The Archangel

[Swordmaster]

XXIV​

Black walked into The Boss’ audience chamber, where he found his chief looking over various reports and charts. Without looking up, the Boss said, “Brick is dead.”
Black stopped in his tracks. “How do you know that?”
Still not looking up, The Boss simply said, “I was just guessing.”
Looking at The Boss with a face of revulsion, Black continued. “Well, however you know this, you’re right. Brick is dead. During their routine patrol, my men heard the screams of an elderly woman, who had found Brick’s charred corpse. My men silenced the woman, and threw the body into the ocean.”
“Good work, Captain. It was John Crowe, wasn’t it?”
“I’d bet my life on it, sir. I wonder, though, why Black went out when he knew that there was a man out there killing his comrades.”
“That’s an easy question to answer,” The Boss said. “He didn’t know. Neither did Cluck-Cluck. Both were completely ignorant of John Crowe’s resurrection.”
Black was shocked, though he should have expected something like this from a man so cruel. “They were loyal to you, and yet you betrayed them by not telling them that their lives were in jeopardy.”
The Boss slammed his fist on the table and finally looked up at Black, eyes displaying a wicked gleam, though when he spoke his voice was its usual calm tone. “They were mere pawns, Black, and their deaths serve a greater purpose: With each death, John Crowe comes closer to me, and his power comes closer to becoming my own.”
Black, still surprised at the lack of empathy his master had for his henchman, asked, “Am I a pawn, too?”
“Yes,” The Boss instantly replied.
Taking offense to this, Black retorted, “Did King’s death serve a purpose?”
At this, The Boss calmly walked to Black and, grabbing him by the throat, slammed him into the wall. Black cowered under The Boss’ glare, and as he struggled to breathe his assailant whispered, “Yes…it did serve a purpose…”
The Boss released the Captain, saying, “You do, however, have a point. Summon the surviving Enforcer’s, if you would be so kind.”
Rubbing his throat, Black stiffly bowed.
***
An hour later, Ringleader and Twitchy stood at attention before The Boss, who had just informed them about John Crowe/The Archangel.
“You will stay here in one of my guest rooms as my honored guests. Everything you will need is here, so you are forbidden from leaving this penthouse, merely for your own safety. When the threat of John Crowe, The Archangel, has ceased, you are free to leave. Am I clear?”
The two men nodded and saluted before leaving the room. As they left Black emerged from the shadows. “You think they’ll listen, sir?”
The Boss smirked. “Actually, I’m counting on them not to.”

 

[Swordmaster]

XXV​

John flipped off of a building and landed in front of an abandoned club known as The Hole. Before Brick had died, John had extracted the information of where the Enforcer’s hung out when they weren’t working. The Hole was that place.
John entered the building, and was disheartened to find it devoid of all life. Figuring that sooner or later am Enforcer would ‘come home’, John waited.
***
The Boss sat before a monitor that displayed Ringleader’s and Twitchy’s room, waiting…
***
Twitchy paced around the room, twitching, as Ringleader attempted to read Moby Dick. Soon enough, he was ultimately distracted by Twitchy’s needless pacing, and so he felt justified when he yelled, “Twitchy! Sit the **** down you inbred bastard!”
Twitchy gasped and made a show of acting offended at Ringleader’s comment, though he knew it was true. When he was done, he whined, “I can’t relax dammit! I need a beer!”
Ringleader arched an eyebrow. “Then get one from the refrigerator. Jackass”
Twitchy violently shook his head. “The Boss’ beer is crap, not that I’d tell that to him.” With that, Twitchy headed for the door.
Ringleader leaped out of his chair. “You heard The Boss. He said we can’t leave here, especially for something as insignificant as beer. He’ll kill you for this.”
Twitchy said, “I’ll risk it. You coming?”
Ringleader leaned back into his chair and resumed reading. “No way. I ain’t risking my ass.”
Making a derisive sound, Twitchy left, leaving Ringleader to shake his head in memory for his late friends.
***
Smiling widely, The Boss took out his cell phone and, after dialing the number, said, “You’re on, Black.”

