Sixteen Tons [CVU Closed RP IC]

The Upper Atmosphere

The Supra-Man rose into the air, hovering silently with his strong hands at his sides and his red cape flowing behind his back. He was known throughout the world as one of few silent protectors, distinguished from the common metahuman by virtue of both his power as well as his reticence. Whereas other powered beings established themselves as entrepreneurs, political activists, or literal celebrities, Nemo had apparently eschewed human interaction almost entirely, leaving his motives and true personality in question. Endless speculation seemed to follow his every move, in contrast to the superhumans who had basically become a component of everyday life.

The truth was far less spectacular. Nemo considered himself to be just a man, endowed with no more authority than any other to pass judgment on humanity. He isolated himself by necessity, unwilling to lend his image to neither a state nor an ideology. Who was he to dictate what ought to be done, who ought to be punished? Even worse - would his interventions lead to humanity's complacency, their progress stagnating as a species as a result of his altruism? He had seen firsthand their desire for a savior, for someone to blindly follow...if he became their candidate, he would never forgive himself.

Yet as he actively resisted attachment to any one ideology, in true Socratic fashion, there were others who fought passionately for their beliefs, no matter how dangerous they may seem. One such being was the staunchly anti-establishment super-hero Reynard, whose fiery speech and telekinetic prowess had caused controversy after controversy. In either recklessness or disdain, Reynard had made his dissatisfaction with human leadership well-known, with disaster often following in his wake. He had downed satellites, threatened heads of state, and participated in city-wide riots in the name of an ostensibly noble cause.

In that way, he was Nemo's polar opposite. Lending his strength to popular movements and subverting human authority made him, perhaps, a dangerous forerunner of a state of affairs in which super-heroes controlled humanity's every move. Though Reynard had been laying low, he had been succeeded by Mega Justice, whose tyranny was truly undeniable. He'd taken over an entire city in the name of good, forcing criminals into slums and using his power to create a totalitarian state where a human city had once stood. It was unnatural, but was it the way of the future? Not if Nemo had anything to say about it.

So, perhaps action was demanded of him. It was similar in nature to Popper's Paradox of Tolerance, yet it was more a paradox of superhuman intervention. If he did not step forth to guide humanity, someone else would...yet in doing so, would he become the very threat he perceived? Popper had concluded that the tolerant must not tolerate the intolerant, lest tolerance itself disappear...might the same be said for superhuman intervention? Would it fall to Nemo to confront powered beings both benevolent and malevolent alike, to preserve human decency, human autonomy?

These were the questions he felt obliged to reconcile, to use to guide him. The ones he felt all meta-beings ought to ponder as well. So he rose, far into the air, super-senses providing him with an endless onslaught of sensory information. He sought Reynard; he sought his voice, his heartbeat, anything which might signify his existence on the planet. He had a sense that the Marxist would soon act again, and if he did, it might fall to the Universal Man to finally intervene...

@_reynard_

@supra-man: @saviour

An alleyway in New York City

“Not going to make it. Oh god. This isn’t right. I can’t go like this. Okay. Breathe. It’s going to be fine. Please God. Not like this..Augh” Reynard gagged. “If I throw up it will be fine. It’s going to be fine.” He stuck his finger in his throat “Augh”. Nothing came out.

Reynard was pissed. His eyes were red and he smelled like a brother despite having showered before leaving his apartment. By the unkempt hairs coming out of his face, it was obvious that he hadn’t shaved in days. This state of his was the cumulative mixing too many drinks and illicit substances through the night.

He hated New York City, it was crawling with capes, but crime was at an all time low so they were essentially useless. The market was over saturated with kids trying to make a name for themselves. Atticus burped “T-they could have go to Wall Street. White collar crime isn’t as glarumos, gladmurmmos, gla-shit! Cool. It isn’t as cool as punching a robber. It’s too difficult, they might actually have to use their heads. G-god forbid that ever happens. My head hurts so much. Kill me now.” Reynard gave the sky the middle finger and laid his back on the dirty ground.

