It all happened so fast.


One minute, I was having a moment with Lux. Not that kind of moment you depraved fuckers! Geez. Get your mind outta the fuckin' gutter. We had just dealt with some crazy shit, resulting in multiple injuries. For the both of us. I was dressing her wounds and we got to talking. That's all.


Anyway, in midst of our conversation, out of nowhere the car we were sitting in got t-boned by an on-coming vehicle. You know those moments when your attention is suddenly drawn to something that's about to happen, but there's no time to properly react to the situation. That's precisely what happened to me. I was looking down, applying a bandage for Lux and glanced up, just in time to see a black SUV, slam head on, into the side of the automobile that we were in. The driver's side a.k.a where Lux was sitting when this occurred, was the direct point of impact and the force behind it was enough to tumble the tiny, red Chevy Nova, several times over. When the momentum finally ceased, the car was upside down and both Lux and I, were jammed against the passenger side door. Shards of glass, protruded from several places in her leg and she was rendered unconscious. While I wasn't faring any better myself.


Headlights were cast menacingly upon us as the SUV revved its engine. Almost in a taunting, mocking sort of fashion. In an instant, it took off. Speeding straight for us. I raised my hand and the black SUV slammed into an invisible wall. The front end, crinkling inward onto itself like an accordion, I used my free hand and did what I should have done during our previous fray, I activated the communication device that was implanted in the side of my neck, under my left ear, just below the jaw bone.


Every member of The Elite had one. Made up of bio-organic, mechanical compounds, these devices spliced into our neurons and brain waves. Simply tap the com and think of a person with another implanted communicator and you were immediately connected to them. It could be a singular effort or a group chat, the choice was yours.


Naturally, I thought of the one man that could swiftly and effectively, remove Lux and I from our unfortunate circumstances. Azrael Erebus. Speaking quickly I informed him of our current predicament and no sooner did I utter the final syllable, in my short but direct explanation, we vanished into thin air. Disappeared and reappeared within The Elite's brand new base of operations.





The Citadel.


Or rather, the command center that existed within the Citadel.


Located on the outskirts of NCENSORED the Citadel was a piece of property that was acquired for the purposes of being The Elite's headquarters. A central station where we would meet up at before we went out on nightly patrols. Where we discussed missions and shared information about whatever we encountered, so that we could properly plan and prepare strategies. It made our operations more organized and functional, opposed to when we were working out of Azrael's tower. Not that his tower was sub-par, it's just with the size of the group, it made things easier. Allowed us more breathing room, while providing all the assets that we needed to do our job and keep humanity safe, from the forces of evil that threatened its very existence.


There was a lab, a training area, an infirmary (fully stocked and supplied with everything that might be needed, to facilitate efforts to mend or heal the wounded, including an isolation chamber, should that ever be required), a subterranean dungeon and of course, a command center. The command center was the very core of the Citadel and where we all conjoined and met up, on an almost regular basis, depending on who was assigned to patrol the city and which part of the nerd crew were scheduled for com duty. Com duty meant that individual was ready to assist us, with whatever we needed during our journey for the night, via our communicators. Usually this task fell on my brother Ezra, Wylie Sinclair, Kelvin Watts or Milo Vancouver.


This is where both Lux and I rematerialized, thanks to Azrael. Before Lux was rushed to the infirmary, so that she could be seen to and taken care of by Wylie Sinclair. Since Nathaniel was extradited back to Germany. Wylie was the most qualified for the role of doctor. Being that he was half cyborg, half A.I and could teach himself whatever procedure that needed to be done, over the span of several seconds. Meanwhile, as Lux was being tended to, Azrael looked to me with concern and the expectation of an explanation.


"What happened?"


Azrael inquired, his brows furrowed in distress. Even though he was Azrael from the past, he still worried about my siblings and I, as if he were the Azrael from this timeline. We were his future children after all.


"I'm not exactly sure. Our car was rammed but I didn't get a good enough look at the individuals within the SUV that hit us. However, that wasn't the only strike against us, we were also attacked earlier in the evening by gun wielding, mercenaries in black masks that were definitely shooting to kill. They all worked for Madison."