 

[Swordmaster]

XXVI​

Michael watched Captain Black hang up the phone, a triumphant gleam in the arrogant ass’s eye.
Black approached the sergeant, who in response asked, “What do you want?”
Black smiled, revealing his cigarette tainted teeth, and said, “There’s a lead on The Archangel.” At Michael’s blank look, Black rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “The Man in Black, you fool.”
Michael’s jaw dropped slightly, not due to the fact that The Man in Black had an actual name, but due to the fact that Black was telling him this. “And you’re telling me this…why?”
Black smiled even more widely and said, “I’m gonna need back-up on this. You’re that back-up.”
Michael didn’t question this. Somehow, the knowledge of Black’s fraternization with The Man in Black had become well known. That was more than likely Black’s sole reason for involving Michael.
Seeing Michael’s apprehension, Black said, “Do it for your son’s sake. If The Archangel continues to run around unchecked, he might get hurt.”
Michael picked up on the veiled threat, so he cursed silently. He was trapped. The Captain and the Sergeant hopped into the latter’s car, and Black directed Michael to drive to an abandoned club called ‘The Hole’, which he begrudgingly did.
The two sat in the car for a half hour, silent. The enmity between the two could have been cut with a knife, or so Michael felt. Eventually, he saw a short figure practically bouncing into the hole, and so he shoved the drowsing Black and pointed this out.
Whatever Michael expected Black to do, he did not expect him to smile darkly and say, “Any minute now.”
Not knowing what the hell the man was talking about, Michael continued to watch the entrance to The Hole. A few minutes later, the short figure again emerged, carrying what looked like three cases of beer.
Michael and Black continued to watch the figure skip down the streets, and then out of the blue the miniscule form was yanked into the air.
***
Twitchy was confused. One minute he was skipping out of The Hole, happy that he finally had his beer. The next, he’d felt a rope slip around his neck, and he was jerked into the air.
Twitchy faced a man in black, and he realized that this was The Archangel The Boss had warned him about. Ah damn, he thought, why’d I need to get beer? Now I’m gonna die!”
“You’re…” Twitchy choked, “you’re The Archangel! John Crowe! The one we killed!”
To Twitchy’s surprise, The Archangel smiled at him. “Well,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, “It’s about time someone recognized me without me having to remove my shades. It’s almost refreshing. Almost. For it to be fully refreshing, I think you and I should go for a little swim, don’t you?”
“But it’s February!” Twitchy shouted. “The water will be freezing!”
“All the better,” John Crowe muttered. With that, he threw Twitchy on the roof with him, and as Twitchy was relishing being able to breathe again, The Archangel approached him with more rope.
“Wha…what are you going to do with that?” Twitchy stuttered.
The Archangel merely grinned, and before Twitchy knew it he was tied up and moving at an immense speed, the air rushing past him.
***
Michael saw The Archangel run south as a mere blur on the rooftops, holding the little person under his arm. Unfortunately, so did Black.
“It looks like he’s heading for the Docks,” Black said thoughtfully. “Follow him.”
Michael said nothing, and remembering the threat from Black towards Robert, sadly activated the ignition and drove.

 

[Swordmaster]

