Paladin Phoenix/Confrontation
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
The figure, clad in red medieval armor, looked down at the ground far below, the people walking the streets barely specks, as his legs dangled over the edge of the building.
Mark Houten’s mind raced; the last few days had been the most bizarre and ultimately fulfilling days of his life. He’d only recently returned to Paragon City after traveling all over the world, superpowers enabling him to see places he’d never seen before, do things he’d never thought possible, but it had been…unfulfilling. He’d always known, since the day he’d left, that he’d be back to the City of Tomorrow some day, but every day he’d been gone, seeing sights whose beauty would bring tears to the eyes of the most stoic man, he’d been filled with a longing for the city that he simply couldn’t explain.
Paragon was a city in trouble, of that there was no doubt. Heroes, some super-powered, others not, patrolled the streets at all hours of the day, constantly clashing with the increasingly numerous gangs that ran amok. Arson, muggings, organized crime, murder; it was all just another day in the life of a Paragon citizen.
And yet, somehow, it was home.
It certainly helped that Mark, under the moniker of the Paladin Phoenix, was able to help combat the various groups that sought to take Paragon for themselves. It wasn’t like he could do anything else, after all.
He sighed as he looked out over the city from his vantage point. Atlas Park was one of the more idyllic boroughs of Paragon, yet he knew that even now, someone, somewhere in the area, was getting attacked, or mugged, or whatever. Thankfully, there were no shortage of heroes passing through the area for whatever reason, and crime was mostly under control here. It provided enough comfort that Mark was able to take a breather, here, in his “thinking spot”, as he privately called it. Here, all the chaos and misery of the gangs, all the crime, all the evil…it all faded away into little specks on the ground far below, along with everything else.
He idly swung his legs, his mind elsewhere, and heard them clank metallically as they struck the side of the building. The sound snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked down at his armored legs, following them to his gauntleted hands, resting on his legs, and all the way up to his breastplate, emblazoned with the bright yellow symbol of the Paladin Phoenix. His armor was as much a part of him as his body, now; it never came off. Indeed, he couldn’t seem to take it off, no matter how hard he tried, or what magic he consulted. He’d long ago given up trying to find a way to remove it, and accepted that this was his life from now on; doomed to heroics. He laughed under his breath bitterly. There were worse ways to live. Besides, wielding pure elemental fire was fun, though he would never say that out loud. He wasn’t a pyromaniac, but there was a certain joy in his work, making the world a better place.
Well, maybe the world is aiming too high, he thought.
His communication device, clipped to the brooch of his cape, chirped softly. The tone was familiar, and he smiled as he pulled it off and pushed the activation button.
“Hi, Megan,” he said into the small device.
“Hi, Mark!” came a tiny, electronic voice that was still unmistakable for anything but the eternally excited eight-year old girl that he considered a friend. It was hard to believe that someone so young and innocent had so irrevocably altered his entire life. He shook those thoughts out his head; there was no point dwelling on it, and he wouldn’t change anything even if he could.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Lev and I just finished beating up some bad guys!” she exclaimed, her excitement somehow reaching even higher levels, “We’re heading back home. You gonna be there, Mark?” Mark idly checked his wrist before remembering yet again that he didn’t wear a watch.
“I think I can stop by for a while,” he answered.
“Okay!” Megan said cheerily, “See you soon, Mark!” The communication device shut off, and Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. She was almost too easily excited, and he wondered just how much sleep Lev got with her around. He still wasn’t sure Megan slept at all.
Mark’s mind drifted to Lev. Lev, otherwise known as the Russian hero Fall-Out, remained an enigma to Mark. There was just so much that wasn’t known about him. He knew that Lev was part of a “hero exchange program” between the US and Russia, ostensibly to strengthen relations following the devastating aftermath of the Rikti War, but the rest was a mystery. Lev was at home in Paragon City as a bird in a mine shift, but he never betrayed any homesickness or unhappiness at his situation. He rarely spoke about Russia at all. Instead, he had latched onto Megan, looking after her like a big brother, calling her his tsavarina, which Mark took to mean “princess” in Russian. It never failed to bring a smile to Mark’s face to think of the two of them together. Both of them orphans, in a way, and yet so happy together.
He felt a tingle in his mind, and sighed.
“You never could resist reading my mind,” he said aloud without moving. He heard footsteps behind him, but he didn’t turn to look as a woman sat down next to him, her legs dangling over the edge of the building as well. He knew who it was. He didn’t need to confirm it.
“Well, it’s just so interesting in there,” the newcomer said, her voice full of barely suppressed laughter.
