Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (54 page)

They were NOT going to die.  No one
else was dying today.  Harlot would make
sure
of it.

There lived, once upon
a time, a wicked prince whose heart and mind were set upon conquering all the
countries of the world, and on frightening the people; he devastated their
countries with fire and sword.  Demons could not possibly have done worse
things!  The prince was of the opinion that all this was right, and that it was
only the natural course which things ought to take.  His power increased day by
day, his name was feared by all, and fortune favored his deeds.  But God sent
one single gnat to stop him, which crept into the prince’s ear.  Mad with pain
and annoyance at the constant buzzing which now filled his head, he tore at his
ear and danced about in frustration.  The mad prince, who wished to make war
with the world, and was overcome by a single little gnat.  Moral of the story? 
Even the mighty can be taught humility by something small.

Tyrant prowled down the street
completely ignoring the carnage around him.  He had
no
interest in
assisting Gurrier in his asinine fight to defend that Stacy girl.  She knew the
rules of this game before she got into it.  Besides, she seemed more than
capable of taking care of herself, when she actually used her idiotic little
head for something
other
than a storehouse of information on children’s
television shows and Harry Potter trivia.  A sweet girl, but dumb as a post. 
And if there were two things Tyrant hated, it was nice people and dumb people. 
As far as he was concerned, they could just deal with their own problems. 
Stacy had gotten herself into that mess, and she’d have to get mean enough or
smart enough to dig herself back out.  It was a crucible which would determine
whether she was worthy of survival or not.

And he had ABSOULTELY no intention
of assisting
Ferral
in anything.  Tyrant blamed him for
all
of
this.  HE was the one who had made them come out here in the first place.  He
was a tiresome life form, and his constant inspirational speeches were
nauseating
. 
The boy was an idiot.  Most of his words were seemingly chosen at random from
whatever
Chicken Soup
book he had read that day.
 
Honestly,
Tyrant was rather disappointed that Ferral had survived his run in with
Dauntless.  He was proving to be more of a complication than the other Wyatt
Ferrals had been.  Destroying
them
had been no great difficulty for
him. 
This
dimension’s Wyatt though, seemed stronger somehow, despite
his current intoxicated and useless state. 

In fact, all of this dimension’s
Consortium members seemed far stronger than the others of their kind had been. 
The people here were different somehow; more
worthy
.  Tyrant blamed
Harlot.  While she couldn’t
hope
to stand against him in the coming war
for dimensional dominance, she had a way of making everyone feel stronger. 
Better.  Able to do more than they thought they could.  And if there was a
third
category of person Tyrant hated, it was someone who made his enemies feel
better about themselves, and made them more powerful.  No, he would have to
deal with Harlot
first
.  When his plans finally went into motion, first he’d
dispose of Harlot, then the others.  It was just a matter of time.

But that was not his current goal. 
No, his goal at the moment was to find as many opponents as he could, dispatch
them as quickly as possible, and leave.  Those had been his “
orders
.”  He
snorted.  As if one such as HIM would take orders from one such as
HER
. 
The idea was preposterous and insulting, but he could bide his time.  She would
soon be judged, and taught a lesson about her unimportance.

This whole exercise did present a
perfect opportunity to thin the herd of potential impediments to his accession
to undisputed ruler of this dimension, though.  So far, things seemed to be
going splendidly.  Perhaps a little one sided for the Consortium fools as
things currently stood, but judging from the
vaguely
familiar faces of
the some of the corpses he had stepped over tonight, there HAD been losses
among their ranks as well.  No one who was of any real consequence though.  He
didn’t even know their names.

In any event, he was perfectly
capable of handling any
surviving
Consortium member who might try to stand
in the way of his plans.  He’d mop up the heroes, and then he’d finish off his
“teammates.”  He rolled his eyes at the absurd idea that he might need a “team”
to do anything.  They could not aide him, and they could not hope to stop him. 
And most of them knew it. 