XXVII​

The Archangel arrived at the docks, the green-faced Twitchy under his arm. The midget vomited on the floor, and so The Archangel looked at him in revulsion and made a disgusted sound. At this, Twitchy looked up at him.
“Why are you doing this?” he wailed.
This set something off in The Archangel. When he killed Black and attacked Twitchy, he had done so while wearing a mask of cockiness and self-assurance to hide his sadness and anger. But the mask was a fragile one, and the mere thought that Twitchy didn’t know why he was going to die enraged John greatly.
“You don’t know?” John hissed. “Two years ago you and your amigo’s attacked and killed me and my girlfriend remorselessly. Now I’m back to return the favor.”
Growling, he threw the screaming Twitchy in the dirty, murky water, and using his super vision watched him drown and land at the bottom.
Fuming, he heard a door slam behind him, and sharply turned to find Sergeant Stile and Captain Black, the former looking sicker than Twitchy had been and the latter looked scared, yet happy.
“Sergeant Stile,” The Archangel said. “What…”
He never got a chance to finish his sentence. Black fired repeatedly, and John, distracted, was unable to dodge in time. The bullets tore through flesh, through bone, and he twisted onto the ground, his vision already starting to darken. His last thought before he ultimately passed out was, “I’m sorry, Sarah…”
***
Michael watched in horror as The Archangel fell. Black turned to him and patted him on the shoulder. “Nice job distracting him, Stile. Maybe I was wrong about you after all.”
Michael nodded as Black headed back for the car. Horrified by what he had done, indirectly or no, he reached for his sidearm, drew it, and fired a single shot into Black’s abdomen. The Captain, more surprised than angry, made a gurgling sound and fell, much as The Archangel had.
Not stopping to relish the fact that his vindictive boss was dead, Michael rushed over to The Archangel’s body and, with some difficulty, lifted him over his shoulders and brought him to his car.
Placing him as gently as he could on the back seat of the automobile, Michael looked at The Archangel oddly as the body kept muttering, “I’m sorry…”
Michael looked at the body in confused pity, but when he saw the extreme extent to which the man was bleeding he rushed to the driver’s seat and drove him, breaking all the speed limits and ignoring all the traffic lights and stop signs as he did so.
***
Red sat upstairs in his room, reading comics when he heard the door slam open. Throwing the comic aside, he ran downstairs and as he came down the steps saw his father standing over the couch, where John lay unconscious, bleeding all over it.
“What happened to John?” he asked nervously.
Michael turned to face Red slowly. “Who’s John?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
Huffing in exasperation, Red ran to John’s body on the couch and ripped off the sunglasses. “This is John, Dad. The Archangel is John Crowe Reborn.”
Michael shook his head. “No…it can’t be. We saw him die…we were at his funeral…”
“Look harder,” Red insisted.
Michael looked at the unconscious body, and after a little while Red saw his father’s eyes widen in wonder. “But…how…” he whispered.
“No time,” Red said. “Obviously, you brought him here for help, so let’s give…”
Red’s urgent message was cut short by John, who let out one final, “I’m sorry, Sarah,” before letting out a slow, rattling, death breath.
Michael checked John’s vitals, and then looked up at Red sadly.
“Not again,” Red whispered.

 

[Swordmaster]

XXVIII​

The Boss stared at a map of the tri-state area in his office as Ringleader walked in, assisting wounded Black, who was bleeding all over the black tiles. “What happened?” he asked, not sounding particularly concerned.
Black weakly explained how he had found John Crowe right after he’d killed Twitchy, and shot him to wound. But he missed, and the shot pierced through a lung. After that, Michael Stile had given him the mortal wound from which his life was slowly dripping away. Black believed him to be dead by now, and right before he died he concluded, “My death…served a purpose after all…John Crowe’s dead…and you can…rule…”
Black expired, and The Boss simply nodded. He unsheathed a knife and stabbed the corpse with cold deliberation.
“What was that for?” Ringleader demanded.
“I wanted to kill The Archangel for myself. Black robbed me of that chance.”
Before Ringleader could respond, The Boss threw on a black overcoat and said, “Come. I think we should visit the Stile residence, and display our gratitude for his murder of Captain Black.”
***
Red finished telling his father everything he knew about how John had returned. Michael merely sat there in shock, jaw slightly open and eyes widened.
“So, son, I’m assuming you had contact with him, if you know so much.
Red nodded. “Yeah, he saved my life.”
Michael nodded. “Explains why he was looking for you,” he muttered.
Before Red had the chance to question what his father meant, his door was kicked off of its hinges, and in walked a tall white male with short black hair and a black goatee, holding a cane and wearing a black overcoat. Next to him stood an average sized African American with a large afro.
Michael glared at the white man. “The Boss,” he said with as much contempt as he could muster. The white male slowly clapped his hands. “Very good, Sergeant Stile.”
Red looked from his father to The Boss. “You’re The Boss?” he snorted. “I thought The Boss was some old lady. Not much difference between the two, though.”
The Boss laughed. “Your son’s a funny boy, Sergeant,” he said, and Red knew he didn’t mean it. Before he knew it, The Boss’ cane whacked his head, and he saw no more.
***
Sergeant Stile ran for The Boss in retaliation for the assault on his son, but was stopped by a punch from Ringleader, knocking him out cold.