“I’m still trying to figure out how you found my thinking spot.” He paused. “Oh, wait. Mind reader. Never mind.”
The woman giggled, and Mark smiled.
“I just talked to you, actually,” he said, holding up his communication device before clipping it back to the brooch.
“I know.”
“Of course you know,” Mark said, adding under his breath, “Future knowledge and all.” He finally turned to look at his companion. Megan, 24 years old, from the future, looked back, a smile on her face. But there was something in her eyes…
“What is it?” he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“…nothing,” she said, her voice curiously devoid of emotion. She looked away.
“It’s not-“ Mark started, but he was cut off when his communication device chirped again, a different tone. Mark’s stomach suddenly fell as he recognized the caller, and he pushed the activation button while looking at Megan.
“Lev, what is it?” he asked.
“Comrade,” Lev said, before taking a breath, “Must come, quickly. She…he…” The Russian trailed off, and Mark suddenly felt as though his world was about to be turned upside down. He couldn’t explain it, because it didn’t make sense, but he knew what Lev was going to say.
“Megan,” Mark said, his heart leaping into his throat, “What’s happened to her?”
“She…was taken.”
Mark turned off the communicator, using it to find Lev’s location before clipping it to his brooch again. He reached for his winged helmet, but stopped when he saw the older Megan, still sitting on the edge of the building, looking away.
“This is what’s wrong, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Every second spent here was a second wasted, but…
“Mark, it’s…I can’t…” Megan still wouldn’t look at him, but her voice, normally calm, collected and happy, was choked with emotion. Mark couldn’t imagine what she was going through: her younger self was in trouble, and she couldn’t do anything to change it, lest she screw up the future that she came from.
But she was changing it already, by keeping him here. He had to go. There was no time for anything else. He put his helmet on and leaped from the edge, his armor filling with magical energy as he flew as fast as he could towards Lev.
Back at the building, Megan cried softly.
Fall-Out paced restlessly on the street, his hands clenched into tight fists. Where the hell was Mark? He tried desperately to keep his mind off the situation, telling himself that he needed to be calm, rational. If he ran off on emotion, she would get hurt.
At least, that’s what he told himself. Even in his mind, the words sounded hollow. He didn’t dare say them out loud; if he heard himself saying it, he would be truly lost.
Just as he was about to give up and rush after Megan and her kidnapper, consequences be damned, he heard a familiar clank of metal on cement behind him, and turned to see the armor-clad figure of the Paladin Phoenix taking off his winged helmet.
“Lev, what the hell-“ Mark started, but the Russian had no time for pre-emptive speech.
“She run ahead,” he said, his voice thick, “By time I catch up, she…it had her.”
“Who?” Mark almost yelled, “Who grabbed her?”
“Was…your twin. Red armor.”
Mark froze. He’d heard the stories: a behemoth rampaging through the Rogue Isles, maiming or killing anything that crossed its path, protected by dark red armor, face obscured by a horned helmet, a twisted symbol of a bird on its chest. Moreover, it had threatened his friends twice in the extra-dimensional Pocket D. He’d known, almost without comprehending why, that the monster was after him. But his twin had never entered into Paragon according to Longbow records, and DJ Zero had prevented any hostile action in his club. It had been worrisome, but not overly so. He was safe in Paragon City.
He wasn’t safe anywhere.
“What did he say, Lev?” Mark demanded. Lev looked away and didn’t answer, but Mark patience was at an end. He grabbed the Russian by his costume and pulled him close, taking full advantage of his height. “What did he say?!”
“He said…if you don’t come alone…he’ll…he’ll…” Lev choked on his emotion as the sentence hung in the air, the implication clear. Mark was sure that if he could see past the Russian combat visor, he’d see tears, but he couldn’t dwell on that.
Couldn’t dwell on that? What the hell am I thinking?!
Mark’s mind was on fire, racing from thought to thought with wild abandon as he tried desperately to think, to plan, something, anything. But nothing would come. His mind was a hopeless jumble as his anger and fear consumed him. Megan…she can’t…I can’t…
“I’ll kill him,” he said suddenly. The words were involuntary, and he was in fear of the certainty with which he said them. He was a hero; he wasn’t supposed to…couldn’t kill anyone. But Megan… He let go of Lev’s costume and turned away.
“I come with you,” Lev said, his voice backed with steel.
“No,” Mark said, “If he sees you, he’ll…no. I’ll go on my own.”
