Chapter Text
“You’d let your grief consume you and neglect your duty to the people of this city? …Dianxia. Answer me.”
Dianxia swallowed once. Twice.
Thirty dead.
Paths of smeared blood led to piles of corpses in front of the Dianxia-slash-Sun Guard-marked patrol points throughout the city, with each of these piles consisting of six bodies per location.
The most nauseating detail, however, was the macabre pattern each of the piles followed per patrol point.
Two bodies, eyeless.
Two bodies scalped of hair, brain exposed.
Two bodies with a crimson smile jaggedly grinning across their neck.
He knew why Bai Wuxiang had killed each person the way he did. As soon as he and his Sun Guard arrived at the first patrol point, he had understood that fact with a mortified sense of clarity.
They were too late to the second location. To the third.
By the time they had made it to the fifth location, the rest of the bodies from the other patrol points had been called in and retrieved. Officers from the Taicang Police Department had the crime scenes barricaded from civilians, but even they were hesitant about stepping past the yellow tape and onto the grounds where the unusually grotesque massacre took place.
The string of murders hadn’t been the end, though.
Dianxia lowered his gaze, bowing deeply. “I am unable to protect the city any longer in the state that I am in, and my skills are insufficient to lead the organization in the future. It would be better for the victims’ families, and for the peace of the city, if I resigned.”
The Director gave a helpless sigh. “There’s no need to humble yourself to the extent that you are. Like all the rest of Bai Wuxiang’s attacks, the public will die down and peace will once again be restored at your hands. Look at all that you’ve done for our ci–”
“I can’t,” he interrupted the Director, the shakiness in his voice bouncing off the walls. “I don’t have a right to, when the very people I’ve sworn to protect died to protect me instead.” A long silence followed.
“There was this young man. He told me that he…That he was my most loyal fan,” Xie Lian smiled wanly into his hands. “The people that were massacred…they must’ve felt helpless. They didn’t want to lose their lives. He should’ve been terrified when he pushed himself between me and Bai Wuxiang, but he– he didn’t act like it. He didn’t seem afraid. As a civilian, he should’ve been powerless…but he protected me with his life. That man was more of a hero than I will ever be, and…that’s why I’m unfit to succeed you in your position, let alone continue to perform my duties for the organization.”
The Director slowly paced forward, as if Xie Lian was some frightened animal he was placating. “...Dianxia. Do you understand the magnitude of what you’ve decided to do? What will happen to you once you resign?” He dropped his hands and sighed, his voice more wary than anything, “I’m asking you to reconsider– this isn’t just about your reputation or the organization’s, anymore. It’s about your own safety and wellbeing. Our protection can only go so far when you leave this life behind. The last thing I want to see is your name under the list of victims Bai Wuxiang has slaughtered in his next calamity massacre.”
“I appreciate the concern, Director. But whatever happens, I will endure it.”
What’s happening
Politics - 1 hour ago
Director Jun Wu’s elected successor resigns from position as Taicang City’s #1 hero after latest supervillain attack
Trending with Dianxia
“You’re watching Taicang Tonight with Tian Sheng.”
“Good evening, Taicang City. We start tonight’s program with some breaking news: Number one superhero, Dianxia, is retiring from his post just a day after Bai Wuxiang’s third calamity laid a brutal siege throughout the city. This news follows the gruesome attack that occurred yesterday, resulting in the killing of nearly thirty civilians.”
As Tian Sheng continues to speak, videos of emergency vehicles speeding past and shots of Dianxia in various events and interviews slowly fade in on the screen.
“Dianxia was elected by Director Jun Wu last month to eventually take his place as head of the Organization of Heroes, but this abrupt conclusion to the superhero’s profession now drives a wedge in the Director’s plans to step down from his position. The Organization of Heroes held a press conference outside of their building this morning, to which the Director released an official statement and gave his deepest condolences to the victims’ families.”
The broadcast cuts to a recorded clip of Director Jun Wu; in the clip, he is speaking into a microphone that has been attached to a lectern with the official emblem of the Organization of Heroes emblazoned on the front of it– the first character in ‘hero’ with a circle enveloping it, the hands of a clock emblazoned on the last two downstrokes of 英. The Director is dressed in a black suit, and a white silk necktie with intricate golden lotuses patterned over it is neatly knotted at the base of his clavicle.
“What happened yesterday was inexcusable– Thirty people. Thirty people…who will never walk past the threshold of their front doors…or have a meal with their wives, their husbands, their parents, children, sisters, brothers– Thirty families were torn apart yesterday…and now only an unimaginable grief sits at their tables…and lays in now-vacant beds.