“Place the bodies in the car,” The Boss said lazily. “And keep them alive. I want to have the pleasure of ending their lives personally later on.”
Ringleader nodded and dragged the bodies to the car, looking disappointed at not being able to kill them.
As he turned to leave, The Boss saw the body of The Archangel, John Crowe, lying on the couch. Due to the fact he was pale and no signs of life were present, The Boss assumed him to be dead yet again. A quick check of his vitals confirmed the fact.
The Boss kneeled next to the unconscious body and started to gently pet it. “It’s a shame that we never got a chance to meet,” he said sadly. “You were a worthy opponent.”
As he ended his sentence, the body of John Crowe faded away, leaving no trace of its former presence. “Huh,” The Boss said, not really surprised. He took out his cell phone and dialed the number. “Underboss Masterson? Ready the other Underbosses. It is time to accelerate our plans to the final step.”

 

[Swordmaster]

XXIX​

John opened his eyes to find himself back in the realm of Ajnev, who stood before him, fidgeting nervously.
“Ajnev?” John said. “What happened? What am I doing back here?”
“You died again,” The Specter of Vengeance said shortly.
As he did so the memory of being shot by Black made its way to the forefront of his mind. With this, he remembered Ajnev’s words: “Be careful. If you die in this body, there is no other way to bring you back. You will die, and your soul will forever lie in limbo.”
Instead of becoming hysterical, a single tear rolled down John’s cheek. “So I failed my mission then,” he said emotionlessly.
Ajnev nodded sadly. “Both of them, technically.” At John’s confounded glance, he explained. “What appeared to be your sole mission were actually two missions, one dependant on the other. That mission was to save Livedt City.”
John asked wearily, “How the hell was I supposed to do that?”
Ajnev continued. “By enacting your vengeance on The Boss and his Enforcers, you would save the city by removing the source of its dread.”
“Well, that can’t happen now,” John said guiltily. He not only let Sarah down, but an entire city. Red…Sergeant Stile…he’d doomed them all. “I’m dead again. Just let me rest in whatever peace I can muster.”
Ajnev shook his head. “I can’t do that, not in good conscience.”
“What do you mean? You’d told me I only had one shot, otherwise I was, forgive my bluntness, ****ed.”
Ajnev nodded. “Though at the time this was true, I came to be moved by your actions, your devotion to Sarah, and your determination to avenge yourself.”
Ajnev chuckled to himself. “I’m ignoring my “boss’s” order and giving you another chance. Though my power to resurrect you was good for that one time only, there is a way around it: I can merge my spiritual essence with your physical being, which would heal all the wounds you had sustained previously and amplify your other abilities, at the mere expense of my existence.”
“No!” John started to object, but Ajnev cut him off.
“You don’t much of a choice, I fear. Michael and Robert Stile have been taken by The Boss and Ringleader, and they will be killed before the night is done. If you want to save them, you will accept my offer.”
John had made his decision as soon as Ajnev had said Red and Michael were in danger. But he still had to ask, “Why?”
Ajnev again smiled that smile of his. “You deserve a second chance, John. You have more than earned it.”
The Specter of Vengeance held out his hand, and John Crowe shook it gratefully.
As soon as John’s hand grasped Ajnev’s, the former’s body exploded into formless white light, and John was enveloped in its intensity.
***
A pillar of bright light struck the street outside of the Stile residence. John slowly descended from the sky down it, becoming more and more invigorated with each passing second.
He landed lightly on his feet, eyes shut, relishing the new power Ajnev had given him.
John’s eyes snapped open, and in his mind’s eye saw The Boss and Ringleader emerge from a black limousine outside of the apartment complex named Winters Towers.
Snarling, he ran for the building, not only for vengeance, but to save his friend and his friend’s father. And maybe, just maybe, to save the city.

