Ryn took a jacket off the rack. Black with silver buttons. He felt the material in between his fingers. It was thick, seemed good quality. Looked about his size. He removed it from its hanger and took it over to the nearest full size mirror at the back of the men’s section.

  Behind him in the reflection, he could see most of the other people in the clothing store gathered at the front, looking at the small screen behind the counter. News people were talking on it.

  “Can’t you turn this up?” an old woman asked.

  The cashier finally found the remote, and the speakers’ voices became audible.

  “…receiving reports that an unknown object has entered Earth’s atmosphere at supersonic speeds roughly two hours ago. The object, which sources are saying may potentially be an individual capable of flight, was last recorded traveling over the eastern US. Authorities are working to locate and identify this extraterrestrial object and will release information as it becomes available. For now, residents are cautioned to be on high alert for any suspicious activity. The hotline for reporting sightings is…”

  Ryn focused on himself again as he shrugged on the jacket. He flexed his shoulders, seeing if it fit. A saleswoman approached. She was young, with dark hair that didn’t touch her shoulders and neat glasses. She gave Ryn an appreciative once-over.

  “That looks really good on you,” the saleswoman said. “And I’m not just saying that to get you to buy it. Then again, you’d look good in any jacket.”

  Ryn offered a smile. He smoothed out the jacket and tested its pockets. It did look good over his light bodysuit, which itself fit snugly over his trim body from foot to neck. He looked at the stubble on his jaw and ran a hand over it. He needed a shave.

  “It does look good,” Ryn decided. “I think I’ll take it.”

  “Great, I’ll ring you up at the counter.” She started leading the way. “If I can get everyone to stop crowding. Aliens are real, people, let’s all get on with our lives. Not like we need to get hysterical.” She gave laugh Ryn was meant to share.

  He took off the jacket and folded it. He turned to her. “Would you hold onto this for me? I’m going to come back for it later today. I just have some business I need to do first, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Oh, sure!” She accepted the jacket. “I’ll put it behind the counter for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before he could walk away, she pointed up at his head.

  “By the way, I like your hair. The Ollyrian look? It works for you.”

  Ryn reached up and touched his silver-white hair, which was growing out into a bit of a messy tangle. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, getting a bit bashful. “Not everyone can pull it off. I mean, remember after Sentinel and Stargazer died, and everyone on social media was doing it as a memorial? And now there’s the new Ollyrian girl, so it’s getting popular again. But on you, it looks totally natural.”

  Ryn nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  She did a small wave she could manage with the jacket in her arms. “See you later, then!”

  Ryn walked through the racks, past the people still gawking and muttering around the screen, and out the front door. Outside, he looked at his surroundings. He had stopped at some sleepy little town off the highway heading west. He liked the name of the store he had seen on a billboard and decided to stop there. Hugo’s.

  “Hugo. Hugo. Hugo,” Ryn said to himself. He had downloaded an English module just last night. He was still testing out the language. He liked finding fun things to say.

  He took off into the sky and continued flying west.

  Five steps to his mission today, here on Earth. They were given to him in a specific order, an efficient order, but he didn’t particularly feel like being efficient. The first thing he did upon arrival was fly around and take his own survey. This world, and this land he was meant to destabilize, did not strike him as a particular threat.

  He had queried his codex this morning and read up on this “Earth.” A class-2 civilization by Galactic Cooperative standards, Earth was underdeveloped and at the same time being choked for its resources. Wealth-hoarding, nationalism, overreliance on fossil fuels. They were on track to follow the Vondex-Jurinar Death-Curve projection and regress to a depleted class-1 scavenger society within two millennia. Just another habitable rock wasted by its children.

  Only three things of particular note to Earth: one, its inhabitants looked identical to Ollyrians and could even interbreed. The Primordials likely seeded the planets from the same evolutionary stock. Two: Earth was known for its high number of genetic aberrants and for being a strong dimensional nexus. Again, surely Primordial tampering. Three: As the woman in the clothing store had rambled on about, Earth had Ollyrians. Ryn was curious about these uncollared members of his species. This job was the perfect opportunity to meet. The one currently alive, at least.

  He continued flying over the road congested with crude terrestrial combustion vehicles on his way to his destination. As his shadow passed over them, he looked for one he could use. Something to make a good introduction.

  He spotted it. A tanker truck with a flaming caution sign on its sides and back. That should get their attention. He banked until he was flying beside the truck. In the operating compartment, a fat man did a double-take to see Ryn just outside his passenger window. Ryn copied the wave the clothing store girl had given him. He flew underneath the truck, between its wheels, and lifted it off the road.

