Sakkara

“Oh God,” Paragon muttered. He activated his communicator. “Situation report!”

Silence.

“Max? Apex? Titan?”

Energy took hold of Paragon’s arm and pulled herself to her feet. “Titan’s inside the tank. You’ve got to go after him, Paragon!”

Paragon nodded, then pointed towards the west. “I left Quantum over that way. Find him!”

At least the firing has stopped, Paragon thought as he ran towards the battle-tank, ignoring the stream of Ragnarök’s men who were now fleeing from it, some of them carrying or dragging unconscious comrades.

The machine was still lumbering forward, its enormous wheels gouging deep tracks in the dry ground.

When he was twenty metres from the tank, Paragon flew the remaining distance, straight through the ragged hole where the cannon had been.

He landed in a large room, the walls lined with pipes and tubes. In the middle of the room were the remains of a complicated-looking piece of machinery, now mostly in pieces. At its centre was a large metal ball. Never seen anything like that before, Paragon thought. The engineer in him wanted to know what the machine was, but right now he had more important things to worry about.

As he scouted the room he heard a faint buzzing from a computer set into one wall. One glance at the read-out was all he needed. “Aw hell!” He activated his communicator. “Anyone who can hear me! Get out of the area ASAP! In three minutes this thing is going to self-destruct!”

Dioxin felt sick. He swayed, almost fell.

The three US marines guarding him backed away. “Don’t trust him!” one of them shouted. “Down on the ground!” he roared at Dioxin. “Now!”

Dioxin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt sick. His pock-marked, acid-seeping skin was starting to itch. He looked down at his hands. What’s wrong with me? He dropped to his knees, leaned over, retched. A thick stream of bile spilled from his mouth, the acid instantly scorching the ground. Oh God. It’s my own poison! I’m not immune to my own poison any more!

Then one of the marines shouted, “Sarge! He’s burning!”

Dioxin could feel his skin starting to blister and bubble. The acid…Need to dilute it. Dioxin looked around in panic, then spotted a large ornate fountain in the middle of the small town’s square. He tried to push himself to his feet. The water…

The marine sergeant cocked his gun. “One more move and you’re a dead man!”

If I can’t get the acid off my skin I’m a dead man anyway! “Help me! The acid…It’s killing me!”

The sergeant paused. “Yeah? Now you know what it felt like for all your victims.”

“Paragon!” Titan’s voice shouted as the armoured man entered the dark room.

Paragon could see one of Titan’s legs protruding from beneath a piece of fallen machinery.

“I’m here!” Paragon said. “Where’s Ragnarök?”

“Gone,” Titan said. “I don’t know what happened…It’s like I’ve lost all my powers! I think my leg is broken.”

Paragon looked around, spotted a thick steel beam and grabbed it. “Hold still. I’m going to get you free.” He wedged one end of the beam under the machine. His muscles straining, Paragon pushed up on the beam. The machine raised a centimetre, then another.

Groaning from the pain in his shattered leg, Titan pulled himself free.

Paragon dropped the beam, allowing the heavy machine to crash to the floor. “We’ve got less than a minute. Can you stand?”

“I don’t think so.”

“OK…Nearest exit?”

“The roof…” Titan pointed to a metal ladder leading to an open hatch in the ceiling.

The armoured man reached down and lifted Titan up, threw him over his shoulder. He grunted. “You’re damned heavy for a man who can fly.”

Paragon pulled himself up the ladder and on to the roof. “Hold on to my legs!” he yelled at Titan, then activated his jetpack. They soared away from the battle-tank just as it exploded in a two-hundred-metre-high ball of flame.

Dioxin saw his chance: the marines were staring off into the distance at the fireball. Pain coursing through every inch of his body, he pushed himself to his feet, grabbed hold of the nearest soldier and put his hand on the man’s neck. The soldier dropped to the ground screaming.

Before the others could react, Dioxin was on them, pressing his venomous, acid-dripping hands against their bare skin.

Then he turned towards the fountain and ran, painfully aware that his own skin was now beginning to peel away. He was sure that if he looked behind he’d be able to see his own blood-stained footprints.

Get to the water, wash the acid off! If I’m lucky, I won’tbe too badly scarred. Since it happened – whatever it was – there hasn’t been any new acid.

I’m cured.

The fountain – filled with life-giving water – was only a few steps away when something hard and heavy ploughed into Dioxin’s back, knocking him face first to the ground. He screamed and rolled over on to his back.

Paragon stood over him, his armoured fists smouldering from the acid. “Stay down, you goddamned psychopath! You just murdered those men!”

Dioxin tried to crawl backwards away from him. “No! You’ve got to let me…”

Paragon slammed his fist into Dioxin’s face. “Let you what? Let you get away?”

Dioxin kicked out at Paragon’s legs, leaving a smoking, bloodied streak across the armour. “I’m not immune to my own acid any more! It’s killing me!”

Paragon glanced towards the fountain. He wasn’t trying to escape. He was trying to get to the water…For a moment, he considered letting the man burn himself to death.

Then he reached down, grabbed hold of Dioxin’s arms and threw him into the fountain. The water hissed and bubbled as it splashed down over Dioxin’s skin, turned red with blood and gore.

Dioxin collapsed, unconscious.

Paragon waded into the water and propped up Dioxin’s head. Don’t want him to drown before he can go on trial for murder.

As Paragon was stripping off his now-ruined armour, a dark green army truck screeched to a halt a hundred metres away. A thin, grey-haired old man climbed down. He was wearing an immaculately-pressed uniform with four silver stars on the shirt’s lapels.

Paragon took off his helmet and walked over to the truck. “General Piers. What the hell happened here today?”

“I wish I knew. Our people are going over what remains of the tank. We’ve already picked up most of Ragnarök’s men. And we’ve got your friends. They’re all in a bad way. Looks like they’re not superhuman any more. What about you?”

“I never was a superhuman, General.” Paragon looked back towards the fountain. “What about Ragnarök?”

“He’s gone. There was an escape pod on the roof of the tank. Moved too fast for us to track.”

The general patted Paragon on the shoulder. “You did good work here today, son.”