 

[Swordmaster]

XXX​

Michael slowly awoke, his head aching. He tried to rub his head to clear his thoughts, but he found he was bound to a pole. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was, to no avail. He was in a dark, hot room, but that gave him no clue as to where he was.
Michael saw his son bound to another pole opposite him and tried to call his name, but instead tasted cloth in his mouth. He was gagged.
Banging his head against the pole, Michael tried to remember how he’d gotten to this place. All he could remember was The Boss and an African American associate of his barging into his house…
With a pang he remembered John Crowe Reborn, now dead again. He didn’t completely understand how he’d come back, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that John…The Archangel…had helped him and his son. He was eternally grateful for that.
Michael tried for a few minutes to break free, to no avail. Cursing in his mind, he prayed to whatever God was out there that if he and his son are meant to die, that the death is quick.
***
The Boss entered the main chambers, Ringleader following him obediently. At the conference table sat the ten Underbosses, five on each side. The Boss sat in his ornate chair at the head of the table and observed the ten men. All of the Underbosses were men, as The Boss hated women, believing them to be mere pleasures who should be discarded once their usefulness ran out.
“Gentlemen,” The Boss said warmly. “Welcome. Now, as you know I am not one for pleasantries, so I will get straight to the point. I am unsure if Underboss Masterson informed you of this, but I believe it is time for us to accelerate our final plans. As you know, for as long as I have held power I have desired to expand it’s sphere, and bring the entire country under my personal influence. Nothing would happen without my personal blessings; no tax increases, no wars, none of that ****. These plans have long been in, for lack of a better term, “development hell.” But the recent, ah, “events” concerning The Archangel have encouraged me to move forward with this plan. We have enough men here to make up a small army. We would first move against the tri-state area, and then continue to expand in all directions from that point. We would rule, and we would be remembered for all eternity!”
The Underbosses cheered enthusiastically, the promise of more power encouraging them to do so. When the applause died down however, it did not herald the silence The Boss believed it would. Someone was still clapping, slowly and deliberately. The Boss looked from Ringleader, who shrugged, to his Underbosses, who looked around frantically. None of them were clapping.
“Nice speech,” a voice from the shadows said.
For the second time that week. The Boss felt fear as John Crowe emerged from the shadows, steel blue eyes blazing.
***
“So was that rant on the spot improv or did you spend all night thinking it up?” John said cockily.
The Boss stood up quickly, knocking his chair down. He pointed a finger at job. “You’re…you’re alive again? How?”
John waved his hands maniacally. “Magic,” he whispered. “Now…where is Michael and Robert Stile?”
The Boss composed himself and hid his fear. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
John appeared in the blink of an eye in front of The Boss and lifted him by his throat. “I think you do. Now, you can tell me, or I can crush your damn throat. Choose.”
To John’s surprise, The Boss laughed. “You fool, if you kill me you’ll never find your two friends, and then this entire room will open fire on you. I doubt even you are fast enough to dodge all of the shots.”
John smirked and said, “We’ll see.” As if on cue, the lights went out.
John threw The Boss on the ground and ran throughout the labyrinth that was his lair, searching every nook and cranny for the Stile’s. No luck.
Growling, John ran back to the main chamber, and found The Boss and Ringleader gone, replaced with fifty or so armed men in addition to the ten Underbosses. They were waiting for him, but as the lights were out didn’t see him.
Readying his muscles, John leapt into battle, and the pained grunts from the first three thugs caused the others to open fire randomly in the darkness. Yet though they had strength in numbers, John had the advantage. His vision allowed him to see in the dark as clearly as day, and with his enhanced powers he easily dodged the few bullets that came close to harming him.
When what John assumed to be the back-up generators activated, the majority of the men in the room were dead. Only one remained, huddled in the corner. He wasn’t an Underboss; his clothes told John that much. Walking towards the man, John picked up a knife that one of the other men had tried to cut him with.
“Please!” the man begged. “I just worked for them!”
“Prepare to die for them, then,” John said coolly, stabbing the man in the throat.
Without stopping to watch the man slump to the ground, John left the apartment to track down his prey.