“Yesterday’s events opened new wounds in our already scarred city, and has left us more vulnerable now more than ever. It is imperative that the heroes protecting us can strip away the control that these ruthless villains have on our home, and can thus prevent events like yesterday from happening again. This is not the first time that Bai Wuxiang’s calamities have struck Taicang City, nor will this be the last. Should he or any villain attempt something like this again, I assure you, your city’s fiercest protectors will stop at nothing to bring them to the justice that they deserve. That…being said…I–”
Director Jun Wu pauses, sighs, and takes a moment to adjust his tie before continuing. His voice is hesitant, as if he is deeply troubled by something.
“…There is no easy way to handle loss, and today this organization suffers a loss that will be felt throughout the city. It is with mine…and Dianxia’s deepest apologies that I bring to you the following news:
“As of this morning, Dianxia has been relieved from his position as a protector of our city, and will immediately step down as a superhero working under the Organization of Heroes. He will no longer possess any ranking, nor will he maintain any preference to obtaining the Director’s mantle–”
The recorded clip cuts back to the broadcast. News correspondent Tian Sheng sits in front of the camera, ready for the cue to continue speaking.
“When prompted on how he would proceed, Director Jun Wu declined to comment, only stating that his heart is with the victims’ mourning families, and that he sends his prayers and deepest condolences. The Organization of Heroes, and this city, can only anticipate with bated breath on what the Director will decide to do moving forward. In other news…”
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The IV the hospital connects to him is concentrated with something that accelerates his healing factor, and even though the bright shocks of pain mean that his body is stitching itself back together, it also means that he spends his brief stay there reliving that night over, and over, and over again.
“Oh…god… it’s the same fucking thing…” Feng Xin had croaked out. His boots had been covered in viscera– Xie Lian’s own white boots were stained to the ankles with a mixture of dark scarlet and sickly brown from the drying blood and alley muck.
Look for survivors, he remembers saying to Feng Xin. If…If there are no survivors, then we look for IDs, like we did earlier. Look for anything that might lead us to Bai Wuxiang.
Feng Xin had only clenched his fists in response. His fingers were already caked with dried blood from spending the entire night patting down corpses. “I… when I get my hands on him…on this white masked son of a bitch…he’s going to pay for what he’s done here…”
He remembers how pale Feng Xin’s face had been. This had been the fifth spot in the city that they found bodies in, each one sporting the same pattern of fatal wounds. Like a mirror copy of the other locations, the bodies were piled up in an alleyway next to the building that had been one of their established patrol points.
“Wait– what the– are you fucking kidding me right now? Mu Qi– Sun Knight! Sun Knight, stop! Where the fuck is this guy going? You can’t just leave the fucking crime scene again, you incompetent–”
Let him go, he remembers quietly saying. His grip was weak on the Sunshooter’s shoulder as he held him back from the Sun Knight’s retreating back.
“But he’s running off like a coward! He’s been doing this the entire night–” Feng Xin had wasted no time turning his head towards the direction that Mu Qing fled off to, bellowing at the top of his lungs, “I’M SURPRISED THERE’S STILL ANYTHING IN THERE TO PUKE OUT. I’ve never met a hero with such a weak stomach!”
Even with how much distance Mu Qing had tried to put between him and the rest of them, he remembers what Mu Qing’s retching sounded like, and what his gagging sounded like when he was trying to force himself to stop. His throat must have been bloody and raw with how much bile he coughed out of his throat that night.
Let him be– the sight would be hard for anybody to bear. Look closer at the bodies, Sunshooter– there’s a pattern to the way they were killed, right?
He remembers closing his fists to stop them from shaking, remembers what the tremors in his voice felt like as they suffocated him from the inside out.
The wounds correlate to the superficial response our own bodies have to our abilities.
He remembers crimson, how it sounded as it dripped to the ground in both runny and thick streams. Remembers eyes– glassy ones, clouded ones, all frozen in a frantic dead-eyed stare, as if desperately searching for a savior that would never come. He remembers the empty eye sockets too, the memory accompanied by a wash of cold dread.
Thinking about eye sockets prompts his thoughts to circle back to crimson once more, but how alive it had seemed in one particular eye– a mismatched set.
Tenacity.
Hunger.
Relief.
Fear.
The eyes of a hero.
He’s reminded of white swallows of fabric, when he remembers those eyes; the wings of a crying and laughing grim reaper lunging to strike.
Hair tickled against his cheek as the man he was guarding leaned forward past the safeguard of Xie Lian’s arms, then craned his neck until his head was shielding Xie Lian’s face; in the split second where the man’s body fell towards the ground, time seemed to slow down, as if the universe was forcing him to stew in his powerlessness. He was forced to watch as Bai Wuxiang’s fingers had all but eviscerated that young man’s crimson eye into clumps of ruined fascia that slid down his cheek.
The man’s scream still rings in Xie Lian’s ears when the memories suffocate him.
