Wolve was surrounded by a dozen of assorted members of three different superhero teams, forming a circle around him.
No one was saying anything. At least twenty four eyes were fixed over the man that for days had kept the most gifted metahumans of the planet at bay, unable to stop murder after murder, blind to the evidences that the man left over the crime scenes.
Now he was there, circled, but not yet captive, among them.
The man who killed many descendants of a team of heroes like themselves, that predates them by more than a century. A team whose mebers, many of them, where direct ancestors of some of themselves... and that shred the same camaraderie and adventure seeking spirit... and sense of family... of Vanguard itself.
Out of the shadow, Maxwell Wolfe, the evil duplicate of one of them, was finally an easy target. No more charades, no more puzzles and enigmas.
Now it was one toward many.
Wolfe, frowning, rotated his face, looking at his adversaries. Four of them were the ones designed as victims of his next murders; triplicating the number in such a small place was not an easy task.
Cold sight he received in return. Blue, brown, green, grey eyes narrowed... even empty sockets seemed to shut down, taking aim.
A blue glowing axe, a crossbow, a longbow, plain guns, laser gauntlets and other kinds of weapon were slowly adjusted to point, ALL, toward the elegant assassin.
But no dart, arrow or bullet were shoot.
A wisp of wind raised some paper litter from the roof floor, and let it fly across the assembled warriors.
No eye blinked.
No muscle moved.
"Sissies" muttered one of the warriors, disgusted by the lack of action right when the assassin was finally there.
Hero charged at supervelocity at Wolfe.
When his right arm bent behind, to gain momentum, his eleven comrades blinked.
When the arm began to spring forward, the mouths of his comrades began to open.
When the fist connected with Wolfe's jaw, eleven tongues were pushed between the teeth, and air expelled from the lungs. "Nnnnn...."
And when the body of Wolfe finally fled high up in the air, the mouth of all the Vanguardian and Strikeforcers open up wide, letting out all the remnant of the air. "... ooooooooooooooo!"
Hero looked around. All the others were looking up, all their face looking ashamed. Only the visor of ACK was pointing at him. "Idiot!" hissed the Strikeforcer.
Wolfe fled up in the air, and Hero's eyes widened up when he heard that the man was still laughing.
The ample hyperbole of his flight lasted mere moment. When the body finally connected with the ground, Hero understood. Finally.
The body splattered over the asphalt of the street below, just before a truck rode over, splkitting the mess in many parts.
And from any detached part, new Wolfes grew.
Last edited by Eurostar; 2005-02-20 5:04 PM.
