those. My master thinks that McIness can locate the Indui village. It’s in his blood.”
Lazarus could feel Eun’s gaze upon him. After returning with Morgan and Greta the previous evening, Lazarus had told his aides about The Titan’s origins. “And what did you do for your master?”
“I advised him. Warned him when I could, swayed him to make the right decisions.”
“Who is he? Where can I find him?”
“Oh, he’ll find you, don’t worry.” Greta sat back in her chair and leered. “Besides, it’s not you that he must worry about right now… It’s the Terror.”
The Black Terror preferred operating at night, when his jet-black costume could blend into the darkness. The white skull and crossbones design on his chest would stand out; terrifying whatever crooks had stumbled into his path.
But the current business couldn't wait. The wiretap he'd placed on Schmidt's phone had alerted him to the fact that the German's private plane was being placed in standby mode at the Sovereign Airport. Schmidt was headed to South America and The Black Terror had a horrible suspicion that he knew why.
The Titan was a dangerous individual, a product of the same secretive project that had once employed Bob Benton. Though The Black Terror knew of McIness only by reputation, he felt a kinship with the man. They were both set apart from humanity for all time, their minds filled with memories that weren’t real. When Bob had finally figured that out, he’d teetered on the edge of madness. He had almost considered using his powers to hurt others, simply to prove that he was his own man. But in the end, he’d realized that lies or not, the story of The Black Terror was a story that he liked. He wanted to be that man, to inspire others to rise up against their oppressors.
And so the lies had become real, to a point.
The Omega Solutions building lay almost hidden between two much larger structures. The Black Terror would have missed it entirely if he hadn’t been looking for it so closely. He had used his great strength to bound from rooftop to rooftop and now he stood facing the business that was bankrolling McIness.
How The Titan and Schmidt had met, The Terror wasn’t sure… but it didn’t matter. Together, they were set to unleash a horrible scourge upon the earth.
The Black Terror threw himself into the air, kicking his legs as he sailed over a street full of cars. This being Sovereign City, the residents were somewhat used to the unusual but even here, the sight of the black-clad hero was enough to nearly cause two traffic accidents. He landed on the sidewalk outside the Omega Foundation building, the impact leaving a series of web-like cracks in the concrete.
Standing up quickly, The Black Terror lowered his left shoulder and charged the door. It exploded inward with a loud crash and The Terror allowed his momentum to carry him into the receptionist’s office.
Inga gave a startled cry and started to rise but she was only half out of her chair before The Black Terror had gripped her around the throat and lifted her into the air. She struggled to breathe as the hero brought her face close to his.
“Schmidt. Where is he?”
Inga’s eyes flickered over to second door and The Black Terror tossed her aside. She landed in a rolling heap, finally coming to rest against the wall. Aside from a bruised throat, she was unhurt, though her terror was so extreme that she had begun to sob.
The Black Terror took two steps towards the interior office and then flinched as a burst of flame enveloped the door. It was reduced to ash within seconds and then a figure emerged through the fire. The Black Terror knew that it was McIness, based upon the man’s attire: he wore black slacks and dress shoes, but he had dispensed with the white button-down shirt he’d worn upon first visiting Schmidt. Now he wore a navy blue shirt emblazoned with the symbol of an inverted cross, set in the center of a white circle.
The Black Terror looked past McIness, where he saw that Schmidt was in the office behind him. The German was wearing an oversized gauntlet on his right hand, with tubes extending from the wrist to a small canister on the man’s back. It was some sort of flame projector and The Terror saw more pieces of armor lying on top of Schmidt’s desk.
The Titan took advantage of The Terror’s distraction. He slammed a rock-hard fist into the hero’s face, crushing Bob’s nose. Blood spurted freely, drenching the front of his uniform. Though he healed very quickly, the pain was enough to bring tears to The Black Terror’s eyes. His skin was so dense that most attacks bounced harmlessly off of him — but The Titan was at least his equal in strength, if not his superior.
Before McIness could draw another punch, The Black Terror delivered two quick shots to the other man’s stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.
Through the blood that cascaded downward, The Black Terror hissed, “We don’t need to fight. I’m like you. I’m a product of the same experiment!”
The Titan paused, shock registering on his face. Then his expression contorted into something so ugly that The Black Terror flinched in response. The Titan brought both hands together and raised his clasped fists into the air. He slammed them down on the side of The Terror’s skull, driving the hero’s head against the wall. The plaster gave way and Bob’s head went through. He was yanked back out by McIness, who drove a left hand into his face, sending him to the floor.
“Stop.”
McIness paused, panting over the fallen form of his enemy. He turned to his left and saw that Schmidt had finished putting on his armor. He was now covered in a black bodysuit. His head was hidden beneath a circular dome that was filled with smoke. How he could see out of that thing, McIness didn’t have a clue. Tubes stretched from a canister on Schmidt’s back to each of the gauntlets he wore. The flames that had destroyed his office door had been silenced now and McIness remained impressed by his employer’s strange ability to control the fires he produced with his armor.