The sun was sinking beneath the city's skyline, its molten light spilling like liquid gold between the skyscrapers looking for escape. The windows caught the last fire of the day. But out near the docks, the beauty of the star descending over the towers was a distant mocking memory here the air tasted like salt and rust. Carrying the heavy scent of industrial grease.
Out here shadows stretched across the concrete. Claiming the warehouse into their dark embrace. High above, perched on the rust lip of a crane. Stood a man who looked like he stepped out of a movie screen.
Captain Valiant, born Leo Vance adjust the sash of his tunic. The large golden V on his chest catching the last of the fading light. shimmering with a dappled brilliance. He flashed a smile his teeth a row of perfect ivory.
"I found them," He whispered his voice soft, but energetic. "Why is it always a warehouse on the docks, not exactly original." He gazed down on the group of men patrolling around the large iron containers scattered around the docks.
He moved with the grace of a cinematic god; his actions polished to perfection. Leaping through the air it was as if gravity itself paused, caught staring in awe of him. Once it caught itself, he plummeted in a streak of gold. When his boots hit the ground, the concrete immediately surrendered.
Valiant felt the familiar, charge of energy flowing through his body. A familiar spark that made the very world slow down. Turning the docks in to a frame-by-frame masterpiece.
He moved before the thug could react to the sound. A blur of gold, a series of dull thuds and three men were on the ground before they could process what was happening.
The last of the four thugs stood there his cigar unlit an still in his mouth. Valiant was less than a foot before him. The hero reached out his hand and took the unlit cigar from the man's mouth.
Haven't you heard? He said his voice a low tune. "Smoking is bad for you" he smiled at the man. Then he swung his hand at the man's neck knocking him out.
Valiant strode toward the door of the warehouse and stepped inside.
It's over!" He announced his voice was deep, perfectly modulated for a prime-time news segment. He placed his hands on his hips puffing out his chest. Raising his chin up as if looking down on the room's inhabitants.
"Youve got nowhere to run. Release the judge's daughter, you villains"
At the far end of the room, a man in a worn leather jacket sat on a crate, idly flicking a butterfly knife. His expression was flat, his eyes tracking Valiant with the enthusiasm of a man watching paint dry.
"Valiant." the man rasped. "Right on time i was beginning to wonder if I grabbed the right girl." He chuckled. Then pointed the butterfly knife at the young lady tied to wooden chair in the center of the room. Her eyes wide, her mouth sealed behind a strip of duct tape. Beside her stood two burly men.
"You hear that sweetheart you daddy sent a bigshot hero to save you! I do hope for your sake golden boy here, brought the money." the man sneered, looking at Valiant with derision.
"Though I'm not seeing where in your, tights, you could have stored 5 mil."
At these words the girl tied to the chairs started to moan and whimper beneath the duct tape. Her eyes beginning to glisten with moisture.
"Do not worry miss Saunders, I'm here to get you home safely. "Valiant said triumphantly
"I'll have you back safely at home in a valiant minute and that is a hero's promise"
"Oh, so, Mr. Hero what's the play." The man asked as he rose from off the crate and begun to walk over to the girl and his two associates. "I know you are fast. Think you can cover 30 feet before I put a hole in her head?"
Valiant didn't waste his breath on words. His face was a mask of grim, heroic determination. He planted his feet. A spark of golden electricity flashed diagonally across the large V on his chest. Then, he lunged.
A streak of gold flashed towards the once smug trio of criminals now stunned staring with eyes opened so wide they could pass for tunnels. They had clearly expected him to hesitate or at least add more commentary.
Valiant felt the intimate rush of wind. Expected the familiar crunch of bone. The usual victory as he thwarted these kidnappers. He'd lived this night a hundred times. But as he planted his feet into the earth, twisting his body to place his weight into the punch he expected to start the nights ending.
A cold and steady hand clamped onto his collar from the shadows behind him. The world that once slowed its place to accommodate him, surged and slammed into him.
A leg hooked his ankle with the precision of a grenades trip wire. Valiant slammed into the concrete. His breath left him in a long, ragged whistle. All the air in his lungs escaped in a long pathetic gasp. He scrambled to summon the gold, to plant his feet into the earth once more, to trigger the charge that gave him strength. But the very ground he had just been slammed into was no longer solid.
The once hard concrete floor had now turned into a viscous slurry. One that didn't just hold him but seemed to want to drink him in, pulling his limbs into the liquid earth.
A hint of recognition crossed Valliant's face. "This....this ability..." Valiant wheezed as his body was pulled into the mud. "Black Marsh? Black Marsh you coward! show yourself!"
A figure materialized in the room, illuminated by a single, flickering overhead bulb. He wore a simple, dark blue hoodie and a tactical mask that obscured the lower half of his face, he had dark messy hair and a pair of tired brown eyes.
"Who! Who are ---?"
"Allow me to apologize," The figure said. The voice was young, barely out of its teens, but it carried the weight of a tombstone. "I am not Black Marsh."
