Intrepid #01

ONE
As Jason entered the pool hall, the noise got noticeably quieter. There was a palpable dampening wave as the two dozen or so patrons gradually became aware of his presence. Jason managed not to show a frown this time. He went up to the small bar in the back, and tried not to watch in the mirror as a good third of the clientele decided to call it an early night. The bartender, for his part, managed to not break out in a cold sweat as he forced a smile.

“Hey, Jason,” he said. “The usual?”

“Sure,” Jason replied, not bothering to sit. The conversations that seemed so lively as he came through the door had dropped to a nervous silence and quick glances in his direction. He didn’t bother to meet them, just stood and patiently waited for his drink. The bartender just gave him a bottle, not bothering to pop the cap.

Jason went for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, the bartender waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, man. Same as before. On the house.”

Jason didn’t argue this time, knowing it’d be futile. He just nodded his thanks, and went over to an empty pool table on the end of the row. The three men at the table next to his decided their particular table was not up to standard all of a sudden, and shuffled over to the other end of the bar to play some cards. Jason frowned, but at least comforted himself with the fact that they hadn’t opted to leave the building.

Jason set the bottle to the side, took a moment to tie back his long blond hair, then set up the balls on the table and grabbed a cue. He felt a little silly playing the game by himself, but by now he knew better than to ask if anyone wanted a game. Ergo, he was a bit surprised when somebody presented himself at the end of the table just as he was lining up the first shot.

Jason looked up and saw an average sized man dressed in jeans and a black jacket, a casual get up that contrasted to the stiffly professional bearing the man stood with. “Solitaire is usually played with cards, as I understand it,” said the man.


Jason looked at him slightly perplexed, but realized he had never seen him before. Clearly, the man was not a regular. “You’re welcome to join,” said Jason, slowly.

The man strode over the cue rack, ran his hand over the row, and neatly plucked one up. “You break,” he said. Jason did so after a moment’s calculation, and with what appeared to be just a casual poke, the white ball streaked mightily across the table to scatter its colorful colleagues with a satisfying crack. The balls ricocheted a bit, three of them landing in pockets.

The man whistled. “Quite a shot,” he said.

Jason shrugged. “Comes with practice.” He held up his bottle of beer, still unopened. He glanced around and spotted the location of the nearest trashcan, thirty feet away. He flicked the cap, which popped off and went sailing in a perfect arc to land into the trashcan.

The man smirked and gave a small amused grunt. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Jason didn’t find that particularly funny, and responded by taking a drink, and waving the man to the pool table. They played a game in silence; Jason had gotten rather skilled at the game of late, playing at this location at least once a week. The new arrival, however, cleaned his clock rather quickly, missing only once.

“Good game,” said Jason. “Another go?”

“Naw,” said the man with another smirk. “Might spoil my beginner’s luck. But I would like to have a talk with you.” What conversation throughout the bar that had managed to recover since the start of the game instantly went dead, as all eyes turned to the two men. The bartender was already reaching for the phone with one hand, the other hand poised to strike over the keys.

Jason frowned. He’d been afraid of this. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s take this outside first.” He began towards the door.

“In words, Jason,” said the man. He motioned to a booth. “Have a seat?” Jason again looked at him perplexed. Then he slowly went to the indicated booth and sat down. The man followed, and the other patrons eventually went back to their conversations.

“Well, everyone here certainly seems high strung,” said the man. “You’d almost think you weren’t the man who saved their lives just a couple months ago.”

“Saved their lives by turning the next town over into a smoldering crater,” said Jason. “It’s hard to be grateful when the cure’s as bad as the disease.”

“Any idea how many more smoldering craters there would be if you hadn’t stepped in?”

“Don’t feed me that ‘acceptable losses’ crap.”

“You were cop. You should understand the term.”

“Yeah. A cop. For a cop, acceptable losses is when you have to shoot the bank robber because he won’t stop shooting at you or his hostages. It doesn’t mean blow up the entire bank with everyone inside. That’s basically what I…” Jason paused and closed his eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he might be sick. Then he swallowed and composed himself.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the man said firmly.

Jason scowled. “Just get to the point. Who are you and what do you want?”

The man produced a wallet, which he flipped open to reveal his identification. “I am Agent Kenrick and I work for the FBI. I have been sent to find you, that I may offer you a job.”

Jason blinked. “What kind of job?” he said cautiously.

“You used to be cop,” said Kenrick. “And we know that for a brief time after the Empowerment, you took the role of a vigilante superhero named ‘the Paladin.’ Think of this as a combination of the two. We want you to become part of an Empowered task force that will police rogue super humans and rampaging creatures like the one you defeated.”

Jason smiled without humor. “I suppose the money will be a comfort the next time I end up wrecking a whole city trying to take down one monster.”

“What happened to your home town was a tragedy indeed, but it was also quite a feat.” Kenrick leaned forward a bit. “I don’t think you appreciate the sheer enormity of your accomplishment. You killed that monster with your bare hands, Jason. You killed one of the Typhons. No human weapon, no Empowered human or beast, has ever managed to do that before. Until that moment, we were not certain it was even possible for one of them to die.”

Jason’s eyes closed. A memory of that day flitted to the surface, him rising from a pile of rubble on the ground, looking up at the vaguely humanoid, hideously deformed face the size of a battleship, its dead glassy eye fixated upon his own battered and broken form. Jason shivered and forced his eyes open again. He gave Kenrick a hard look. “So is that really all you want from me? To kill them?”

Kenrick leaned back and nodded. “There are ten of them still roaming free, with two others currently unaccounted for. So far, the national guard and police forces have managed to drive them away from the major cities with missile barrages, but the damage they are doing to our farmlands and smaller towns just by walking over them is piling up fast.” Kenrick shook his head. “I’m going to be bluntly honest with you. If these monsters are not dealt with, our country, all civilization on this continent, will fall to ruin. Quite possibly, the rest of the world will follow, if they ever go beyond our shores.” Kenrick leaned forward again. “The truth is, our government is barely holding on to its authority. No less than twenty states are seriously considering secession. It’s becoming too expensive to share resources.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. “That seems rather extreme.”

“Yeah, well, no one’s coming to help us,” said Kenrick. “In case you forgot, the people on the other side of the world are still blowing themselves to pieces. It’s officially World War III over there.”

Jason frowned. “How bad?”

“We know they’ve gone nuclear. Other than that, well, we can’t afford to worry about anyone else right now.”

“I don’t suppose any aid from South America is forthcoming?”

