Ryan scrambled as fast as he could to get out of the car, but even his fastest felt too slow. Crawling out the passenger side door, grateful for the armor each time he brushed against glass, he tried not to think about the idea of the Chimera Unit firing its eye laser again. The blast would certainly blow the already wrecked vehicle to pieces with him right in the path. Luckily, that didn’t happen and he found himself on his back, on the gravel, trying his best just to breathe through the pain.

  What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t stop a bunch of guys with gear not far off from your own, you couldn’t save your team, so why on Earth did you think you could stop a literal monster? he wondered.

  He knew the answer to that already. Whether it was bullies in school or just watching the nightly news and seeing how many stories were about tragedies that could have been avoided had someone just had the courage to act instead of commenting on the aftermath, the idea of just letting bad things happen when he could do something about it never sat right with him, even before the Wardens were a thing.

  Face it Reese, he thought. Cops couldn’t do anything about this thing even if they showed immediately and they don’t have fancy armor.

  Forcing himself to his feet, his knees threatening to buckle under the intense pain coursing through his body, he tried to focus through the pain. His head was pounding, a sharp almost piercing sensation set dead center between his eyes and curving around to the temples. Stars danced in front of his eyes, flickering motes of light that reminded him of sparklers on the Fourth of July. He tasted iron but couldn't tell if it was blood from his nose, if he'd bitten his tongue while having the flashback, or if it was some internal injury. Every vein throbbed as if acid was being pumped through them instead of blood. It was all he could do to stagger forward.

  I don't know if it is funny or sad. First time this whole damn fight I'm not moving dramatically because of some stupid requirement hardwired into the powers. No, I'm just trying to remain upright and hoping that my legs cooperate with the signals being sent to them.

  Slowly limping forward, chest heaving, he pointed at the creature.

  "HEY! FUGLY! Don't tell me that's all you got! Cause I'm just getting started!" he shouted.

  Yeah, why not? This whole Patriot Force Warden thing was a lie; I may as well go out lying. At least this time it's to some freaky science experiment and not a bunch of traitors with better gear, he thought.

  Glancing around, mind racing, he tried to come up with a plan that wasn't just getting beat to death with style. It was then, through his blurred vision, that he saw something flapping in the wind. A piece of canvas awning, torn loose at some point during the battle.

  That's...just stupid enough to work. Or the footage of me dying will be in some epic fail compilation before the night's up. Either way.

  Darting forward, his pace uneven, his gait awkward, Redline grasped the Liberty Blade so tightly his knuckles popped. At the last minute, just before the creature attempted to strike him with the tentacle once more, he slid like a baseball player. He slashed at the knees as his slide carried him through the creature’s legs and beneath the attack. On the other side he used his free hand to snatch up shards of glass from a shattered car window. As the creature turned spun around to face him he threw the bits of glass towards its face, knowing the gesture was near pointless.

  Having learned that the ocular area was more sensitive, the thing was distracted momentarily, using its massive hand to try and shield the eye-like structure. The brief distraction was all Redline needed though.

  Quickly he cut down the remainder of the awning, grasped the material in both hands, and made another mad dash towards the creature. He paused for a beat, waited as the tentacle neared, and jumped. He timed it just right, landing on and running the length of the appendage only to flip over the monster's head where he used the material to cover its face.

  It only took a few moments of stumbling backwards, angrily swatting at the thing obscuring its vision, for the creature to dislodge the awning. It looked around angrily, unable to immediately find Redline. The hero however had not wasted the opportunity. Having climbed atop an overturned car he jumped into the air, rising higher than a normal human was capable of achieving.

  "PATRIOT THRUST- LIBERTY STRIKE!" he shouted.

  The Patriot Driver played an instrumental version of the old Patriot Force Warden theme as Redline's entire body was outlined in a red glow. One leg bent, the other extended he rocketed downwards, red electrical energy snaking up his leg, the sole of his boot glowing like molten steel. His kick connected, striking the creature's eye. The ocular formation cracked like glass, white light pouring from it as a shockwave of red burst downwards damaging the street as it burst from the Chimera Unit’s torso and legs.