  He rose back into the sky with the vehicle balanced on his two hands, if only to make sure he didn’t accidentally drop it. He flew forward with it above his head and began regaining speed.

  He saw his destination on the horizon. On the water, cradled by mountains, a minuscule city that he supposed humans considered large. He accelerated towards it with the truck above him. He aimed directly for the tallest building of the city. He was on it in seconds.

  His momentum and strength were plenty to tear a hole in the building, but the truck full of combustible material added a nice explosive flourish as he thought it would. For a moment, his world was fiery heat and horrible fumes and the groaning of distressed metal. The truck disintegrated in his hands as it crushed, melted, and merged with the innards of the building. He was blinded and deafened for a short moment. Then he was clear on the other side. He flew a thousand meters away and turned around to admire his work.

  A wide gash in the building spat fire and belched smoke. Already, he could see flaming bodies windmilling down to the street. The entire structure rocked from the force of the impact. A secondary explosion detonated, causing more glass to shatter and shed and the building to tilt. One floor collapsed, then another. He could hear the screams and see the panicked faces of the people trapped on the topmost floors. He drew close and again copied the small wave. Bye bye, leeches. No more sucking the life from the planet for you. Not that he cared for one human over another.

  He watched as the top portion of the building snapped enough to collapse, half falling onto its neighboring skyscraper and taking a chunk out of it to all fall onto the streets below. Destruction spread like a solid wave in all directions for blocks as pedestrians pointlessly fled the debris much faster than them. They were crushed like ants under a boot.

  What was this place called again? Pacific City?

  Ryn lowered himself to the street, enough distance away from the destruction to be clear of it. He landed in the midst of people screaming and running. So hysterical. Something smelled good. He followed his nose to an abandoned food cart on the corner. After a moment of inspection, he used the tongs to put a tube of pink meat into a bun, then randomly pumped some vibrant condiments onto it.

  He took a bite. Not bad.

  He noticed a woman standing not too far away in the street, looking at the building in the distance with its top half sheared off and a column of smoke roiling into the air to darken the sky. Her face was locked in horror and grief.

  Ryn swallowed his bite. He called to her. “So, was that enough for someone big to show up, or was that pretty normal? As far as disasters go? Should I do more?”

  She dropped her bag and ran after everyone else. Fine.

  He finished his meat in bread and hovered himself up to sit on the nearest tall roof. Streets were packed with abandoned vehicles, but emergency personnel with their sirens running did their best to make it to the disaster site. He watched them scramble with his legs dangling. He wondered when the other Ollyrian would show.

  It wasn’t long before he heard the sonic booms indicating someone approaching fast. He floated off the roof and turned to meet them. They came from the same direction he had.

  He saw a golden figure with wings fly from the horizon to stop over the destroyed building. He waited patiently for them to notice him. They circled around, then changed trajectory once he was spotted to meet him over the city. The figure stopped close enough for them to speak.

  The figure was a woman in brilliant armor born aloft by a pair of wide, golden feathered wings. He couldn’t see a hint of her skin under all her plating, just her general form, until a gauntlet reached up to open her faceplate. The woman underneath was admirably beautiful, with gold-brown skin, golden eyes, and statuesque features. Those features were twisted into a furious expression.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the woman demanded. Her voice was deep, resonant, layered, supernaturally commanding. “Who are you, and what have you done?!”

  “I’m Ryn,” he introduced himself. “But I hear you humans take names when you commit violence. I want to be called Pariah. I like that word in your language. I think it’s fitting for me. Who are you?”

  “Seraph, guardian of Earth,” she growled. “You destroyed that building. You’ve already killed thousands.” Her eyes went to his hair. “You’re an Ollyrian,” she realized. “You shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  “Why? Because we’re passive?” Pariah asked. He crossed his arms. If he was going to share his story with anyone on this planet, it might as well be her. She looked impressive for an Earthling. He hoped she would give him a good fight. “My parents were part of a resistance on Ollyria. A small group who thinks our forced weakness is a perversion of our nature. My mother and father took great risk to birth me outside of the planet’s influence. They were both executed for it. But I was hidden, and survived. My entire life, I’ve been an outlaw due to the circumstances of my birth. Hunted to be put under the same brainwashing the rest of my kind receive. So I stay on the move. Work as a mercenary. Fight as a gladiator. Do odd jobs to stay ahead.”

  “Then why are you here?” Seraph asked.

  “Like I said, work,” Pariah answered. He was growing bored already. He was hoping for the half breed girl to show. But this ‘Seraph’ seemed a fine enough target. “And I want to see the girl.”

