Paragon To Pavement 9

5 YEARS AGO (PARAGON CITY)

"Next! Who’s next?”

Asbestos choked the air the moment drywall burst open, a body flying through the ragged hole with a choked scream and pinwheeling arms. 

The scream died completely as the body hit rotting floorboards of the abandoned building, the man in all-black skidding over the ground in a mess of four flailing limbs. Black fabric tore and splinters trailed behind him before he finally came to a stop, the only thing in the air a thick cloud of plaster dust to catch the pale Paragon moonlight. 

The mask of real bone cracked straight down the center, ivory splintering away to reveal the unconscious and battered face of a Skull gang cultist.

The sixth one in half as many minutes.

“C'mon, y'all wildin' if you think this is enough!" Every group of bangers in Paragon had their preferred hideouts. Hellions liked underground caves close to the sewers — and also wide-open parks in the daylight for some reason — while the Clockwork liked being around corporate buildings, active warehouses, and the docks; which made sense.

Skulls were basic, and not even in a cool way. 

They tended to go for shit that was abandoned and spooky; which meant graveyards, old warehouses and, usually, derelict old buildings.

Scattered across the cracked concrete floor were six members of the Skulls. A few were groaning, clutching limbs or ribs that were closer to broken than not. The rest were completely out cold, a blessing considering the beating they would have gotten if they tried anything more than they already did. All six of them had their bone masks shattered into splinters across the dusty floor, each one obtained from a murder and grave-robbing. 

Blue Sky bounced on the balls of his feet, blue-white sneakers squeaking loud against grit-covered floorboards. The ‘blue’ hummed around his forearms, bright and hungry, casting shadows across the big room; a massive grin splitting his face. 

“Yo, I told y’all! You think a bunch of Bone-Bro rejects were gonna hold me down?” He shook his head. “Nah, nah-nah-hahaha! I got it like that! Watch me fold the rest o-”

From the heavy shadows of the open door, a slow clap sounded off into the silence. "Look at this. A real goddamn tragedy."

A shadow detached itself from the far wall, Sky blinking at the sight of it; the stuff thick, goopy, and smelling like a fresh grave. The fuck?

The shadow pulled itself together, condensing under the moonlight.

Barely a second from when he spotted it, a pair of blue eyes blinked again at the sight of a tall blond with a surfer cut where the shadow once was, the guy built like he knew every heavy-lifting gym in Paragon by heart. Huh, another one.

Like most of the other Skulls, he had on a fit that was head to toe all-black. In his case, it was a leather jacket and jeans with a matching tee. 

And, of course, a bleached human skull strapped to the front of his face like all the Skulls.

"Nah, c'mon." Shadows literally bled off his knuckles as he formed ten fingers into two fists, darkness dripping down toward the floor and vanishing into the gloom. A laugh left the bigger Skull, the sound bouncing with the swagger of his steps. “Look at this mess. You disrespecting the grave, kid? You not scared yet?”

“You blind, Jack Skellington? Scared of what?” Sky let out a short laugh, dropping his shoulder to raise his other hand into a fist. "I just folded six of your lil bone boys."

“And?” Sky couldn’t see the blond man’s face, but he could swear he was smiling. “They were weak then. Food for the grave.”

“...oh, so you crazy.”

“Nah, I’m Bonebreaker.”

“Your name ain’t got shit to do with crazy, boner nigga.”

"Hold still.” The whites of Bonebreaker’s eyes flashed behind his mask. “That bone's mine. Death don’t miss twice."

Sky pulled a face. “...Pause?”

Bonebreaker chuckled. “Play.”

Ew. Sky’s fists clenched tighter the moment he rushed forward. “I’ll slap the shit outta you, son!”

The Skull thrust his hand out the instant the teenager made a move. In the same instant, a condensed sphere of roiling blackness screamed across the room, the thing sailing straight for Sky’s chest.

Eyes wide, instincts took over and saved him from thought; Sky dropping to the ground almost immediately. The kid threw himself into a low sweep, body spinning across the floor. The blast of darkness sailed above his head, slamming into a concrete load-bearing pillar behind him and forcing it to give way with a crack.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Bonebreaker laughed, pitch dropping dirty and rough with the words dragged through the metaphorical soil. “An offering! The dark likes you, kid!”