 

[Swordmaster]

XXXI​

John eventually found The Boss’ limo on an abandoned road. Running to it, he ripped a backdoor off of its hinge and tossed it aside. The dead body of Ringleader rolled into John’s arms. Looking inside the rest of the car, John saw the driver dead as well.
John examined the corpse of his final murderer, the image of his gun barrel shooting John and Sarah haunting John. Stabbed to the mans body was a note. John read it, his eyes narrowing in anger as he finished: “Dear John, It is my greatest hope that you passed the test left for you back at my home. You should know I have denied your final vengeance on Ringleader, and that I wait for you at the cemetery, your friend and his father hostages. If you care about them at all, you will meet me there.”
Ripping the note into confetti, John ran for the cemetery, noting the irony that The Boss would meet his end at the place that gave birth to his greatest enemy.
***
The Boss admired the genius of his plan: When John Crowe had left to search for the Stile’s across the whole apartment, he had ordered Ringleader to retrieve them from the building’s basement and meet him in the limo. The foolish Archangel didn’t realize that The Boss was not stupid enough to torture people in his own home. Kill them, yes, but not torture them.
As Ringleader left to accomplish this task, The Boss ordered all of his troops, who were waiting in various rooms in the building, to come to the chamber to take care of John. He didn’t believe they could, but it would be a test to see if John was truly worthy of facing The Boss in mortal combat.
As John undoubtedly battled his men, The Boss ordered his limo driver to follow him in the Bentley while The Boss drove the limo away. When they were a reasonable distance away from the apartment, The Boss killed both Ringleader and the driver, shoved the driver in the limo, and wrote a note explaining everything to John, amused by the fact that he had denied his vengeance on Ringleader. When he was done, he had taken the again unconscious Stile’s, loaded them into the Bentley, and driven to the cemetery, which is where he was now.
The Boss, with two katana strapped to his back in preparation for the battle to come, finished tying up the youthful Stile, Robert. As he finished, he noticed the child trying to say something. Needing a laugh, he removed his gag, only to be spat in the face by a smirking Robert.
Not in the mood for this, The Boss took unsheathed one of his blades and went to stab Robert, only to be thrown into the air.
***
In the greater scheme of things, Red never thought he’d be playing the role of damsel in distress. He was, however, as relieved as Mary-Jane Watson when The Boss, about to stab him, was punched into the air.
Looking for his savior, he nearly urinated his pants when John ran up to him and ripped off the ropes that tied him to the tombstone. “How?” he asked in amazement.
“The same way as last time,” John said, ripping the ropes off of Michael, who got up and appraised John.
“So, you’re back again, John? Red and I thought you were dead.”
Red nearly hit his dead at how blunt that sounded, but John didn’t seem to mind. “Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated, Sergeant Stile.”
Michael nodded curtly at John, who repeated that motion. John then turned to Red and shared a meaningful look with him, before turning to go clash with The Boss.
“Wait!” Red said. John turned to face him, eyes blazing with anticipation. “I mean…you could die again.”
“There’s a good chance,” John said, and Red knew that there would be no changing his mind. He was stubborn like that. Red nodded, understanding.
Unexpectedly, John embraced Red, saying, “You were a brother to me, Red.”
Red returned the embrace. “And you to me.”
When they broke apart, John removed the engagement ring from his neck and placed it in Red’s hand. “Listen…if something happens to me, I need you to bury this by Sarah’s grave.”
Red nodded and pocketed the makeshift necklace. Michael turned to Sergeant Stile.
“Sergeant, everything you’ll need to know about The Boss and his operations is in the penthouse apartment of Winters Towers. I came across it when I was searching it. You’ll have info on all the politicians in The Boss’ pocket, everything he controls, all that stuff. Help to make this city beautiful…Michael.”
Michael nodded, though it was more like a military bow. John took one last look at Red and Michael and jumped to where The Boss had landed.
Red looked down at the ring, not knowing what he was feeling. It must have shown on his face, because Michael asked, “Is everything okay…Red?”
Red smiled lightly. “Yeah…I think everything will be fine.”