"John Madison???"


"No, Madison Dyson, The Engineer's former manager, apparently she's some evil tyrant in the future. She killed Lux in the future and sold out the rest of humanity for the ability to have power and wield control over things. Madison is Lux's arch-nemesis, of sorts and seems intent on ending her permanently, here in the past. I was with Lux when the masked mercenaries ambushed the set of our promotional video for War Games."


"Your set?"


"Yeah, we went all out for our promo, unfortunately the set was destroyed. Worst of all. The signed action shot of Double G was ruined. That was the only one in existence too."


"Glad to hear you didn't lose your sense of humor in that skirmish... or the collision."


"What can I say, this is my coping mechanism. Anyways, the people in the SUV had to have been connected with the masked mercenaries, it's the only thing that makes sense."


"Agreed. The question is..."


"What do we do about them?"


"Correct. Now that you're on their radar, they might see assaulting you as a way to get at Lux."


"Obviously, there's only one thing I can do. Offer my services... our services, and hope she accepts. Other than that, my hands are tied. It's not like I can force her to accept help from The Elite. In spite of that being her best, most viable option, it's her call to make. And hers alone. In the end, this is her fight. Her battle and I have to respect that fact."


"I won't dispute you there."


"Uh... guys?!?!"


Wylie's frantic voice came blaring through our coms. To hear this type of thing happen, was like hearing someone's voice, emanating from within the confines of your skull. Sometimes it could be quite jarring.


"What is it, Wylie?"


"Our guest woke up and she's tearing apart the infirmary. She seems to think that she's been kidnapped and she's demanding that I give her back, her sword."


"You didn't tell me about a sword."


"Yeah, my bad. It must have slipped my mind."


That's when Azrael teleported us to sick bay. Sure enough, Lux was in full on rampage mode, virtually tearing the place apart. In truth, I couldn't blame her, waking up in a strange location, defenseless. After we had been recently attacked, twice. Waking up from that could promote instant, fight or flight instincts. This was Lux, so it would most assuredly invoke the urge to fight and protect herself. Raising my hand, I thwarted a metal tray from meeting Wylie's head, within a matter of moments before impact. The tray hit the wall and then clattered noisily to the floor. Lux turned to me, eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and confusion.


"What exactly is going on here?"


She questioned, her tone firm and unyielding.


"We were ambushed. Again. A black SUV, t-boned your car. I contacted Azrael and had him teleport us out of there."


Unsatisfied, Lux tossed her arms up in exasperation.


"Teleported? To where?"


Speaking calmly, I maintained eye contact and spoke only the truth.


"Currently we're within the Citadel. Although when I requested aid from Azrael, I didn't know what his precise location was... it didn't really matter, to be honest. I simply knew that we had to relocate our position and fast."


"We're in... the Citadel?"


The way she emphasised "the Citadel" it was like she was talking about something that wasn't real. Like I made it up. Right then and there. With a deep breath, I elaborated.


"Yes. We are residing within the Citadel. Specifically speaking we are in the infirmary that's situated inside of the Citadel."


More curious than alarmed, Lux crossed her arms and sighed.


"Just what exactly is the Citadel."


"The base of operations for the Elite. The team that my brothers and sister formed."


"To do what?"


Laughter rippled forth, I couldn't help it, the fact that I had to spell this out for Lux was funny to me.


"The same thing that you do, protect the world."


Seriously? What else did she think we did?


"Okay."


A quick nod of affirmation.


"I'll buy that. It makes sense, I suppose. One more question. Where's my sword?"


"Right here."


Azrael answered, removing the fedora from atop his head before he turned it upside down. After which, he promptly stuck his hand into it; straight away, and proceeded to rummage around for a bit. Reaching further than the normal constraints of a hat would allow. His arm disappeared at the elbow, that's how far it was extended into the hat. Truly a reality bending, impossible sight to behold, he rooted about for several seconds. Ultimately pulling his hand forth to reveal, Lux's sword. Azrael presented it to her with a smile and then placed his fedora back onto his head, affixing it on a slight tilt to the left, like he preferred.