“I’m sorry, son. Sorry for not being there.” Reynard tried to slow down his breath, to calm his own body down. His senses betrayed him. He stood up again and placed his back against the wall, his knees wobbled and barely held the rest of his body.

“Goddamn it, I don’t know if I can do this.” He slowly lowered himself to pick up a wet, Walmart bag. He started blowing on it with deep breaths. “That bastard needs to die. I’m so tired, I want to pass out. I need some gatorade, crackers, an advil. Anything. Where’s Dandy? Filly? We were supposed to go on patrol today. It’s probably not too late. Maybe she can pick me up. Where did I leave my cellphone. I can’t fly right now. What happened to all the pay phones? Something is seriously wrong with me. I can hear my heartbeat. My blood pumping through my veins.” He placed his two fingers in his neck and couldn’t feel anything. “Am I dead? Is this one of those out of body experiences? I knew I shouldn’t have stolen those alien drugs with Jack. I can’t let the cops see me. They’ll know. It was laced. They’ll take me to CorrSec and I’ll go to-to space jail. Maybe I should turn myself in. They’ll forgive me for killing him. How did I get to New York? Brutus...I remember n-AAAAAAugH” Reynard threw up all over the floor. His vomit was a smorgasbord of gummy bears and skittles like that Underdog Kid. It smelled terrible. He fell on his knees and bowed his head on the ground.

“God help me. I promise I’ll get clean tomorrow if you don’t kill me. I swear-I’ll...I’ll go and help Israel and go to church. I’ll be a good father and I won’t use pages from the Bibles to roll joints anymore. I’ll help Filly and she’ll go to church. I’ll forgive Woody for being a piece of shit. Please.” Atticus threw up again, this time all over his legs and it was a dark, brown color. Fortunately for him it was more liquid than before. It hurt more too. “That’s what I get for asking you for anything.” He walked over to the trash can and grabbed an empty toilet paper roll, ripped it into pieces and wiped the vomit off his chin. Then he looked at a puddle, the water seemed clear enough despite the dirty sock. He placed his palms together and lifted a bit into his mouth to taste it. He placed his mouth in the puddle and absorbed more of it. After being satisfied, Reynard lifted the water more aggressively and began wiping the stains off his suit.

“Breathe. Okay. I can do this. If I don’t do this now then I’m never going to do this. Let’s do this.”

A red sports car flew through the top floor of Brutus Enterprises. One of the tallest skyscrapers in a city made of skyscrapers. Reynard flew in front of the building with his chest puffed out and his arms crossed, judging the CEO and Ex-President of the United States. Even though he couldn’t see him, he knew he was inside his castle at the very top. There was no way Brutus would have his office anywhere else but the top, where he could look down on everybody.

@supra-man: @_reynard_:

Pieces of peace. Watering a single flower on his desk.

Brutus was a palatial machinist, everything he created was grandiose, pretentiously so. It was evolutionary art, other super technicians would pale in comparison, always an alternative to his perspicacity. He earned it, everything. Through rigorous work and an adamantine mentality is the way he has always done things and why he has always outdistanced every worriment and predicament. This was his modus operandi, to be better than everyone else, at least through technological means. In spite of his genius that he can easily boaster about, the flower he sprayed was evidence of his inadequacy.

Periodically the billionaire would be in one of his many homes throughout the world with a few minutes, maybe more, of free time. Time that he would take to meditate by simply being a stranger to foreign hobbies, In this case, gardening. Later that day, through what looked like a war zone of dirt piles and a messy backyard he learned that he was terrible at it, absolutely. Brutus wasn't a perfect man, He wasn't even close. Brutus wasn't a great husband, a protector to his comatose daughter, a role model to his prodigy, hardly a leader. Added floriculture to that list now. However it was a week later, he noticed a single brave and strong baby Lily rising from the deformed and miserable earth, the one that now sits on his desk, representing his quiddity.

Always reminding him that the survival of humankind is a profound process, a means to figure out a way to thrive in the world, to stand tall like that flower, to adapt.

"The refugee camp for homeless metas?"His secretary standing in front of his desk replied"Four more weeks until fully constructed"

"The satellites for global weather control" Looking down on a holographic screen that she held"We don't know yet, sir."

