It was an eternal night in Cypostello—one long stretch of darkness. A city satellite orbiting high above the Earth in a near-synchronous orbit that barely let them see the sun. During the day, lights in the city dome turned on to faintly illuminate the gloom, and each building shone from its thousands of windows like a shimmering otherworldly decoration. But even the beauty of ‘the crown city’ couldn’t penetrate the light gloom hanging over everything. The gloom, however, was only noticeable at night, although it was present during the day, faintly unnoticed by anyone. At night, the city of beauty transformed into a city of dark lords and criminal minds. During the night, anything could happen.
People told Anthony that many times, but when he thought ‘anything’, he didn’t actually believe anything could happen. For example, he never imagined a man with metallic wings and black spiked armor wearing a bird-like helmet would fly into a high-tech, high-security facility and then fly out again with a batch of irzium, a dangerous element recently added to the periodic table. Yet, for some reason, Anthony found himself here, balanced on a roof edge and dodging beneath a whipping, triangular blade-like feather that had just shot over his head.
“You just totally missed me,” Anthony called out, hand springing into a flip over his opponent to come up in a fighting stance behind him.
The bird man spun around, his giant wings creating a swooshing sound. He swung his foot, the clawed boot extensions resembling chicken feet. Anthony blocked the blow and retaliated with a punch straight into the weirdo’s chest plate. Mr. Bird Man didn’t like that and lowered his wing to show it. Anthony rolled out of the way just in time, only to get caught in the helmet by the other wing. It wasn’t as heavy as Anthony expected; in fact, it barely weighed anything. However, it tossed him down onto the roof with an accompanying grunt. The bird man lifted into the air, hovering just above Anthony. He had no turbines, gravity compressors, or any tech on his wings; he just flapped them slowly in the air to move around.
Even though he was in the middle of a fight, Anthony could not help but ask, “How are you doing that?”
That was a mistake. The bird dude dive-bombed him, talon-like fingers extended to slice and grab wings spread wide. Anthony dodged, scrambling for the energy gun he’d dropped earlier in the battle. The silent menace grabbed him, heaving him across the roof, then spinning again to kick him in the chest. Anthony let out a muffled yelp as he toppled off the skyscraper, firing a tether cord to catch himself and swinging back up. The dark figure rushed him again. This time, it had Anthony’s energy gun. Anthony kicked himself inwardly for letting his enemy get hold of it. Anthony tightened every muscle in his body, waiting for the right moment. His advanced AI in his helmet overlaid information silently onto his visor.
Anthony crouched, wait, wait, and… Now! He leaped to the side, dodging the electric green pulse and rebounding off the roof. He threw himself up, flipped over his opponent, and punched the weapon out of his enemy’s hand. The bird man growled the first sound he’d made.
“You don’t caw?” Anthony joked, dodging a blow and landing one of his own. The bird guy went to take off again. Anthony grabbed at his taloned boot. It must have been high-tech since each individual claw moved as he flexed them, trying to shake Anthony off.
“Let’s end this, shall we?” Anthony asked. Clenching his fist tight, he activated his upgrade. Launching himself up and pulling on the bird man, he managed to get up above the guy and then dropped onto him, punching hard with his bulky left glove. The shock wave blew even Anthony back. The bird guy let out a shout or grunt of pain and crashed down through several floors of the building. The whole skyscraper shook wildly before settling.
The AI in his helmet sent him a warning. Anthony nodded, “You are right. That may have been a bit high. Put a restriction on it so I won’t accidentally do that, will you?”
The AI, silent as ever, scrolled its answer across his face plate screen. It had a very cynical attitude, and once it had chided him for wasting time, he was still trying to come up with the perfect name for its personality, but it wouldn’t help him. Anthony hoisted himself down, attaching a tether line to the roof, and slowly lowered himself to the criminal’s level three floors down. Anthony could not help but wince as his ever-helpful AI scanned the room and listed off the value of the offices he’d destroyed, totaling how much insurance would pay, how much the guild would pay, and how much trouble he’d be in.
And this desk was sold at auction for… The AI began. Anthony waved his hand dismissively at the pile of splintered wooden shards, “Look, I get it! I don’t need a pre-lecture: the chief’s should be enough.”
Finally, Anthony reached the place where the birdman lay. Anthony spent a moment examining the wings. He still couldn’t figure out how they were so light or how the man managed to stay aloft by just flapping them. The outside metal was something very light, like… Mishion. Mishion was the meal that the founder of the Mishion Guild had created. A synthetic alloy that was more powerful and lighter than anything known before. All the guild’s weapons and armor were made of Mishion, hence its name.