  “Who hired—”

  That was enough talking for now. He closed the distance between them near instantly. He grabbed Seraph around the throat and threw her downwards, her wings creating a rush of air. Her back hit the edge of building they were floating above. Instead of bouncing off and spiraling towards the ground, he had launched her with enough force for her to continue directly down, shearing off the side of the building as she tumbled. He waited for her to recover.

  Fighter jets did a pass above. He watched them idly. He felt her approach again. For a winged flyer, she was fast. He pulled himself backwards to avoid the upper swing of a hammer, its head passing a handspan away from his face.

  Seraph came at him with a flurry of wild swings from a gilded war hammer she now held. Pariah bent to avoid the first few, then caught the hammer by its neck. They locked in place, Seraph’s furious eyes boring into his amused.

  “Who sent you here?” she demanded.

  “Impress me and I’ll tell you.”

  Her hammer disappeared in a flash of golden light, leaving Pariah holding nothing. He caught an armored fist to the face, causing him to flinch and float backwards. The hit had managed to sting a bit. Seraph pressed the attack, striking his face, his shoulder, his sternum. He didn’t block the blows for now. He wanted to see if anything on this planet was capable of hurting him. She wasn’t bad. Maybe there was some promise in this planet after all.

  She formed her arms into a swinging motion, and her war hammer reappeared halfway through the arc. She was aiming for his head. He held up his arm and blocked the blow. Still, it sent him reeling. She followed after him. An aggressive striker. He liked that.

  He let his momentum carry him into a full flight in wide circles over the city. He increased his speed by one degree, then another. The winged warrior didn’t struggle to keep up. Yet. She was hot on his heels.

  Pariah wasn’t all strength. He used his agility to cut downwards, his opponent passing just overhead. He shot up and launched himself into her back, between her wings. He steered her to crash into the nearest building. Like a bullet, they shot through one side and exploded out the other, leaving a wake of ruined floors. He didn’t stop there. He kept pushing her until they collided with the street. A crater formed with a great detonation, the street collapsing into the underlying infrastructure.

  Pariah pulled himself off her. They had flattered several cars into metal pulp. Water gushed from broken pipes between slabs of shattered road. He stepped back until he could lean against the side of the crater. Seraph drew her wings into herself as she found her footing. Not too dented yet, to her credit. She watched him, wary of his next move.

  “Did you ever fight them?” Pariah asked.

  “Who?”

  “The gene-thieves,” he said. “The husband and wife. Before they died, I mean.”

  “No.” She wiped her mouth. She prepared a fighting stance. “I never had a reason to. They were good people. The best of us.”

  “That’s too bad.” He was on her again as the last word left his mouth. He punched her helmet hard enough to create a burst of air. But she was more ready for this bout. She struck back, hitting his chest and face as he hit hers. They locked in a slugging match, each strike hard enough to shake the ground.

  He laughed at the thrill of it. There was a certain pleasure in killing things with no chance of fighting back, but this was the real exhilaration. The same he felt in the fighting pits in the distant reaches of space, where all manner of strange and ancient species gathered to eviscerate each other. Fights like these were where he could truly feel the superiority of his form.

  He stepped back from one of her swings and locked her arm in his. He leveraged his strength to force her down to her knees. She struggled against him, golden wings beating mightily. Not enough to break the lock.

  He grinned, even as he felt a trickle of blood from his nose. “You’re good,” he said, genuinely meaning the compliment. “Does Earth have other heroes like you?”

  “I’d say you’d meet them, but you won’t be making it through me,” she said. So full of defiance. “I fight for God, the Almighty. I am His protector on Earth.”

  “Oh, a godwarrior,” Pariah said. “I’ve killed many godwarriors. Hell, I’ve killed many gods. I’ve always found them to be a bit… lacking.”

  He allowed her to push him off. She summoned her hammer again and was back to swinging. He could’ve taken the fight out of the crater, but he didn’t yet. He weaved and allowed her weapon to crash into the depression, sending chunks of rubble flying.

  She came around again. He was just about to dodge, when he felt something tighten against his neck. Odd. He would have brought a hand up to feel it, but his wrists were locked in place at the same time. Not good, considering a woman almost as strong as an Ollyrian was sending a spiked hammer head to collide with his face.

  The weapon found its mark, hitting him squarely on the side of his head. His skull rattled. That was… unpleasant. He felt his ear fill with blood.

  “Hellsister, what are you doing here?”

  Seraph was talking, not to him. Must have been the commander of the chains. The voices were half drowned with his hearing impaired. He tugged to test how strong the bonds were.

  “You might have the planet, but this is my sector! How about you don’t question it and keep hitting the bastard!”