It didn’t matter that he’d sustained critical damage to his own body. It didn’t matter that the Sun Guard had been rendered powerless from their own injuries, either– there was no way they could’ve made it to him or Bai Wuxiang in time.
None of that mattered.
It should’ve been me.
He was the hero. He should’ve sacrificed himself to keep everyone safe– wasn’t this his duty to the city? Why couldn’t he move? Why wasn’t he fast enough? Strong enough?
Why did he move in front of me?!
He couldn’t call himself a hero. Not when his inaction had gotten somebody killed.
It was after they rounded the corner, away from the pile up of bodies, when they met him.
The young man’s appearance at the crime scene had been an anomaly. Dressed in all black and donning a black facemask over the bottom half of his face, it would be incredibly easy to get the wrong idea about him if he wasn’t also holding a camera in his hands.
“Wha– a survivor?!” Feng Xin’s eyes had bulged out of their sockets in disbelief.
Mu Qing, on the other hand, lightly sneered within the confines of his helmet. “I can’t tell if he’s one of the paparazzi or about to rob a bank.”
Instead of getting upset, the young man only seemed to let Mu Qing’s acerbic comments roll off him like water. “Far from either of those. Just a loyal fan of Dianxia’s,” he said. Though his voice was muffled behind his facemask, there was a melodic richness to his low voice that made listening to him easy on the ears– in Xie Lian’s opinion, at the very least.
Xie Lian furrowed his brows, his mask hiding his eyes from view. “A…fan? Why would a fan be out here?”
“That’s what I would like to know, too. He’s a mysterious one, isn’t he?” Mu Qing said, no doubt rolling his eyes behind the visor of his helmet, where nobody could get a proper read on his expression. “Dianxia, I’d advise against stepping too close to him. This guy sounds like an obsessive freak.”
“It’s okay, Mu Qing. He’s not a threat,” Xie Lian said to Mu Qing, loud enough for the man in black to hear before addressing the latter. “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask what your name is?”
“Call me Wu Ming,” Mr. Facemask said.
A nameless name? Xie Lian raised an eyebrow. “Like the blogger? Or are you just coming up with something on the spot?” He asked.
“Sure,” the man said– which wasn’t an answer, but at least Xie Lian could call him by something other than “the man dressed in black” or “the young man in front of him.” Dark, shaggy hair fell over his brows like a wispy curtain of clouds draping themselves over the moon. It was nearly impossible to get a clear read on the man’s expressions when the bottom and top halves of his face were barely visible.
“...Wu Ming, then. The situation here is quite gruesome. I’m not sure how you found out that we’d be here tonight, but this isn’t the time for spectating. It’s safest for you away from here, please trust me on this.”
It wasn’t like people didn’t flock to areas of the city where superheroes were tussling with villains. Rubbernecking was an issue that Taicang City was actively trying to tackle by setting up police around the vicinity of the fight (the effectiveness and the controversy behind this solution left much to be desired, but there was little else that the city could currently think of doing).
However, the difference between a usual hero fight and a night where Bai Wuxiang was slaughtering civilians in cold blood laid in the confidentiality of the situation.
Any information regarding the details of Bai Wuxiang’s third calamity had been restricted to particular members of the organization of heroes– specifically the Director, Dianxia, the Sunshooter, the Sun Knight, and the head of surveillance– better known as the Director’s right hand, Ling Wen. The tip came from Bai Wuxiang himself in the form of an email sent by a burner user address to Ling Wen’s computer.
There was no way that the information would have been leaked to the general public, so the young man’s presence in front of them could mean three things:
First, there was a possible mole among the organization’s ranks.
Second, Wu Ming was a hacker of some sort that had the ability to override the state-of-the-art security system that Ling Wen helped construct.
Or third, Wu Ming was merely a shapeshifted skin that Bai Wuxiang was wearing as a means to get the jump on them. Maybe.
Xie Lian frowned. It wasn’t right to draw conclusions based on the assumption of a whim, though. Hacker or not, Wu Ming was still a civilian of the city, right? He had a family to come home to, and a job to wake up to in the morning.
Wu Ming’s voice cut him out of his thoughts. “Thank you for worrying about me, Dianxia, but I can protect myself– I can hide pretty well, too. I promise I won’t be a burden to you or your sidekicks, so could I trouble you into bringing me along?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Fuck no.”
It wasn’t often that Mu Qing and Feng Xin saw eye to eye– and from the looks of it, they weren’t too happy about it, either.
“That sounds very dangero–” Xie Lian started, only to be interrupted by familiar scoffing.
“Asking to tag along with us– seriously?” Mu Qing sneered, “This isn’t some school field trip. Dianxia, isn’t it suspicious that this ‘civilian’ hasn’t been squicked out by the bodies? That he showed up out of nowhere?”