"Project Ares?"Quickly without checking"Passed"

"Live Amalgium testing?"That was the most crucial question he wanted to ask. Amalgium, an exotic super powered metal that was designed for the very purpose of adapting. Coming from the word Amalgam, to mixed and blend, was exactly what the exotic metal did. Its simplicity to absorb a potential hazard or assailant and to siphon their strengths for his own was a breakthrough. Man has climbed Mount Everest. Gone to the bottom of the ocean. Has fired rockets to the moon. Split the atom. Achieved miracles in every field of human endeavor. And the pinnacle of man's success is now certain because of him. A man that has forged the weapon that can kill the Gods and smithed the metal to defy them. He had ascended them. Brutus The God Butcher; Brutus Metal Of War; Brutus The Saviour;

Brutus Dagaal-Ares.

A name feared by superheroes and villains alike. It was an indubitable fact as a red sports car came crashing through his office window, no doubt by someone who wanted him dead. The car came full speed enough to splatter a regular man and the secretary across the room and explode from the sheer force but that was a dream short-lived. His attacker, Impolitic. Reynard was mercurial, perhaps he was drunk over his head but he had to be dealt with once and for all, and this just gave Brutus his excuse to do so. As the smoke cleared the Purple Philistine would see Brutus unphased, just a shimmer against his personal shielding that had the capacity to withhold a nuclear explosion, that knowledge gave him inhuman confidence, the man didn't even flinch, just a blank stare towards the drunk. His office slowly burning, he looked over to the flower on his desk, ash. Over to his secretary, thankful he took the blow for her. "Cancel all my meetings. Live testing begins now" Eager, a smirk on his face.

The metal harbinger summoned his armory. Like small threads of gossamer, quickly wrapping around his arm. The existence of metal fleeced, creating his alloy gauntlet around his open hand waiting to offer an ostentatious display of his power.

*PZZZZZZZZ* A fulgurating light promptly came out from his office, a sign of a tremendous retaliation towards a man who held no limitations. Of course, his quarrel was with Reynard, a man that had the power to thoroughly obliterate the planet clean, a power that Brutus desired and dreamed of since the days of seeing a healthy Reynard fight crime in the streets in the older days. A time where he could look up to the ultramarine skies and feel peace, now people can only worry and hope for the best. Reynard's powers were wasted on him now and Brutus sought to take it from him, now easily possible with his Amalgium armor.

Like a second sun in the sky, the sphere created of God particles would instantaneously engulf Reynard's position, hopefully caging him inside like a hamster inside a flaming sphere that had enough energy inside of it to explode the city it was in three times over, but it was stable as long as Brutus consciously wanted it to be, his decision was rather irrational, this was something he wanted from the very start and absolutely nobody will get in his way. Hovering underneath, now fully equipped in his power suit, he gripped the methodical spirit bomb with the sanguine expectation of Reynard still inside, confident he was still alive inside the mini-star. "I've been waiting for this!"

With the fuel of God particles, his suit exhausted super strength that only a modern Zeus can perform. Throwing the sphere to the next state? Across the country? Across the globe? Towards Mars? Into the sun? That was up to faith, and he would follow.

@saviour: @_reynard_:

Japan - Later that Same Day

As it turned out, even a man whose great powers enabled him to exceed the speed of light could be late. The sound of Reynard's assault on Daagal-Ares reached his ears, prompting him to cast his atomic gaze towards their confrontation. No sooner had Reynard landed in the building's interior than the sound had echoed within the Universal Man's lobes, his head turning to the side and focusing on the noise. Why had he chosen such an isolated incident? It had been the unique combination of sounds, the crushed suspension of an automobile suggesting a car accident but the elevation making such a thing impossible. That, accompanied by the tell-tale sound of a superhuman soaring through the air, could mean only one thing.

He was needed.

Traversing the Pacific Ocean and the American countryside in the blink of an eye, Nemo accelerated even faster upon the confirmation that Reynard had made his move. According to his posture, he was drunk; a closer look, taken as Nemo passed into New York, revealed a dangerously high blood-alcohol content. Reynard had evolved into a menace, and his powers would threaten more than the man he targeted.

