Unheroic Life of a Certain Cape

The Godslayers had been shockingly busy. Everyone slipped into their assignments like they’d lived in Markend for years. Abner got into the SRC with no issues at all, then immediately pulled a tough mission investigating a new assassination group that popped up in the city and had been offering outside jobs, too. Diane and Jacob struggled at first with school stuff, but they pushed through it with stubborn pride. Jacob got himself into Fine Arts and started calling drawing his “quiet time,” while Diane dove into Fashion Design like it was her calling. At this rate, I hoped they wouldn’t forget they were supposed to infiltrate Mirch University, not actually become students. Amelia, on the other hand, worked overtime trying to fix her standing with the hero community. And Keegan… well, Keegan turned Markend’s criminal underbelly into his personal gym.

We hit one of the bigger facilities today, a ceramics factory that doubled as a chop shop for stolen cars. He wore kevlar and a black bonnet he stitched together himself. He told me proudly, “I based it on your look, boss.” I wasn’t sure whether I should feel flattered or worried. The moment he kicked in the door, the workers panicked.

“Shoot him! Shoot him! He’s one guy!” a goon yelled.

“Yeah, try it!” Keegan barked back, already weaving between crates.

He grabbed a stripped sedan with both hands, lifting it like it weighed nothing. Bullets ricocheted off the metal with sharp pings. Keegan chuckled, then swung his arms and threw the entire car into a packed group of thugs.

The crash shook dust from the rafters.

I had told him specifically not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary. Judging by the red smear under that tossed sedan, he wasn’t listening. But Keegan was a battle maniac. In his world, he only picked life-and-death fights for fun. Without his world’s limiter, his power had evolved too quickly with super strength, durability, weight control, and explosive movement. Every week, he unlocked something new just from fighting.

In fact, he was also growing in mass and his muscles had even became thicker than Abner’s.

The surviving thugs backed away, trembling.

“It’s Brute! He’s gonna kill us!”

“Run! Run!”

Keegan stomped on a crate, launched himself upward, then slammed into another goon so hard the floor cracked. He shouted, “Come on! Isn’t there anyone stronger?!”

I sighed. “He’s enjoying this way too much.”

And then someone answered.

A slim guy stepped out from behind a forklift, wearing a cheap goblin mask and a green jacket two sizes too big.

“I’ll take you on,” the masked man said, glaring up at Keegan.

“Finally! Someone with spine!” Keegan grinned wide and spread his arms. “Hey, greenie. What’s your name?”

The masked man answered without hesitation. “Goblin.”

I recognized him immediately. One of Marker’s mid-tier capes. That meant this chop shop belonged to the Markers after all. Keegan and I had been smashing bases nonstop to build infamy and draw their leaders out and probably New Vanguard.

Keegan laughed. “Goblin, huh? Alright then!” He blurred forward with explosive strength, vanishing for a blink, only to reappear behind Goblin, except Goblin had teleported too, flickering three feet away.

A crackling hum filled the room as Goblin drew a photon sword. The hard-light blade shimmered green. He slashed at Keegan in a fast arc.

Keegan’s expression shifted from excitement to calm recognition. “Oh. These toys again. You must be from Marker! I heard your group had a talented researcher!” He slipped under every swing with practiced ease. I frowned. This might get messy fast.

I stepped out from behind a tall steel beam, only to find my entire body freezing solid mid-motion. Not mentally. Physically. A localized time stop.

A voice echoed from the rafters. “So this is the Eclipse pretender…”

A man with a towering pompadour stepped into view, hands in his pockets like he owned the room. Clock. The boss of the Enders. His power let him lock a body in time as long as it was within his sight.

He waved an envelope lazily. “Imagine my surprise when this appeared on my bedside. A letter demanding my allegiance. Signed by Eclipse. You think I’m stupid?”

Before I could respond, another presence dropped through the cracked window frames, a muscular man with dark skin and an absurd flat-top haircut. Ironflesh. The leader of the Markers. His skin could harden into a metal-like density on command.

He also held an envelope. “Before anything else,” Ironflesh said, “was this you? Did you really put this in my room? Are you truly Eclipse?”

Their powers were interesting. I had studied them already. I even wanted them as my own. As provocation, I’d slipped into each base and hand-delivered letters demanding they bend the knee. George insisted it would help “revitalize Markend”—something about turning the city into a controlled metropolis under my shadow. Personally, I cared more about convenience. If these idiots behaved, life would be easier for me.

Clock scoffed. “You can’t be Eclipse. You didn’t kill a single one of my men today and every other day. Eclipse kills everyone.” He looked at Ironflesh. “Where’s the rest of your capes? We agreed to bring troops.”

Ironflesh shrugged. “I brought Goblin. His mobility keeps him alive. If this is really Eclipse, I’m not letting the rest die for nothing. I still remember Seamark, the entire docks leveled by one guy.”

Clock bristled. “You arrogant bastard! We agreed—”

“No. We had a truce,” Ironflesh corrected calmly. “I never promised to bring all of them.”

As he spoke, I finally matched Ironflesh’s face to an old memory to a certain goon and a tax collector. One who used to visit my old place and beat the hell out of me, because they could.

I pushed my intangibility into my muscles. The frozen field shattered around me like thin glass. I turned my head toward Ironflesh.

Clock’s eyes widened. “How did you… how did you just break my time stop?!”

The air grew heavy.

I looked at Ironflesh and said, “I remember you. You used to collect ‘tax’ from my house. You beat the shit out of me sometimes.”

His face drained of color.

Ironflesh reacted immediately. “It’s fucking Eclipse! Don’t hold back!”