“Exactly. This guy could be working for Bai Wuxiang. He could’ve murdered these people with him,” Feng Xin helpfully added.
“What weapon do I have on me that can carve out eyes or split bones apart? You can search me if you’d like, Dianxia. I promise you, I only brought this camera with me– that, and a notepad. See?” Wu Ming said, turning around and revealing a notepad and pen that he had tucked away the back pocket of his trousers. “Also, there are plenty of professions that deal with the observation and preparation of the dead– morticians, for example, or anybody that deals with investigating crime or cleaning up the messes that superheroes and villains leave behind.”
“Which one are you?” Xie Lian asked.
“...An investigator, of a sort. Someone that bases findings on the truth, rather than on assumptions, that’s for sure,” Wu Ming said.
The not-so-subtle jab did not go unnoticed.
“You–!” Both Mu Qing and Feng Xin growled out at the same time.
“If you wanted to prove your innocence by saying that, guess what? It’s horse shit, that’s what it is. You’re only making yourself more suspicious,” Feng Xin seethed, then turned to Xie Lian. “Dianxia, think about it. A pen could very well be used to stab people, right?”
“Sunshooter, that’s–”
“Dianxia can check the pen if he’d like,” Wu Ming patiently said, walking closer with the pen now in hand.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin immediately stepped in front of him, only to be interrupted with Xie Lian’s hand shooting out between them.
“That’s enough, you two– at least let me look at the pen. Step aside.”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing lingered a moment longer, then silently stepped away enough for Wu Ming to get through.
“It’s not our fault if he stabs you,” Mu Qing quietly hissed. “Hasn’t it hit you that this might be a trap? That Wu Ming is Bai Wuxiang in disguise?”
Yes, it has, Xie Lian answered inwardly, but I don’t sense anything malevolent in his intentions or his presence, so it’s probably fine.
It was a well-lit alleyway– flickering rivers of light seeped into the alleyway via the lamps attached above the side entrances to the buildings surrounding them, and Feng Xin’s eyes exuded enough light in them to illuminate the few inches immediately in front of him. As Wu Ming stepped into the weakened glow, Xie Lian could barely hold back the gasp bubbling up his throat.
Those eyes…
With the lamp’s glow on him, Wu Ming’s hair could no longer completely shield away the top half of his face. The left eye was an abyss; there was an alluring darkness held within that stirred the soul. The other eye, however, was a sparkling garnet that looked sorely out of place in the seedy alleyway.
Both eyes were framed beneath a fan of dark lashes, and above that sat a pair of thick eyebrows, a sardonic but no less devastatingly handsome air threaded within the elegantly raised arches.
Even with the lower half of his face hidden behind his black facemask, Xie Lian could tell that Wu Ming was the type that people stole second glances of, if only to savor his beauty and that confidence before he disappeared from view.
“The pen, Dianxia,” Wu Ming offered, a note of amusement heavily evident in his voice.
Oh god, was I staring?
“Er, r-right,” Xie Lian lightly cleared his throat, then plucked the pen from the other man’s hand. He carefully examined the pen on all sides, searching for flecks of blood and fascia, or stubborn smears that couldn’t be wiped away completely.
“Well. It’s a perfectly normal pen that doesn’t look like it was used to murder people.”
Mu Qing tsk’d under his breath, “That’s what he wants you to think.”
“I had no idea that there were mind-reading superheroes,” Wu Ming said, fake innocence dripping from his voice, “and what exactly do I want him to think?”
“O-Okay, that’s enough. I am perfectly capable of critically thinking on my own. If you all are still caught up on this, then–” Xie Lian detached the white cape from his armored suit, and the long rectangle of fabric suddenly elongated and twisted in his hands to form a thinly braided ribbon. The ribbon seemed to move on its own after that, shooting out from his palms and darting through the air before slithering its way around Wu Ming’s head covering up his eyes.
“Reveal yourself,” Xie Lian murmured.
The ribbon shivered, a golden sheen rippling around the fabric like the blooming motions of a jellyfish head. Then– nothing.
The ribbon flew back towards Xie Lian, unraveling its pleats and reshaping itself back into the long cape before he fixed it to its rightful place behind his shoulders.
Feng Xin’s jaw dropped. “What? …Nothing? How is that possi–”
“It’s because he’s not a shapeshifter,” Xie Lian shook his head, “He’s a mischievous man, but he’s not Bai Wuxiang. He’s not a villain.”
“...Fine. But I still don’t trust him,” Mu Qing sniffed.
“And that’s your choice. But I say he comes along.”
“What?!” Feng Xin’s jaw dropped even lower. “Dianxia, you said it yourself– it’s dangerous, and–”
“And it would be dangerous for him to go back home alone, given that there is crime running rampant around the city at this time. It’s our duty as heroes to protect everybody that lives here, and we’ll protect Wu Ming here from anything that tries to hurt him, right?”