Valiant groaned, arching his back, he tried to pull himself free. the sticky earth stretched like rubber, but he was unable to break free. The figure crouched over him, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the hero struggle in the mire.
"I'm curious," the figure mused, his gaze drifting over Valliant's shimmering suit. "With your powers, your speed, stealth was definitely the way to go. You could have cleared this room before any of them knew you were here. Why choose to reveal yourself so blatantly?"
"I would never... do such a cowardly--"
"I thought you were here to save the girl," the figure interrupted, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "But it seems the image comes first, huh, Hero?"
As he spoke, the thin veneer of politeness dissolved. The jaded eyes hardened.
Valiant looked up, his heroic mask cracking into a snarl of disdain. "I refuse to be lectured by someone who... despite being given a gift... uses it to help criminals. You have power, and you use it for this? You aren't worthy. These powers... they shouldn't have been given to you."
The figure remained silent for a second. The only sound was the rhythmic murmur of the marsh swallowing Valliant's body.
"Unfortunately for you, hero." The figure said, and the word Hero coming out with a taste like toxic sludge, "you aren't the one who gets to decide who's worthy."
He shifted his posture. Dropping to one knee in the mud that didn't dare touch his own skin. He raised a hand, his fingers curving into a, predatory claw. Then struck. His hands aimed at Valliant's chest passed through as if the hero's body rippling as if they had struck a thick liquid.
A soft golden glow erupted from Valliant's chest, pulsing in time with his frantic heart.
The hero's back arched violently. A scream tore from his throat a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. He thrashed violently, trying to resist whatever the figure was trying to do to him.
The warehouse went deathly silent. The kidnappers and even the girl in the chair stopped breathing as they watch in awe and terror the scene before them.
The Figure's face now illuminated by the soft light showed his focus his brows arched and locked. With a guttural grunt of effort, he wrenched his hand back, ripping free his hand from Valliant's chest. The golden glow surged upward, a screaming tether of energy connecting the hero's body to the man's fist.
Snap.
The hero gasped. His spine hit the concrete with a flat, hollow sound. The marsh vanished instantly, the ground returning to cold, unforgiving stone. The golden light swirled around Thorne's knuckles before sinking into his skin, leaving him shivering with a borrowed warmth.
The hostage let out a muffled cry. Her rescuer's consciousness was gone.
The figure stood, the effort of whatever he had just done making his footsteps feel heavier, more significant. He didn't look at the unconscious man on the floor. He turned toward the gangster standing beside the hostage, his hands visibly shaking.
Excitement or fear the figure did not know. He walked over, his shadow looming large against the concrete walls. He looked at the gangster, who was staring at the man lying on the concrete eyes vacant.
"You are from the Syndicate, right? What did you do to him? did you kill him?" the bald man asked. His eyes darted back and forth from the hero to the figure in the hoodie.
"No. I did not kill him." His tone was flat and unbothered as he walked closer to the man. Every step forward he took towards the gangster, the man took one backward seemingly on instinct. until his back hit into a wall and he had nowhere to run. His henchmen had long since parted giving the man a wide berth and now watched on unable to move.
"Black Marsh that's what he called you right?" The gangster pointed his index finger at valiant. "I've heard of you though the descriptions made you out to look completely different." As if losing him earlier wariness and fear the gangster started looking the figure up and down. "You're barely out of your teens."
"Tell me," The figure said, leaning in closer to the gangster. "When did i say i was from the syndicate or that i was black marsh?" his jade eyes held a mocking light to them as he stared into the gangster eyes. Eyes that were quickly losing its humor.
"You...What do you?" The gangster looked at the figure. The man stumbled over his words still not sure he was understanding what he was hearing. "Wait, you're not?" he gritted his teeth and reached for his firearm.
"What are you idiots waiting for shoot, kill him!" His shout jolted the two henchmen back to reality as they immediately pulled out their firearms and without hesitation fired at the figure.
Gunshots echoed throughout the warehouse. Followed by a body hitting the ground. But it was not the figures body. "Boss!" the two burly men cried out in unison as they gazed at the bodied of their leader. He laid on the ground several holes in his body leaking out scarlet fluid as he gurgled out groans of pain.
"It's a bit too late for your concern. Where was your concern when he was standing right behind me. Honestly haven't you two ever heard of friendly fire or were you just expecting me to stand there and play the role of a human shield?" The figure raised and eye brow half expecting an answer. Across the center of his hoodie flashed several small arcs of golden lightning.
He was now standing next to the young lady tied to the chair. Pulling a hand from his hoodie pocket, he placed it on the back of the chair.
"I'll leave you two morons to mourn your dead and regret your decisions. The young lady and I have somewhere to be."
"You bastard!" one of the two men bellowed as his raised his gun once more. But the figure and the hostage had already vanished.
Leaving only the sounds of the docks, the crashing waves, the enraged cries of the henchmen who had lost their boss and a fallen hero on the ground.