“You’re joking, right? They have every missile on their entire continent aimed north. The only reason they haven’t leveled us already is that they probably want to conserve their ammo until the Typhons actually start heading their way.”

Jason was silent for a few moments, his expression dark as this all sank in. “That’s really the situation we’re in?”

Kenrick almost blanched. “Just what the hell have you been doing these past few months? Have you really just sat in this hick town, with your head in the sand?”

Jason looked towards the floor and said nothing.

Kenrick took a breath and composed himself. “Even in my line of work, I cannot imagine what it was like for you to fight that thing and then have to drag yourself out of that crater. But we need you, Jason. We need the Paladin. The Typhons are still out there, carving the damned continent apart. And they’re not the only danger. We can confirm the existence of at least thirty Empowered humans, and not all of them have humanity’s best interest at heart.”

Jason gave him a long, wary look then took a long drag of his beer. Finally, he said, “Alright, so you want me to be your super soldier. But I barely managed to kill the one Typhon, and our fight completely annihilated a whole city in the process. Assuming I’m even capable of replicating the feat, you realize the same thing is probably going to happen to any place I fight them? You would almost be better off dropping nukes on them until they stopped moving.”

“We’ve tried. It didn’t take.”

Jason frowned deeply. “Yeah. Right. I almost forgot. Arizona.”

Kenrick nodded. “We dropped five nukes on one of the creatures we managed to lead into the desert. Five. All we managed to do was knock it over and piss it off, and now it’s a giant, radioactive monster.” He gave a small shrug. “Fortunately, the thing seems to really like the desert, and as long as we keep dropping some food near it every couple of days, it doesn’t feel the need to roam. For now.”

Jason let out a long breath. “Okay. Alright. What do I need to do?”

“As I said, the U.S. government has been weighing its options about how to handle Empowered criminal activities and reigning in the Typhons. We want to assemble a superhuman response force, a group that can battle and defeat these threats.”

Jason looked at Kenrick thoughtfully, before saying, “Police force, huh?”

“Think of it as getting a promotion from your old job,” said Kenrick. “We came to you because of your police background, and because you took on a superhero persona. As you said, it didn’t work out very well, but that’s because you were acting as a vigilante, outside the law, with no plan and no one backing you up. And a man of your power is a great risk when acting as a loose cannon. What we desire to build is a team of superhumans, like yourself, who can combine their talents, along with backing from the National Guard and Disaster Relief Aid as needed, to contain and eliminate super powered threats without letting the fights get so carried away that they end up becoming natural disasters.”

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Throwing more superhumans into the fight just seems like an invitation for greater disaster.”

“Strength in numbers, Jason,” said Kenrick. “Right now, you can barely defeat one of the Typhons, and I’m betting you could fight pretty evenly with another human Empowered. Picture two or three of you ganging up on one of these threats, you can shut them down faster and more efficiently.”

“Or we’d trip over each other and cause an even bigger mess.”

“Obviously, we would train you,” said Kenrick.

Jason frowned, mulling it over some more. Finally, he said, “Who else did you have in mind?”

Kenrick gave a small smile. “Why don’t you meet them? Come on in, guys.”


TWO
Jason looked at Kenrick, confused for a moment, before three people entered the bar on queue. The first was a tall man with spiky black hair, wearing a navy blue longcoat. He was followed by two women, the first of which was a rather stunning red head dressed in green robes with gold trim. The third was short-haired brunette sporting a pair of brilliant white wings on her back, dressed in a yellow tank top and jeans.

The first two didn’t draw that much attention, other than the redhead’s unusual dress style. The third, however, caused everyone in the bar to immediately jump in, or even off, their seats, and gawk. However, though she was certainly pretty, they weren’t admiring her figure, exactly.

“Oh, god,” said one of the men who had been drinking at the bar. “Oh, shit, it’s another of them!” His hand wavered as he pointed at the woman’s wings.

The bartender instinctively started pulling out a shotgun from behind the counter, but stopped halfway through the action when he realized how useless it would be. He let the gun drop back into its holster, then raised his hands up as if to calm someone about to go berserk. “Okay, look, we don’t want any trouble here.” He looked to Jason with an expression that couldn’t decide between a cry for help or a plea for mercy. “Jason, please, not here. Not with them.”

Jason could only give the bartender a helpless look in return, then turned to Kenrick. “We need to do this elsewhere.”

“We mean you no harm,” said the redhead. “I promise.”

“I don’t care,” said the bartender. “Please, just get out. It’s one thing if someone from here wants to make an ass of themselves fighting him, but we’re not going to let our town end up like Joansville.”

The tall man with spiky hair looked at him, then stepped slowly up to the bar. The patrons waited with baited breath, though a few were already moving to the back exit. The tall man loomed over the bartender, arms crossed. Jason could swear he was even puffing his chest a little. “Rest assured,” he said. “If we wanted your town crushed, we’d have done it already.”

The winged woman went up, put a hand on the tall man’s shoulder and pulled him back a bit. She smiled disarmingly at the bartender, and folded her wings back more. “What my friend here means to say is you have nothing to fear. We’re with the government. We’re here to help. You know, like a superhero team!”

“Let’s not oversell it just yet, Swan,” said the redhead.

Swan, the winged woman, pouted slightly, but led the tall man back to the others. He just scowled, but let himself be guided back. “So!” said Swan to Jason, smiling again. “You’re the local legend, huh? Our big gun?”

Jason glanced around the room. Everyone was still staring at them with apprehension. Jason sighed, and stood up. “We need to leave.” He turned to Kenrick. “I’d like to know what you were thinking. You had to know showing her off was a bad idea.”

Swan pouted again, and said, “Wow, okay, ‘Hey, I’m Jason, real pleasure to meet you.’ ‘Oh, hi, Jason, I’m Chopped Liver Girl. I look forward to working with you.’”

Jason turned to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re spooking everyone.”

“He’s right,” said the tall man, his scowl still in full force. “I can smell the fear in here. Not to mention a couple leaky bladders.”

“Alright, then,” said the redhead. “Let us retire from this place.”

“Very well,” said Kenrick. He stood, went up to the bar, and put down a hundred dollar bill. “My apologies for the disturbance. Rest assured, none of you are in any danger from these people. You have the promise of the United States government on that.” He paused, then added, “For whatever that’s worth around here.”

So saying, he left, beckoning the group of four to follow. As they crossed the parking lot, he said, “We’re renting a couple rooms in the hotel a few blocks from here. We can talk on the way.”

