Defending a Realm: The End Journeys

They heard a rumbling sound behind them as they emerged into a lit area, but the trio only looked forward. In front of them was a set of large computer screens and collection of maps.

"Home," sighed Tri-blade as Aflima walked through the laboratory room of the Bermuda-based Defenders base.

"You can't tell if the air's fresher or anything, stupid underground lab," chuckled Aflima as a door opened across the room.

Rosa turned and saw a woman who from a distance looked like a slightly taller, more robust, version of herself. The woman's hair was dark and braided, and her uniform suggested that she was ready for combat. Rosa's eyes lit up.

Analisa Velazqua Marquez screamed, "¡Preciosa!" as her daughter dashed towards her. They hugged each other tightly for a long time.

"Chopped liver," said Aflima loudly as Tri-blade slapped him on the back. Analisa smirked at the others, then gave them each a much briefer hug in welcome.

"The Daughter of Macaia handled herself very well," whispered Tri-blade to Analisa.

"I expected no less. But thank you anyway for watching over her," came the hushed reply.

"Any problems we need to be aware of?" asked Aflima as he fiddled with his bracer.

"Nothing extraordinary," said Analisa in her smooth, rolling voice. "All is well in this pocket of the universe, for now."

The others smiled.

Each of them were eager to get to the surface and breathe fresh air, and in time they we relaxing on the roof of Tri-blade's childhood home. While still in the laboratory, neither of them had bothered to look back as the portal shrunk to the size of a rubber ball before dissolving away.

Tri-blade looked at his gauntlet, and specifically at the Legion ring still embedded within. He knew Rosa and Aflima still had their own ones, and wondered if they would become mere keepsakes of a past time, or if they would have significance in an unknown future.

I suppose we have to trust that the Second Foundation, if they're out there somewhere, will watch over the residents in the SHC realm. As for us, we won't know if the connection with our friends is lost forever. But, we have still a lot of fond memories.

They looked silently upwards into the night sky. The millions of stars twinkled, as if returning their gaze.

The ground rumbled. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared, but there was no rain to accompany the storm as it enveloped the area.

On the balcony of a nearly-empty mansion. a grizzled and now-relatively drunk man stumbled to a deck chair. He held an empty bottle in his right hand, but he hardly cared. With a thump, he fell into his seat.

"Daddy!" cried out a young woman's voice as she lunged forwards. A set of weathered yet firm hands gripped the woman's shoulders and pulled her back into the room and out of the gales. The grizzled man did not turn.

"Jefferson!"

This time, it was the owner of the weathered hands that spoke, and this voice was more stern, not panicked like the woman's.

"Get back in here! It is nearly ended, stop being such a stubborn coot!" he continued, as he kept a firm grip on a now crying Starry Knight.

The grizzled man turned and got back to his feet. His bottle slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor, shards of glass scratching on his bare feet. The man did not appear to notice.

"You are no fool, Jefferson. Misguided, certainly. Unwise, definitely. But no fool. Leave with us. We have no time to waste. The Professor -"

"... is no help to me now, Reginald," said the grizzled man with a frown. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a miniature of whiskey. As he fiddled with the top, he pointed towards his daughter. "No matter what, keep that girl safe. As for me, there is no hope."

He walked alone to the railing and looked onto the city square.

"Wretched old man," muttered Fulkerth.

The girl - Starry, what an impulsive trouble-maker, even at the end, thought Fulkerth - broke free of his grip and attempted to dash to her father. Fulkerth sighed and pulled out a hypodermic needle. With incredible speed, he stuck the tip into Starry's shoulder before she reached the doorway. She collapsed instantly.

Fulkerth snapped his fingers. His ever-grinning assistant Trixie appeared from the shadows, as she played with the strings of her corset.

"Be a dear, please," said Fulkerth.

Trixie wasn't impressed, but still bent down to pick up her some-time adversary. She hurled the girl over her shoulder and walked away.

Reginald Fulkerth looked at the back of Jefferson. "It does not have to be this way," he called out. He turned away and followed his assistant.

"It has to be," whispered the former Shadow Knight.

The wind whipped around vigorously, but Jefferson did not move. His mind was clouded, but his body remained strong and unyielding. He looked over the city in which he once prospered. Far to his left was Otero's Bar where his rise to power and road to becoming the Face of the City began. The original proprietors, he knew not what became of them, and in a sense he did not care. They, like him in a way, got what they wanted, then moved on without looking back.

Unlike them, he held a sense of regret when the end came. *They* did not try to offer consolation to dejected and depressed citizens, *they* did not try to suggest alternative paths to safety. They simply ceased communications and one day, there was nothing.

Abandoned their posts in the middle of the night.

So it was, Jefferson began making calls. He lacked the processing power of a BrainChef or Mystik, and had long ago lost much of his contacts in powerful leagues, but he communicated ways to escape and ways to cope, with as many citizens, heroes or not, as he could before the end came.

Even now, in the middle of the rainfree storm, a bunch of neophyte hero-to-bes were fighting in the centre of the street, trying to earn a few extra coins to cash in for new gear.

"Get out of here, you fools," he screamed weakly. The heroes did not hear the call.

Sitting back in resignation, Jefferson looked upwards. The sky had begun to change colour, but it wasn't what he expected. Instead of darkening the way he'd have expected from an object possibly cutting off the sun's light, the sky began to lighten and get brighter.

The thunder faded away. The ground ceased its rumbling and even the scattered people still milling about the city stopped trying to loot stores. Instead, everybody looked upwards, transfixed by the change in atmosphere.

Suddenly, the round white face of their eternity appeared, and it blazed with heat. One unfortunate hero, who had taken flight to avoid an attack, caught on fire and quickly disintegrated.

At this point, the screaming began. The white face continued to largen. It was immense.

"I hope you made it out, Jessica," Jefferson whispered.

The man once known as Shadow Knight downed the whiskey in one large gulp, then shuffled in his chair. He was going to embrace the end willingly and defiantly.

"God, it's hot," was his final thought as his world filled with white.

Less than a minute later, a planet, with blue oceans, vast and colourful landmasses and once teeming with plant and animal life, became vaporized and split into the nothingness within the void. Ea silently swam on through the infinity of the universe.