Mu Qing and Feng Xin were silent. But they didn’t disagree, either.
Xie Lian clapped his hands together. “Great! Wu Ming, stay behind me, and stay close. Mu Qing and Feng Xin will take up the rear and follow behind. Let’s get to the patrol point and make sure law enforcement knows about the bodies here.”
Wu Ming’s eyes were gentle as he gazed at him. “I’ll follow whatever Dianxia says.”
They truly were beautiful eyes, and Xie Lian had to force himself to look away. “Stay on guard. We checked the rooftop earlier and there was nobody there– but that doesn’t mean that Bai Wuxiang can’t sneak up there in the time that we’ve spent down here.”
Nobody suspected that Bai Wuxiang would be hiding in plain sight.
He leapt from the top of the water tank that was situated on the patrol point building’s rooftop. No doubt he’d been hiding on the side of the water tank that faced away from Xie Lian and the others, which meant that he had a higher vantage point and the advantage of picking off the heroes that would prove most annoying in his objective to get to the highest ranking hero.
Feng Xin was quick to react, but not quick enough. “He’s–!”
HERE.
Bai Wuxiang grabbed the neck of Feng Xin’s cape with one hand and yanked hard; with his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of Feng Xin’s hair, then shoved the hero’s head into the cement floor with his momentum, rendering him unconscious. Feng Xin’s bow skittered across the floor, but he made no move to retrieve it.
The moment of all-consuming shock passed in what felt like an eternity’s time. It trickled away with each drop of blood that pooled from the wide gash marring the side of the Sunshooter’s head.
“...What–?” Mu Qing stared at Feng Xin’s collapsed form. “What jus– What did you do…?”
It was impossible to tell what kind of face he was making with the helmet in the way, but then again, it was always difficult to figure out Mu Qing’s intentions even when he wasn’t wearing his helmet.
Anger – and similarly, annoyance, disgust, and any form of disdain – however, were an easy tell. Xie Lian could at least recognize that in Mu Qing’s voice.
“You think you’re clever for getting the jump on one of us, huh?” The Sun Knight lifted his gaze, a dangerous tension quivering in his voice. “Sorry to break it to you, but he’s our dumbest link. You’re actually doing us a favor by knocking him down first,” he sneered.
Bai Wuxiang said nothing; instead, he simply tilted his head, as if curious, and reached into his white robe, pulling out a vile of white, almost silvery powder that he promptly crushed in his grip. The dust coated his hand; as he plucked the larger glass shards out of his hand and shook the rest of them off, rivulets of blood slid down the front and back of his palm, speckles of white clumping up and mixing in with the red. He flexed his hand easily, even though cuts were still oozing; the breeziness of his movements made it seem as if he hadn’t been pierced his hand through with glass at all.
Xie Lian had never seen this substance before. Is it poison? A paralyzing type of magic? Whatever this is, it doesn’t seem like his cuts are healing…
“Dianxia. I’ll tire him out for you first,” Mu Qing said before sprinting forward in a streak of bronze metal.
The difference between the way that the Sunshooter and the Sun Knight fought was evident in the way rage influenced their motion. Feng Xin used his rage like fuel, burning through it until there were only embers left. It was an all-consuming, but tiring weapon to use.
Mu Qing, on the other hand, made his rage work for him, honing it sharp into an extension of himself.
The blade of light that he conjured out of his palm was white-hot– one swipe could slice off limbs and sear flesh from the inside out until the body was no more than a half-boiled hunk of blisters.
Bai Wuxiang sped forward, his hand pointed towards Mu Qing like a knife.
The Sun Knight’s movements were as effortless as the dancing he did outside of hero work. His body bent easily like the limber branches of a young maple sapling as he evaded Bai Wuxiang’s strikes, but he countered with a lethal sharpness in his movements that only vipers could exhibit. Where he couldn’t move his arm to swipe with his blade, he used his elbows or legs as weapons to further the amount of distance between them.
At one point, Mu Qing managed to knock Bai Wuxiang back with a well-timed kick, earning himself just enough space to let him lash out with his blade. Even though the villain managed to avoid being stabbed, the sword still grazed his shoulder, leaving singed fabric and a shallow laceration in its wake. Bai Wuxiang hissed and clutched at his shoulder; there was an acrid stench of burning meat in the air. The ripped fabric seemed almost glued to the wound, and though it was a very superficial cut, blood stained his white robes in fat beads of scarlet.
“I think I’ll take that arm from you now,” Mu Qing snarled, then lunged forward.
The Sun Knight’s rage molded itself to his body like a second skin; it enhanced his reflexes, made each blow more calculated and almost unbearable with the amount of force behind it– but it was also a weapon that left his weak points open.