“First things first,” said Jason, his tone firm. He turned to Swan. “Can you retract your wings?”

“Um, well, no,” said Swan, fluttering said wings a bit. “I don’t think so.”

Jason turned to the tall man. “Give her your coat.” The tall man blinked and looked to Kenrick, who gave Jason a glance over, then nodded. The man shed his coat, and handed it to Swan. “Put that on over your wings.”

Swan pursed her lips, but complied, folding her wings back as much as she could, then draping the coat over her back. It looked like she was awkwardly carrying some kind of backpack under the coat, but at first glance, in the evening, it wouldn’t draw immediate attention. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know they would be a big deal.”

“The people here are terrified of me,” said Jason. “They only tolerate my presence because I technically saved their town from getting smashed by one of the Typhons. Now, you bring three unknown Empowered here on a whim. You’re lucky they aren’t calling the army on us.”

“They did,” said Kenrick. He tapped his ear, and Jason finally noticed that he wore a tiny remote ear piece. “No worries, however. The National Guard was already put on standby to help evacuate this town at my word. They won’t mobilize on us yet.”

“What? Why?” said Jason, surprised.

“I didn’t bring these three on a whim,” said Kenrick. “Nor did I bring them to help convince you to join. We just didn’t know if you would end up being trouble.” Jason’s bearing deflated a little and he went silent. “Don’t take it personally,” said Kenrick. “You did disappear for several months to mope in a small town and shut yourself off from the world. We had no idea what state of mind you would be in, and, untrained though they are, the only real defense against an Empowered is another Empowered. I’m sure you of all people would understand.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Jason looking dour. The tall man likewise didn’t seem interested in conversing, while the two women were hesitant to break the ice. Kenrick seemed to think it best to let them collect their thoughts for the moment. Finally, they reached the hotel, a dingy, but serviceable building with only a few other customers, and Kenrick led them to one of the rooms. When they entered, Swan shed the coat and handed it back to the tall man.

The redhead spoke up. “Alright, then, now that we’re settled,” she extended a hand to Jason. “My name is Aislinn Michelle Corrigan. You can call me Arcana.”

Jason shook her hand, but cocked an eyebrow at her as well. “Arcana?” he said, glancing to Kenrick.

He shrugged. “Well, if you’re going to do the superhero thing…”

“It’s not that,” said Arcana. “We are no longer the people we once were. We are Empowered, and I believe we should each have a name that suits our new being.” She paused. “Not that I’m saying we should disavow our previous identities. Simply that we should embrace what we have become.”

“I guess so,” said Jason.

“I’m Angelica Swanson,” said the winged woman, also shaking Jason’s hand with a warm smile. “You can just call me Swan, it’s been my nickname since I was a kid anyway.” She fluttered her wings a bit and grinned. “What are the odds, huh?”

The tall man, who had taken to leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, just gave Jason a nod rather than offer his hand. “Richard Hal.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I guess if I need an asinine code name, you can call me Mythos.”

Swan blanched. “How about we just call you ‘Dick?’ Seems a bit more fitting, Mr. Attitude.”

Mythos “hrmphed” and looked to the side. “Mythos will do.”

“Alright then,” said Jason. “I guess you know this already, but I am Jason Sigurd. I once called myself the Paladin.”

Swan cocked her head to the side a little. “I thought your code name was Beowulf?”

Jason blinked. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“The media has given names to most of the Typhons,” said Kenrick. “The one you fought and killed was called ‘Grendel.’ When you went to fight it, they called you Beowulf, like in the old story. I guess your Paladin handle hadn’t caught on yet.”

Jason frowned. “Huh. I guess Paladin was kind of a failure anyway. Fine, Beowulf it is.”

“I rather liked Paladin,” said Arcana. Jason just made a dismissive shrug, causing her to frown.

“Anyway,” said Kenrick. “Jason, or, Beowulf, completes the group. Tomorrow you will be transferred to Tallas Airforce Base in Utah to begin training. When we think you’re ready, we will send you to defeat the Typhons.”

“All due respect, I’m not sure what kind of training you expect us to do,” said Arcana. “I have been practicing my powers ever since I got them, and I hardly think boot camp is going to push their limits.”

“Team work exercises, drills, procedures. There are proper ways things must be handled. Certain tactics we need to go over.”

“Ah, right,” said Arcana. “Well, of course.”

The five were silent for a few moments. “Alright, well, dismissed, then,” said Kenrick. “Beowulf, you’ll want to go home and pack up any essentials.”

“Beowulf” shrugged. “I’ve got a few clothes, I guess,” he said. He stood and headed for the door.

“Pardon me,” said Arcana. “May I come with you?”

Beowulf glanced at her, then shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Hey, I wanna come, too,” said Swan. “I want to see your secret lair!”

“You should stay put,” said Beowulf. “Sorry.” Swan pouted again, giving Jason an exasperated look, but didn’t protest. He glanced to Mythos, who just waved him off. The tall man’s scowl deepened a bit more as he gave a furtive glance at Arcana. “For the best,” said Beowulf. He went out the door, with Arcana following. Once they exited the building, he said, “I’m on the other side of town. Are you able to fly?”

Arcana raised her arms a bit, and a breeze picked up around her. Her robes fluttered as she lifted a few inches off the ground. Beneath her feet, dust and a few leaves swirled in a lazy circle, indicating she was standing on some sort of whirlwind. “Well enough,” she said. “I have many spells at my disposal.”

Beowulf rose off the ground as well, levitating without any apparent means of propulsion. “Good,” he said. “Follow me, then.” He rose higher in the air until he cleared the roof and tree tops, then took off at a casual 50 miles per hour. Arcana kept pace with him, though from the way she shielded her eyes, she wasn’t used to going this speed. She made another gesture, and the force of the wind slackened against her, despite not reducing her speed.

“So is that your power?” said Beowulf. “Wind control?”

“I can control all of the classical elements, as well as summon and commune with elemental spirits,” said Arcana. “I am essentially a wizard, of a sort.”

“Spirits, huh?” said Beowulf. “They actually exist?”

Arcana shrugged. “I can summon them. In all honesty, I donot know if I am truly summoning them from someplace, or if I’m creating them.”

“How can you not know the difference?”