“But-“
“Listen, go find Heph, Terra…hell, get the whole Phoenix Force. Call The Freedom Phalanx, Longbow, anyone. Get them, and bring them along. Get all the help you can as quickly as you can. I’ll distract this son of a bitch until you get there, then you can help me overwhelm him once I’ve drawn him away from Megan. Alright?” Lev was about to argue, but Mark turned back and gave him a look. If Lev had ever thought that fire could burn in someone’s eyes, what he saw in Mark’s eyes was an inferno.
“I can handle this guy. Just go get help.” Mark turned away again.
Lev hesitated for a long time, but finally turned and ran off.
“Besides,” Mark added under his breath as he heard Lev’s footsteps receding, “This guys wants me, he’s going to get me. And all the power in the world won’t save him from my fire.”
SO YOU SAY.
The voice shattered Mark’s mind as it rang in his thoughts. It was familiar. Frighteningly so. He had heard it before not too long ago, and knew, with an instinct not his own, that it was his villainous twin. His evil doppelganger.
And it hurt! Mark screamed in agony as the mind-voice assaulted him.
YOU WILL COME ALONE TO ME. YOU SHALL SUFFER AND BE DESTROYED. THERE CAN BE NO OTHER OUTCOME.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the voice was gone, leaving behind the knowledge of where Mark was supposed to go.
Mark was left panting, trying to catch his breath and regain his focus. Whatever his opponent was, and he was increasingly doubtful that such a single-minded being was human, it was incredibly powerful to hurt him from so far away.
But, Mark thought as he enveloped his gauntleted hand in fire, I’m powerful too.
He put on his winged helmet and soared into the air.
Megan tried to crawl farther into the corner, away from the imposing figure in front of her. Even though it was turned away from her, it was still scary. The horned helmet looked particularly mean, and the shoulder pads had what looked to be blood on them. If it wasn’t for those features, and the strange bird symbol she had seen on the chest, she might have mistaken the thing for her friend Mark.
But this…thing, it couldn’t be Mark. They were about as different as, well, something really different from something else. Like Heph and Hephy-cat. She’d tried to look into its mind when it had been tying her up, but she never even managed a brief glance; the pure, unadulterated hate that this thing radiated was even scarier than that graveyard she’d been trapped in a few days before. There was just so much of it. She’d never imagined that anyone could be so…consumed with anger and hate.
It hadn’t moved since it had tied her up. It hadn’t said a word to her when it had grabbed her, during the trip here, when it had tied her up, and now it wasn’t doing anything. It was just standing, unmoving, waiting. It was deathly quiet in the area; the collapsed building was avoided even by the gangs that roamed the area. Megan cowered in the shadows of a partially destroyed wall, scared to do anything while that monster was just standing there, not even five feet away.
She knew someone was coming. Lev, Mark, maybe even Heph. Heph would be here in an instant if he knew that she was in trouble, and he’d beat this bad guy up without a thought.
She wished Heph were here now.
“Megan!” someone shouted from above. She looked up and saw the familiar figure of the Paladin Phoenix, his helmet held under one of his arms, descending quickly from the sky. The other guy, the guy that had kidnapped her, looked up as well, and he was suddenly surrounded by dark energy.
Megan tried to shout, tried to warn Mark that he was in trouble, but her words were muffled by her gag. She tried to say something, do something, struggling against her bonds, but she couldn’t-
The kidnapper threw a blast of dark energy and struck Mark in the chest, knocking him out of the sky. Mark fell from view, and Megan screamed against her gag.
Mark landed hard amid the rubble of the building, the wind knocked out of him. He quickly picked himself up and put his helmet on before looking around to get his bearings. That blast had hurt, had caused more pain than he’d thought possible. The armor was supposed to protect him, did protect him. He’d never been hurt like this, though. It felt like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. It took him a minute to get his breath back.
He felt a sudden blow strike the back of his head, pitching him forward off his feet. This newest blow didn’t hurt nearly as badly as the bolt of dark energy, and he was able to roll to his feet and face his attacker. He had never met his double before, and he was surprised to see that with very few differences, it was, in fact, almost identical to him. The symbol on his double’s chest was a twisted perversion of the symbol on the chest of his own armor, and looking at it Mark knew, somehow, that this was more than his evil twin.
His opponent advanced slowly, and Mark summoned his sword of fire, feeling it take shape in his hand as he steeled himself for a fight. The other warrior’s arms were wrapped in dark energy, its fists clenched tightly. As soon as it was in range, Mark swung his sword with all his might, scoring a tremendous hit against the breastplate of his attacker. Similar strikes from his sword of fire had crushed Clockwork, destroyed Sky Raider Skiffs, and obliterated Vahzilok zombies; Mark fully expected the blow to push his opponent away, send him reeling in pain, giving Mark a chance to follow up with another vicious strike.