  Redline having used the force of impact to flip backwards landed on his back, his shoulders and neck taking most of the force. Luckily it was enough to launch him clear of the creature as it staggered, tentacle and hand alike reaching for its eye. A sound like the slow, drawn-out crack of long dead wood echoed as the lines of energy, a mix of Redline’s attack and the creature’s own spread throughout its form. The glowing grid-like formations flashed rapidly before suddenly going dark. Then as quickly as it started, the Chimera Unit exploded from the inside out in a display of lightning and fire that sent chunks of the thing splattering across pavement and storefront alike and left the smell of burnt ozone through the area.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A car alarm two blocks away wailed. Dogs in surrounding neighborhoods barked and howled. In the near distance sirens signaled approaching authorities, but for the civilians on the ground the conflict was over. They emerged, slowly from their hiding places, stepping among the wreckage and the still sizzling bits of creature. Redline however was nowhere to be seen...

  Several blocks down, between dry cleaner and a hair salon, Ryan Reese sat, back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The faint glow along the veins in his neck was receding, new burn marks spreading over old, healed scars. He fumbled in his jacket pocket retrieving a handkerchief as he coughed violently, the white cloth stained with blood a shade darker than it should be when he finally finished. Using it to wipe a small trickle of blood from his nose, he stood, folded the handkerchief, and headed back to his bike.

  Pushing it manually for a bit, careful not to draw attention from the arriving emergency vehicles or the strange men in white suits being handcuffed by Carson Rock’s Rapid Response Unit, he did his best to blend in, to look like a civilian whose day had been interrupted by the commotion. It wasn’t until he got to another street that he revved the bike and forced a painful smile, thankful the groceries were still there.

  A short time later he pulled into the driveway of the converted two-level house and the small garage he called home.

  He'd made certain to deliver the groceries upstairs to Rosa, letting her know how sorry he was that he was late, but that traffic had been a killer. He was grateful she was hard of seeing and hadn't had her glasses on because it saved him from having to give any lengthy explanation for why he looked like death warmed over. Her other senses were plenty sharp though.

  “Oh Ryan, you are a good kid, but you have to stop smoking,” she said.

  Ryan didn’t realize that the Driver overclocking, that his pushing the powers beyond limits they were never supposed to come close to reaching, had left such a smell. Then again, he hadn’t been able to smell anything other than blood after the fight.

  “Sorry?” he asked.

  “Smoking. I can smell it on you. You keep it up, it’ll kill you.

  He chuckled as he set her groceries on the table.

  “Yeah, you’re right. It probably will.”

  After helping the old lady put away her food, he said his goodbyes, exited the house, and unlocked the garage. Now, back in his space, he wanted to sleep for a week and forget the ringing in his ears, the ache in his everything, and the sound of Lucas' voice pleading with him. Before he could rest though, he had something to do.

  Moving to a work bench he took out his old notepad, a stupid spiral bound thing with a half-torn image of a stylized cartoon portrait of the Patriot Force Wardens on the front. Inside, on a smudged page that read TSB...FN (Threats Still Breathing...For Now) he read the names. He knew them by heart. Researchers, government agents, pencil pushing bureaucrats, suspected surviving members of the PMC group from the Carson Ridge Incident, and even a sitting senator. He took a moment to add two words and underlined it three times.

  Vanguard Dynamics.

  It hadn’t taken long for him to find the name. A simple internet search describing the knight chess piece logo had pulled up article after article about the group. The strange men in white protective gear, the guys that claimed responsibility for the creation of the Chimera creature were well known. They’d started as a think tank of brilliant minds from every advanced scientific field. They were supposed to cure cancer, eradicate diseases, help repair the bodies of the disables. They were going to change the world.

  “They’ve changed it alright. Made monsters instead of cures. Guess there’s no money in fixing things, only breaking them and offering a solution afterwards,” he said.

  With that he closed the notebook, turned off the light, and collapsed into his bed. He slept almost immediately, even if his dreams were frantic, blood-filled nightmares with ghosts he couldn’t save angry about being dead. He wasn’t exactly feeling rested when, bright and early the next morning he awoke to a pounding on the garage door.

  Probably just Antonio wanting me to take a look at his Harley again. I keep telling him needs a complete overhaul of engine, he thought as he raised the garage door.

  “Hold on, it’s too freaking early for this crap. You’re gonna wake...”

  He stopped midsentence as he saw an all too familiar face. Wearing a pristine dark green dress uniform, medals on full display, boots shined to perfection was a tall, dark complected man with eyes hidden behind sunglasses. His perfectly trimmed goatee, like his temples, was peppered with gray. The expression or rather lack thereof made the guy look almost like a statue. Not for the first time, Ryan wondered if the Army recruitment ads hadn’t been based on the man in front of him.

  “Colonel Hauke. Don’t suppose you need me to take a look at a bike?”