The man groaned and sat up. Anthony flexed his wrist, but nothing happened. He looked upwards, annoyed. “Didn’t I say to give me the chains when I did that hand motion!?”
His AI replied with its own annoyance and complied.
The chains detached from the gauntlet on his wrist, full of odds and ends, tools and weapons. Anthony turned back to the bird guy. “So,” he said incredulously, “who are you supposed to be?”
The bird guy flipped into a crouching position, “Dark Feather.”
Anthony leaped forward in alarm as his AI scrolled across his screen: Danger, prisoner escaping!
The bird man, or Dark Feather, launched himself straight up with almost as much thrust as some kind of high-power turbine. He hit Anthony back with a stroke of the wings and knocked him into another pillar support, which groaned ominously.
The prisoner (DARK-FEATHER#1) has escaped! His AI informed him. Anthony rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your oh-so-helpful observation. It is hard to sound smug when you are just scrolling out words for someone to read, but somehow, Anthony’s AI managed it. Although no one ever believed him. You’re welcome. I look forward to correcting this mistake you’ve made… again.
Anthony struggled up and rewound his tether line, detaching the magnetic clips when he reached the top. Another tether line shot across the gap to the damaged skyscraper, and Alia arrived to watch the fire trucks and police cars gather with him. She carried with her the irzium in a case in her hand.
She was only an engineer and peacekeeper, and her gear varied from his. She didn’t even have a helmet or an AI. And wore a more flexible style of armor with fewer gadgets. Anthony was an agent and science officer, so he required tougher mechanics to handle powerful blows and anything else he might be hit with. Every guild member had two jobs, one for when there was danger and trouble, and the other when there was peace. These days, Anthony spent most of his time overseeing experiments in labs and other such jobs. He hadn’t fought a real fight since the Deadbolt days, and even then, the guild had spent most of its time cowering behind its walls as the police force did its best to stop Deadbolt and the Lifeless Man, his strange accomplice.
Alia was nearly five years older than Anthony at thirty-three. They weren’t friends. Unlike what everyone assumed. She didn’t even seem to enjoy pointing out his mess-ups, but just did it like it was her official job. Somehow, though, they always got these missions together, and whenever Anthony blew something up as he usually did, she was always there to tell him that he had done so. She and his AI worked together to ‘lovingly ensure’ he never got too big for his britches.
“Well,” Alia finally said, pulling her mask filter down, “you certainly took some wealth from insurance firms tonight.”
Anthony snorted, unclasping his helmet and pulling it off before the AI could gleefully join in the conversation. Glee was yet another emotion Anthony always claimed it showed, but no one believed him.
“Did you catch him?”
Anthony muttered something under his breath, then louder, “No.”
“Boy, the chief is going to be happy about this.”
Just then, Anthony’s helmet made a chime, meaning something important/dangerous was detected. Hurriedly, he shoved it back on, only to read the words scrolling across his faceplate. Did you tell her about the thousand-dollar desk?
Anthony groaned. Sometimes, this AI was a little too clever for its own good.
• • • • •
“Irresponsible!” the chief shouted, slamming his fist into the table so that it rattled, “that is what I’d call it!”
Anthony stood wearing his science outfit now, waiting for the chief to finish his tantrum. When he’d heard about the building and the top floors all destroyed, he’d nearly had a fit of hysterics.
“You not only failed to bring in the criminal for judgment, but you also destroyed a building in the process. Why did you go after him!? That isn’t our jurisdiction! Leave it for the police!”
“The abuse of scientific tech is in our jurisdiction! That guy had nearly twenty pounds of irzium on him and broke into one of our guild facilities to get it!”
“You got the irzium,” The chief fumed, “or at least Engineer Alia did…” This earned Anthony a smirk from Alia, who sat in the corner of the room. Technically, they were both in trouble over this, but Alia seemed to be enjoying herself. “…So you should have left the criminal to the authorities and returned.”
Anthony stepped forward, eyes ablaze. “When will you finally accept that we are the authorities? The guild was formed as a protection for the populace from the misuse of technology. It is our job to ensure that person isn’t out there using high-tech to menace people. He had more than the irzium on him: he was carrying loads of advanced tech.”
The chief slumped back into his chair, head in one hand, the other resting on the wooden desk, “What would our founder think if he knew we were knocking down buildings? Oh, the disparity.”
