--- Peter Euryale (The Vanguard) and Agent Turner ---
Agent Turner had waited patiently. And sure enough the Vanguard had returned to his lair, his den, his apartment. Really? As Turner eyed the empty mask he began to wonder what kind of superhero make his secret base an uptown apartment. For that matter how did Peter Euryale afford the rent on this place? Maybe it would be worth looking into his tax records.
About time, he thought to himself.
Turner could hear Peter walking into the hallway. But he was talking to someone, evidently he had not returned home alone. It had taken considerable effort and time to remove the security cameras outside but Turner was beginning to regret that decision. It would of been useful to know who he was with. Unknowns only made his task more difficult.
Cautiously Peter made his way down the hallway. The trip wires had been removed. Whoever was in his apartment had gone to great lengths to defuse the traps. Of course one could argue that Peter shouldn't be arming explosives in a residential area. Peter held out his left hand, signalling Sky to wait.
"I don't have all day," called out Agent Turner. "Come in already."
"How about you come out?" Peter called back.
Turner put the mask down on the couch beside him and stood up. It seems that this particular prey would require him to make the first move.
"I am Agent Turner. I know that you are Peter Euryale." Is that a Greek name? Euryale.
"Agent. Is that your birth name?" asked Peter. "You know my name. You knew how to disable all of my traps and safety measures. Clearly you know enough about me so how about we talk about you. What do you want from me? Why did you come here?" He turned to Sky and whispered. "Wait here and keep watch."
"I want you. Alive, preferably. For the Codex, of course. And as to why I came here... Well. You should be able to work at least that much out on your own," answered Agent Turner. "There is still a few things that I don't already know. Who is your friend? The one with you, I can hear their lighter foot steps."
"She's none of your business," replied Peter, his tone growing more annoyed.
"She. Peter, are you bringing girls back to your apartment after a night out? Do I need to give you the talk?" asked Agent Turner. He had previously seemed serious but had quickly changed his tactic. Whatever it took to distract the target and make capturing him easier. "Maybe she wouldn't mind accompanying us back to HQ."
"HQ. So you're working for an organization of some kind."
"Observant," said Turner in praise. "Sadly your knowledge came too late. Yes, I work for an organization." Slowly and deliberately he made his way through the cluttered room and over to the where the hallway opened up into the room. His silhouetted form emerged before Peter. "What will it take for you to come peacefully?"
"Health insurance, paid holidays and job security," Peter quipped.
"Funny. But jokes will not stop the inevitable. Don't make this anymore difficult than it needs to be. I have already rigged your own explosives. This apartment, maybe even this entire building, could be blown to dust and ruins." Turner held up a simple trigger for Peter to observe. "Your move."
What was his end goal? "Go ahead. Pull the trigger and take your own life too," dared Peter. "You'll die in the fire along with me."
"Maybe I should of asked for the health insurance. Don't tempt me Peter. I am but one Agent, one piece, expendable and replaceable," Turner challenged. "You and lady friend, however, place some value in your own lives. In your families lives. Your father, your two brothers."
Peter froze. "How do you know about them?"
The Agency had been watching the Vanguard for over a year, ever since he began his one man crusade. It had taken considerable man power to keep track of the Vanguard. Tracing him back to this apartment had taken months. Then tracking him back to his home, his family, had taken most of a year. "The Agency knows everything about you. We also know what you did, what your mother made you do." Once they knew his real identity finding the court records had been easy.
No batons. I need a way to get that trigger away from him. But how? Peter asked of himself. For now I need to distract him. Maybe disarming the explosives would be a better option? No good, I don't know where he placed them all. For now... No. I can't possibly go along with anything he is saying. Maybe... "What happens you blow me into tiny pieces and the Codex is lost?"
Hmm. He certainly was smart. There were few others that had given the Agency so much difficulty in keeping constant surveillance on. "Are you a betting man, Peter? I'll tell you what. I will put the bombs on a timer and if you can beat me in that time then I will tell you how to disarm them. Does that sound fair to you?"
"All I have to do is fight you?" He looked over to Sky in the doorway. What was happening? During this entire conversation she had remained silent. Something was strange, off, wrong. The doorway to the apartment itself seemed shrouded as though there was a barrier between them. Peter could barely see Sky through this wall of mist. What was it?
"Yes," answered Turner. "Just you though. Your friend will have to wait on the side lines I'm afraid. Give her my apologies but this has to be a one-on-one match, you and me. Think you're up to the challenge? Or are you just going to watch again as your family is hurt and you're powerless to do anything. Do you remember how that felt last time? The despair. The hate. The self loathing. I wonder, do you still feel that way, Peter? Do you still look at yourself in the mirror each day and try to tell yourself that you aren't a ticking time bomb. Just like your own traps turned against you. You're going to explode. Sooner or later... Tick tock..." How many buttons did Turner have to push to make him angry?
"Shut up!" Apparently not many more buttons at all.
"Prove that you're not the same scared child. Prove that you're not weak, afraid, unable to fight for those you care about. Or just show the world that you were never the hero that you pretend to be. Your choice, Peter. Go up in flames. Or take me down."
Enough. There were no more words. Peter limped down the hallway towards Agent Turner. And it took the agent less than a second to notice his weakness, the limp, already his prey was wounded and weak. No need to set the timers. This would be over quickly. As Peter neared the agent stayed motionless. Ready. Once in range Peter swung a wide and poorly aimed fist at the agent. But Turner turned it around in a single motion planted Peter's own fist into his stomach. What had happened to the Vanguard? Vigilante, fighter, warrior. This man was broken and half dead. More than his injuries were making him weak. What had happened to him?