"Thanks."


"Don't mention it."

---

Later, that same night...


I sat on the roof of the Citadel with Lux. Having a cigarette... well, I was smoking, Lux simply needed some air. It was probably a dick move that I instantly fired up a cigarette as soon as we got up here.


I need some air.


Oh well, I'll join you.


Don't mind this coffin nail that I ignited, merely think of it as an air enhancer.


She didn't complain or say anything at all about me feeding my addiction. All she did was stare out at the night sky. Complacent and silent.


This is how she stayed for awhile. Visibly deep in thought as she seemed to mull over things, within her mind. Then all at once, she turned to me and stated. Very matter of fact like.


"I don't need your help. I'm not asking for it."


"Alright."


I snorted, sarcastically and took a pull from my cigarette.


"I can't risk anyone else getting hurt. Or worse..."


Her voice trailed off as she cast her eyes away from me. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, I chuckled softly as I shook my head.


"Did you miss the part where I said alright? If you don't want my help, so be it. I'll respect your wishes, even if I think the decision that you're making is fucking stupid and I foolishly gathered that you were much smarter than that. I will abide your words and stay out of your affairs."


Lux returned her focus to me, defiance radiating within her eyes. Christ. She was stubborn.


"You don't have a clue as to what I'm dealing with. The entire world is at stake. Humanity as a whole, their future is the price. What I'm doing is trying to ensure that the tomorrow that society sees, is a bright one. Not the dark, cesspool that I left behind. I can't afford to fuck this up. I also can't have another death weighing on my conscience. Yours or anyone else's."


"Don't you think I can understand all that? What's at risk and what helping you might entail?"


"You may say that you do but you don't, not really. You can't possibly comprehend the cost. Are you telling me that you'd really, willingly orphan your son, in order to aid my cause?"


"Fuck off with that bullshit. You know, you might not realize this but I do this sort of thing on a regular basis. Can you not fully grasp where you're standing, what this place is and why it was created?"


"You and your group fancy yourselves a superhero squad?"


"Right. We fancy ourselves superheros... it's not like there's anything beyond that factor. No merit, or truth backing the claim. We merely pretend that we're doing good and opposing evil. We only think that we're saving others. When in reality, it's all a sham. Yeah. I'll remember to mention that to the asshole that I have to contend with during my next shift on the streets. Hey there, demonic clown that isn't Deacon, you know this is all fake, right? Don't throw that exploding cream pie at me. It might actually do some damage and that's not allowed in this land of make believe."


"Demonic clown? Exploding cream pie?"


"That was something I ran into on one of my first nights out. It threw pies that exploded like bombs."



She considered my words carefully.


"What happened?"


"I distracted it long enough for Alister... er, I mean Templar to send it back to hell. Where it belongs."


Once again, Lux's eyes met the sky. Almost as if the obsidian canvas, blanketed with a million, silvery, shimmering stars, held the solution that she sought.


"Fine. If you want to help, I'll accept your aid."


A smirk crossed my face and set up shop. Not like I did anything to ward it off though.


"Took you long enough."


"You don't have to gloat."


"Wow. After all this time that we've known each other, and it's like you don't even know me in the slightest."





"War Games! Yes! The game is afoot and that game is war! An all out battle between teams. My team... otherwise known as the best fucking team, in the history of teams, will be taking on Deacon's merry band of nobodies and socially awkward losers. Team Pointless. Team Fuck-it-all. Team Who-cares. Team Why-bother. The guys that have every intention of doing something but in reality, can't be bothered with the effort. In the end, it's all simply too much for them."


"First up, there's Deacon, their fearless leader. The guy that requested my brother for a fight, by name and then acted like he didn't care. Right. That's totally believable Deacon. Because people make it a point to call out the ones that they don't give a shit about. Fuck off. You demanded that fight, you ordered the powers that be to "Give you, Blackwater" you wanted that fight and you know it. Pretending that it didn't happen, well that's just pathetic."