Arcana thought that over. “It is hard to explain. When I summon a spirit, I just summon one. It seems to have its own mind about things, and can act independently. However, as far as I have researched, no one else has made a truly confirmed contact with them.” She shrugged. “Either way, they can be useful. So, what about you? I take it your powers are more the classical superhero?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” said Beowulf. Suddenly, his body lit up with an aura of golden, semi-transparent flames. “I have this aura that enables me to increase my natural abilities. It makes me stronger, faster, more durable, I can generate and fire energy with it. By default, it automatically makes me pretty powerful, but I can increase my powers further. It even lets me fly, somehow, though I don’t really know how that works. But I can extend this aura to other things as well.

“First time it activated, I was firing a gun at a getaway car. I was trying to pop the tire. The aura kicked in, and suddenly, it was like I was firing a rocket launcher. I hit the hubcap of the back tire, and ended up blowing the whole back half of the car clean off. No one was really hurt, thank god, but it sure scared the hell out of everyone there. Someone figured I must have hit the gas tank or maybe they had a bomb in their trunk and I hit that accidentally and blew it up.” He almost smiled for a moment, but it faltered before it could fully form. “Anyway, didn’t take long to discover my other abilities.” He let the aura effect fade.

“Interesting,” said Arcana. “I, um, discovered mine when I slipped in the shower. I panicked for a moment, and then the water rose up and caught me. From there, I just started testing my abilities.”

“How dramatic,” said Beowulf wryly. He pointed down to a trailer home as they reached the edge of town. “We’re here.” The two descended, landing in the yard. Arcana blanched as she looked at the building. An old, beat-up looking trailer stood in the middle of an unkempt yard, sorely in need of repair. The paint was cracked and peeling all over and the metal that showed beneath was rusted through. One of the windows was even busted out and boarded up.

“You live here?” said Arcana, a little disbelieving.

Beowulf shrugged. “It serves its purpose.” He went up to the door and it swung open with a creak, evidently not bothering to keep it locked. Arcana took a step inside and swallowed. The wallpaper was likewise cracked and peeling and the carpet had clearly not been vacuumed in some months. A few books and some clothes were strewn about, and a broken bicycle was resting against the far wall. A TV with a cracked screen and an old DVD/VCR player held together by some duct tape was nestled in the corner. A couple pizza boxes were leaned up against the old, busted looking stuffed chairs. To his credit, he did not, at least, have beer cans strewn all over the place.

Beowulf went into the bedroom to grab a pack and start shoving clothes in it. He came back out a few moments later, and started collecting more clothes and a couple books from the living room. Arcana frowned. “You’re not going to wash them first?”

“Don’t have a machine,” he said. “I just go to the coin-op.”

“Do you have a job, then?” she said. He shook his head. “How do you make money?”

Beowulf shrugged. “I had quite a bit saved up before I came here. The people here said this place was abandoned, so I took it. They offered to just give me one of the better houses, on the outskirts of town of course, but that didn’t seem right. Still, they don’t usually charge me when I go out to eat. All that said, I don’t really need much.”

“Are they really so afraid of you?” said Arcana. “It seems they truly want to pay you back for saving them.”

“I destroyed an entire city,” said Beowulf. “Well, Joansville was more like a large town, really. Growing population, lots of construction to expand. Another few years, the place could have become a decent hub city for all the other towns in the area.” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “But not anymore. All things considered, the economy of this whole area might tank, now.”

“Had you done nothing, your home city would have been destroyed anyway,” said Arcana. “You can’t blame yourse—”

“I’m aware that the physical city would have been wrecked, but it might have still been rebuildable at that point. And more people could have escaped. Instead, I…” He tightened his jaw. “Instead, I went with the nuclear option. I threw all my power into one last attack. And now, there’s nothing but a crater.”

“I suppose there was no way to drive the creature out of the city?” said Arcana.

Beowulf whirled on her and she flinched back, “You think I didn’t try?! That thing was the size of a skyscraper. I kept trying to pick it up and throw it, or carry it off, but every goddamned time I managed to get a grip, it would smack me off or grab me and throw me right back down. I even baited it, trying to get it chase me, but for some reason, it just wanted to break the city apart. If I got too far away, or we started leaving the center of the city, it would just turn back and start smashing buildings.”

He shook his head and sighed, closing his eyes. “And then, soon enough, I had to keep him in the center, because everyone was trying to evacuate, which meant no matter where we turned, there would be thousands of people in its path. And then, I guess it finally smashed everything it wanted to there, and it tried to leave. But like I said, all the people evacuating, there was no direction it could go without running people down.”

“Okay,” said Arcana. “That’s enough. You don’t need to say anymore.”

“I had to do it, you see, I had to,” he said in a low, haunted voice. “I mean, I made the right call, right? By that point, I was nearly dead on my feet, and I couldn’t let it leave the city, I had to end it.”

Arcana frowned, and hesitated, unsure of how to handle this situation. “Beowulf…” she said, extending a hand to him.

“I had to,” he said, and he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Arcana intently. “I just didn’t think the blast radius would be so large. Or that the back blast would be so strong. I didn’t have time to think it through, I just had to do it.”

Arcana took a step back, swallowing hard. The look in his eyes was eerie, as if he was looking straight through her, to some horrific image just behind her. The look was so intense, she felt herself growing scared to turn around, afraid of what she might see, even though she knew the horror was only in his head. Taking a breath, she composed herself and her features hardened into a firm, but cool expression. “Beowulf,” she said calmly, but firmly. He just kept looking at her, so she shifted her voice to a sharp commanding tone. “Jason!”

Beowulf blinked a few times, then shook his head. He looked at her, then at his hands, which he realized he had balled into fists. He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Sorry,” he said.

Arcana’s features softened, and she stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright,” she said. “You will be okay now. Together, we will make this—” she stopped as Beowulf shrugged her hand off and headed for the door.

“Let’s just go,” he said. Arcana frowned and followed him out of the trailer. After they got into the air, he said, “You better go back. I have laundry to do. I’ll meet up with you in the morning.” So saying, he veered off to the side.

Arcana frowned, but kept on going, easily making her way back by way of a few landmarks she had noted along the way. When she landed in the hotel’s parking lot, Kenrick was there, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the wall near the side entrance.

“Well?” he said.

“He is a very troubled man,” said Arcana, “I would recommend that he get some major counseling. However, I believe he will be of a help to us.”

“Good,” said Kenrick.

“Well, then, see you in the morning.” With that, she returned to the room they had all been in earlier.


THREE
A small turboprop plane arrived to pick them up, using a closed off section of highway to land and take off. Beowulf didn’t bother to tell anyone in town he was leaving; he figured even if no one had seen him depart with the others, someone would scope out his place, and within a couple days, everyone would know. He wondered if they might throw a party later.