"Argh!" Peter attempted to rush at the agent.
But Turner stepped aside and guided Peter's weight downwards. Quickly Peter found himself sprawled out on the apartment floor. The agent stood above him, no longer hidden in the shadow of the hallway. He wore a simple suit, all black, with a red tie.
"What happened to you, Peter?" asked Agent Turner. "What happened to the Vanguard? Just two nights ago you were interrogating street thugs for information. Then some hired assassin drops you through a roof and suddenly you forget all of your training. The Phantom Marksman should of never gotten to you. He was easy, set up to be on that roof so that you would kill him. But you failed. Now we have been forced to find other ways to motivate you. Yet these attempts all seem for naught, you're broken. Just a shell. The Vanguard isn't even in there. I doubt if Peter is even in there. What happened to you? Where is the Vanguard?" Peter was slowly climbing to his feet when Agent Turner kicked them out from under him. Once again Peter found himself on floor. "Where is the killer? Where is the warrior? I was promised a fight. All of the field reports on you indicated that you would be our greatest challenge yet. But so far you have been nothing but a disappointment, not even worth taking back alive." Turner grabbed Peter by the head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck here and now." Like this the Vanguard was useless to the Agency. The Condex fragment would only be of use if harvested from a worthy recipient. "Good bye, Peter."
It always had to end like this. Codex or not, Peter or the Vanguard would of never survived. It was inevitable and defying the natural order was futile. Peter raised a weak and tired hand up. Was he about to beg? But instead Peter grabbed the at the red tie and pulled. A useless attempt, one last try to fight back. At least he still had the will to fight. But Peter kept pulling. Until he had brought Agent Turner close to his face.
"You rigged the explosives in the hallway, right?" Turner simply nodded. Was this a ploy? A last attempt to protect his friend, maybe. "Then do one last thing for me."
"What?" Not a chance. Turner wasn't in the habit of fulfilling his victim's dyeing wishes. "Why would I?"
"Stay right where you are. Between me and the blast." In his other hand Peter held up the trigger. A somewhat cliché button waited at his fingertips. "Good bye, Agent."
Peter pressed the red button. No time for the agent to protect himself. Not time to throw up another barrier. Turner did the only thing that he could. He pushed forward, dragging Peter in front of him, and attempted to get as far away from the blast as he could. He didn't get far. But it was enough. The explosion was mostly contained within the hallway but the wave of heat and force hit Turner's back. The two of them were knocked aside like toys. Carried on the concussive wave they hit the window. Of course it broke. The pair crashed through the window, fell the two floors and hit the pavement below. There was the clear sound of bones breaking.
Turner pushed himself up. A good attempt. As expected of the Vanguard. "You lived up to your name, Vanguard. For a moment I thought that you were a lost cause. But now your fight is over." Turner could see that Peter was still breathing but was unconscious. Though the Vanguard would not survive the day without medical attention. "The Agency wants you brought in alive. This is as close as you will ever be to living."
With strength that was impossible of someone who had endured an explosion and a two story drop, Turner hauled Peter's unconscious body up onto his shoulders and began to walk away. The explosion. The window. The fall. It hadn't even left a scratch on the agent. Only his suit and been burnt and torn. And he had captured his target. Time to get going before the Vanguard' friend comes out to find them.
--- Agents (attempting to capture Kill Stroke dead or alive) ---
The squad of agents had him surrounding. But still Kill Stroke had drawn his weapons. A fight was about to begin but they clearly had him outgunned. Without his shadows he was just another assassin, an old world ninja and modern soldiers.
"There is no need for you to get hurt!" the team leader shouted. "Don't resist and we won't have to kill you." The team leader turned to his squad. "If he moves a muscle then light him up. Don't let him get into striking distance.
Around them the series of floating spheres flooded the area with light. His shadows were unusable in this light. But his sword was still a very real threat. Allowing him to get close would too dangerous. They couldn't take that risk.
"Sheath your sword or we will open fire," commanded the team leader.
--- Agent Young (At the Global News Network broadcasting station) ---
The Agent descended the flight of stairs in silence. The plan had worked and Emily Dawn, the reporter, had played her part excellently. Still no one was wise to the fact that she had been in the employ of the Agency for a long time. Agent Young knew that already the panic would begin seizing the citizens of Bien Sombre. The events of yesterday at the town center, the bank robbery and the high school massacre happening right now, the towns people would be in a frenzy. And when they left their homes during the Martial Law, as he had told them in the broadcast, his agents would be able to move among them without scrutiny from General Jones' soldiers. It was just a tiny step in the grand plan. Just one small piece but it made way for them to do so much more. Then his phone began buzzing.
He slipped it out of his suit jacket and answered: "This is Agent Young. Do you have an update?"
"Someone is outside the broadcasting station, demanding to see a leader of some kind for the Agency," said the person on the other side. "She is talking to the guards that you posted outside. It's Nova Rei, assume that she is armed and dangerous. See to her and bring her in if possible."
"Understood. I'm on my way." He hung up his phone and returned it to his pocket.
Further down the stairs he descended until he was the bottom of all four flights. A short corridor and a fire exit later he was outside, in a back alley. Quickly Agent Young traced his way around the side of the building until he found himself outside. Earlier he had posted two agents to watch the door while he was inside. As stated there was a woman demanding that these two agents let her see someone in charge.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, miss Rei," called out Agent Young as he approached her. "Or do you prefer Super Nova? Good name. Very... " He seemed to stop and think about it. "Very much like the name of someone who I should be taking very seriously. In case you're wondering, I am the one in charge of this little operation. In fact this entire skirmish was my idea. And I heard that you want to speak to me. So, how can I help you?"