"You wanted that fight cause you're nothing but a desperate, villain in a knock off horror film. The direct to video, cast with d-e list celebrities that normally get their paychecks from shooting porn, movie. 'What', the poorly shot, horribly acted, rip off of 'It'. That fight got you noticed though. You fought a guy that can turn into electricity. Even better still, you somehow managed to win that fight."


"Look at that. Lucky you."


"Well, I hate to break it to you... wait, what am I saying? I'd love to break it to you. Much like lightening. Luck won't be striking twice, Deacon. This battle... this contest of combat, that we will be embarking upon together, will not see you standing victorious at the end. No. You will fail, much like you fail at life on a regular basis, except this time the entire world will be watching. Isn't that fantastic? I know I'm absolutely thrilled about that. On the bright side, maybe your bunk ass, bargain bin movies will sell a few more copies. Crude Clowns from Inner-space. Ha! I love it!"


"Next there's Tony Santos. Another individual that can't seem to locate the correct facts, yet insists on shouting from the rooftops like his words are the gospel truth. He will more than likely mention how I've done nothing and my father was Mr. Radio. Again. I honestly don't know where he got that from. Clearly the booze has warped his mind. His thoughts are twisted and misshapen, bearing not even a glimmer of accuracy. All that he spews is half-cocked, nonsense and the ramblings of a fool. Garbled, incoherent blather, slurred from the mouth of an alcoholic."


"A drunk that only returns to the federation in order to obtain some quick cash, if only to satisfy his addiction for a few more years. Hey Tony, that shake that you've got going on, that's a permanent condition, right? What shade would you say that complexion of yours is? Jaundice yellow? Have you finally accepted reality and taken to wearing Depends? You know as a means to put an end to soiling your trousers on an almost nightly basis? If you had your blood drawn, right now, would it be clear based on the fact that your body is almost, entirely comprised of cheap vodka? Seriously, when was the last time that you didn't black out? Take your time, I'll wait for your responses."


"Luca Arzegotti. Frenemy to Azrael Erebus. Former bag boy of the Black Circle. Wanderer of the desert. Lackluster, vagrant taken to the breeze, rolling through disappointment after disappointment, like a tumbleweed. Just when someone thinks that your last return was a god awful, shit show, you come back to show us all that you can sink even lower."


"There's no such thing as rock bottom for you!"


"No, just a perpetual, endless void that keeps on going... and going... and going. Folks keep anticipating the crackle of your brittle, AIDS riddled body, meeting the bottom. Yet you keep soaring downward. Haphazardly shifting and toppling over yourself as you descend. Your whole life is comprised of one continuous, non-stop bad choice, after another. Your decision to partake in War Games, will not be the exception. But merely another drop in the septic tank that is your existence."


"Double G. Grappling Gary. The man with no past. And no future either. Not in this company anyway. I'm fairly convinced that he isn't even a real person. I think the XWF hired some dude to pretend to be Gary, to save face because he doesn't ever actually show up to wrestle. Yet they need a body there to take the loss. So they hired some crackhead to make appearances and fill the role of Gary. I defy anyone to prove otherwise. Show me some evidence where he actually speaks. You can't. Cause it doesn't exist, because Gary isn't real. He's the human equivalent to spam phone calls and emails. A bot. Nothing more, nothing less."


"Lastly there's Sam McPherson. The giant with the tiny mind of a fruit fly. He makes the mentally challenged seem like world renowned scholars. Geniuses. All he has to do is open his mouth or attempt to put on a sweater. A process that takes way longer than it should. Far longer than an individual with a fully functioning mind, would spend devoting their time to such a mundane task. That's why his boots have velcro straps and his mittens are pinned to his coat. To save him the time and effort. Otherwise the man would never leave the house, all his time would be spent getting ready. You'd think his mental health aid.... er, manager would help but Sam gets upset and goes into fits of rage, when he isn't allowed to do things on his own. Like a big boy! Isn't that right, Sammy?"


"Well, those are my adversaries for War Games. The reasons why my team will claim victory. I can't wait to hear what they'll have to say in their defense."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...