  The other voice was above the crater, somewhere behind him. Seraph’s gauntlets smashed into his face repeatedly. Unimpeded, they were starting to work a bit of damage on him. He focused on the chains. He tugged on his right side first. The bonds were strong, but not impervious. They snapped under a few seconds of applied force. Seraph’s war hammer smashed into the top of his head. His skull held, but the skin split. He felt blood dribble through his hair and down his neck. He grabbed the other chain with his free hand, breaking it, then pulled apart the one around his neck. Seraph’s next wide swing met empty air.

  He attacked from the side, faster than she could track. He shouldered her onto the ground, then worked her over with a series of blows. Each one used her as a nail to create a deeper hole in the earth’s crust. Shattered rubble buried her until only her wings and one hand remained visible. Pariah grabbed it and flew upwards, dragging her out of her grave and away from her support. She didn’t fight his grip until they were well over the skies of the city. She tugged away, and they faced each other midair again.

  Seraph’s armor was now well-dented, but she held herself up. Pink froth dribbled from her mouth as she spoke. “You’re starting to annoy me. How about you go back to where you came from before this gets really bad for you?”

  Pariah smiled. He might have been bleeding and bruised, but he wasn’t anywhere close to losing this fight. Now he knew how much force to apply. This planet was interesting.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Seraph initiated a charge. Pariah launched forward. Something tugged at his ankle, arresting his momentum. Another chain. Seraph met him with greater force, her two fists plowing into his face. The grip of the chain released as he was knocked backwards. That was starting to get really annoying. He didn’t expect that much range.

  Seraph actually pulled back as another annoyance approached. Those jets he had noticed earlier. They came screaming in. Both released a packet of rockets, each cluster breaking apart into a swarm of explosives. He braced himself.

  Thirty missile heads detonated against his body, enveloping him in fire. Compared to Seraph’s hits, they were a warm tickle.

  He waited for the smoke to clear. Something drenched him from above. Molten fire clung to his skin, scalding him as much as a boiling shower might. He flew sideways out of it. It took him a moment to wipe the burning muck from his face. He cleared his eyes to see a portal gushing magma where he had been. He could feel the sting of magic to it. The chain-controller was attuned to a nether realm.

  Pariah searched for his flying opponent. He felt the vibrations of her wings a second too late. A hammer blow slammed into his jaw from below, clacking his teeth together as he spun backwards. He spit blood. This world really was an interesting playground. But still, schedule and all.

  He accelerated from nothing and slammed into Seraph coming towards him. Destruction was the order of the day, so together they went on a tour of the city. Her knuckles beat his sides and stomach as she fought his grapple. He held onto her tight under her arms, her helm inches away from his face. Her wings dragged behind her.

  Pariah passed them through the center of one building, then another, then another. Plaster, concrete, bricks, and steel all crumbled like sand as they crashed together. Occasionally a body splattered against their forms, drenching them both in viscera. Pariah increased their speed instead of letting each impact slow them. A second of bursting through walls, then a half second of flying through air, then another second of carnage when they reached the next building. They hit fifteen or so blocks this way before finally reaching the open air of the bay.

  “ENOUGH!”

  A white burst of energy emanated from Seraph and separated her from Pariah’s grip. He floated back to give her distance and witness her transformation.

  Seraph began to glow with holy fire, which traveled along her armor in pulsing waves and set her golden wings alight. Her eyes shone pure pearlescent. She formed another weapon in her hand. Not her war hammer, but an unstable slash of burning light in the vague shape of a sword. She wrapped both hands around it, and it grew to be the length of her body.

  “INTRUDER OF EARTH.” Her voice was a choir of wrathful angels. “PREPARE FOR CASTIGATION.”

  “Castigation. I like th—”

  A beam fired from Seraph’s weapon, hitting Pariah directly in the chest. The torrent of power pushed him downwards, hard, until he collided with the city docks. It didn’t end once he was on the ground. It continued pressing down on him, building in heat and intensity, until…

  He was at the center of a supernova. His world became washed in white fire. He felt the detonation begin at his chest and ripple outwards. Air superheated, and the ground below him disappeared. It actually caught him by surprise how much it hurt. He tried to move, and found he couldn’t. Destructive energy pulsed over him.

  It took him a moment to get his bearings. He was on his hands and knees, gasping. The world returned as the white faded. He sat up on his haunches to see he was at the center of a blast that had turned asphalt into slag. In every direction except above were shipping containers warped and fusing into each other. A moving crane sagged as half its support melted.

  Seraph floated down towards him. Her holy aura had faded slightly, but she still glowed with power. Her beam weapon had coalesced into a shining sword.

  “Do you yield?” she asked.