Sky didn't stop moving. 

Momentum moved with him, the kid using the spin to plant his hands on the floor and launch himself forward like a coiled spring. 

Thirty feet vanished between them in a half second.

Bonebreaker's eyes widened, but the gangbanger was fast. 

Sky’s glowing blue fist slammed into him, his arm already up with shadows wrapped around it to cushion the blow. The building wasn’t so lucky, though; wood creaking and windows rattling from the shockwave that rattled through the space.

The force tore a grunt from Bonebreaker, the man skidding backward; boots digging grooves into wooden floorboards.

"I'm a kid!" Blue Sky’s momentum carried him through with a yell on his lips, driving a brutal rising elbow directly into Bonebreaker's mask.

The mask cracked but held strong, the Skull’s head snapping back.

“And?” Bonebreaker staggered back, blood dripping from under the mask, but that didn’t seem to stop him in the slightest. His breath picked up with his voice, eyes wide and unhinged. “The fuck do I care?”

"You feel good about fighting a kid, man?” Sky darted back, fists up and waiting. “What are you, like thirty?"

Bonebreaker laughed, the sound wet and manic. Shadow pooled deeper and thicker around his fists; solid and sickening the longer Sky’s eyes focused on them.

"I'm twenty-two, you little bitch!" The necromancer lunged forward, body a sudden blur as he pulled on speed Sky hadn’t expected or seen before. “Dark Smite!”

We can name our move-? A gasp left the kid’s mouth, jaw hanging open the instant a punch clipped his shoulder despite his attempt to dodge back. I-! Electric blue eyes went wide from pain and shock, vision blurring from what felt like ice water in his veins. “The f-!”

The hell was that?

Sky gritted his teeth, shaking the shadows from his head, and threw himself back, ducking under another hook. “Twenty-two?” Grunting, Sky shot himself forward; a heavy kick wrapped in blue snapping out into the cultist’s leg. “And still gangbanging?!”

Bonebreaker grunted at the force of the blow, but dropping to one knee didn’t stop him. Roaring back at Sky, the villain threw his hands out and, without any more warning, dark energy came screaming from his palms with a ghostly wail.

Loser! Sky vaulted cleanly over the blast, soaring thirty feet into the air. His sneaker sole touched rotting rafter for all of a split-second before he ricocheted back down. “Get a job!”

“Death is my job!” Bonebreaker’s manic cackle found a new height of volume, voice lighting up with a joy that Sky had only seen on junkies or gamblers; the shadows on his hands flaring violently. "Now give me your face!"

The teenage hero dropped from the ceiling, sneaker heel coming down in a glowing arc; an axe wrapped in the same color as a bright summer sky. “Oh, you’re so lame!”

Bonebreaker shifted his weight, catching the falling kick on his forearm with another cackle.

He didn’t expect the punch that came next; Sky twisting in mid-air to slam a matching blue fist right into his gut. 

The cult-boss wheezed like he’d just lost a lung, doubling over the second Sky dropped to his feet. Five fingers grabbed the back of the man's leather jacket as Sky pivoted on his heel and, with a grunt, sent the twenty-two-year-old banger flying through a rotten doorframe.

Wood splintered completely, the whole of it giving way to superhuman force, dust and grain exploding outwards into a cloud—

– – – – – – – – 0– – – – – – – –

— of cheap IPAs in the air, the background of some random song rattling against Sky’s chest.

Sky blinked past the smell of cheap body spray and half-bleached vomit as he stood near the billiards section of Crypto Night, sneakers half-stuck to the floor as the burly bartender yelled something at him he really couldn’t give a shit about. I heard you, I heard you. He breathed out through his nose. I’m breaking them up.   

A good twenty feet away, two men were tearing the bar apart.

The taller one wore a cheap chest-plate, the bulky thing sloppily spray-painted silver to the point it looked ripped straight from a high school play’s prop closet. The other was smaller and far more muscular but in spandex that looked spray-painted on, the way he was crammed into it. 

Whatever little imagination went into his name didn’t leave much for his suit, the thing  in desperate need of a sizing up. 

Both were locked in a sloppy grapple, and currently in the middle of knocking over a high-top table to send a spray of shattered glass across the floor.