Bai Wuxiang’s hand left his shoulder, and he seemed to disappear with how fast he dodged what should’ve been a fatal strike by Mu Qing’s blade. It was almost as if Bai Wuxiang was playing with his food, dodging almost as easily as Mu Qing, but with an aggressiveness that threatened to claw and maim, not unlike that of a beast. Bai Wuxiang’s foot slammed against Mu Qing’s knee, and an audible crack! sounded before Mu Qing’s leg buckled.
“Agh–” Mu Qing cried out as he toppled down onto one knee, but swung his sword out in front of him to protect his front, should Bai Wuxiang try to advance forward.
Xie Lian quickly shooed Wu Ming to hide behind a stack of crates as he prepared to support Mu Qing. He had to get to the Sun Knight– there was no way any of them could do this one on one.
“Stay here. Don’t move, and keep hidden. Even if things aren’t looking good past these crates, your safety comes first, alright?”
“...Okay, Dianxia,” Wu Ming nodded, but there was a worried glint in his eye that Xie Lian should’ve taken a moment to consider.
With that, Xie Lian grabbed one of the spare crates near Wu Ming’s hiding spot, then ran towards Bai Wuxiang’s back. He heaved a bracing breath, then launched the crate as hard as he could towards his target.
BAM!
The crate crashed against Bai Wuxiang with enough force to unbalance him and send him careening towards the fences erected along the edges of the rooftop. The villain laid there in a mess of splinters and wooden pieces for only a moment before shakily kneeling back to his feet.
“Dianxia caught me off guard,” Bai Wuxiang said, dangerously calm, before dashing towards Xie Lian.
He seemed to disappear with his speed, and Xie Lian immediately made a run for it towards Mu Qing. Even with his knee incapacitated, Mu Qing could still fight, as long as his arms and at least one of his legs were still in commission. Like some sort of sixth sense, Xie Lian could feel the hairs on the back of his neck shiver to life, and he quickly somersaulted the last couple of feet to Mu Qing’s left flank before Bai Wuxiang could strike at him. It was a narrow miss– Xie Lian felt the side of Bai Wuxiang’s hand graze his cheek as he tucked himself towards the ground mid-roll.
That was close!
As soon as he repositioned himself into a crouch, he caught sight of the villain pulling a dark metal band from his wrist. Bai Wuxiang seemingly smashed the band between his palms, then followed through with similar motions that Mu Qing made with his fists to draw his sword out of thin air. The resulting blade was thin and lance-like, with a night-stained body and an obsidian handle.
This wasn’t the first time that Xie Lian had encountered this blade.
He quickly grabbed the bottom edge of his cape and swept it up just as Bai Wuxiang went in for another strike.
THUNG! SKREEEE–
Bai Wuxiang’s sword should’ve stabbed straight through the silken fabric like butter, but instead, it battered and screeched against the surface of the cape as if it was trying to penetrate a sheet of metal.
Xie Lian inwardly let out a sigh of relief– capes certainly were a dysfunctional asset to the superhero wardrobe, but the magic that had been engineered into his made it a useful weapon and shield, as it could move and steel itself like titanium at Xie Lian’s will, and had the added perk of revealing any shapeshifter’s true form when recali-braided into an enchanted ribbon.
Bai Wuxiang chuckled from the other side of the cape-turned-shield. “Who entrusted that cape to you, I wonder? I’ve never seen anything like it,” he growled, sounding most certainly pissed off before darting off sideways towards Xie Lian’s blindspot at lightning speed. The supervillain swung his sword towards Xie Lian’s nape, the tip of his dark blade moving much faster than Xie Lian could move his cape to counter–
TING!
Xie Lian blinked in shock. “Ah...Nice reaction timing, Sun Knight.”
Mu Qing’s hold on his blade trembled slightly with the force exerted onto it by Bai Wuxiang’s, but he stood as firm as he could. “It seems…that I’m doing all of the fighting…for you, Dianxia,” he gritted out, sending a cold glare towards Bai Wuxiang’s crying and laughing visage before twisting his sword to shove it towards the villain’s shoulder, which made the latter slide back a few paces to avoid him.
They nearly missed the groan that came from several feet away.
“...Shiiiiit… My head is killing me,” Feng Xin moaned, pressing his fingers against the gash on his head.
Xie Lian inwardly sighed in relief; Feng Xin was awake– that was good. Even better was the distance that now separated him from Bai Wuxiang, which meant he could provide excellent long distance while Xie Lian and Mu Qing took care of combat in close quarters.
“Nap time’s over, Sunshooter! Get off the floor and get into position!” Mu Qing barked. “Or do you want to end up with your brains spilling out of your head like those dead bodies in the alley?”
Mu Qing’s relief revealed itself in such colorful ways.
But then again, it wasn’t like Feng Xin was much better.
