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Thunderstrike couldn't shake the Echoes off. They clung to him like dead weight, boots scraping, arms locked tight. With a snarl, he drove himself backward—hard.
BANG.
His spine slammed into a metal street pole. The impact bent it inward with a shriek of tearing steel. Cracks spidered through the concrete beneath his heels.
Echo Clone #1 (grunting, voice cracking): "In— inferno—! Move your ass! I can't hold this big motherf—"
Too late.
The corrupted Thunderstrike's hand snapped up. Fingers like iron clamps crushed around the clone's skull. There was a split second of resistance— muscle straining, teeth clenched—
CRRUNCH.
Bone collapsed inward. The clone's head burst under his heel as Thunderstrike stomped down, wet and violent. Blood sprayed across the pavement in a hot arc. Gray matter smeared against the asphalt, skull fragments skittering like shrapnel. The body jerked once—then went limp.
The second clone barely had time to flinch.
Thunderstrike seized it by the head and ripped it apart.
RIP—POP.
The spine tore free with a sickening snap. Blood fountained from the neck, spraying his chest and the nearby wall. Thunderstrike flung the severed head aside—it bounced once, rolled, leaving a thick red smear behind.
He brought his hammer down.
WHAM.
The clone's torso flattened against the street. Ribs shattered outward. Blood and fragments splashed up Thunderstrike's legs as the body collapsed into a broken, twitching mess.
Thunderstrike (voice warped, breath ragged, spitting blood):"KILL… KILL… MUST— KILL— MUST FOLLOW MASTER'S ORDERS…"
Behind him, the city groaned.
A nearby building shuddered as internal supports gave way. Windows blew out one after another— POP, POP, POP— showering glass onto the street. A chunk of metal ducting tore loose and slammed into the pavement, sparks bursting where live wires snapped. Fire rolled out from a blown doorway, coughing smoke and embers into the air.
Inferno staggered out of the burning building he'd crashed through, boots crunching over glass. He clutched the side of his head, blood running between his fingers and dripping onto his shoulder. A small explosion popped behind him as a gas line ignited, heat washing over his back.
He looked up.
Eyes blurry.
As Thunderstrike stood there— hammer dripping red.
Inferno steadied himself, teeth grinding, flames flickering weakly around his fists as the street burned and screamed around them
Inferno (dizzy, confused): "Huh…? Echo—? Is that y—"
CLANG!
Thunderstrike's hammer cracked across Inferno's face with a brutal, sickening ring. Inferno's body hurled backward and slammed into the top of an overturned van. His skull bounced off metal— one of his eyes shot out of the socket, rolling down the van hood. Blood sprayed in a fan pattern. His flames went out instantly.
Inferno wheezed once… then nothing but wet, dragging breaths.
Aamon lifted his hand.
A red aura burst out around him—dense, choking, vibrating the air hard enough to make teeth rattle. The pressure slammed outward in a violent shockwave, dust and broken concrete ripping off the ground and blasting through the street. Rubble skidded. Loose metal screamed as it scraped across asphalt.
Gravity staggered back half a step, boots digging in.
Aamon raised his other hand.
A sword materialized in a violent flash of crimson light—heavy, jagged, dripping heat as if it had just been pulled from a furnace.
Aamon (low, vicious): "Come forth, my blade… it's time for you to feast on blood."
The aura spiked.
Aamon threw his head back and howled.
"Awoooooooooou!"
His voice tore through the street.
Aamon (snarling): "I'm done playing around. This is the end for all of you—human scum."
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Gravity's gravitational bubble warped violently around him—then cracked. The pressure snapped apart with a thunderous BOOM, the force blowing Gravity backward. She cried out, hands shaking as she tried to reinforce it, blood trickling from her nose.
Gravity (gasping): "N-no—!"
Rock-man roared and charged.
Rock-man: "You've got a sword too? Fine—so do I!"
His arm twisted, stone grinding and reshaping mid-run.
Rock-man: "AHHHHH—!"
He lunged, arm transforming into a spinning stone drill, chunks of concrete shredding off as it whirred toward Aamon's chest.
Aamon didn't flinch.
His blade moved once.
SHRRRK.
The sword sliced clean through Rock-man's stone arm like it was wet clay. The drill disintegrated mid-spin, shards exploding outward.
The cut didn't stop.
The blade continued through Rock-man's torso—shoulder to hip.
A wet, tearing sound followed.
Rock-man froze.
Then his body split diagonally.
Blood burst out in a violent spray. Organs spilled free—loops of intestine slapping against the cracked street, slick and steaming. His upper half slid one way, his lower half the other, both halves twitching uselessly as blood pooled fast beneath them.
A thick, wet SPLAT echoed as his remains hit the ground.
Gravity's breath caught in her throat.
Gravity (screaming): "NO—! ROCK-MAN! Oh my Gosh!"
Echo's eyes went wide.
Echo: "Shit—! We've got a man down!"
He snapped his head toward Thunderstrike, already splitting apart.
Echo: "I'll keep Thunderstrike busy by holding him off! You guys go and stop this demon already!"
Multiple Echo clones burst forward, boots slamming against debris as they rushed Thunderstrike from different angles.