Anthony glanced up at the picture hanging above the desk of the winged man in orange-red armor. The chief never lost an opportunity to mention the founder since he was proud to be a direct descendant of the old warrior. The wings apparently came from an experiment gone wrong. Back then, a corporate bureaucracy ruled Earth, doing as they liked with experiments and being irresponsible with dangerous industrial chemicals and toxins. Leader, as many of his followers simply called him, had been one of the biggest in the scientific research department until, during one of his experiments, he ended up with one of the side effects he’d uncaringly given to others, just much more prominent. Leader had found himself with bits of bird DNA stored throughout his body, one side effect of which was giant wings that quickly grew out of his back, another was incredible eyesight, and yet another was a genetic disorder that eventually killed him. Leader used his talents and new abilities to fight through not only his own numerous side effects but also to help others throw off the bonds of that destructive system and push for experimental responsibility. In the end, Leader created the guild just before his death. A group of agents, warriors, and scientists to protect the people from enemies with access to unknowable power.
Anthony stepped forward, extending his finger to point at the chief, “What would our founder think if he knew that we were not standing up for the principles he put in place and groveling in front of every government on earth!”
The chief glanced up at Anthony, “We may have once been a guild of warriors, but times change, and that isn’t what Cypostello needs! We are in a shaky position! Trying not to blow things up might help!”
“Shaky position or not, Cypostello can’t function without us! We run all the reactor stations and most power and water lines. Not to mention Earth to city transport trains!”
The chief shrugged, “Back then, there were mutated or deranged maniacs with their hands on powerful tech. Now, the Cypostello police can handle whatever is thrown at them; this is not the time for heroics.”
The conversation petered out. Anthony kept distractedly looking toward the picture of Leader; he wasn’t sure why, but he felt something nagging at the back of his mind like he was forgetting something.
The chief finally seemed to come out of his contemplation, “Well, I ‘ve seen it fit to assign school some school duty…”
Alia sat on her chair, legs crossed, tinkering with something or another. She was infamous for changing all the tech she got her hands on to be ten times more efficient and then forgetting how she did it. When she heard this, she looked up at Anthony, another smirk on her face.
“…For both of you.”
Alia turned to the chief, “What!”
The chief spun his chair to face the window, leaving the two schedules on his desk. “After all, someone has to train up the next generation.”
Anthony grabbed the schedule, groaning inwardly. School duty meant being in charge of a bunch of kids and watching them run laps. The guild ran an apprenticeship program where kids ages 15 to 18 could come and train to be future guild members. They took tests on science, engineering, and mathematics while practicing signature guild fighting styles. They were the bane of any good guild member’s existence.
It didn’t improve Anthony’s mood or Alia’s either to see that they had been scheduled for two weeks of school duty.
“Just great,” Alia fairly shouted at him. “Thanks to you, I’ve got two weeks of watching little kids run laps!”
Anthony protested it wasn’t his fault, but they both knew it was. Alia eventually gave up on him, grumbling as she walked away, “I hope that is the last time you and I have to work together.”
Anthony knew it wasn’t, especially since she said that most of the time, when they finished a mission. Anthony looked at his schedule, then at the window. With a sigh, he crumpled up the paper and dropped it into the trash, which promptly sealed itself and then reopened empty except for some ash. Quickly and quietly, forgoing the sleep he wanted, he opened a closet in his room. His armor waited for him, waited to fold around him and make him invincible.
Anthony had to guess that he’d been born in the wrong age, as the plated armor fused onto itself, contracting around him and leaving just the boots and gloves to attach. If he’d been born back at the beginning of the guild days, a world ravaged by hideous villains and evil plots to stop, he’d be in his element. As he slipped on his thick-soled combat boots and pulled magnetic tabs to seal them, Anthony contemplated the change that had turned the guild into a group of scientists rather than the warriors they once were. He could only guess it had something to do with the peace since Deadbolt, but even before that, the guild had barely done anything fighting-related. Maybe it had more to do with the reign of Deadbolt back when a guild officer could get killed for even hindering one of that gang leader’s thugs.
Anthony twirled the helmet in his hands for a moment and then sealed it onto his head. It was time to find out what was going on. It was time to do his job, no matter what others said.
Ah, good morning, Anthony. I hope you slept well. That was another example of his AI’s stunning ability to be a ridiculous pain.
“Yeah? Well, I slept as much as you did, but I’m guessing you already knew that, or you wouldn’t have asked,” Anthony muttered, opening his windows and launching himself into the early gloom. It was almost as bad as night because the dome lights hadn’t activated, but many lights around the city had, which did something.
Anthony kept to the tops of buildings. He had a jet pack with him, but they were loud, heavy, and hard to use properly, so he continued on his way, trying not to use it and checking with his AI occasionally. Finally, they arrived back at the smashed-up building from four hours before, surrounded by reporters and firemen.