No one spoke much. Mythos maintained his silent scowl, arms still crossed. Beowulf wondered if that was his default state. Arcana kept a cool silence, and he wondered if perhaps he’d spooked her the night before. Kenrick kept himself busy with some documents, leaving only Swan to attempt to strike up a conversation with. Beowulf, however, wasn’t much in the mood for idle chat, and this was apparently plain on his face, as Swan kept opening her mouth to say something, then closing it again as she looked to him.

He was about to finally indulge her and ask her what she wanted to say, when suddenly, the co-pilot came out of cockpit. “Agent Kenrick?” he said. “I just got word from the Guard. We’ve got a problem.”

“I do hope this problem does not begin with a capital T,” said Kenrick.

“I’m afraid it does, sir,” said the co-pilot. “There’s a Typhon heading towards Jackson City.” Hearing this, the four Empowered turned their heads, listening intently. The co-pilot glanced over to them, then back to Kenrick.

“Damn it to hell,” muttered Kenrick. “Well, aren’t they going to hit it with the missiles?”

“They did,” said the co-pilot. “It’s still heading that way.”

“Well, then we should do something about it,” said Swan. “What are we waiting for?”

“You aren’t trained,” said Kenrick. “Look, I’m FBI, not military, and I’m not your trainer, more like your liaison. I can’t exactly order you around, but we’re not prepared for this. We haven’t even gone over proper procedures.”

“We can’t just sit back and let it walk over another city!” said Swan. She turned to Beowulf. “Right? We can’t let it do that!” Beowulf avoided her gaze and said nothing. She blanched and turned back to Kenrick. “Well, have they started evacuations yet?”

“I’m sure they have,” he said. “But if it just waltzes past the missiles, it may get to the city before any real progress can be made. Did they say which one it was?”

“I think they said Humbaba?” said the pilot.

“Humbaba,” repeated Kenrick. “Crap. That thing’s basically a meaner version of the Grendel.”

“We can still drive it off, if we can’t beat it,” said Arcana. “All our powers combined, surely we can at least do that.”

Kenrick rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was just ordered to gather you all and bring you to Tallas. I can’t call the shots.”

“Fine,” said Mythos, the first thing he’d said all morning. “We’ll make it easy for you.” He stood up, and started walking to the back of the plane.

“Wait, what are you doing?” said Kenrick.

Mythos’ hand grasp the handle of the emergency exit door. “Have your men land this plane.”

“I can’t—” began Kenrick.

“Do it, or I will land it for you.” Mythos’ gaze did not change, but the slightly sharpened tone in his voice indicated he was completely serious.

“Stop it,” said Beowulf, his voice quiet, but firm, as he turned to face the taller man.

Mythos’ gaze fell onto him, and his perpetual scowl deepened. “You’re no use to us if you run from your power. You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes. Every one of us here fucked something up before. We got over it.”

“Did you vaporize an entire city?” said Beowulf.

“Pah, a city,” said Mythos. “I set half a state on fire.”

Beowulf cocked an eyebrow at him. He honestly couldn’t tell if Mythos sounded regretful of such a feat or proud.

“So what will it be, Agent?” said Mythos. His grip on the door handle tightened. “You going to land and let us go or shall we take the quick way out?”

Kenrick let out a breath, then turned to the co-pilot, who was keeping an eye on Mythos, looking ready to bolt. “Is there anyplace we can land?”

The co-pilot cleared his throat and focused on Kenrick. “Jackson’s 120 miles northwest. There’s another highway we could try landing on, but it’ll be clogged from the evacuation.”

“I can tell the Guard to clear out a flat, straight section for us,” said Kenrick, pulling out a cell phone.

“We’ll have to hope there’s a section near enough,” said the co-pilot.

“If need be, I can land us,” said Arcana. “If you just cut the engines and I could set us down gently anywhere, using my power. Is that agreeable?” The co-pilot swallowed nervously, but nodded.

“Excellent,” said Arcana. She turned towards Mythos. “Now, I’m sure we’d all be very grateful if you would kindly stop threatening us all with a potential plane crash.”

Mythos held her gaze for a moment before nodding, letting go of the emergency door handle and sitting back down.

“Man, you really are a Dick,” muttered Swan.

“We weren’t in any danger,” said Mythos. “Any of us can easily stop a plane from crashing.”

“That’s not the point,” said Swan. “Having the power doesn’t mean you can just shove people around.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” said Mythos. “The longer we sat here debating, the longer that monster gets to smash up a city. I was just cutting to the chase.”

“What if we are not ready?” said Arcana. “I do not wish to make things worse.”

Mythos’ scowl softened into a less abrasive frown. “I don’t either. But we can’t make things much worse than they already are. If that Typhon wants the city destroyed, it’ll smash it to pieces whether we’re there or not.” He flicked his gaze over to Beowulf. “Don’t you agree?”

Beowulf looked down at the floor, frowning deeply. Then, he slowly said, “Last time I didn’t know what I was doing. This time could be just as disastrous as the last.” He clenched his fist. “I won’t allow myself to cut loose like that again, but…” he paused, mulling it over in his mind. “But our presence there could at least help get everyone to safety. We can keep the creature occupied until everyone is away.”

“And then you can kill it,” said Kenrick. Beowulf glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Kenrick leaned forward, meeting his gaze with a strong stare of his own. “Listen to me, Jason. No one ever wants to deal with acceptable losses. But the loss of a city is a minor price to prevent a Typhon from threatening the rest of the continent. National Guard and Disaster Relief are already lending assistance to the evacuation effort. We’ll get as many people out as we can. But when the coast is clear, you have to kill it. Even if it means reducing Jackson into another glass crater.” Beowulf’s gaze didn’t falter, but remained haunted.

Swan put a hand on Beowulf’s arm, and he started. She smiled warmly at him, and said, “It’s alright. You’re not alone this time. We’ve got your back.” Beowulf nodded, and the group sat back. The co-pilot returned to the cockpit and the plane turned towards Jackson City.


FOUR
The highways in three sides of the city were indeed jammed with cars, barely contained in a gridlock. The lanes inbound to the city had been redirected to allow more traffic to leave, but even with the added lanes, there were too many vehicles. Already, there were people ditching cars to try and make it on foot. The city stood starkly against the horizon, a few gleaming towers standing out in the center. Past the towers, in the distance, they could see what appeared to be a massive, four-armed, ape-like creature trudging towards the city. The perspective at this range was difficult to figure, but the creature appeared to be even taller than the towers, the tallest of which was itself sixty-five stories.