  Pariah laughed to himself. He touched his charred skin where a hole had been burnt through his suit.

  “No. No, I do not yield.”

  Red glowing lines drew circles and patterns on the smoking slag where he knelt. Hellish runes wafted into the air as the ritual circle completed.

  “Hellsister! Do not interfere with your profane sorcery!” Seraph again called.

  Pariah looked over his shoulder. He saw his other opponent, a woman in layered robes with an aged grimoire chained to her hip. A wicked scythe was strapped to her back. She worked her spell with her hands raised towards him.

  “I’m binding him so that you can strike!” Hellsister said, her voice heavy with exertion.

  Seraph hefted her blade and prepared an executioner’s swing, wings pointing down. The circle around Pariah began to grow a wall of dark fire. This battle was coming to a close. It just wasn’t going to end the way they thought it would.

  Pariah moved at his true maximum speed, stepping out of the ritual circle just before the fire could complete its circuit. He twisted in the air and boosted himself toward Hellsister.

  The tip of Seraph’s blade struck the center of the circle where he had just been. She looked up, to see Pariah next to Hellsister. He gave a passing attempt at shaking blood off his forearm and hand. Hellsister fell into two pieces, having been bisected at the waist.

  Even from a distance, he could see his opponent’s eyes cycle through her feelings. Confusion, then grief, then righteous anger. They may have butted heads, but there must have been respect between them. Interesting, for this world to have to guardians aligned with realms in direct conflict with each other, and for them to be allies. He looked down at the two halves of the corpse, both spilling crimson puddles around his feet. Rain began to fall, droplets diluting the red.

  She rushed him. No words, just silent fury. Killing intent. A comet trail of holy fire burning off her.

  Pariah sidestepped her attack. He threw his first real punch of the day. A thunderclap sounded. The force of the blow stopped the rain from falling for a moment. Seraph tumbled and skidded away, armor scraping sparks off the smoking ground.

  Pariah walked to her and put his boot on her wing to stop her from rising. The side of her helmet was dented inward. Inside it, her jaw had shattered. Teeth and red saliva fell out of her mouth she couldn’t keep closed. The fire emanating from her died down. Still on her wing, he knelt. She looked up at him with her broken face.

  “Did they tell you?” he asked. “Did they ever show you how strong they were? Did you see it when they were fighting the Dark Ones? Did you see your protectors ripping apart those monsters with all their strength, when you could hardly leave a scratch on them? Is that when you realized they could have killed you at any time?”

  Seraph panted hard through her swollen nose. The light died in her eyes. Not just her holy strength, but the will to keep fighting. Grief won over anger.

  “Yesh,” she answered as best she could.

  He nodded. He placed one hand gently at the back of her neck, and the other around her jaw. She thrashed, trying to fight his grip. But he was done playing.

  He snapped her neck. Seraph tensed for moment, then went limp.

  He dropped her head, metal clanging as it fell. That was that. Now for the rest.

  He took off into the dark storm clouds above.

  He followed the tracker on the screen of his wrist. Target was fifty miles out. As he navigated through clouds, more jets came screaming in. They opened fire with machine guns and missiles. The projectiles bounced off his skin or exploded into eruptions he outflew. Hardly worth swatting at such insignificant targets, but he took the few seconds needed to alter his trajectory and crash into them as they came. They might as well have blocked his path with sheets of foil. Wings and fuselages and other bits of twisted metal went spinning to the ground below.

  He burst from a cloud bank and saw the target ahead. An island several miles wide, held aloft by massive thrusters built into its rocky underside. He only had a second to lay eyes on it before its defenses activated. The air buzzed with distant projectiles becoming less distant very quickly.

  He ducked under the first few missiles but sensed them change trajectory behind him. A rail slug the size of a can whistled past his ear. A second one thumped into his shoulder, knocking him slightly off course. The air ahead rippled with a lance of force. A sonic attack. It washed over him as the course-corrected missiles struck him from behind. More jets passed, raking him with fire. All these tactics alone were annoyances, but together they were fatiguing him slightly after his fight. He shook his head to clear it and focused on reaching the thrusters.

  More rail cannons and flak guns nested in outcroppings on the island’s underside. Shells detonated around him. Lasers cleaved the air, a few managing to score hits on him. No point in destroying the individual defenses.

  Each thruster was a massive metal vent exhaling whatever substance kept the island aloft. Not much more to it than to strike and destroy. The island shook as he crashed into the nearest and began tearing it apart. He ripped out the outer grating and got to work tearing through the churning machinery inside. He moved to the next and repeated the process.