His only real concern was Megaris. 
He had never encountered one such as her before, and her power rivaled his own.
 He was not looking forward to testing the limits of her abilities.  Luckily,
she didn’t seem to care about anyone or anything enough to try to stop him.  He
hadn’t figured out a way to deal with her yet, but he WOULD when the necessity
arose.  He had
always
had a gift for finding weaknesses in others to
exploit.  He would find hers, and then she would die with everyone else.  When
the
Day of Days
arrived, the trusting fools would never even see it
coming. 

A shadowy figure dashed across the
street half a block in front of him, and ducked behind a parked car, preparing
to attack.

Foolish man.  He would be taught
the penalty for
hubris
.  Tyrant’s voice boomed out over the sound of the
driving rain.  “
I am Kasos Octavio Victavious IV, the Tyrant King!”
 
There was a flash of lightning, which really couldn’t have worked out better if
he had planned it.  He had always found controlling the weather difficult, but
when it cooperated on its own, it truly added drama to a speech.  “Throw down
your weapons and I shall grant you a quick and merciful death.  Oppose me, and I
assure you that your end will be
far
less pleasant.  Stand forth and
be
broken!”

He made a fist and a blast of
crackling green energy blasted the car out of the way, and toppled it end over
end down the street.

The other man marched into view,
apparently completely unimpressed with the display of power.  The worm was
obviously
suicidal.  He wore
ludicrous
headgear and an absurd costume of garish
colors.  On his sleeve was the Freedom Squad insignia, and on his face was the
typical self-satisfied smirk which most members of that irrelevant organization
seemed to display.

Tyrant glowered at this useless
person before him.  He had no idea who this interloper was and didn’t care to
learn.  He was merely an obstacle which Tyrant had to go through to get back to
his captive.  He didn’t trust Princess Rayn.  The little insect was plotting
something…he could
feel
it.  She was far too brazen in her disrespect
lately, which was saying quite a bit, as she was ALWAYS disrespectful.  No…she
was up to something.  Something sneaky.  And Kasos had NOT spent eight hundred
years capturing and recapturing her, just to lose her now.  Her father was THIS
close to caving in and giving him what he needed, and Kasos wouldn’t let it
slip through his fingers again.  That power was
HIS!

It had been a mistake to leave her
with Vaudeville though.  He could see that now.  He should have just kept her
attached to his belt no matter the danger.  In a moment of madness however, he
had allowed her out of his sight.  He was unwilling to risk damage to her in
whatever combat his enemies sought to throw against him.  He had entrusted her
to Vaudeville, as he was one of the
few
members of this foolish insignificant
band who could travel between dimensions.  As things were not looking
especially
good
for this dimension at the moment, Henries would be able
to take his prisoner to safety elsewhere, and then Tyrant could go retrieve her
once he was done picking up the pieces here. 

That idiot Vaudeville had no idea
how crafty Rayn could be though.  She would
undoubtedly
attempt an
escape again, and Henries would be caught completely unawares.  She was crafty
and not to be trusted; far cleverer than she let on, or her beauty would imply. 
On the outside she
seemed
like a lovely young woman of the fairy race, but
inside that façade of sweetness, gentility and light, lurked a cunning mind,
and the
cruel
heart of the most devious opponent he had ever run across. 
Like Megaris and himself, she was unique in the multiverse.  Powerful.  No. 
Kasos had to return to her as soon as possible.  He would
NOT
be left
alone; he still needed her.  She had not yet served her purpose.

The masked man pointed a gloved
finger at him.  “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Tyrant.  Just back away, and
let me do what I need to do.  You can still make it out of this.  I can…”

The rest of his words were cut off
as Kasos swung one end of his heavy double-
Guan Dao
long-handled knife down
and neatly sliced the man’s body in two; diagonally from the right side of his
neck to his left hip.  He twirled the staff around several times and returned
it to its clasp on his back.

Foolish man.