Arcana used her power over wind to guide the plane down onto an empty stretch of highway past the city, putting them in between the city and the approaching Typhon. Once the four superhumans had exited, she used her power again to help the plane take off and escape the incoming disaster. They could hear it roaring now, massive lungs booming thunder across the land. Clouds of dust trailed behind it as its massive feet crushed the ground beneath, causing explosions of dust and debris as it went. At this rate, it would reach the city limits within just a couple of minutes, pulverizing the grassy countryside as it went. Its body was a rippling mountain of muscle and thick fur, each of its six limbs terminating in a set of thick, three-fingered claws; even the feet sported two wide toes wit the heel extending back to form a stumped third digit. Its head vaguely resembled that of a gorilla, a low brow and flat face, but with a mouth twisted into a snarl of tusks.

“It almost looks like Grendel,” said Beowulf, sizing up the thing. “Except for the extra set of arms.”

Arcana nodded. “We suspect the Typhons are animals that have been Empowered like us. However, they do not have a human mind with which to reign in their new abilities. For that matter, it would seem their abilities are crude compared to ours, focused purely on the enhancement of their physicality.”

“So what kind of animal do you suppose this guy is?” said Swan.

“Hard to say,” said Arcana. “Analysis of Grendel’s DNA suggested he was originally a chimpanzee. Humbaba could be another monkey or ape. Or something else entirely.”

“Doesn’t matter at this point, I suppose,” said Beowulf. “I’ll try and keep it busy while you three assist with the evacuation.”

“With respect, Beowulf, I believe I can be of assistance in the fight,” said Arcana. “My ability to command the elements can be—”

“Just do as I say,” said Beowulf, lifting into the sky and immediately rocketing at high speed towards the creature.

“Huh,” said Mythos, watching him go. “And here I thought I was the loose cannon.”

Swan smirked and took to the air, turning to the other two. “Alright, I’m going to set up force fields at the edge of the city. You two… um…” She struggled for a moment to think of a suitable task.

“I can use my powers to aid in the fight,” insisted Arcana, her face halfway between stern and anxious. “It is where I would be best suited.”

“Same here,” said Mythos, crossing his arms, his expression grim.

Swan sighed. “If you say so. Just try not to get in Beowulf’s way.”

Just as she said that, the force of an enormous explosion sent the three flying backwards. Swan threw her hands up, and wide, nearly translucent shield of white extended from her body. Almost instinctively, she threw the shield as far out as she could manage, a great wall of force that stretched a mile into the sky and five miles wide. A wave of gale force winds, debris, earth, and ash slammed against the shield. Swan grit her teeth as the shield shuddered under the impact, until she was able to reinforce it with another surge of her power.

The three others stared past the shield into the wall of dust, stunned. “Holy fuck,” whispered Arcana.


***


As the three talked, Jason paused only a few seconds to gauge the distance to his target. Then, he wasted no time in rocketing himself forward, fists first, streaking through the air like a human missile. Golden fire erupted over his body as he willed himself to become even stronger and tougher than normal. In his rested state, he could, and had, survived a building dropping on him. He’d picked up tanks and hurled them across his home town to strike the Grendel. As the golden flames he called the Excelsior Aura enveloped him, he felt power surge though his muscles. Although there did not appear to be a physical change, he could almost feel his body growing, tightening, strengthening. He knew the sensation was just in his head, but he also knew it symbolized a real effect. His body, already tougher than diamond, became tougher still. A skyscraper could fall lengthwise upon him, and he would not feel a thing. He could have taken a ballistic missile. A meteor. A mountain.

And as his strength grew, so, too, did his speed. Humbaba was still five miles from the city. At his starting speed, Beowulf would have reached him in only thirty seconds. As his speed built, that time was cut in half. Then half again. Then half again. In the time it took Swan to say “in Beowulf’s way,” Beowulf had started his charge and impacted against Humbaba’s chest.

The blow struck with the force of a hydrogen bomb, the shockwave of the impact extending outward and shattering the landscape below. Beowulf kept pushing, following the blow through. His arms momentarily felt like jelly, his whole body shuddering as the force of the impact rocked through him. He felt something inside the great Typhon buckle, possibly a rib breaking. Beowulf grit his teeth and powered through, pushing forward with both fists against the bruising flesh, willing his Aura to make him even stronger. Humbaba staggered backwards, the mountainous creature forced back by the impact of a man whose body should not have had the sheer momentum to physically push him. Beowulf should have bounced off his hide like a pebble, but the man’s power seemed to defy the laws of physics, like bullet somehow physically knocking over a car, instead of simply flattening against it.

And yet, Humbaba seemed more annoyed than pained. As earth and dust billowed out from the impact, blanketing the two in a fog of debris, the great four-armed ape roared in defiance of the little man attempting to harm him. He slammed his lower left fist into his chest as one might swat a mosquito. The impact blasted away the dust with a surge of displaced air, and Beowulf, not expecting to be struck from behind, was momentarily stunned. The ape then pinched Beowulf between the fingers of his upper right arm and looked at the man curiously.

Beowulf roused after only a moment, finding himself pinned between fingers the size of houses. He yanked one arm free, and focused his energies into a single point on his palm. Then he pushed with that energy. A brilliant, blinding beam of golden light lanced forth, striking Humbaba in his enormous right eye. The Typhon howled in pain, blood spilled from it’s eye, and Beowulf pushed harder, intended to blast straight through to it’s brain. Humbaba had other ideas, however, flicking Beowulf away like a piece of grit, as it brought it’s upper right hand to it’s wounded face.

Beowulf shot through the air like a bullet, the crack of a sonic boom following in his wake. A line of dust trailed him through the cloud, sucked into the wake of his passage, until he slammed back first into a solid wall of pure force. Groaning, he started to slide down it, his body numb but for a dull ache he could feel deep within his bones, one he distantly knew would soon have him curled into a all of agony, once his senses started to clear.

Then suddenly, he was being pulled through the wall of force. Nimble, but firm arms grabbed him from under the arms, and he heard the flapping of wings. Then, he was being set on the ground and a calming warmth washed through him, and after a moment, the pain and numbness, and dulling of his senses cleared away. He blinked and saw Swan kneeling next to him, leaning over him, with her hand on his head.

“Oh,” he said. He sat up, shaking his head. “Wow. That didn’t go how I had planned.”