  Already, the island was titling dangerously to one side. It began to sink in the air. Pariah pushed on its rising side from below, helping it to lose its axis of balance. The last two thrusters went into overburn as they struggled to compensate. It was too late. Stability was lost. Pariah remained in the air as the island gathered speed on its way to crash to the ground. A few aircraft made it off the surface before the entire thing cratered into the earth. The calamity of it was loud even from his distance.

  The island split into pieces as it returned to its humble origins. Explosions tore through the innards. The outer buildings collapsed in on themselves. Not to mention the damage to the conurbation the island had fallen upon. Buildings and streets were leveled for miles more.

  Item 2 done. Pariah checked over himself. All of his wounds were superficial. Still, he was growing tired and irritated, the way one might when covered in insect bites. The fighter craft keeping tabs on him kept their distance. One item left before meeting with his employer. He set his destination for the school.

  He found the campus nestled in the mountains above Pacific City, throughout which fires still burned from his rampage. He came to a stop above the school buzzing with alarms and little figures on the ground running back and forth. They were probably in place to try to stop him. Some noticed him, pointing up at the sky. They raised their weapons. Even after all he had done, they still struggled to resist. Almost admirable. He turned himself to point downwards.

  Not much survived his landing. The dark-suited figures within thirty feet all ripped apart from the force of him crashing himself into the center of campus. An earthquake rumbled through the mountainside. Around him, every window shattered. Buildings ripped apart as deep fissures opened like spiderweb cracks from where he touched down.

  He stood and brushed himself off. Surprisingly, whatever was directly below the ground held back his first assault. He punched the ground again. Under the dirt, reinforced material gave way to reveal another layer. He floated downwards. Red alarms blared in the corridor he now found himself in, motes of debris spreading like fog.

  No sign of the children yet. But it wouldn’t take him long to look.

  He zipped down each corridor, splattering guards where he found them. He checked each door he passed. Plenty of security rooms and monitoring stations, but no aberrant children yet. Blockades were attempted. Pariah flew through them, coating himself in fresh red as he did so. Ah, there. A thick security door at the end of the bottommost layer. That had to be their bunker.

  It took him a moment of punching and prying to pull open the doors. Impressive work. He shouldered his way inside. He found the prize of the school waiting for him. Several dozen teenage humans, huddled at the back of the metal box of a room. Three adults stood in between him and the youths. One, a tall and muscular man with one robotic hand. The two others women, one in a green and white costume and the other in a professional suit. The man held a sword, while the woman in a costume had objects floating around her held in a green aura.

  Pariah held his hands up as he entered. “It’s alright. I’m not here to slaughter you all. I want to see the girl.”

  The man and costumed woman stepped closer.

  “You aren’t going to be seeing any of them,” the man said.

  “Well, I just don’t think that’s true,” Pariah replied. He could tell the man was a seasoned warrior by the way he held himself. And his blade had an uncommon quality. If only he had the power to swing it with any real might, he might be an interesting challenge. “Just let me talk to her, and most of you will survive this.”

  He could already see her. Her silver hair was at the front of the group behind the adults. It didn’t take much for her to step away from the herd and stand beside the guardians.

  She was marvelous. It didn’t even matter to him that she was a half breed. He smiled to see her. It had been so long since he had seen one of his kind who wasn’t out to detain him. She said something to the man, and he reluctantly let her pass.

  “Be careful, Vivian,” the costumed woman said. She still held the objects around her. Her hands were beginning to tremble.

  Vivian, the girl’s name was. She approached him, trying to look fearsome, doing her best to hide her fear. How precious. Pariah wanted to cup her face and cherish her.

  “Look at you,” he said. He appreciated her in silence while she glared daggers at him. “An Ollyrian free off-planet. I never thought I’d see another. What did you tell them to let you leave?”

  “You aren’t going to hurt my friends,” Vivian told him. She clenched her hands into fists. Fists he knew she was incapable of using. It broke his heart to see her struggle against her limitations. She was confused by the concern he must have been showing.

  “My parents died because they couldn’t protect themselves,” he confided in her like a friend. “They couldn’t protect any of their loved ones. Because our government says we’re not allowed to.”

  Her fist shook at her side. She wanted so badly to use it. He looked beyond her to the weak little humans she was protecting.

  “Hit me,” he told her. He leaned in to let her have a good surface area.

  She raised her fist. Her teeth clenched. She couldn’t do it. She needed him to strike her first, so her mental locks would release. She couldn’t hit first. Not even to save those she cared about.

  “Hit me and I’ll spare their lives.”

  Her face contorted in anguish. Angry tears ran down her cheeks. “You can’t!” she seethed.

