Chapter 54: Chapter fifty-three

Present day

 

Reaper had been waiting a long time for this, the chance to kill Oblivion with his own hands. It would be more satisfying to beat him one-on-one, but Reaper wasn’t one to let his own satisfaction compromise success. The truth was he wasn’t sure he could beat Oblivion by himself, even armed with his swords Death and Mourning. The man was scarily good in a fight. He had beaten them all back when they had trained together. So Reaper didn’t leave anything to chance. He came in armed and flanked by White Knight on one side and Bodycount on the other.

The man in charge of the operation, a moron named Ethan, was found dead in Oblivion’s cell, so he was apparently loose in the building. That surprised Reaper about as much as the sunrise, and he brought up the building plans in his mask’s HUD to see where his quarry would be hiding.

“Are you sure he won’t try to escape?” White Knight asked.

Reaper had a strong urge to run the halfwit through with one of his swords for questioning him, but he tempered that feeling. For the moment, the idiot could still be useful, so he explained himself instead.

“By the sounds of things, he’s had plenty of time to escape. This garbage wasn’t going to stop him,” he indicated the Program’s flunkies around them. “No. He has determined that we are coming to get him and has gone to find somewhere we can’t open up on him with automatic weapons.”

“But,” White Knight said, clearly trying to sound like a respectful colleague but sounding like the petulant child he was instead. “Why?”

“Because,” Reaper said, his own smile matching the skeleton grin of his mask, “he wants this fight as badly as I do.”

Bodycount nodded. He knew the score, and he knew not to question Reaper’s methods. Reaper might even keep him alive when he ran the Program.

Reaper found what he was looking for. “There. Archives. Lots of walls for cover and only one entrance so he can’t be surrounded. That’s where he’ll be.”

The other ‘heroes’ nodded and the three moved out together, bringing none of the thugs with them as they would just get in the way.

Reaper was right and they found Oblivion waiting for them. He wasn’t even behind cover, having apparently realized that Reaper would know what he was doing and therefore not needing to bother. He just stood there, staring at each of them in turn.

He didn’t look nearly as imposing as he once had, standing there in only a pair of trousers, beaten and bloody. No costume, no weapons, no support.

“Weren’t expecting all of us, were you?” Reaper said.

“I was,” Oblivion said with no emphasis at all. “I always knew you were a coward.”

That enraged Reaper, but not enough to be goaded into attacking hastily or alone. Instead, he, Bodycount, and White Knight advanced carefully, mindful of any traps, and then went at Oblivion with everything they had.

“Formation delta,” Reaper said, speaking over a secure channel to other two masks.

This was the real reason Reaper had brought White Knight and Bodycount. Oblivion might be good in a fight, maybe even better than Reaper, but he wasn’t three times better. And, by instructing the other two on what moves to do to checkmate Oblivion between them, he could essentially fight with three bodies at once.

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He could see in his mind’s eye how formation delta would play out. First, White Knight would launch a series of precise strikes, not opening himself up to counterattack, just forcing Oblivion to block. Then, Reaper would come in with his swords, slashing high and low simultaneously to force their opponent back. Finally, when Oblivion was off-balance, that’s when Bodycount would tackle him and take him to the floor. Once he was on the ground, it was just a matter of applying punishment until he couldn’t move.

It started off just as he had envisioned. White Knight attacked, Oblivion blocked. Reaper slashed, Oblivion dodged. But then Bodycount went for the tackle and somehow Oblivion was ready for it, not off-balance at all. He slipped away, sending Bodycount crashing to the floor alone.

Idiot, Reaper thought. Couldn’t get the timing right.

“Gamma,” Reaper said, thrusting at Oblivion with Death and slashing at his legs with Mourning. He left himself open for a counterattack and Oblivion took the bait, stepping in and striking at Reaper’s chin, trying to knock his head in a way that would stun him. White Knight was ready for him, and went for the armlock, while Bodycount kicked his legs out from under him.

Or that’s how it should have gone.

White Knight indeed went for the armlock, but somehow Oblivion slipped it while simultaneously raising one foot and bringing it down in a brutal stomp on Bodycount’s ankle just as his kick was about to connect. Bodycount’s suit saved him from a broken foot, but his footing didn’t look quite right after that.

“Alpha,” Reaper practically snarled. But again, Oblivion turned their attacks aside and countered with ease.

“Epsilon.”

It was no use.

Together, they were three of the best trained fighters in the world, each a master of their craft and flawless in their technique. To fight White Knight was to fight a machine, precise and efficient with his every movement. To fight Bodycount was to fight a wildfire, vicious and unpredictable in his attacks. To fight Reaper was to fight death itself, implacable, unstoppable. They fought together, bending all that they had to the task of beating one man.

But they fought Oblivion, and to fight Oblivion is to lose.

They brought their combined might and skill to bear against Oblivion and it wasn’t near enough. Where they were flawless, he was perfect. Where they were masters, he was transcendent.

Their attacks hit nothing but air. His counters hit the weak points in their armour with startling precision. Bit by bit Oblivion took them apart with contemptuous ease and Reaper came to realize just how much he had been holding back all those years.

Reaper had never bought into the superhero thing before. It was, to his mind, just a convenient way to disguise black ops. But now, appreciating the scale of Oblivion’s skill, he had a change of heart. This thing was no man, it was something else. Something more. And for the first time in many years, a shiver ran down Reaper’s spine.

 

Ten minutes later. Oblivion left the room alone.

“Four-seventy-two.”

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