The dark red armor instead chose to launch a blow directly at Mark’s chest, striking with horrible power that threw Mark several feet. The Paladin Phoenix recovered, his armor filling with magical energy as he slowed himself in midair, reorienting towards his attacker.
What the hell? He didn’t even flinch!
Mark paused for only the briefest of moments before flying at his enemy, fire sword blazing even hotter than before. He flashed by, against scoring a direct hit on the dark red breastplate, but an ax handle smash from his attacker drove him face first into the ground. Mark recovered, barely in time to roll away from the other fighter’s stomping foot. He rolled to his feet only a few feet away from his opponent and summoned his fire shield, enveloping himself in raging flames, before wrapping his hands in fire and rushing forward to attack. He struck his opponent once, and then again, but he was sent flying by a punishing uppercut to the head that threw him into the air again. He spun in midair for a moment before regaining his senses and looking down at his opponent.
It took him fully three seconds to realize that his helmet had been knocked off. He looked for it, but it was hidden among the rubble of the building. He didn’t need it – the armor protected him as by magic as by physical materials – but it was more about the fact that it had come off; he’d endured some serious beatings in his career as a hero, but his helmet had never come off. Explosions, magical attacks, physical strikes, nothing had dislodged that brain-bucket.
What is this thing?
“What the hell are you?” he yelled suddenly, the words forcing their way out despite his attempts to keep them in. The armored figure looked at him, not moving. Waiting. Mark felt a tingling in his mind, the familiar feel of someone looking into his thoughts.
I am Wraith Phoenix, a voice in his head suddenly said. Mark recognized it immediately as the voice of his opponent; he’d heard it before. But it didn’t hurt this time. It wasn’t deafeningly loud. Somehow, the low growl of the voice was far more frightening than the piercing yell he’d heard before.
“Why are you after me? What the hell do you want?”
You have upset the balance.
“Balance? What balance?”
I have come to maintain it. And to maintain it, you must be destroyed. There can be no other outcome. There can be no other destiny. You will be destroyed.
“I’m not going to die that easily.”
Then those you care about will die until you face the truth. I cannot be defeated by your power. And none that you care about will be safe so long as you survive. I shall demonstrate.
The armored figure turned and began to walk away, and Mark looked ahead to see Megan, bound and gagged, hiding in the corner of a ruined wall.
“NO!” he shouted, and the flames surrounding him burned white-hot as he soared through the sky directly at Wraith Phoenix. He didn’t stop, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink as he struck the armored behemoth with the full force of his momentum, knocking the beast of its feet. Mark plowed into the ground as he was thrown off-course by the blow, coming to stop some ten feet from the creature. He tried to catch his breath, pushing himself to his hands and feet when, suddenly, a murderously powerful blow struck his back and forced him down into the rubble. He screamed in agony as Wraith Phoenix stepped heavily on his back.
There can be no other outcome. I cannot be defeated. I exist solely to destroy you, and I shall fulfill my duty.
Mark felt his spine beginning to bend the wrong way under the incredible pressure his opponent was exerting on his back. There seemed to be no way out, but he continued to struggle, trying desperately to free himself before his back was broken.
In desperation, he summoned his magical flames again, and released them in a powerful explosion. Wraith Phoenix was unmoved by the flames, but the shockwave from the explosion shifted its balance for just a moment, and Mark took full advantage of the distraction to push against the foot with all his magically imparted might. He strained, feeling the pain as his muscles were pushed to their limits, but Wraith Phoenix, unable to correct its footing in the rubble-strewn area, was pushed off balance just enough to fall over, and Mark was up immediately.
Without hesitation, he filled his armor with magical energy and took to the air, flying directly toward Megan, grabbing her in his arms and taking off into the sky. When he finally felt he was high enough, he stopped and looked back at the ground.
Wraith Phoenix was standing, looking at the departing hero, a strange object in his hands. It took Mark a moment to release that it was his helmet. He shook his head: no way was he going back for that.
Wraith Phoenix crushed the helmet in his hands.
Mark screamed in agony as an unbelievable pain overcame him. He blacked out.
Two days later, Mark sighed wearily as he threw his legs over the side of the building and sat down heavily, his armor clanking loudly on the concrete. He tried to relax, taking a deep breath, but it didn’t help; the tension simply wouldn’t go away.
Almost involuntarily, his fingers traced along the scar under his right eye. The skin was still raw to the touch, still red, though it had stopped bleeding long ago. The touch of the cool metal of his gauntlets was somehow soothing to the injury, and he’d found himself touching the scar all day.