Though initially concerned that he had been too late to prevent the Purple Plunderer's heinous attack, he saw that Pendragon's objective, Brutus-Daagal Ares, remained unharmed. In fact, he appeared more than unharmed, now priming an attack of his own. The situation could not be allowed to escalate. Making a snap decision in the time between the ticks of a clock, Nemo burst through an adjacent wall, scarlet cape flowing past his ultramarine form as he landed expertly between Ares and Reynard.

The God Particles were exotic, something Nemo had no experience with. As they emerged from Brutus' palms, Nemo raised his own, not in offensive posture, but rather, a defensive one. Moving at speeds which would be impossible for any being born without the blessing of the universal positioning field, he closed his fingers around the rapidly-expanding masses of particles, balling his hands into fists which held onto the explosive energies. With a strength conventionally incalculable, he grit his teeth, steam curling from between his digits as he snuffed out their matter-annihilating force. Underneath, his palms were scorched red, the skin which could even withstand the surface of the Sun burnt by Brutus' deity-slaying weapon.

Stationary, he dropped his hands, smoke still curling up around his blue-suited form. With Reynard at his back, he faced Brutus, nodding once.

"There's no need for this to go any further. Right now, both of you have the power to save lives. All it takes is to calm down and talk," he said carefully, the only bastion between two titans hell-bent on destroying each other...and potentially, the Eastern Seaboard along with them.

@saviour: @supra-man:

Brutus was being cocky, before he saw Reynard as a threat. Now he saw him as a loose end that needed to be dealt with. There was no sign of his private mechanical army around. Not because he didn’t have them available, but because he didn’t need them. Brutus had become more dangerous than he had ever been before and he wasn’t being shy about it. Good. Similarly, Reynard had become more dangerous too. Before he had qualms about killing and still held onto a tiny sense of morality. Like other masked men before him, he believed that they shouldn’t kill other people when paralyzing was always a more humane option.

All that had left him a few weeks ago after Woody left. Maybe some people actually deserved to die more than others, maybe morality was just something people told themselves to feel good about their actions, and maybe life after all was brief and meaningless. As the beam from Brutus’s gauntlet flashed before him, it was probably the closest thing he might ever seen to a light at the end of a tunnel .

There was no afterlife. No heaven or hell. God wasn’t real. Jesus didn’t die for his sins. He could see the fabric of the universe and how everything tied together. There were no intelligent beings out there watching over everybody, they were only some pricks who were fighting their own battles and dealing with their own conflicts.

Then the "World’s Greatest Gel User" stopped Brutus from unleashing whatever the hell that energy signature was. Floating in between them, like the White Knight at a party stopping two drunks from beating the shit out of each other. He had absolutely no authority to come between them, but like the self-righteous ashhole he was he had to play a major role in their conflicts.

Reynard knew what he was beneath all that posturing. He was conflicted about his role in the world. Deciding how much of a role he should play in this world. If he should help shape it or if he should let the world develop by itself. The thought that they were part of the development surely never crossed his mind. He was so powerful, so powerful that he could stop Brutus with his hands see what Reynard saw about the universe, but so blind that he couldn’t see what it meant.

“Flock off” Slamming his fist towards the back of Supra-man’s head, he’d try to send him flying all the way towards the U.K. A big, dumb flying brick like him could take it. Maybe he would get caught in the middle of an actual crisis like their 10% drop against the dollar. Except he couldn’t punch an economic issue in the face could he?

“Can you believe this guy?” Reynard pressed his fist and begun attempting to crush the armor gauntlets from which Brutus fired his first blast against him, along with at least thirteen of the twenty seven bones in each of his hands. If he could burn Supra-Man then that meant he could probably burn through his telekinetic shields. “Getting in between our shit like that. What a tool. He makes a pretty good case for meta-human regulation. Anyways, Brutus. I hope your armor has a built in lubricant function.” Reynard smiled devilishly.