Each had the exact same name, the unimaginative choice of "Fight-Man” the cause behind this entire stupid brawl.

Sober or not, they were clearly not the best the hero community of Torrance had to offer.

Sky’s left eye twitched, a muscle jumping under another waxy scar. I’m so tired, man. Just three hours into the job and he was bouncing between recovering balloons for actual toddlers and babysitting adult toddlers. Goddamnit.

Despite his tiredness, Sky stepped forward anyway, hands cupped around his mouth. "Hey.”

Neither Fight-Man seemed to hear him, over the sound of the bar’s soft bass and their own drunken brawling.

Or, if they did, they clearly didn’t give a shit either way.

Red-Suit headbutted Silver-Chest, both men tumbling into a booth as what strength they had quickly made a mess of the vinyl upholstery.

Sky rolled his neck till it popped. With a sigh, he stepped forward; the soles of his boots crunching loud over a piece of broken glass until he was only five feet away from the rolling brawl.

Clearing his throat, the young hero tried again, corporate politeness forced out through his teeth. "Hey. SDN here. You two need to wrap this up."

Silver-Chest pushed Red-Suit off him with a grunt, the man wiping a thick streak of blood and spilled beer from his chin. Unfocused eyes turned to face Sky, the gaze behind that silver visor glassy and barely-there. "Fuck off, scab."

Silver-Chest slurred, spitting a wad of bloody saliva onto the floor near Sky’s boot.

Scab? Sky’s spine locked even as he kept his voice as polite as he could manage it. “Look, bro, whatever beef you got ain’t with me. I’m just doing my job. And that’s just to stop you two from wrecking the bar.” He shook his head, gloved hands raised. “Just quit with the fighting? Grab a water. Go home.”

"Oh man. Dispatch sent their best and brightest.” Red-Suit pulled himself up using the half-busted edge of the booth, laughing loud and high. “Look at this guy. The fuck’s wrong with him?" 

“Just doin’ my job.” The twenty-one-year-old almost bit the last word out, finding it hard to push free without regretting it. My job. The first time it actually was a job, and not just simple bounty pick-ups or random contract work. At least Hero Corps had real missions, man.  “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Your face!” The man in red jabbed a gloved finger directly into Sky’s face. "What happened to your fucking face, bro? You fall asleep on a grill? Look at Freddy Krueger here."

…goddamn.

“Nah, look, it’s noon.” His head fell into his hands, index scratching his forehead for a second before he looked back at both of them, all too aware of all the eyes on them. “I ran here in this nasty ass heat and ya over here actin’ like eighth-graders. Grown men, by the way.” Sky sighed again, sucking his teeth. “Stop fightin’, bro. Like, be serious.”

"Or what?" Silver-Chest stumbled forward, a sloppy sneer on his face as the taller man bumped chests with Sky. "What's your name, scab? I’ve never seen your ass before. SDN send a D-lister to tell us to play nice?"

Sky didn’t back up a single inch, blue eyes flat and dead. “...Sky.”

Fight-Man One and Two burst out laughing, both independent heroes practically falling all over each other.

"Sky!" Red-Suit slapped his thigh. "What kind of fairy-ass name is Sky?"

“Yeah, you a weather girl?” Silver-Chest snorted loud, shoving Sky again. “What’s the forecast, Sky?”

Alright. The young man stared at the two of them, jaw so tight his teeth squealed. "Damn, ya’ll really came out the box like this?"

“The fuck are you talking about?” Silver spat at him, face screwed up behind his visor.

“Being this boring and basic gotta hurt, don’t it?” Both eyebrows went up to his hairline, one hand rubbing his chin as he stared both of them down. “Like, no disrespect but you ain’t got it all upstairs, I feel.”

“Who the hell…”

“Let me slow it down for you. You dull. You derivative. And you dumb as fuck. For drinking at noon.” Grit teeth forced the sarcasm out in a tight hiss. "For picking the name Fight-Man, cus that’s some straight up short-bus shit. And for fighting over it too."

Red-Suit's face went a blotchy crimson to match his painted-on suit. “You… you…”

“That one brain cell fightin’ you, huh?” Sky grunted. “Use your words.”