  He leaned in until their faces were nearly touching. He whispered something only meant for her. “I’m going to free you. I’m going to help you be what you were always meant to be. But it’s a painful process. The first step is realizing you should have been strong enough to stop me.”

  He grabbed her head and threw her away. She ripped through the side of the vault like it was a paper box.

  The man with the sword moved to strike. His blade flashed downwards. Pariah caught it in his palm. He bent his wrist and snapped the blade. He sent the upper half of it through the man’s gut. He slid backwards, his impalement leaving a bloody streak.

  The costumed woman finally launched her various blades and random bits of material. They struck with a surprising amount of force, causing him to flinch back. He didn’t even need to move to kill her. As soon as she released, her body seized in some sort of attack and she collapsed.

  A beam of light struck Pariah in the face. A dozen glowing copies of a teenage boy appeared around him. One moved quickly between them, tagging him with more light beams. He wasn’t even sure they were supposed to be hurting him.

  As the boy passed, Pariah grabbed him by the back of his jacket and threw him to the ground. Blood bloomed around his skull.

  A girl launched herself from the crowd. She was already drenched in blood that had crusted over her. Someone had been partying without him.

  She bared down to land on him with two spikes coming from her sleeves. He allowed her to land the first strike. Her spikes slid off his chest.

  He grabbed her right wrist and ripped her arm off. He sent his fist through her chest. He felt her ribs mulch and her heart burst against his knuckles. Bits of her obliterated spine launched from the hole he created in her back, along with a fountain of blood. He pulled his arm out of her, and she flopped to the floor. He shook the excess blood off of his hand.

  “Ryn, status?” a voice in his ear asked.

  More of the aberrant teens attacked. Not all. He let their fists and projectiles bounce off him without reprisal for a moment.

  “Cleaning up at the school,” he said.

  “How many dead?”

  “Two adults, two students.”

  “That’s enough. Come to the tower.”

  He flew directly upwards, leaving the mobbing students behind.

  Back in open air, it wasn’t a long flight to one of the taller towers downtown. He circled it until a panel on the side of the building near the top opened for him. He glided into it.

  The interior was a dark, luxurious office, with a single porthole window not visible from the outside. The panel entrance closed behind him. Pariah’s boots trailed blood onto expensive-looking carpet. He looked around at the wooden shelves covered in knickknacks, trophies, and books. His employer sat behind the desk in front of the window.

  “That was messy,” the employer said.

  “You wanted messy.” He picked up a small golden pyramid from a shelf and inspected it.

  “I gave you a particular order to cause chaos in. The Nest, the city and Seraph, then the school. You gave them time to prepare.”

  Pariah ran his bloody fingers across the leather spines of books. “And yet, I am still here. The job is done. And I expect payment.”

  The elevator on the other side of the room opened. Cyrus Null came storming in. Pariah recognized him as the man who had originally made contact and an offer.

  “What was that?” Cyrus demanded. His assistant came in quietly behind. He stuck a finger at Pariah. “I told you to kill every last one of those children. And where is my daughter? You were meant to rescue her from imprisonment before sinking the Nest. And that isn’t even mentioning—”

  He noticed the man sitting in his chair. His anger snuffed in an instant. He put down his accusatory finger and reset. “Member 1? What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting any visit…”

  Cyrus was caught with his hand in the treats. Pariah gathered this Member 1, the man who had intercepted Cyrus’ offer to Pariah and shown him proof of payment, wasn’t supposed to know about Pariah’s visit to Earth. That probably meant the last location Pariah was supposed to hit under Cyrus would have taken out this other man.

  “Cyrus, do come in,” Member 1 greeted. He sat with his feet up on Cyrus’ desk. His features seemed to reject any of the low light of the room, like he naturally repelled it. Pariah could just about make out his dark hair and citrine eyes. He wore simple clothing and sandals on his feet. His voice drifted through the room like smoke.

  “This is my office,” Cyrus asserted. His eyes glued to Pariah thumbing through his things. “I’m the one who hired the Ollyrian. I was taking initiative. This wasn’t your plan to steal.”

  “Taking initiative. I like that spin on it.” Member 1 took a letter opener and began spinning it on its tip under his finger. “You’re a wily man, Cyrus. Ambitious. The only problem with most ambitious men is they don’t know when to stop rising.”

  Cyrus’ mask dropped. He stopped feigning ignorance. Contempt became clear on his face. “I could’ve been happy as your number 2. But none of you ever gave me the respect I’m owed. I started the New Lord’s Academy! MY intelligence, MY resources brought them together. This is my country. What have any of you ever done here? You don’t know how it is to grow up hungry, to see what others have and want that for yourself.”