@_reynard_: @saviour:

Though his back was turned to the purple-clad aggressor, Nemo could still perceive the indignant drunken rage embedded in his slurred words. The insult came with the fist, prompting the Universal Man to turn and face Reynard in person for the first time. As he did so, time slowed from his perspective, the universal positioning field which served as a cosmic membrane between Nemo and reality itself accommodating his unique rate of movement. Simultaneously, his accelerated brain and senses took in every stimulus in the room, from the force at which Reynard's strike encroached on him to the amount of air it displaced in its movement.

In slow motion the jab soared towards his face, yet he stopped to think. Reynard was intoxicated, powerful, and angry. Would a successful strike calm him down, make him more open to seeing sense? Letting go of aggression might be a key component to de-escalating the battle. Intercepting the fist with a red-scorched palm might cause injury to them both, as well as the structure of Brutus' office...and those standing underneath. No, it seemed that there was an ideal outcome. Reynard was facing East, and there were no apparent buildings in their path...there also seemed to be nobody in the stalls directly behind, either.

Blinking, Nemo remained still, the gloved fist smacking into his cheek and launching him from where he stood. Offering no resistance beyond his hyper-strong skin, he was sent tumbling through wall after wall, enough force behind the strike to propel him halfway around the world. Eyes closed, he steadily willed himself to a stop the moment he exited the building, hanging upside down in mid-air to get his bearings back. Up and down were meaningless to him in flight, so he simply floated for about a second as though underwater.

A long sigh escaped his lips, and he returned, a light-speed blur emerging back into Brutus' office. This time, he positioned himself behind Reynard, his body framed in the hole it'd just made as he'd been struck.

"Can we talk?" he said, moving to place his hand on Reynard's shoulder and draw him gently away from Brutus.

@_reynard_: @supra-man:

It's obvious from the way I act out, but I've never really found heroes to be particularly interesting or at the least, helpful. Too often, I think, they're constrained by the fact that they need to be a surrogate for the public, or live up to some false ideal of a morally just person. Of course, they want to make everybody happy and feel secure with them being around. This usually hinders their performance, holding back. It can make for "heroes" that are, well, a little bland and predictable. Too much hair gel and a reflective smile covering up their inflated self-worth. These capes are usually awed upon like the heroes of classic Greek myth. But occasionally, I'll come across a certain person who makes me question everything I understand a hero to be.

One that shatters the ideals of the heroic archetype, and becomes something different and special. I have recently experienced this from yours truly, the drooling mouth and stench of alcohol. This idiot, Reynard.

Reynard's story starts with too much hair gel and a reflective smile, as most are, I'm certainly guilty of this, and still am. When we were younger Reynard cared a lot more, his breath didn't reek, people weren't afraid of him, Reynard inspired everyone around him, including me. Those days I looked to the skies and everything was under control, the world didn't need my retaliation. It was a simpler time, people titled that era The Golden Age of Superheroes. A time where we would have been friends, allies at the least.

From what I assume, if you travel through the broken society of Reynard's perspective, things start to get loathsome. He probably see's himself as humanities final hope against me or just anything he saw as a nuisance. A role himself that he is willing to embrace to the end. In most ways, I'd like to think that our dreams might be familiar with each other the way our paths constantly cross, though not physically I'm meeting him with every word. But scarred by his years of abuse and addiction with drugs and alcohol, Reynard sees this as his last chance for personal redemption and commits irredeemable acts of violence in order to save the dying world he believes in. One of the many recent examples, throwing a car into my office. It made me see my own value.

It frames Reynard in this really interesting way. You can see on a personal level how he's really trying to do good, but how his experiences have left him so broken that he's not actually able to tell how much damage he's doing to the people and the world around him.

Reynard is the hero of his story, but his actions are distinctly un-heroic. Rather than the ideal of what a hero should be, Reynard just felt like a person. This is how Reynard has become one of the most tangible and believable Heroes I've experienced in years.

And it has made me wonder, If he's the hero

Then what am I?

Reynard pressed his fist and begun attempting to crush the armor gauntlets from which Brutus fired his first blast against him, along with at least thirteen of the twenty seven bones in each of his hands. If he could burn Supra-Man then that meant he could probably burn through his telekinetic shields.