 

[Swordmaster]

XXXII​

John landed directly opposite The Boss, who had recovered from his fall and now stood, katana at the ready. “I’m glad you showed up. For a little while I was worried that my pathetic minions had killed you. I’m glad it was the other way around.”
“I’m glad too,” John said, and the two adversaries began to circle each other.
“Did you like my gift for you back in the limo, John?” The Boss asked mockingly.
“Actually, I loved it.”
The Boss stopped pacing around. “Really? I confess myself surprised at this. Are you being honest with me, Johnny Boy?”
John chuckled. “Very much so…Bossy Boy. You see, now I’m gonna punish you two times over.”
The Boss shook his head, smirking. “This is the part where I’d usually offer my enemy a job, but I don’t think you’d accept.”
“You’d be right about that,” John agreed.
The Boss nodded and drew his other katana and tossed it to John, who caught it. “I assume you know how to duel?” The Boss inquired, and without waiting for an answer attacked.
John parried the attack and sliced The Boss’ cheek. “Oh, I know enough to get by.”
The two dueled ferociously for what seemed like hours. John admitted to himself that The Boss had great skill, which was proven when The Boss eventually broke John’s blade and kicked John to the ground.
The Boss stood over John and went to stab his neck. Reacting fast, John caught the blade and snapped it in two, with part of the blade still connected to the hilt. Shaken by this, John was able to kick The Boss in the gonads and leaped up. He tackled the reeling Boss and started punching his head.
“For Michael!” he cried after one punch.
“For Red!” he yelled after another.
“For Sarah!” he screamed after a third.
“FOR ME!” he roared after a fourth, final punch.
The Boss moaned on the ground in pain, his face bleeding, which is why John didn’t expect him to flip him over and pin him to the ground. The Boss reached for the broken hilt and traced it gently over John’s throat.
“You know, John, they say that when you kill a man you absorb his pain, and thus you absorb his power. Your power…it will be assist me in ruling the country. Die knowing that.”
The Boss went to stab John, but then stopped. “No…die knowing this: I am not prone to mistakes, but every so often I make one, such as that Valentine’s Day two years ago. It wasn’t Sarah Fallon that had helped that little boy, it was Sara Falone. You and your little girlfriend died needlessly. Die again knowing that.”
The Boss went to stab John, yelling “For King!”, but his last comment stirred something gin John. He caught the knife just as it was about to make contact with his throat, ripped it from The Boss’ hands and tossed it aside.
The Boss stared at John open-mouthed as The Archangel rose and made eye contact with him.
“You want my pain?” John asked. “You want my power? It’s yours. Take it.”
John grabbed The Boss’ head and stared deep into the black depths that were his eyes.
“TAKE IT ALL!”
***
Wave after wave of powerful emotion hit The Boss; imagine all of the world’s collective pain and multiply it a hundred fold, and that is what The Boss felt. And he hated it.
The man started crying rivers. “Take it back…I can’t deal with it…keep your power…just show me mercy!” he begged.
“You beg for mercy!?” John yelled. “After all the evils you’ve done in your life, you think you deserve mercy?!
“Please…”, The Boss sobbed.
“Would you give mercy?” John continued to yell.
“I beg of you…”
John looked down at The Boss with utter, total hatred. “I’m not like you, he said. John Crowe picked up the broken hilt and stabbed The Boss in the heart. The Boss looked down at the hilt, then back to John before silently falling over, dying with a blank look on his face.
***
John dropped to his knees. That last psychic assault on The Boss drained him of most of his strength, and he felt as weak as a newborn baby.
Grunting, he crawled back to Sarah’s grave and leaned against the headstone. Closing his eyes in relief, he laughed. His job was done.
John tried to sleep, but a chill prevented him from doing so. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw a fog crawl into the cemetery. His eyes widened as he saw the love of his life walk towards him and sit next to him.
“Hi,” Sarah said, smiling, looking as lovely as she ever did when she was alive I a pure white sleeveless dress.
“Hi,” John whispered, mirroring her smile. She leaned to kiss him, and so they did, passionately and fully for what seemed like eternity and more.
“I did it,” John laughed. “I did it…”
Sarah nodded and placed a finger on John’s lips and her head on his shoulder. The two lovers stayed like that for the duration of the night, and by morning they were gone.