  “No? You don’t think I’ve struggled?” Member 1’s voice didn’t rise, but it did grow thorns. “You don’t know how deep the bottom is. There is no way for you to know, because the time for it has passed. You’ve never had to climb your way free of a mountain of corpses, men you grew up beside. You have no idea how long my path has been. You young men. So impatient.”

  “You’re right. Your time is over,” Cyrus said. He snapped and pointed to the man behind his desk. “Ollyrian. Kill him.”

  Pariah picked up a small statue of a man, cool to the touch.

  “You don’t have his payment, Cyrus.”

  “And you do?” Cyrus stepped closer to Pariah. “I’ll get you what you’re after. I know where it is. More than he does. I’ll have it to you. Kill him and make up for your failures today.”

  “Ryn did exactly as I asked him to, if not the recommended methods,” Member 1 spoke. “I think this discussion is over. How do you put it in the business world? We’ve decided to move forward with another candidate. But don’t worry, your projects will stay in the family.”

  Cyrus’ face grew red with rage. “My projects will remain—”

  Pariah turned around and threw the statue. It passed through Cyrus’ chest. Blood splattered on the elevator, the carpet, the walls, and the face of his terrified assistant who had been trying to melt into the corner of the room.

  Cyrus managed a half turn with a hole ripped through his chest before tumbling down. Red seeped through his white suit and darkened the carpet around him.

  His assistant stared down at him with wide eyes. She was panicking internally, trying not to tremble. It was obvious in the micro-movements of her body.

  “Miss Kind.” She ripped her gaze from her dead boss to the man behind the desk. He watched her with his hands resting behind his head. “Now we come to you. I believe you to be a bit more pliable than Mr. Null was. Would you like to remain loyal to him and die together, or would you like to continue your career after this little hiccup?”

  She opened her mouth to speak. Doing so was a separate effort. “I… would like to continue my career. I am loyal to DOMINION.”

  “Very good,” Member 1 agreed. “Cyrus’ heir will need you for onboarding. You will make yourself indispensable to her. You will report on her to us, and you will carry out any orders given.”

  She nodded, too afraid to do anything else including blink.

  Member 1 finally set his feet down and sat forward at the desk. His hand reached for a hidden button. “Now, finally, I believe that brings us to matters of payment.”

  Pariah turned and gave his full attention to part of the floor by the desk receding. A platform rose from the darkness. On it was a girl.

  She looked around the age of the aberrants he had just tangled with. Her short brown hair was messy. She continued staring at nothing as Pariah approached. Her skin had gone ashy. Dark veins blotted her skin like lines of ink on parchment. They grew thicker until they broke through the surface around her collarbone, revealing themselves to be fleshy wires. A bulge tented her shirt.

  “This one thought she could tinker with things beyond her power,” Member 1 mused. Pariah kneeled and lifted her shirt. Attached to her torso like a massive bloodsucking bug was the heart of a Dark One. It pulsed a deep evil red and exchanged the girl’s lifeforce with its own.

  She didn’t react to Pariah kneeling and bracing one hand on her shoulder. Only when he tore off the heart did her face twist in pain, a pitiful moan escaping her. Dark fluid pumped out of the gash in her side. Tendrils attached to the heart thrashed in the air and grasped for its host.

  The heart was the only form of payment these humans had worth anything to him. He studied it from a few angles. Its tendrils curled inwards, going dormant. “The Galactic Cooperative pays good for these. Doing some sort of research,” Pariah said.

  “Better out there than here. I hope they find what they’re looking for,” Member 1 said. “Take it. And once you leave this planet’s orbit, do not return. There is nothing remaining here for you.”

  Pariah tucked the heart into a pouch on his belt. He smiled inwardly at the human’s implied threat. “If you don’t want me to return, don’t give me a reason to.” He motioned around. “This place is more interesting than I expected. I just might be back to check on the girl’s progress.”

  The so-called Member 1 fixed him with a long stare. He pressed another button, and the panel door opened again. Pariah took his leave.

  He flew eastwards underneath heavy storm clouds. He almost missed the clothing store. Hugo’s. He landed and opened the door, the bell jingling.

  The place was abandoned. No one behind the counter or between any of the racks. Pity, he actually wouldn’t have minded saying goodbye to the woman who had helped him pick out his jacket. He stepped behind the counter and found it inside a paper bag. How nice of her.

  The screen above the counter was still on, its audio up. Pariah watched it for a moment. He saw himself the way the humans did. Shaky footage of him clashing with Seraph, them tearing through buildings together faster than anyone on the ground could track. Shattered bits of building rained down. The footage changed to the tower he had opened with still collapsing and burning. Not bad work.

  His job complete, he left the store and took off into the atmosphere.