Photon flashed right behind Aamon blind spot.
Two rapid slashes ripped into Aamon's back.
Blood sprayed across the demon's fur, dark and thick, splattering the pavement.
Aamon took two steps forward.
Then stopped.
He turned.
Slow.
His blade came around in a savage arc.
Photon barely reacted— his shield snapped up just in time.
Aamon (furious, roaring): "How dare a mere human touch a pure-blooded beast like MEEEEEEEEE!"
CRRRRSH!
The blade carved straight through the shield like it wasn't there—metal screaming as it split in half then passed through Photon's arm.
Photon screamed.
His arm dropped to the ground in a spray of blood, fingers still moving.
Photon staggered backward, howling, clutching the ragged stump as blood poured down his side and soaked into the street.
Photon (screaming): "FUCK—!! FUCK—!!"
He stumbled, nearly falling, breath hitching violently.
Photon (shaking, panicked): "O-Okay— I think I get it— it seems like his sword— his sword ignores defenses—!"
He coughed, blood spraying from his mouth.
Photon: "It went through my damn shield like it was made of paper— w-we can't block it…!"
He looked at the others, eyes wide with terror.
Photon: "Keep your distance everyone— don't get close!"
Aamon's eyes widened—for just a second.
Aamon (sharp, irritated): "You understood how my blade functions just by watching one attack?"
His lip curled.
"You're a problem. And problems get dealt with next."
He lunged toward Photon—
but Echoes appeared in a burst of distortion.
Five clones snapped into place around Photon, Frostbite, and Gravity, grabbing them hard and dragging them backward just as Aamon's blade carved through the air where Photon's head had been.
Echo #4 (urgent, strained): "Spectra—we don't have a choice anymore! Thunderstrike is gone. We can't save him. We're losing people one by one—we need to regroup!"
A streak of light tore across the smoke-choked sky.
Spectra dropped in from above, eyes blazing white-hot.
Her lasers fired instantly.
Thunderstrike didn't even finish his swing.
The beams carved straight through him—shoulder, chest, waist—cutting the corrupted hero into mangled pieces mid-motion. His body split apart in burning sections, chunks of flesh and armor slamming into the street.
Spectra hovered for a second, chest heaving.
Spectra (breathing hard, shaking): "S-Sorry, man… you can rest now…"
Her jaw tightened.
"We don't—damn it—we don't have time for this bullshit. Everyone—gather up. Now. We need to strategize."
She scanned the smoke-filled street, hair whipping violently in the heat.
Spectra: "I cleared every demon coming this way. You're clear. No asshole's sneaking up on us anymore."
Echo reappeared nearby, sweat and blood streaking his face.
Echo: "I held the others back a few streets over—but Aamon's on our asses. He must be tracking us through our smell, energy. Something." He clenched his jaw. "This is bad. I'll teleport us together."
He split again—two more clones tearing off toward Aamon.
Echo: "Go. Buy us time."
Aamon dodged the first clone and cleaved it clean in half—guts splattering across the pavement.
The second clone grabbed his wrist.
Just long enough.
The clone vanished.
Echo hissed through his teeth. "Shit—he's fast."
He grabbed Spectra and warped away—reappearing beside Frostbite, Photon, and Gravity.
The ground exploded nearby.
Aamon burst out of a ruined building, stone and glass blasting into the air. He landed on all fours—crater forming beneath him—saliva dripping in thick strands onto the ground.
He reappeared directly in Frostbite's line of fire.
Ice spikes slammed into him—punching through his arm, leg, and stomach. Black blood poured down his fur as jagged shards jutted from his body, freezing his flesh on contact.
Aamon opened his mouth— and vomited hellfire.
Frostbite (panicked): "Oh crap—!"
She slammed her palms together, throwing up a multi-layered ice wall.
The fire hit.
The wall hissed, cracked, melted, and exploded apart. Steam and frozen fog erupted outward, swallowing the street in blinding white.
Photon (shouting): "Frostbite—no! That'll kill our visibility—!"
Everything vanished into fog.
Echo coughed violently, waving his hand, trying to pull everyone together.
Echo (hoarse): "We need to—stay—together, every—"
He slammed into someone.
He turned.
Photon stood right behind him—shaking, barely standing.
Echo's shoulders dropped in relief.
Echo: "Oh— shit— Pho— wh—"
STAB.
A blade punched through Echo's stomach from behind.
His eyes went wide.
Echo (choking, breath breaking): "OOH—ugh—n-no… no way…"
Blood poured from his mouth as the blade twisted.
"It's—it's not—"
Photon's body melted like wax—face sagging, limbs stretching—until Aamon's taller form rose behind Echo, hand still buried inside him.
Aamon (calm, smug): "Teleportation and cloning?"
He leaned in slightly.
"The most irritating abilities I've dealt with in years."
He yanked the blade free.
Echo collapsed forward, sliding off the sword—his insides spilling out onto the street, organs dragging across the concrete.
Echo (fading, trembling): "I—I f-feel s-so c-cold… I… I don't w-want to di—e"
His voice cut off.
The fog swallowed the sound.
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