He launched himself at me in a single jump, the concrete buckling under his feet. His raw strength hit the same league as Keegan’s, maybe even above it. Clock shouted behind him, “Idiot! Don’t block my line of sight!” but Ironflesh didn’t care. His muscles bulged, his skin shifting into dull metal as he aimed to crush me with a shoulder tackle.

I dropped straight through the floor, phasing into the ground, reappearing several meters away. Clock immediately snapped his gaze toward me and tried to freeze me again.

“Stay still, you freak—!”

Ironflesh swung his massive arm at me, the metal on his skin darkening further into null metal, the dangerous part of his power. Null metal canceled powers on contact. Even my intangibility would fail if it touched me long enough.

I forced my body out of the creeping time stop with sheer will and technique, pushing my power until the frozen field cracked like ice. I leaned backward, narrowly avoiding Ironflesh’s swing. He followed with brutal kicks and punches, mixing real martial skill with wild lunges. Every strike was a death sentence.

Clock cursed behind him, “What the hell?! Why does the time stop keep slipping?! Hold still!”

Gun-toting goons heard Ironflesh’s shout and opened fire. Bullets cut through the air. Constant time stops and constant dodging ate at my stamina, draining me faster than usual. I tapped into biokinesis, forcing my muscles to produce more energy. Electricity rippled across my nerves. My empathy stabilized my heartbeat. Enhancer discipline shaped every motion.

I moved how I wanted.

While dodging, I kept an eye on Keegan. Goblin was giving him trouble, but I didn’t step in. My hands were full enough.

I turned my attention back to Ironflesh. “I forgive you, you know.” Orıginal content can be found at novelfire(.)net

He blinked. “Forgive—?”

I phased downward, vanished, and reappeared right behind his gunmen. I drove my boot against a thug’s gun and phased the metal into his torso. The weapon half-sank into his body before rupturing him from within. I grabbed another by the skull and slammed him into his partner. Their bodies folded like wet cardboard, perforated by their own twisted weapons.

Clock immediately turned tail and ran, shouting into his earpiece, “Backup! Backup! Eclipse is here, send everyone!”

Ironflesh roared, “You’ll pay for killing my people!”

I shrugged. “You don’t mind sending them to die against me, but you get angry when I kill them? Hypocritical.” I gestured casually. “I’m disappointed, though. You had the sense not to bring your actual capes.”

He punched at me with a full, null-metal fist. It smashed into the ground, cracking the factory floor like it was porcelain. His eyes widened as his fist passed through my chest harmlessly.

“W–what?”

At a high enough level, you could push past null metal. Light did it. And now I could do it too, but barely. The resistance shaved chunks of stamina out of me, but it worked.

I stepped back, watching Ironflesh’s expression twist.

I asked him, calm and clear, “One last time. Will you bend the knee or not?”

Ironflesh’s jaw trembled, and slowly, he bent his knee. His metal skin receded, leaving him human again. His head stayed down, shoulders tight with shame.

Clock spun around from halfway across the ruined factory. “Ironflesh! You traitor! What the hell are you doing?!”

Everyone in Markend thought the two gangs were polar opposites, but they had more in common than they liked to admit. Marker came from the remnants of Seamark. The day I destroyed their docks, not all of them died; many pulled instead, too terrified to face me again. They rebranded, clung to their old ideals of citizenship and community as Markend-first pride.

Ender was the radical half. They advertised themselves as Marker’s “true enemy,” yet built their entire culture around idolizing me, the monster from the city’s nightmares.

Two gangs. Same city. Different delusions.

I looked down at Ironflesh. “You made the right choice.”

I turned toward Clock, but Ironflesh suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, a bear trap snapping shut, while his null metal body turned back in full.

“Clock! Now!” he shouted, voice cracking.

Clock whipped around, eyes wide and glowing. Blood leaked from his tear ducts as he focused every ounce of his power on me. My intangibility hit a wall as Clock’s power forced me into solidity. Clock laughed like a lunatic. “We’re about to surpass the legend of Eclipse! I’ll be the one they revere, ME!”

The ceiling shattered above me. A woman with a halo dropped through the dust, wings made of raw plasma. She fired a focused beam of light straight at my chest.

To my right, a man in a sleek suit and half-mask flickered into place, a top hat tilted on his head. He tossed handfuls of miniature grenades that expanded midair into full-sized explosives.

To my left, a cape dressed in a ridiculous pink bunny mascot suit hopped into view with a bazooka bigger than his torso. Three payloads burst from the tube in a rapid, impossible sequence.

I couldn’t phase. Couldn’t boost my body. Could barely move.

But I wasn’t defenseless.

The beam, grenades, and rockets slammed into me at once, detonating in a blinding chain of explosions. The heat and pressure swallowed Ironflesh with me. I triggered the charged electrokinesis within my helmet, sending a violent shock into him just as the blasts tore through the room.

When the dust finally settled, I stood in the crater. I adjusted my porcelain mask, dedicating most of my intangibility to protecting it. My suit was ruined in patches, null-metal interference burning holes through fabric that should’ve been invulnerable.

Ironflesh lay on his back, fully human again. Blood spilled from his mouth, his lungs collapsing from the internal damage.

Clock stumbled forward. “W-what…? What happened? Ironflesh, get up! Get up!”

I flicked my fingers.

A tarot card, once intangible, materialized between my fingers with teleportation. The card had been lodged inside Ironflesh’s chest the moment he tried to tackle me. It had been very subtle on my part, but it wouldn’t have worked if everyone else had just been a little more observant.

The tarot card was a Wheel of Fortune. Upright, it meant choice. Reversed, it meant ruin. If I could push my own body past null metal, I could force my external intangibility through it too, at a cost.

I held the card between two fingers and looked straight at Clock.

“Your turn,” I said. “Bend the knee, or follow him.”

His eyes trembled, and I patiently waited.