Author: linkmaxwell
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When does the story end? When does the book close, the light go out, the screen darken? Standing here, on consecrated ground, the hero known simply as Alchemist knew that this is where his team's story had finished. He often came here- she expected him. Though the world was covered in the cloak of night, he could see her face. He could see many things, even now after tragedy had robbed him of normal eyesight. A soft breeze carried the smell of wet earth, the promise of an early-spring rain tonight. He hardly minded. After all, it was raining that day, too.
She was waiting for him in her usual spot. She always was. Even though Alchemist could see her with his second sight, he needed more. He allowed a single guilty finger to brush her cheeks, tracing the outline of a face that had been so familiar before, and was even more familiar now. The rest of them had gone their own ways. He had tried to keep them together, of course, if only for her sake, but the task was too monumental. Eventually, even he had tired of the effort.
He still bore the memory of the end. The base had been powered-down for over two months, the lights were off, yet he just sat in his high-backed chair and watched the door. In the kitchen, the lights were still on, and two of the three remaining members were talking in hushed, worried tones.
“It's not right, you know. He just sits there, nowadays, staring at the door. I mean, Alch's creeped me out in the past, but this is just over the top!”
“Not so loud,” admonished the second speaker. “Look, you know and I know what he's doing, even if he doesn't. He's waiting on them to come back. He thinks that all they have to do is walk through the door and everything will be back to the way it was.”
Before the other could answer, they both felt the strange dark aura that announced their leader's presence. He looked them over, and they involuntarily recoiled at the sight of his pale, blind eyes- eyes that saw beyond the surface to pierce the very soul.
“I know you two are planning to leave,” he stated, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Just know that I won't stop you. I always trusted you two, and it hurts to see you go, but I understand your choice.”
The farewells were quick, ritualistic affairs, with promises of later visitation and constant communications. The hulking tank, Krygon, quickly shook Alchemist's hand then strode briskly out into the afternoon sun. Thermablaze kissed Alch on the cheek, then walked to the door. For a second, she pasued, turned, and said in a low whisper,
“You know she's never coming back, right? They're both gone forever, honey...”
Alchemist merely gave her a knowing smile.
“No. She waits for me, now, in our special place. She waits for both of us.”
Thermablaze quickly spun around and nearly ran out, choking back tears as the door closed behind her. That was the last Alch had seen or heard of any of his former teammates in over a year and a half.
It was now over two and a half years since the fateful Column/Council war. The City had long since repossessed the base. They had been kind enough to put him up in an apartment building for ex-superheroes. He was officially retired, drawing a small pension from the government that paid for the little food that he ate and, of course, the taxi fare to the meeting place.
As he traced the ouline of her face, he shared the details of his life through the past week since he last saw her. As always, she listened patiently, the soft smile ever on her lips. The artist had done a remarkable job capturing her spirit in the carving. Alchemist always dreaded the next part of the ritual, but it had to be done. He let his finger drop lower, to trace the words that had ended his world.
HERE LIES BRID. A HERO.
Alchemist was aware of a presence, now, slightly familiar and slightly alien. It was coming up silently from behind him. The very fact that it chose to show itself in this place was proof of something he had known all along.
“Good evening, Luke. Or, should I say, Lord Darkpool?”
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