The following fictional story is based on the intellectual property of City of Heroes and City of Villains. That property was used as a backdrop for this story with the permission of both Ncsoft and Cryptic Studios. While this story uses that world as a backdrop, it is not meant to reflect either gameplay or storylines with the massively multiplayer online world. Some of the images used with Spirals of Fate have been taken from the game and modified to suit the illustrative purposes of this story. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Spirals of Fate: Chapter One - Part Two
By Michael Lafferty and Matthew Eberle

Mara looked around. Something was terribly wrong. Where were the guards? What happened to the dampening fields? She felt her own powers ready to be called forth, powers that were the result of radiation-spawned mutation. Her mother had been a witch of minor consequence, oft overlooked by those she desired attention from because, aside from the minor dimensional shifts phasing out small objects, her mother’s abilities lacked profound results. Her mother had put her hopes in Mara, of developing the ‘gene’ further, but seemed to be disappointed, for the most part. Then the transient family moved into and lived for years in the shadow of a Rikti crash site, and Mara felt herself changing. The changes first manifested themselves when her mother yelled at her, backing the scared child into a corner of the ramshackle house. The young girl wanted to get away, to disappear, and she did – disappear, that is. The full-body invisibility had pleased her mother, who regarded the talent as a treasure to be cashed in, but Mara sensed that something else was happening within - something stronger, just at the edge, teasing her. She had felt it before, but right now, with her nerves somewhat frayed, her fear of the moment’s circumstances, it was almost close enough to touch.

Vincent put his shoulder to a door, slightly ajar, forcing it wide enough for the two of them to move into the vacated hallway beyond. The noise of the prison break was slightly more distant, but they both knew that beyond the hall would be more prisoners, and more ground to traverse before they were free of this place.

“Vincent, I’m scared,” Mara whispered.

Vincent stopped and turned to look at her. He allowed a soft reassuring smile. “It will be all right.”

Then they were moving again.

Another doorway, leading to another cell block. Vincent steered them through, avoiding other prisoners. They could feel a slight breeze, fresh air, calling to them from somewhere in the direction they were headed.

_ _ _

“What the hell is going on?” One guard asked his partner.

“Don’t know, but I ain’t gonna stand here and do nothing,” the other replied, holding a taser in his left hand, fingering a holstered 9mm with his right, eyes glazed over with the prospect of violence, lips upturned into a cruel smile. “We got a choice, Stan: we can run and hide like the rest of ‘em, or we can crack a few skulls, plant a few and be heroes when the power grid comes back up. I like the idea of being a hero.”

Stan bit his lower lip, then grinned back. “I vote we plant a few.”

“Thought you would.”

_ _ _

A brutish looking fellow, one arm wrapped with barbed wire had Vincent’s attention. The fight did not take long. There were three hits in all – the first of the brute smacking at Vincent; the second was Vincent, snarling, and laying a haymaker into the side of the brute’s face; the third was the brute crashing into dented lockers, destroying a few in the process. Mara backed away from the violence, toward a corner in the room, one that led to another hallway. The threads of the taser hit her square in the back.

Electricity shot through her, the power arc high, short-circuiting her nervous system. She reared up, body rigid, eyes showing alarm. Vincent turned, saw Mara’s face go stark white and the small woman's eyes close as she slumped to the floor.

Protect her! Destroy! urged the voice, but the sound was a shallow echo in a mind already enraged and beyond listening.

_ _ _

Mosaic crept along the deserted hallway. While others tore the hated prison apart from the inside out Mosaic had only one goal – escape. When he had been thrown into this massive dungeon he had been stripped of his tools. The poisons, chemicals, and weapons he had carried were taken away. Most likely they had been destroyed by some smug hero. If he could make his way to the prison’s infirmary or one of the supply closets scattered about he could find something, make something from the stores. Then he could make his escape.

Up ahead there was a sudden movement. Two guards had come around the corner. Mosaic froze. The two guards didn’t seem to notice him as they quickly conferred. The first was gesturing with a taser gun. The second had pulled out a pistol. Mosaic held still, struggling not to breathe until the two guards stepped into another hallway, towards the sound of a scuffle. Seconds later Mosaic heard a faint scream.

That was the first time he heard it.

It sounded like a hell-sent wind, cold and trembling. The deep, bass howl filled the hallway. The villain considered fleeing as he heard a dull crunch. Something or someone had just been thrown into a metal container of some kind. Gunshots echoed down the hall. With the thick, concrete walls and floor the sound reverberated through the area. Each shot sounded like the hammer of an angry god. Mosaic slapped his hands over his ears for what protection they could give as he began to turn away. He hesitated when he saw the second guard backing up into the hallway, gun raised. Another shot rang out before the prisoner stepped into view.

Clouds of inky black mist surrounded him, obscuring his form. A virulent orange jumpsuit was visible, along with pale skin and dark hair. A bullet slammed into the prisoner’s chest. The prisoner snarled and staggered, but didn’t stop. The guard almost had enough time to bring the gun back around before the prisoner pounced. Mosaic watched as the prisoner’s clenched fist slammed into the guard’s face. He screamed in pain and staggered. A second blow lifted the guard to his toes as it caught him under the chin. The final blow flung the guard to the floor where he lay, still and unmoving.

Mosaic watched as the prisoner stood over the unconscious guard. The black mist slowly faded away, absorbed back into his body. Mosaic could finally see that it was a young, pale skinned male. The prisoner rubbed his chest where one of the bullets had struck, absently looking at the fingers for a trace of blood. The man limped quickly back into the room he had emerged from. Faint words echoed back through the halls.

“Mara? Mara, can you hear me?”

Mosaic thought for a short moment. What he had just witnessed was impressive to say the least, and bettered his chances at escape, his alchemic components or not. He edged forward, peering around the corner in the direction the male inmate had gone. He was not far away, kneeling on the ground, bent over a much smaller form. Even obscured Mosaic knew it was a female.

“Mara? ….” The voice was near panicked, insistent … “Mara? …”

Mosaic’s mind, whirling with possibilities, with intrigues, with schemes, abruptly stopped, and he allowed himself to smile. It was too easy, and too perfect.

He stepped forward.

“She is hurt,” he said softly. “I have medical training; I can help her.”

… to be continued!

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