Feng Xin fumbled with his bow and quickly pinched his free hand’s index finger and thumb together, forming a plasma arrow to nock into place. “Hey, don’t fuckin’ patronize me. You were so busy puking, I’m surprised you noticed the bodies at all.”
“Shut up!”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Feng Xin yelled back and let his arrow fly, only for Bai Wuxiang to tilt his head to the side before the arrow could make a dartboard out of his skull. Having lost its target, the loose arrow whizzed past Mu Qing’s head, nearly singing the edge of his helmet.
“What the– Watch it!” Mu Qing snapped before striking out with his sword behind the cape Xie Lian continued to shield them both with. “Did that little pat on the head wipe out your ability to shoot or something?”
Xie Lian sighed to himself again. Do they ever get along?
“Please, everyone–” Xie Lian pleaded, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry, “Now’s not the time to fight!”
There wasn’t much fight left. The end was fast approaching.
The next time that Mu Qing struck out with his sword, Bai Wuxiang grabbed hold of his wrists with his free hand. “Hey– Let–!”
“Is this all you can do?” Bai Wuxiang quietly murmured. He seemingly considered the sword in Mu Qing’s grip, now pointed towards the sky like a beacon from a searchlight.
The rooftop fell silent. Xie Lian could see Mu Qing trying to struggle out of Bai Wuxiang’s hold; he desperately tried to twist his hands out with as much power as he could muster, but to no avail. The blade in Bai Wuxiang’s other hand was now pointed towards Xie Lian’s nape, just as he’d tried to do earlier. This time, he’d succeeded.
At the angle he was positioned at, Feng Xin could most certainly see that they’d both been compromised; there was no way he’d be able to shoot without Bai Wuxiang killing one of them off first. He was left petrified just a scant few feet away.
They were at the mercy of the jaws of a beast.
“I pity you, Dianxia, for having to suffer like this…the sacrifice you inflict upon yourself to uphold what you think is right.” Bai Wuxiang sighed, turning his head to gaze at Xie Lian, “The Sun Knight was right, you know. Ever since I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, you’ve never struck me.” Both the laughing and crying halves were boring themselves into his field of vision, consuming his fear with both pleasure and lamentation.
“From what I hear of your past endeavors, you’ve made it a point to never land killing blows upon your enemies, and yet…you want to keep everyone in the city safe?” Bai Wuxiang chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I’m afraid you can’t do both.”
“Call it what you want– kindness, chivalry…mercy. The way I see it, your inability to kill is the weakness that grants me my pleasure. So I thank you, for allowing me my devastation. Won’t you let me express my utmost gratitude to you?”
CRK…CRACK.
“Mmpf!” Mu Qing stabbed his teeth into his lip, forcing back the scream lodged in his throat.
“NO!” Xie Lian helplessly watched as Mu Qing’s hands went limp, and the light sword in the Sun Knight’s hands sputtered weakly before flickering out. Bai Wuxiang released his grip, and Mu Qing crumpled to the ground.
“I’LL DISTRACT, JUST RUN DIANXIA!” Feng Xin roared and let several arrows loose as Bai Wuxiang dashed towards him next, all of which the villain dodged with a ruthless grace to his movements.
Xie Lian ran towards Feng Xin as they traded blows, brandishing his cape into position as he prepared to provide a shield for Feng Xin to get behind. Feng Xin avoided Bai Wuxiang’s attempts to slash at his throat and his torso, but what he didn’t account for was Bai Wuxiang slashing at the hand holding his bow. He dropped the weapon to avoid getting his fingers chopped clean off, but in doing so, Bai Wuxiang took the opening and swept his sword in an upwards arc, shredding a long gash up Feng Xin’s arm.
“Sunshooter! Get behind me!” Xie Lian yelled out near the legs of the water tower, and both Bai Wuxiang and Feng Xin glanced towards him in response.
The archer took off, clutching at his injured arm, with the supervillain following close behind. Blood spurted out of the wound and splashed to the ground in a macabre trail, and Xie Lian faintly wondered if Feng Xin was feeling dizzy from all of the blood loss he’d been enduring since his head injury. At the very least, he must’ve suffered a concussion from hitting the ground headfirst, but Feng Xin seemed to be fine; he was barely stumbling as he reached closer to Xie Lian. He had nearly reached him when–
SCHICK!
“FUCK!” Feng Xin lurched, then collapsed to the ground on his stomach. Blood burbled to the surface from the stab wound in the back of his knee; the tip of Bai Wuxiang’s sword dripped with it.
“N-no…” Xie Lian’s grip on his cape loosened, titanium loosening back into folds of silk.
Wasting no time, Bai Wuxiang shoved his foot into Xie Lian’s side, sending him flying into a pile of crates.