 

[Swordmaster]

XXXIII​

Ajnev materialized before his boss, Sage, in the latter’s realm. Sage, who bore the appearance of a middle aged man who looks like he’d been through a lot, looked visibly angry.
“I saved your spirit from destruction, removing your essence from John Crowe and reinstating it into the body you have now. Though I don’t know why I did, with your breaking the terms of the agreement.”
“I had to,” Ajnev retorted. “John Crowe deserved it, as much as, if not more than, your ‘pet superhero.’
Sage’s normally blue aura turned a crimson red. “You played a very dangerous game by bringing him back to life a second time. Many more people than Robert and Michael Stile could have died if The Boss had gained The Archangel’s power.”
Ajnev spread his wings and batted them furiously. “When will you learn, sir, that every life is important, and that all games worth playing are dangerous?”
Sage looked as if he was about to do something to attack Ajnev, but held himself back and nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Ajnev said, “I know I am.” After a minute, he added, “Do you still foresee John playing a greater role in the future?”
“Yes,” Sage said gravely. “Yes I do.”

 

[Swordmaster]

EPILOGUE​

A week later, Red awoke in his bed. The Boss had been found dead in the cemetery the morning after John and him had had their final battle, but John had not been seen. Red guessed that he returned to his eternal rest, his job completed. And today, Red was going to the cemetery to fulfill John’s last wish.
After getting dressed, Red went to the case where he’d kept the ring necklace, and when he opened it gasped in alarm. The ring was gone. But how…
Red looked inside the box. Inside was a note, saying one word: CEMETERY.
Without looking back, Red threw on a jacket and drove to the cemetery. When he arrived, he instinctively went to the gravesite of Sarah, and was shocked to find a headstone atop John’s grave. Walking up to it, he read it. It was exactly the same as the old one, save for one addition: the words “Thing’s Change” were scratched on it crudely.
Grinning, Red laughed in understanding. “Well…all right, then.”
***
From the shadows of the cemetery, John Crowe watched Red leave. He knew his friend understood what had happened, and he silently thanked him for it. John absentmindedly fiddled with the ring hung around his neck.
When he and Sarah were together a week ago, she’d told him that Livedt City still needed him. How she knew this, John didn’t question. He merely accepted it and believed her.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she’d whispered in his ear.
The next morning John had awakened, his powers still intact, his mission still clear: To save the city.
And so when night fell, John leaped from rooftop to rooftop, listening for any crime along the way until he reached the tallest building and stood at its peak, watching over the city. His city.
Breathing in the cool night air, John puts on his new pair of sunglasses, and listens for any signs of trouble. For he was Livedt City’s angel. Its Warrior Angel…
Its Guardian Angel.