“That was not a plan at all!” said Arcana, her voice a couple octaves higher than before. “What were you thinking?! That blast could have wiped out the city itself!”

“I was trying to shoot through the damn thing,” said Beowulf. “He’s tougher than I expected.” He stood up and rose into the air again, his golden aura shining around him once more.

“Wait!” said Swan. She followed him into the air and grabbed his shoulder to halt him a dozen feet in the air, heedless of the golden flames. They didn’t feel hot anyway, as it turned out, just a small light show to signify the use of his power. “Listen to me. I know you feel responsible for your home town, but you cannot just barrel into this, thinking a quick victory is going to make up for your past mistake. We need to be strategic about this.”

“Swan is correct,” said Arcana, forcing herself to calm down. “We brought you with us so we could work together to face this kind of threat. If you do not work with us, then all of us will fail.”

“I KNOW!” yelled Beowulf, whirling on the three. Swan and Arcana shrank back, flinching at the outburst. Only Mythos was unmoved, arms crossed, and locking eyes with the golden man. Beowulf grit his teeth and his hands went to his head, clutching at his hair. “But I don’t know what else to do! All I’m good for is a bludgeon! All I can do is just beat on that thing until it stops moving or I do! What do you expect of me? I was a superhero for only two fucking months before the Grendel hit my city! I don’t know any of this works!”

Swan opened her mouth, but any further conversation was halted by a deafening boom. Swan gasped and lurched in the air. The miles-long wall of her force field rippled with translucent rainbow colors as Humbaba loomed out of the still-swirling dust cloud, to slam his fists upon the wall. He smashed his head upon it, glaring at the four with his one good eye. He kicked and screamed and pounded on the force field.

Swan thrust both hands and pushed with her power. The field thickened, regaining its pale, translucent white glow. Humbaba redoubled its efforts, causing the field to warp inward briefly with every strike. Swan grit her teeth and the fingers of her hands curled into claws as she concentrated on maintaining the field.

Beowulf glared at the creature in a fury. He shot up into the sky, arced tightly over the field, then dive bombed Humbaba from above, striking into the top of his head like a missile. The impact sent another massive explosion of force that strained Swan’s shield. As well, the sudden downward burst crushed Humbaba several feet into the earth, and sent forth a shockwave through the ground. A wave of earth and rock erupted from under Swan’s force field, and the land itself shook with the impact.

However, before the localized quake could spread further, Arcana, heedless of the shaking earth, threw her arms forward, out, and then down going into a kneel as she moved. Her hands tapped the ground, and the quake stopped, instantly. The wave of surging earth halted its advance just inches from her body. She let out a breath.

Mythos was beside her, offering a hand. She blinked, then took it, pulling herself up to her feet. “Nice,” he said, and poked the mound of earth.

“Um, thank you,” Arcana said, a little hesitantly, as though she herself didn’t believe she’d pulled off such a wide-scale effect. With another wave of her hand, the mound of dirt flattened itself, the torn landscape around them smoothing down into compacted ground.

A moment later, another loud boom could be heard, and the three looked up to see a streak of golden light rocketing into the sky. Humbaba had just punched Beowulf into the stratosphere.

“God damn it,” said Swan, as the Typhon turned back to them, and started striking the force field again.

“I got him,” said Mythos. He extended an arm up and snapped his fingers. In the sky, near Beowulf’s now distant body, there was a flash of light, and a brilliant white form appeared. Indistinguishable at this distance, the form snatched Beowulf out of the sky, and quickly flew down towards the trio.

Arcana and Swan, already familiar with Mythos’ power, were not surprised to see a white, winged lion, with a human face, carry Beowulf’s unconscious form upon its back. The great sphinx settled its paws on the ground, then lowered itself so Mythos could pull Beowulf off it. Beowulf, still half-dazed from the blow, just stared at the thing. “The fuck izzat?” he said.

“A sphinx,” said Mythos matter-of-factly, a slightly smug look on his face. He gave the majestic creature a pat on the side, and it nodded at him, then vanished into thin air. “My power is to summon monsters.”

Beowulf grit his teeth and his aura flared again. When it flickered out, he seemed to have already recovered from the stunning blow. “Monsters like the Typhons?”

Mythos frowned. “Not quite that strong. But strong enough to hold their own against them, for at least a little while.” He turned to Arcana. “If you would, could you do something about the dust cloud?”

Arcana swept her arms down once more, and the massive cloud of dust and debris still swirling around the Typhon’s frenzied moves suddenly dropped to the ground like a mass of stones. Past the wall of the force field, the land was revealed to be a completely pulverized plain of destroyed earth, broken rock, and splintered trees.

Mythos nodded, then raised both hands, and snapped his fingers. Great pillars of smoke arose from the ground, one a brilliant red, another a deep blue, a third a bold green. The smoke twisted and gnarled, until it took the form of three serpentine dragons. As long as Humbaba was tall, each as thick as the monster’s upper arms, the great beasts hissed and lunged at the Typhon, coiling around him and attempting to sink fangs the size of oak tree deep into the creature’s flesh. Unfortunately, the bites appeared to have little impact, barely piercing the skin as the Typhon just roared louder and thrashed, pulling and clawing at the creatures with his four arms, its claws digging deep ruts into the beasts.

Mythos grit his teeth as well and concentrated, the three dragons continuing to hang onto the Typhon as if for dear life, biting him over and over to try and find a weak spot. The Typhon stumbled back, and the three dragons tails tripped the ape-like monster over, ending it crashing to the ground. Unfortunately, doing so caused the Typhon’s great weight to slam onto the green dragon, thoroughly crushing most of its body. Mythos flinched as his monster was destroyed, evaporating into smoke, then into nothing. His two other dragons uncurled themselves and floated back, staying aloft despite a lack of wings. They reared back and then snapped their heads forward, jaws open wide, as brilliant white and blue flames billowed forth to blanket the Typhon.

As the Typhon fell, Arcana raised her arm into the air, her index and middle fingers extended. From the nearly clear sky, a bolt of lightning surged downward, blindingly bright and crashing into the Typhon’s body with a tremendous thundering. The lightning didn’t stop after a single bolt, continuing to hammer the creature with energy.

Swan made a curling motion with her arms, and the other three could see her force field shrinking lengthwise and curving inward, forming a quarter mile wide cylinder, trapping the Typhon in with his attackers.