As far as he could figure, the scar was the result of the destruction of his helmet by the Wraith Phoenix. Mark only remembered blacking out from that, not any particular physical injury…but the pain…He’d never really bothered to consider just how strong his connection to his armor was, had never stopped to think about what would happen if it was destroyed. Now he couldn’t help but wonder.
He’d woken up in the hospital, brought there not by the emergency teleportation network ,but by his friends, who had apparently arrived on the scene shortly after he’d fallen unconscious. He’d been stable by the time the doctors had examined him, and he’d regained consciousness a full day later to find himself in a bed surrounded by his friends. Lev, Megan, Heph, Terra…many others as well.
He’d left the hospital without a word to anyone.
They’d called after him, of course, tried to get him to talk, even followed him, but he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t think of anything…losing his well-meaning pursuers had taken time, but they had inevitably given up the chase.
He’d spent the last day flying all over the city, his mind ill at ease. The words of the Wraith Phoenix, the armored behemoth that had defeated him so easily, so effortlessly, rang in his memory.
“Those that you care about will die until you face the truth…”
His thinking spot provided no comfort for him as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. He fell backwards, lying on his back, looking up at the sky, sighing again. Life was needlessly complicated. He could deal with someone hunting him, trying to kill him. There were countless groups out there that would kill him as much as look at him, and in his career as a hero, he’d made many powerful enemies. He’d defeated quite a few, but there would always be someone new that was out for his blood. Being hunted, wanted dead…that was nothing new.
But this new opponent was more focused, more ruthless, more powerful than any he’d faced before. Worse, the juggernaut was so determined to get to him that it would even seek out and attempt to hurt those that he called friend. How could he put them at risk? He simply couldn’t be with them anymore. But then he would be dead, killed by his pursuer, unable to fight back. Who could say what the Wraith Phoenix would do then? Maybe it would hunt down his friends anyway. Or maybe it would simply stop. His only chance for survival was to work with his friends, but by doing so, it was possible that they could be hurt…or worse. So what the hell was he supposed to do? Fight Wraith Phoenix and open his friends up to the possibility of being injured? Or abandon his friends to possibly protect them, in exchange for his own life?
What the hell kind of choice was that?
“Long week, huh?” he heard suddenly. He closed his eyes and quieted his anger before opening them to see the adult Megan standing over him. He sat back up, looking out over the city as she sat down next to him.
Nothing was said for a long time, as Mark made a point of not looking at his girlfriend. The anger within was on a slow boil, simmering, ready for any reason to go off, and he wasn’t about to give it a chance. So he sat quietly, silently hoping Megan would do the same.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breaking the silence, and Mark, despite his best efforts, lost it.
“Sorry? Sorry?!” he almost yelled, “Is that all you can say?!”
“Mark-“
“I…you…WE almost died from this,” he hissed, “You could have prevented it. You could have warned me. You didn’t. This is all your fault.”
“I-“
“’You’ nothing! This about more than the future, and temporal causality and all that garbage! This is…this…” Mark trailed off as he saw the tears forming in her eyes. His anger receded quickly, replaced by simple emptiness. He slumped, completely spent.
“I’m sorry,” Megan said, looking at Mark as a single tear ran down her cheek, “I just…I tried…”
Mark simply looked out over the city, his mind blank. He flexed his fingers within his gauntlets, feeling the armor move under the force of an appendage he hadn’t seen in years. His anger was misplaced, he realized. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“I…I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said, his voice shaky as the words came out in a rush, “I’m not angry at you, I just…this isn’t your fault.”
“But it is, Mark,” Megan insisted, “If I had just been able to tell you-“
“No,” Mark said forcefully, “It’s not your fault. This has been coming for a long time, and I’ve always known it. Wraith Phoenix, he’s…he’s not going to stop even if I manage to defeat his plans. He’ll just keep coming. And it’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault…it’s this damn armor.” He closed his hands into fists as he spoke. “This was…this is…inevitable. I got away this time, but he’s going to keep coming until I…”
“I’m sorry, Mark,” Megan said as he trailed off, but Mark stopped her, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye with a careful touch of his gauntlet.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said simply.
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and she cuddled up in his grasp. They watched as the sun continued its slow descent below the horizon, doing what it had done hundreds of thousands of times before. The shadows of the city grew longer until they finally enveloped the buildings and people below, drowning Paragon in the comfortably familiar darkness of night, pierced only by the light of the war walls and the scattered pinpoints of light far below.
“He’s going to kill me,” Mark stated as the two of them looked out over the city.
Megan didn’t answer.