Kasos didn’t even bother to watch
as the two halves of this preposterous meddler’s body slid apart in opposite
directions.  He simply stalked off as the pieces of the bisected buffoon fell
to the ground with a wet splashing sound.  Kasos did not have time to deal with
whatever inadequate lackeys the Freedom Squad sought to delay him with.  He had
better
things to do.  His captive Princess would be making her bid for
freedom soon…just to
piss him off.
  She was always looking for ways to
torment him; relishing his momentary setbacks and mocking his endless parade of
successes. 

He had abducted her away from her
peaceful, sickeningly happy kingdom and chained her up in a humiliating cage,
and STILL she derided him constantly.  She had once been the most powerful of
her kind, but now she was confined, and bound in a pen for his amusement, and
STILL
she refused to accept the fact that she was a slave. 
Still
she stubbornly
denied the new order of things. 
HE
was in charge of her fate now, and
the fate of her kingdom, and nothing would change that no matter how sarcastic
or abusive she got.

He shook his head in pity for his
own plight.

Fairies were a
cruel breed
. 
If her father didn’t relent soon and give him what he desired, he’d simply have
to take matters to the next level and return to the Meadow and burn it to the
ground.  Perhaps seeing the charred remains of their people and their sacred
woodlands would teach the King to know when he had been bested, and teach his
daughter some
humility.
  That heartless little insect had a sharp tongue,
but she would break…
she would break
.  Tyrant could break anyone
eventually, one way or the other.  It was just a matter of time.

He absently snapped his fingers and
the two halves of the silly fellow behind him burst into green flames and were
rapidly consumed. 

Foolish, foolish man.

There was a sound in one of the
buildings to his left, and he absently fired another blast of energy in its
general direction as he strolled past without bothering to look.  There was a
deafening explosion and the structure rocked on its foundations; green flames
blowing outward from a dozen windows on several floors and raining glass down
onto the street.  Tyrant honestly had no idea what the sound in the building
was, or if it was even related to the battle and related goings on.  It was
entirely possible he had just disintegrated an innocent bystander huddling in
their home, or a rat seeking shelter from the storm.  And he simply didn’t
care.  Whatever or
whoever
it was, it was now no longer of any concern
to him.  It had been dealt with.

The glass from the windows on the
upper floors continued to rain down over him, but Tyrant ignored the shards and
kept marching forward.  The glass presented him no threat; the sharp debris
couldn’t even break his skin.  There were very few things left that his body
still registered as “pain.”  It had been so long since he had been weak enough
to be hurt by anyone or anything, that he barely even remembered what it felt
like anymore.  He had conquered too much, and grown too strong since then.  The
boy had become a man, and he was above pain now.  Above emotion.  Above
everything but his own overwhelming power, and the absolute
certainty
of
his own complete superiority to those around him.  He was a majestic and
beastly lion, unleashed upon a world of frightened, retarded lambs, and he
didn’t feel anything as he tore them to pieces.  And he never would.  Not. 
One.  Thing.

A large man sprang from an alley in
front of him.  Tyrant did not recognize him, so he MUST be a member of the
Freedom Squad…or
possibly
a seldom seen member of the Consortium?  In
either case, he was in Tyrant’s way and had to be removed.  The man’s feet had
barely touched the sidewalk before Tyrant effortlessly sliced his leg off at
the knee with his weapon, and knocked him backwards with a hard palm to the
center of his chest.  The men fell to the ground grasping at the severed stump
of his leg, screaming in pain.  Whatever this fellow’s power was, it obviously
was NOT stoicism; the silly man’s undignified
shrieks
were growing quite
annoying.  He briefly considered killing him to silence the irritating noise,
but decided to just let the fool bleed out.  He had not
EARNED
a quick
death; let him suffer.  Tyrant shook his head in disgust at the man’s loud
bawling, and stepped over his writhing body.

He continued walking calmly down
the street and his eyes swept the scene.  His gaze fell indifferently on a
battle taking place a short distance away.  He was now tired of this charade; weary
of wasting his power on something as
beneath him
as destroying these
unworthy
creatures.  He was returning to his hostage, no matter what Harlot “ordered.”