Lucien was already dead. All light had vanished from his body.
He twitched beneath Bob's hand, breath shallow, eyes glassy. Bob had used his powers to make him him see hell before going there.
Bob's chest rose and fell, each breath like the stoke of a forge. Shadows twisted around him, pulsing, writhing, eager. Preparing to give the final blow to the corpse.
Then "BOB!"
A voice. Alex's.
It echoed through the dust, the blood, the crumbled bones of the battlefield.
Bob turned slowly, shadows clinging to his form like oil on flame.
His eyes were black as the void, irises burning crimson.
Alex stood not far behind, panting, face wide with concern and fear.
"It's me! Stop, he's dead. You won… We won."
But Bob didn't see Alex.
He blinked once, and in Alex's place stood a white coat.
One of the doctors. Dr. Miro.
His hand still holding a clipboard. A smile behind glasses. That voice—
"Just a little more voltage. He's still conscious."
Bob's pupils shrank. A tremor went down his spine. The dark around him hissed louder.
"YOU."
He lunged.
A blur of motion, pure, unrestrained wrath. Fist cocked to kill.
Alex's eyes widened, he barely dodged, shadows slicing across his cheek.
"Bob! It's me! It's Alex!"
Another strike. Then another. Each blow could've leveled a mountain.
Bob didn't hear him.
He was lost. Inside that nightmare. Seeing the chains. The needle. The red room. It was one of the side effects of using too much power, drowning in his own fear.
"I'll kill you! I'll rip your lungs out—"
Alex didn't want to fight. Not him. Not Bob.
But he had no choice.
He reached up, fingers brushing against the sky, and pulled. Reality bent to his will. The air beneath his feet shimmered as he launched himself backward, creating distance between them in an instant.
"Please, stop!" Alex called, voice cracking with desperation. "This isn't you!"
But Bob didn't hear him.
With a snarl twisted in rage and grief, he hurled himself forward. The ground beneath Alex erupted, spikes of pure darkness shot upward, aiming to skewer. At the same time, spears rained down from above, all forged from the same inky black void. Bob followed, fists wreathed in shadows, each punch a storm of violence wrapped in vengeance.
Alex twisted through the chaos, narrowly evading. His palms sparked with silver energy as he blocked and deflected, sweat pouring from his brow, breath tight in his lungs.
Bob didn't stop. If anything, he became even more brutal.
Darkness thickened behind him, swirling like a hurricane. From that storm, a dozen—no, two dozen, swords emerged, each levitating, humming with malice. They hung in the air for a split second, glinting like the eyes of a predator.
Then they flew.
All of them toward Alex.
"WAKE UP!" Alex shouted, diving into a roll, barely escaping the flurry. The swords carved through the space he'd just been, one even grazing his shoulder, drawing blood.
He landed hard, skidding across the broken earth.
Then, Bob appeared in front of him.
He hadn't heard him move. Hadn't even seen the blur.
Just, there. In an instant.
Eyes wild, teeth clenched, shadowy claw outstretched and reaching for Alex's throat like death itself. Time froze in that moment.
Bob's fingers stopped, mere inches from Alex's throat. The shadows quivered around him like they'd lost their anchor.
And for the first time…
Bob hesitated.
His breath caught. His arms trembled. Behind those monstrous crimson eyes, something flickered.
Recognition.
Alex stared up at him, voice low, steady, aching.
"Please… come back. Please... don't make me do this..."
And Bob saw. Not a lab coat. Not a doctor.
Alex.
Sweating. Bleeding. Shaking. But standing.
Still there.
Bob blinked. The shadows hissed… then pulled back.
And Lucien's collapsed body behind them, blood pooling, his heart wasn't beating anymore.
"…Alex?" he rasped.
Bob stumbled back a step, eyes wide. His own hands trembled.
"Alex…"
His voice cracked.
The shadows still coiled around him like serpents, resisting—yearning. His body was tense, jaw clenched, every fiber of him still primed to kill.
But his eyes were different now.
Not mad. Not a god.
Just… a man. Terrified of himself.
He looked at Alex, really looked. And his knees buckled.
Bob fell to the ground, hard.
His shoulders hunched. His fingers dug into the dirt and ash and blood. He couldn't breathe right.
Then he raised his head—
And there were tears in his blackened eyes.
"I—I can't hold it back anymore. The pain, the fear… It's too much."
His voice trembled. It wasn't rage anymore. It wasn't pain.
It was pleading.
He dragged himself up to his knees and reached out, just barely, not to touch, but like a man offering a blade.
"Please, Alex…"
His hand closed into a fist.
"Do it. Before I hurt you. Before I forget who you are."
His head bowed.
"Before I forget who I am."
The shadows around him pulsed violently now, reacting to his breaking will. The madness stirred just beneath the skin. The monster was ready to return.
And still, he looked up at Alex and whispered:
"End it. Not for this shitty world. Not for them. For me."
The shadows snarled. The ground cracked beneath Bob's knees.
He was waiting for it, the end. The final blow.
But it never came.
Instead, a rush of wind.
And then, warmth.
Arms wrapped around him, tight.
Bob's eyes widened as Alex slammed into him, not with fists, not with a blade or light…
…but with a hug.
"No."
Alex's voice was low, but it shook with something stronger than rage.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I can't."
Bob's breath caught.
Alex held him tighter, forehead resting against his blood-soaked shoulder.
"You think you've lost yourself? I still see you."
"You're not the monster they tried to make you."
"You're Bob. You're Rafael Azar. You're my only family."
The shadows twisted violently, but they didn't lash out.
They trembled… and then recoiled.
Bob gasped.
"You don't understand… I could kill you. I might—"
"Then do it," Alex whispered, refusing to let go. "But I'm not letting you go first."
Silence.
Tears fell from Bob's eyes. His arms, still shaking, slowly rose, and wrapped around Alex.
The shadows around them flickered… and then faded.
For the first time in a long time, Bob was at peace, all fear had vanished. Under Alex's shown of affection.
He wasn't a weapon. He wasn't a monster.
Just a man, broken… being held together by someone who refused to let him fall apart.
And in that quiet moment, with the battlefield still burning and Lucien's body cooled behind them—
Bob wept.
And Alex held him. Like a brother. Like a son. Like hope...
Aftermath
The screen flickered to life, filling every home, every device, every hidden corner with his face—calm, steady, determined.
Alex looked directly into the camera, his voice clear and strong, carrying the weight of every battle fought and every loss endured.
"People of the city and beyond," he began, "you have every reason to be afraid. For too long, shadows have lurked in the corners of our lives. Villains, threats, and those who use power for destruction."
He paused, his eyes burning with quiet fire.
"But today, that changes."
Alex's jaw tightened. "The God of Wrath, the monster who tore through our world, who threatened to burn it to the ground is dead. The threat has been dealt with."
A flicker of hope shone in the eyes of millions watching.
He continued, "I won't lie, this victory came at a cost. But I promise you this: from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."
He took a breath, voice steadying with conviction.
"No more hiding. No more running. We will face what comes together. And I will be here, standing between you and the evil."
The broadcast ended with the symbol of the Bureau, a shield crossed by a sword and a simple last comment from the hero that was going to become the new hope:
"Hope is not lost. I will protect every single one of you… Just like Hope did. So have faith us, have faith in me."
Behind the scenes, as the broadcast ended, Ryan, Selena, Beth, Lena, and Bob watched in silence.
Bob's hand found Alex's shoulder.
"That's perfect." Bob said softly.