Perhaps you could go down. Maybe give them an interview with the guild agent who not only smashed up their top floors but also destroyed a thousand-dollar desk.
Anthony didn’t give this an answer. Instead, he launched himself across the gap between two buildings with a tether cord, landing on the non-smashed-up part of the roof. Descending through the hole he made, he found what he was looking for.
“Alright,” he said, holding out his handheld scanner, “overlay the irzium trail onto my line of vision, and I’ll follow it.” For once, all his AI typed was: Roger that.
Anthony bounded up and followed the trail, a faint line where an irzium-touched man had gone earlier. It led all the way to the edge of town. It was the shady side down where the dome energy was only a few feet above the roofs.
“Mister Dark Feather, eh?” Anthony muttered to himself, “Too bad you’ve never heard of irzium tracing. Otherwise, you might have prepared precautions.”
He dropped into the dingy old factory building below him through a slanted window. Picking his way carefully along the ground, he moved past piles of old crates. Though not all were that old… Anthony checked a few, noticing mechanical parts stored alongside empty crates and something living in one, surrounded by old mechanical garbage. A slight breeze blew in from a hole in a wall that could have sent shivers up your spine. If you had been there, that is, and if your spine would shiver at the breeze of wind in an abandoned building (and assuming you were a vertebrate).
Cypostello didn’t have space to waste. The government was working on extending its circular area just outside the dome, over which the dome could expand when it was finished. Aside from that, however, to build new buildings, the city had to remove old or broken ones. Anthony was surprised to find this building still standing, although there were a few like it waiting to be demolished and recycled.
Voices drifted in from the shadowy back. Anthony checked to see if his AI was recording all of it and then crept forward, listening intently to the murmur of talk, gravely and distorted. He cautiously moved even closer and was able to pick out two or maybe three distinct voices.
“I need to get closer!” He whispered to his AI. The AI thought briefly and then spit out an answer: Try and go along the edge of the machinery over there. His helmet highlighted the tarp-covered bulk to his side. Anthony scooted along until he was positioned to peer out at a strange gathering around a rickety table covered in a mess of wires and mechanical parts.
“Yes, but it will be useless without the irzium!” said one of the… Anthony wasn’t sure what they were. One was humanoid in shape and size, but it wore a black, shiny, rubber-like body suit covering every inch of its skin, even over the large fingerless circles that were its hands. In the front of its face was a metal grid through which its voice, like a rattling death cough, came, and a giant pair of glowing red eyes, glass globes through which it saw the world.
Anthony shivered as if death itself had stuck its icy fingers into his armor. Dark Feather was there. And so was a short shape in a black cloak with a long pointy white nose sticking out, pasted all over with scabs.
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Dark Feather’s mechanically muffled voice said soothingly, “I will get more later this time, a bit more… covertly.”
The cloaked figure extended a bony, skeleton-like, white, pasty hand. “Oh, yeah, because guess what, now the guild knows about us because someone broke into the guild’s experimental facility and blew in half the place escaping, only to lose the irzium!”
“Everyone is entitled to some passionate actions of anger against the guild,” Dark Feather said testily, “I am just as faulty as you, Night Stealer!”
Night Stealer let out a hiss of irritation. The rubber-encased man struck a chord somewhere in the back of Anthony’s mind. The man himself finally spoke again, “Night Stealer speaks truthfully, brother! The time will come to take down the guild that has done so much against us. As of now, we should stick to covert observation and preparation. Soon, the Dark Band will reign supreme!”
Without further ado, Anthony leaped into the light despite his AI’s warning and shouted loudly, “Not quite yet!”
Dark Feather and Night Stealer looked up, surprised. The rubbery guy simply folded his arms and stared at the high-power energy gun in Anthony’s hand. Finally, the rasping rattle came again from his throat, “Good, very good, how’d you do it?”
“Irzium-tracing, your boy there had it all over him.”
The rubbery man, whom Anthony had begun to fear even worse as time passed, clapped his fingerless hands together. “Very good! Only you forgot one thing.”
“What was that?” Anthony asked sardonically. His AI flared a warning: Danger, something is approaching!
“Three doesn’t really make up a band.”
Something cracked into Anthony’s helmet, sending him flipping through the air and into a wall. A towering, at least seven-foot-tall monster stood over him, its bulk blocking out the light as Anthony’s head faded to black.
“And now,” said the rubber man, “you’ve met Shadow Eater.”
TO BE CONTINUED