“AGH!” Xie Lian cried out, feeling his ribs splinter upon impact.
“Dianxia! Are y–”
Xie Lian’s eyes widened. “No, stay awa–”
Schlick!
“NO!”
“A-ah…” Xie Lian looked down, only to find Bai Wuxiang’s blade pierced through his abdomen. He was pinned to the crates like a butterfly on display, yet he could only pray that Wu Ming hadn’t also been skewered on the other side of the crates.
He slowly glanced over to his left. Mu Qing was sprawled out on the ground, his knee bent at an unnatural angle and the armor where his suit protected his wrists caved in and crushed. Feng Xin was bleeding out from the wounds he sustained from his head, arm, and knee.
And crouching beside him to his right, his arms outstretched as if to shield his idol’s body from harm, was Wu Ming. Tears streamed down his face as he gasped uncontrollably, gathering at the seam of his facemask before slipping under or absorbing into the material.
“So this is who you’ve been hiding from me all night,” Bai Wuxiang hummed. “And who are you?”
Wu Ming ignored him, his voice breaking under the weight of the panic suffocating him.
“Dianxia…Dianxia, I’m sorry– I’m so sorry…” Wu Ming quietly whispered, his chest heaving as he began to openly sob. “It’s my fault– this is my fault–”
“Why are you–” Xie Lian winced, “ Hah, why are you apologizing? I-It’s going to be okay…” Xie Lian tried to soothe the other man, placing his hand on Wu Ming’s arm. “I’ll be fine, but you– you have to get away from–”
“There will be no civilian survivors,” Bai Wuxiang cut in, his voice taking on a dark tone. “Not tonight.”
Xie Lian stretched his arms in front of Wu Ming’s body, ignoring the shock of pain that lanced through his body with the movement. “Don’t touch him,” he warned, eyes glinting dangerously.
“You’re in no position to threaten me, little hero,” Bai Wuxiang murmured. “Your sidekicks have been effectively taken care of. The sword that you’re impaled on is the only thing stemming the blood from pouring out of your body. Do you still think you can save him in the state I’ve put you in?”
Xie Lian glowered at the villain. “You don’t need to hurt him. Take it out on me. You’ve been targeting me the entire night, haven’t you?”
“I’ll kill you–” Wu Ming whispered, then snarled, “I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU HURT DIANXIA!” Tears dripped onto Xie Lian’s steel-plated shoulder, then rolled off onto the cement.
“...Oh? You …will kill me?” Bai Wuxiang tilted his head curiously. “Well, aren't you interesting …?”
Xie Lian suddenly felt a shiver run up his spine. He’s going to–!
“No– Bai Wuxiang…” Xie Lian grabbed the handle of the sword pinning him to the crate, and tried to pull. Blinding pain scalded him from the inside out, making his palms clammy with sweat. “Don’t. Don’t hurt him.”
“Did you realize you had a fan that was this devoted to you? A mere nobody willing to throw himself in danger for the hero that should be protecting him instead?” Bai Wuxiang hummed, his amusement making him chuckle. “This is quite entertaining, actually…both of you are competing to be slaughtered by my hand! I wonder– what would be more entertaining to watch? A hero mourning one of his fans? Or a fan mourning the hero he worships? Which one will it be…?”
Bai Wuxiang pulled his hand back– the one covered with white powder. Somehow, the blood that had run down his hand had not yet congealed, and the cuts were still open.
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
“NO–!”
The screaming pierced the darkness like a spear through flesh; the sound went straight through, so loud that the night couldn’t swallow it up whole. It bruised the ears, struck the heart– clawed open phantom pains in those that could hear it.
Then, Wu Ming went silent in Xie Lian’s arms.
“Hm…I guess we’re going with the first option, after all. That was what I planned since you all stepped onto the roof, so I can’t say that the result doesn’t please me.” Bai Wuxiang shook the bits of tissue off his hand, then went to grab his sword. He yanked it out of Xie Lian, and the blade exited his body with a sickening squelch. “It really is a shame, though. He was a very intriguing young man.”
“Why…?” Xie Lian sobbed, crumbling in on himself. He cradled Wu Ming in his arms, despite the mess of blood staining his white suit a dark scarlet. He wasn’t sure where his blood started and where Wu Ming’s began. “Why did you…?”
Why did you lunge in front of me?
Bai Wuxiang flicked Xie Lian’s blood off of his blade before electing to speak. “You’ll remember tonight for a long time, I imagine– I’m curious to see how this will change you. I hope by the time we meet next, you will have learned to discard the naivety you’ve displayed until now,” Bai Wuxiang said, before turning away from Xie Lian. “His death was truly unfortunate. Don’t let it happen again, Dianxia.”
With that, he disappeared.
“I’ve failed you,” Xie Lian whispered, to the man in his arms.
To everyone.