It made him remember of his inauguration, the day the American flags flew down upon him like the balms that once praised Jesus. The joyous praise of becoming their Modern Zeus empowered him to no end. The might he felt when his work had finally paid off gave him serenity,

and this would be no different.

Ease. Perhaps it's because he's more mechanical than he was before, but never in a day in his life has his heart ever panicked, organic or not. He was always prepared. Back then, and now. His Adamantine mentality has always been a step ahead, It's probably one of the reasons why Reynard hated the Plutocrat.

"Tsk"

He's going to hate him even more after he see's how obsolete he is against his empowering visage.

Telekinesis was imprinted into his DNA through his siphoning Gauntlets. Though with a keen eye, one could see the sacrifice of the human host, slightly his skin began to degrade with the slight touch of Reynard's powers. Brutus knew the side effects, but he needed more. In a few seconds of being exposed to his power, Brutus began to lightly emit Telekinesis from his body unknowing how to control it. Marginally he began to see what Reynard could see and eventually if he lives to tell the tale, he'll be just as strong.

"So this is how you see the world."

@saviour: @supra-man:

There was something to be said for a man that was as annoyingly persistent as Supra-Man. Something that Reynard couldn’t come up with at the moment because he was supra-messed up at the moment. It wasn’t that he hated Supra-Man, it was that he was an inconvenience in an otherwise deadly battle between two foes, he represented something that he hated about superheroes. The idea that they could get in between issues and simply solve them. The world never worked that way, it took a bit more to fix problems.

Reynard made sure to hit him before he said something. Something told him that telling him flock off before hitting him before tipped him off about his actions. So he decided to switch it up a bit, like an old couple that had been having sex in the same position for too long. Instead, Reynard decided send his super-human, ultra potent elbow towards the world’s worst life, cape wearing coach, hopefully crushing his nose and launching him to the goddamn moon. Ideally sending him to a place where he could learn how to inspire people, maybe the rocks would be a of better reception for him. “Get your flocking human fingers off of me.”

For such a smart man, Brutus didn’t know what he was getting into when he took Reynard’s powers. Brutus didn’t know, but Reyanrd did. Upon stealing his powers, he would find himself too distracted with all the new colors and new spectrums. Tasting the new colors and the perception of time. It was all too much for the human brain to just handle in one instant.

Reynard knew he had to make his move right now, otherwise Brutus would take his powers from him and create the world in his own image or whatever got his penis hard. Reynard wasn’t going to make this satisfactory for Brutus, he would make this a loss for both of them no matter what it took. Maybe it was his pride that didn’t let him just lose without everyone else losing, or maybe it was just his destructive nature.

Whatever it was, Brutus wasn't walking out in one piece. Reynard moved at incredible speeds, closing the space between himself and Brutus to the point where it was slightly uncomfortable for both of them, but it would only get even more uncomfortable for Brutus in a second. Reynard would try to wrap his hands over Brutus's hands and pull back, ripping his arm off. After successfully ripping the bones and meat from the rest of his body he would attempt to beat him senseless with it. "I hope this isn't the arm you jerk off with. I'm an ashhole, not a monster. "

@saviour: @_reynard_:

Once again a blow struck true, and once again, Nemo was thrust from the building. Where Reynard struck with his vicious elbow, the all-encompassing field which protected Nemo's physical form responded, a shield extended mere micrometers from his skin intercepting the blow and absorbing the strike. Still launched at mach speeds backwards through Brutus' office, he came to a halt outside, physical form slowing even as it though it felt his mind had been shot to space and brought back. As his vision cleared, he saw Reynard lay his hands on the CEO, and his knuckles clenched.

His eyes flashed red, and the decision was made.

Reynard, the once-proud superhuman protector, had become a belligerent drunk, and he was at dangerous risk of murdering someone over an ideological dispute. It would be a mistake that nobody would be able to take back at that point. He was not dealing with a man of reason; no, Reynard's Dionysian passion extended now only towards murder. Violence was the language he spoke, and for all his good conscience, Nemo knew he could not allow what was about to unfold to happen.