Humbaba writhed and screamed, pounding at the ground with all six limbs as though throwing a tantrum. Arcana had to once again exert her power to keep the ground steady. Beowulf watched as his three companions continued their assault, Swan shrinking the force field narrower until Humbaba had no where to roll, the dragons hovering above and spewing long jets of fire, and between them, the seemingly endless lightning bolt hammering down.

But Humbaba wasn’t stopping his tantrum. His skin began to char, his hair to smoke, and still, he roared and pounded. He forced himself to his feet and slammed his claws again and again against the force field until even the reinforced walls rippled and warped.

“It’s not enough,” said Beowulf. He turned to Swan. “How powerful is that force field?”

Swan, through grit teeth, said, “I’ve tested it… against an… atomic bomb… held it then… but this is a… sustained assault…”

Mythos’s dragons vanished and Swan shrank the walls tighter, attempting to pin the creature’s arms. Humbaba fought the restraint, and the field bulged out dangerously. Arcana redoubled her efforts, raising her other arm, and the lightning bolt brightened and widened. Even through the force field, the air was beginning to reek of ozone. Mythos snapped his fingers again, and a new dragon formed, black smoke billowing out from near the top of Swan’s force field, forming into a great lizard with huge wings, gripping the side of the force field. It reared back its head, the unleashed a great gout of crimson flame, which twisted and joined with the lightning bolt to continue to try and cook the relentless Typhon.

“Beowulf… Jason… if you can lend a hand…?” said Arcana.

Beowulf nodded and his aura flared. He rose into the sky until he was above the point where Arcana’s lightning bolt was originating. He let the energy run to his fingertips, gathering together for a blast on par with what had finally felled the Grendel. Then, he paused halfway through. Spearing such an attack straight down could do more damage to the landscape, even focusing it through Swan’s force field. The combined energies could even pierce down deep into the planet, strike through the bedrock, and possibly cause an earthquake even Arcana couldn’t stop. Even if she could, would the back blast of his shot from this angle cause some kind of atmospheric damage? And if not that, would the pressure of the energy become too much for Swan’s force field, cause it to explode and unleash that deadly energy in all directions?

Beowulf lowered his arms, and let the energy disperse back over his body. He then dropped back to the ground. “Everyone on me! Keep doing what you’re doing, but gather around!”

The three, in no position to argue, backed up towards him, Swan dropping to the ground, Mythos and Arcana coming to either side. “Alright,” he said. “Pour on the pressure. Swan, put a force field under the ground beneath Humbaba, then grab my shoulder.” She nodded, doing so. Beowulf then reached out and grabbed Mythos and Arcana by the shoulders. He concentrated, and his Excelsior Aura flared, golden flames spreading over him once more. Then, he pushed, and the aura spread over them all.

The three gasped, and the looks of strain on their faces cleared. Swan’s field became a pillar of solid white, impervious even to the Typhon’s blows. Arcana’s bolt of lightning speared down, a single straight lance of pure plasma energy. Mythos’ dragon tripled in size, enough to curl around the force field, even though it was still hundreds of feet wide. Its flame become a blinding ruby light, the glow of mystic fire shining from the top of the force field, matching the brilliance of the lightning beam.

Humbaba’s roars began to falter. Swan curled the fingers of her free hand into a fist, and the force field began to shrink. As it did, the energy attacks from above narrowed to compensate, focusing the energy tightly against the monster. The Typhon’s roars stopped, finally, drowned out by the thunder of fire and lightning. Swan then slowly capped off the force field at the top, trapping the monster into a seething roil of stellar heat and pressure. Arcana and Mythos backed down their powers so Swan could fully close the cylinder, the lightning beam fading, though Mythos’s dragon stayed where it was, it’s mouth cooling from the flames.

After several minutes, Swan said, “I don’t think I feel it struggling.”

“Even if it is dead, is your field safe to open?” said Arcana, her brow furrowing. “With that much energy and pressure inside, it’s basically an enormous bomb.”

“You can ice it down, can’t you?” said Swan.

Arcana thought for a moment, then reached out with hand towards the sphere. “I can try. Open the top.”

Swan nodded, and the top of the field opened just a peak. A lance of white hot fire erupted from it, but Arcana held out a hand and curled her fingers in an imitation of Swan’s earlier motion. The white hot flame rapidly cooled, then sputtered, then guttered out, all within a few seconds.

“Alright,” said Swan. “Everyone ready?” A collective nod followed, and she dropped the field. An enormous skeleton crashed to the ground, charred straight to the bone. Mythos’ dragon shuffled over to it, gave it a sniff, then clamped its massive jaw over the great skull. With a quick snap, and the skull shattered with a satisfying crunch.

The four superhumans let out a tremendous sigh, and Beowulf finally cut off his aura. Even after their exertions, the aura left them feeling, if not refreshed, not nearly as exhausted as they should have been. “Thank god,” said Beowulf. He wiped his brow and felt a sudden desire to lean against something. Nothing of sufficient height was around in the flatted section of landscape where they stood, so he just sat down where he was.

Arcana looked the giant skeleton over studiously. Mythos snapped his fingers and made his great dragon disappear, then stood with his arms crossed, looking over the battlefield. Swan stepped up to Beowulf, the kneeled down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Gotta say, man, that was pretty amazing. You have a real gift.”

“Still wasn’t enough by itself,” he said.

“Well, at the risk of sounding like a Saturday morning cartoon, that’s why we’re a team,” she said, smiling.

Beowulf looked at her, then stood and turned to face the city they had just saved. “Yeah,” he said. He paused, as if thinking of something more profound to say, then just settled with another, “Yeah.”

Swan stood with up with him, then walking over to talk to Mythos and Arcana. Beowulf let them talk as he continued to stare at the city. A glint of light showed in the sky. He glanced at it and saw the turbo-prop plane they’d flown in on; Kenrick was coming back to pick them up. Beowulf looked back at the city once more, pondering this new chance he’d been given. He felt something like a great weight lifting from his shoulders.

And he smiled.

THE END

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AUTHOR’S NOTES: The Intrepid is a series I conceived of nearly 16 years ago, and has undergone many alterations since, as well as proven to be one of the most hair-rippingly frustrating story concepts I’ve worked on in my entire life. This particular story was started four years ago, and after several fruitless attempts of picking and tinkering, I finally was able to complete this “pilot episode” of the series last week.

While I eventually planned at one point to write several stories for this series and release each “season” as an anthology, I doubt I’ll ever get that far. Nonetheless, I feel this first installment works well enough as a stand alone, and maybe someday, the gears will start turning, things will click into place once more, and I’ll finally figure out how to make this thing work.