Orpheus knew where he was the minute his eyes…opened wasn’t the correct word, after all you can’t open your eyes in a memory. “Are you ready for this?” A tall man just now getting on in years with a body that spoke of a life spent on the move and the horrors he had endured. He was Command, he never knew any name but his power and so had taken it as his own. He was stern but kind and had been willing to expose all of the government’s dirty experiments despite the fact it had left him hunted.
Orpheus felt his mouth go to answer as it had before but the question wasn’t for him, it was meant for the other man in the little shack and he answered promptly “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He was younger, barely older than Orpheus, and had the clean features of a man brought up in wealth. Still his body was toned and his eyes hinted at the brilliant mind that had made him such an effective hero. He was Railgun, the first man to ever wield that power.
Orpheus took a look around at the ramshackle hut that had been constructed just to keep anyone from seeing what they were doing. It wasn’t anything special, just a little hut on an island in the middle of nowhere that would disappear if things went wrong. Orpheus new he should be afraid of that prospect in that moment he didn’t care. All it meant for him was that slight smell of a portal opening beneath him a the briefest of pains as the entire weight of the ocean crushed his body against the one-way portal.
“We need you to remain calm.” There was no noise when Command used his ability, he had long grown past that limitation, Orpheus just felt a deep calm wash over him. Looking back on the memory Orpheus was thankful that he had been commanded to remain calm because what he saw that day terrified him but a terror is much easier to deal with after it is over.
Both men screamed as the ritual tore the power from them. Neither had known if they would survive the process but welcomed death when it finally claimed them. Orpheus had watched impassively as the command kept him too calm to react.
Outside of his memories Warlock cackled.
Assassin’s bullet bounced off of Warlock’s shield and Lightning’s bolt arced around the room and only managed to hit the sleeping Orpheus. Sword on the other hand drove her glowing blade through Warlock’s heart. The old caster turned to them and continued cackling. He removed the glowing blade and a throw the heroes against the wall with a wave of force.
Wizard had better luck as he drifted down through the ceiling and threw his own wall of force against Warlock. It crashed against the shield but visible cracks began to form around Warlock. Warlock pulled the power from the wards he had placed around the base and reformed his shield as Wizard fired off another spell and Shield pulled himself from the wall and began to batter at Warlock with a glowing shield.
Sword, never one to be shown up, produced two glowing blades and became a whirlwind of death battering against Warlock. Each time her blade cut through his shield the skin and bone she cut reformed behind it. Gradually he began to tire from the constant healing and his posture stooped. When Lightning had focused her power tight enough to not ark he was already down on one knee.
Dying hurt. That was the first thing that Warlock had learned when he died so when he realized that they fight had turned so much against him that there was no way to recover he abandoned the body he had been using and sent his soul to one of his safehouses. It was a nice little place built into the side of a far-off mountain in an unremarkable range of mountains. His magic made it as comfortable as it was unfindable.
Thus, Warlock was very surprised when there was a knock at his door. There had never been a need for a peephole so Warlock opened the door for the man in the nice suit. “Hello Mr. Warlock.” The man greeted him. “Did you get anything interesting from the man you had been bragging about capturing?” He let himself in and took a seat in the safehouse’s living room.
Warlock joined him and responded “Yes I did. I learned how to make monsters. All it takes…”
“I already know how to make monsters.” The man interrupted. “Did you discover why he is the way he is?”
“What do you mean you already knew…” Warlock began to ask before a wave of the man’s hand silenced him.
“I have known how to make monsters since the day I claimed my power. I just choose not to because monsters are one of the only real threats left to me and who would be dumb enough to make something that could kill them.” The man in the suit laughed but then grew suddenly serious again “It is a shame that you didn’t discover what I needed though. Oh well maybe the Dead Languages will have better luck.” The man in the suit got up to leave “Oh yes I will have to kill you.”
Warlock continued to try and force out words but no sound escaped his lips. He screamed as the man’s hand turned skeletal and he felt its icy grip on his face. This time when he died he didn’t float out of the shriveled husk that had been his body.
The man in the suit looked at his handiwork and remarked to himself “Probably isn’t a good idea to leave any evidence lying around. Disintegrate.” The safehouse fell away along with everything in it while the suited man just laughed.