With the percussive heartbeats of bystanders all around ringing in his ears, the Utopian Being re-accelerated instantly behind Reynard, his reach extended as he shot towards his legs, and attempted to interrupt his savage grappling of Brutus Daagal-Ares with one of his own. As a kind stranger had trained him, he sought to wrest away Reynard's control of his weight and positioning, extending his ultra-positioned strength into the Pugnacious Purple Punk's limbs.

In an attempt to trap Reynard in a paralyzing hold, he would immediately shoot from where they were inside the skyscraper in whatever direction offered the least resistance, his objective now to forcefully drag Reynard away from the ex-President by any means necessary.

@_reynard_: @supra-man:

Brutus saw every atom of the indestructible armor he wore be easily spread apart by the incomparable tenacity of the drunken terrorist. A power that had freely ripped the tectonic plates of his multi-billionaire suit, a power that slapped away the universal man, a power that knew no bounds, was now his.

As the teeth like fingers of Reynard bit down, the hero pulled and the stretching skin released its splattering smell, a kind with its own Amalgium imbued fragrance. His body, an average one, could not stabilize the forced mutation and steadily began to decay. Brutus saw this as his blood gushed into the air, he saw all of it. Standing of what felt like the center of the universe, he saw a sunset on another part of the planet and the Amalgium cancer spreading in his blood. The changed man saw the infinite, colors and spectrums that no man should be able to comprehend.

From its origin to its potential end, he saw Reynard, nothing special or at least not anymore. We already know everything about him, that his potential was wasted on him,

So Brutus took it.

Blood poured from his exposed arm socket and foaming mouth, choking on pain, dazed and figuratively blind no sane man would ever dare, but Brutus was persistent, as long as Reynard continued to exist, Brutus still felt he had merit in his actions. Perhaps he felt like he needed to prove himself worthy again from his failed presidency or that he just really... really wanted him dead and no injury or blind state would cease his commitment that he vowed to make the world a better place, no matter the sacrifice.

He flew in their direction, a blood trail thinned out as the oozing wound quickly closed as the claytronic nanites bandaged his mutilation. Matching their speed he taunted with his dying voice.

"You keep repeating"

"I Hope... I Hope."

"It bothers me, what do you actually hope for Reynard?"

Every atom in our bodies was once inside a star. It made everything sort of pointless if you thought about it, the same way he thought about Reynard. So that was the best place to send him, the sun. With his newfound planetary powers, with no knowledge of control or concern for restraint, he attempted to force push them upwards into orbit. Pulling out his spare left arm and simply flailed it upwards with a telekinetic force that matched Reynard's elbow strike from before.

@supra-man: @saviour:

Supra-man grabbed Reynard by the legs and he lost his balance for a second. He resisted Supra-man’s attempt to push him out of the building with his mind, but then it seemed to only hold him steady for Brutus's punch.

Crack! Reynard’s nose broke into three piece like a cracker.

The fist shot him into space like Ham the Chimpanzee, moving at that speed was like teleporting. One moment he was getting pounded on Earth, the next he was naked, getting a some terrible burns over the surface of 100 billion one-megaton nuclear bombs, while simultaneously brainstorming a new sunscreen that can counter such close proximity to the sun.

Instantly, he flew back into his apartment and got dressed again. Not because he cared about his secret identity. Supra-Man had certainly peeked already and Brutus more than likely already knew. They just didn’t care and neither did Reynard. What could leaking his secret identity do to him? The truth was that Reynard might have been a degenerate, but he was a degenerate who wanted to die in his costume.

First, he set his attention on Supra-man. Nobody liked a third wheel. If there was a middle ground where both Brutus and Reynard agreed, it was the Supra-Man was unnecessary. He was smart enough not to be manipulated by Brutus, but dumb to not see that Brutus was just as willing to kill Reynard as Reynard was to kill him.

Reynard lifted his hand and attempted fully incinerate the upper layer of his body.

His skin.

Reynard would telekinetically manipulate the particles over his skin to move at increased speeds, causing instant combustion of his cells. Someone as powerful as him wouldn’t die from this, but Supra-Man would wish he was.

Now, for Brutus, he blitzed him and sought to pin him into the ground.

Then he answered his question.