“Youuuu!” Red-Suit roared, a heavy fist glowing with a faint red charge as he pulled it back.

It was a classic barroom swing, slow and telegraphed.

The music cut out.

Sky dropped, ducking underneath the swinging fist as the smell of stale beer vanished, replaced by turned earth and open graves.

Bonebreaker grinned, his skull mask gleaming bone-white in the pale moonlight as he swung out a dark, shadow-dripping fist directly at Sky’s head. “The dark likes you, kid!”

Sky planted his bare hands on cracked wood and shattered planks, dust on his fingers as he spun—

—his feet, stepping deep past the telegraphed punch. His left hand lashed out, catching the drunk hero by the collar of his spandex to buy a dirty hook right into his liver.

Red-Suit's eyes bulged out, air exploding from his lungs in a wet gasp. He folded instantly, dropping to his knees as his nervous system took a few seconds to process pain.

“Fight-M-!… I mean, fuck you!” Silver-Chest roared, lunging forward with arms wide to—

—rush him from a shadowed hallway, Two Skulls already swinging their fists. Laughter on his lips, Blue Sky rebounded hard off the plaster, vaulting cleanly over the first one. Momentum was his friend as always, the sixteen-year-old twisting in mid-air to drive a brutal elbow down on an unsuspecting Skull’s… skull.

He hit the ground, the same time as the Skull kissed the ground and—

—stepped directly into the tackle to meet Silver-Chest’s charge with a shoulder check.

Fight-Man Number One hit him like a car hitting concrete.

The man bounced off, gasping for a second as Sky stood his ground and he didn’t. Never one to waste an opening, the twenty-one-year-old grabbed the silver-plated-asshole by the back of his plated neck.

“Wa-wa-wai-waiiiiiit!”

A grunt had him hurled him bodily over the nearest pool table.

Wood splintered, green felt tore, and the superhero in silver armor crashed face-first onto the other side of the heavy table, groaning into a pile of billiards.

“Face!” Bonebreaker screamed right into Sky’s ear, the villain wrestling with him as they rolled on the ground atop the broken bodies of two dozen other Skulls. “Gimme your fucking face!”

“Shut up!” The hero in blue shook his head as he yelled out loud. “Shut the fuck up!”

The strobe lights morphed into stuttering muzzle flashes, beer on the sticky floor suddenly blood and drywall dust as he vaulted over the shattered pool table—

—where Bonebreaker was flat on his back on the rotting floorboards, dark shadows and thick blood leaking from his teeth. "Yes! More! Kill for the grave!" Sky straddled his chest on the manic menace, glowing blue fists coming down like heavy hammers.

He swung.

Bonebreaker caught the falling fist on his forearm.

Sky threw a left cross, knuckles finding home.

Fist sank into cheekbone, skin splitting on impact. 

He swung again with another hook from the right.. 

The necromancer’s bone-white mask tore down the center as he kept on laughing.

The world was all strobe lights and shadow, plaster dust and broken beer glass as blood sprayed across Sky’s gloved knuckles.

“Hey! HEY! Get him off!”

Hands grabbed Sky from behind, yanking backward. The Scrapper snarled like a wild animal, tearing himself free with a twist of his shoulders. 

A second later, he blinked.

The smell of grave dirt and the stink of death magic vanished as he realized where he was. 

And who exactly he was on top of.

Red-Spandex was pinned under his knees, the drunk hero’s face a bloody mess as he groaned nasally through a broken nose. Sky looked down at his own hands, gloves weeping bright red as his knuckles throbbed beneath them. The music in the bar had stopped, a circle of stunned heroes and bouncers just staring at him.

Bonebreaker? Bonebreaker wasn’t here.

“I…” Sky swallowed hard, lungs burning all of a sudden. He shuffled backward off the groaning hero, eyes wide as he tried to find words. “I— I… my bad.” 

Bloody hands held themselves high as he stared around at the shocked bar guests. “I… You heard me. I.. I told him t—”

“Fucker!”

He turned around.

Silver-Chest was already there, leg rising fast in a wide arc.

A steel-toed combat boot caught Sky flush on the side of the jaw.

Bone rattled as a brain shook hard against a skull. 

The blackness rushed in, cold and welcoming, and Sky hit the sticky floor before he even felt the pain.