Bones cracked and grinded.
His body convulsed, breaking and reforming into something larger—monstrous. A pair of white wings sprouted from his back, tearing through flesh like paper.
I stared at the gruesome sight with mild fascination. My lips slowly curled up in a mocking grin.
I lifted my gun in one fluid motion.
I fired. BANG!
The half transformed hero slumped to the ground with a bullet shaped hole in his forehead.
"I mean I was going to wait, but damn," I ran a hand roughly through my hair, "I would be an idiot to not shoot you when you were taking a fucking—"
Before I could finish, he dove down like a vengeful god from the sky—slamming into the pavement like a bomb. His landing thundered through the air and shook the nearby buildings.
I held up my arms against the air pummeling towards me, barely keeping upright.
A shiver ran down my spine as the smoke began to clear. There stood the blurry shape of a hero. I'd recognize that gold and white spandex from miles away.
It was the city's golden boy. A man who could kill me with the flick of his finger. A man that inspired a million fanboys to idolize him like a cult leader.
I let loose a joyless cackle at the absurdity of the situation.
He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here. He should be fighting his archenemy right now. It was a gruesome long standing fight that had enraptured my attention when it was only words on a page.
As if to mock my thoughts, Ray's eyes locked onto mine with startling intensity. His face was grim and lines of fury were twisted into his beautiful features.
Was he furious that I'd killed his fellow hero?
I don't recall them ever even speaking. What could possibly be causing him to look at me like that?
Interrupting my spiraling, he closed the distance between us. His fingers found my chin as he roughly forced me to confront that unsettling gaze. I inhaled sharply, not daring to fight this monster.
His eyes scoured my face as if he was desperately searching for something. He was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks, his hair tickling my forehead.
I pressed my lips into a tight line, willing my expression into a cool calm. All I can do is hope to soothe his anger. He's a hero after all—one I know better than anyone. He wouldn't kill me for any small reason.
"You…you weren't there," he said finally, voice a low whisper.
Huh?
What the fuck was he talking about?
"Why weren't you at the attack?" He asked, brows furrowing.
My eyes widened at the revelation. He was asking why I didn't join the evil six in the final battle of the story. I'd fought to join their ranks as a means to an end—as a means to revenge. They'd simply already served their purpose so I left.
"Why do you care?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He stood frozen as if shocked by the question. A brief silence ensued as I studied his expression. He was trembling slightly, an internal war rippling through his face.
"We're enemies," he said, eyes ablaze, "I can't stop…" he trailed, looking away.
"Can't stop?"
"I can't stop thinking of you until I defeat you," he spat, face hardening.
A breathy laugh escaped me, "Then why do you let me win?"
He pressed his head to mine, lips an inch apart.
"So I can never defeat you."
His words burned into me, searing deeper than the flames that killed me all that time ago.