“I hope you look into eyes of the quote unquote “gods” and see that they don’t know why we’re here any more than we do. I hope you can finally see how meaningless, small, short and incredibly nonsensical everyone’s existence is. Go ahead, I’ll give you a second before I bash your skull in.” He raised his right fist and tried to stick his thumb through his eye socket with left hand.

“ I ignored it for years, in the end I found that nothing really matters. Today you and me die, and in a few weeks no one will remember. No one will care. You were the President of the the U.S and no one will care if you die.” Then he sent his fist Brutus’s mouth.

“The reason why I hated you before was because we had conflicting views. Those same views were the reason why I didn’t throw you into the sun when you were just some *$&#@ in a powersuit.” Then he sent his fist again.

“But now? I don’t really care about the collective anymore. I don’t really care about you anymore. I had two choices. I could choose to come here or I could have chosen to go somewhere else. So I came here.” Then again.

And again.

@_reynard_: @saviour:

Millimeters above his skin, Nemo's universal positioning field blistered along with his skin, Reynard's telekinetic influence affecting both in tandem. One was an extension of his body, and responded as his flesh was affected, an explosive balloon of flame engulfing the Quintessential Hero as he stood. Forced backwards, he squinted, gritting his teeth as every atom on his body was moved against his will at speeds that would incinerate any ordinary being. The particles, rapidly accelerated, served their purpose, the heat generated burning him as he stood in fury glaring at the Trickster. Yet, though it stopped him for a moment, it was just as quickly snuffed out, his form decelerating back to normalcy; the scarlet blemishes on his skin disappeared, body adapted almost instantly to Reynard's frightful attack.

"I've walked on the Sun," he said matter-of-factly, aiming to cut off Reynard's next blow against Brutus with a swift grab of his wrist as it hung in the air. If he caught hold, he'd bring his empty hand down swiftly, fingers enclosed into a fist aimed directly at Reynard's kidney. An attack which defied the conventional laws of physics for its speed, followed by a flurry of blows so fast they can barely be said to have happened at all; that was what Nemo promised, for Reynard's destructive nature.

He'd follow his rapid series of strikes with a debilitating strike to Reynard's lower back, a punch guided impeccably by his atomic sight. Focused on a single vital vertebra, Nemo would attempt to end the fight then and there with a brutal blur-speed blow to his purple-clad foe.

@_reynard_: @supra-man:

Aimless strength popped out his eye from its socket.

Brutus had never been equally matched in his life before until now, he at least hoped it wouldn't have been a belligerent drunk in spandex, a depressed one at that. A fool crying for help, his small speech set his perspective of life on the path of an everyday atheist. "Is this how low Reynard has become?" The hero had nothing more to give to the world, it was obvious by the first blow. A vicious strike sent them from the top of the skyscraper all the way to five meter deep crater in the middle of the road. His indestructible visage, dented by the collision.

"Then you're welcome to kill yourself," Brutus highly recommended.

Laying down, humbly taking the blows without any care, barely able to move from the drainage of blood, sickness spreading in his veins, broken bones and probably just his aging body. His design was meant to be perfect but you simply couldn't defend yourself from this much power. Limited by the technology of our time, limited by the body of a human, he has always been limited unlike them. Brutus was still just a man in a machine that could simply be destroyed by a press of a button.

Mercy

Is saving someone from their suffering, right?

I'm going to set him free.

Just behind the sternocleidomastoid muscle, just below the jawbone is a nerve sensor on the wall of the carotid artery. It is part of a safety mechanism put in place in case the heart is sending too much blood to the brain. If pressure is applied to this sensor, the heart will simply stop sending blood upward through the carotid artery. The brain will die quickly thereafter. Like a machine, in a press of a button. That is where Brutus sought to attack after Nemo took Reynard off of him. A microsecond after the sonic speedblitz Brutus's spare arm blasted out a tiny sphere of God particles shot straight forward towards the inners of Reynards neck. On contact, if it wasn't enough to kill him already, It would expand and incinerate them both or at least Brutus hoped it would. He fell unconscious, finally taking the toll of battle. Limited by his mortal body.