Mistakes Like Fractures

A flash of red light smote the skyline of downtown Atlanta. One by one, buildings were run through by a neon bolt of enigmatic light. Dustclouds expanded in a staggered sequence, delayed only a split second after each impact. It rained rubble. Car alarms wailed. Civilians fled. Georgia Pacific was the final building to be lanced before the violent streak of crimson shifted trajectory and careened toward Margaret Mitchell Square. Tremors assailed the ground on impact, aftershocks reigning as the bolt continued north along Peachtree Street, grinding a ditch into the asphalt in its wake. Traffic parted onto the sidewalks, vehicles either swerving or getting battered aside violently. When the street forked, the red bolt lifted, neatly threading the walkway of the Carnegie Monument before slamming into the turf of the park that lay beyond it.

When dirt and dust began to settle, Ultra’s stationary figure was finally discernable where he’d once been little more than a vivid blur. Clenched in his bloody left fist was a tattered remnant of a getup that had once belonged to a villainous adversary. Now, the outfit and its owner had been ground into naught but shreds upon the cityscape. Blood-soaked digits released the fabric, allowing it to flutter away in the wind. Morsels of flesh squelched as they were flung from Ultra’s hand with a lackadaisical shake. Still awash with gore, the offending hand flipped the bird to a news helicopter that circled overhead.

Suddenly, a distant yet imminent whizzing sound twinged at his ears. Reflexively, Ultra pivoted, his grasp snapping forward instantly to snatch an incoming speedster assailant by the skull. Inertia carried the contender’s body forward despite the sudden halt that had been forced above his shoulders. Bones crepitated sickeningly as the neck and spine severed with impossible force. Limp, the body arced overhead at the behest of Ultra’s arm, and slammed into the pavement just a few feet away from the crater he’d created when dealing with the previous accomplice. Blood was painted erratically in all directions, the body’s limbs twitching like the legs of a fly that had been flattened beneath a swatter.

Another one down, three more to deal with. This was quickly becoming overkill for something as trivial as a meta-human orchestrated robbery. Given the corpses they left, though, they certainly had it coming as far as Ulta was concerned. Authorities might require some convincing, perhaps a simple reminder as to how far away Atlanta was from the nearest meta-human prison.

Finally, moments later, the final three in the criminal troupe arrived to surround Ultra, angered and horrified by the sight of their speedy accomplice who was now little more than a macabre pavement mural.

“Y’all don’t feel like givin’ up yet?” Ultra mocked with a condescending gesture. He wouldn’t chase them, and the police certainly weren’t going to lock them down. Arrests weren’t Ultra’s thing, whereas being a violent deterrent certainly was.“Might as well just start runnin’.”

Instead of any verbal response, one of the three released a vibrant beam of energy toward him, seeking retribution for her slaughtered accomplices. Ultra’s hand swatted the beam backhandedly, redirecting it into a building where it exploded and brought rubble avalanching to the pavement. Smoke billowed from his fingers, a vestigial stinging sensation flaring up beneath his bloodied glove.

“Ya’ know, not many people have the thought…”

Ultra’s eyes began to intensify in their glow, a similar aura overtaking his outline. Gravity began to misbehave in his immediate vicinity, his hair and cape fluttering unnaturally in the absence of wind whilst stray fragments of rubble began to levitate.

“...that when they’re on thin ice, they might as well dance.”

It was a grim observation of their defiance in the face of what was coming. A malevolent grin cracked against his otherwise austere visage. “I like it,” he admitted flippantly. “But, it ain’t gonna change nothin’.”

With that final assertion, jagged twin beams of red-black Ultrawaves exploded from his gaze, crackling as they tore through the atmosphere toward the one that had thrown the beam. She was struck with a look of horror before holding her arms up to protect herself, disappearing somewhere within the radiated inferno that exploded from impact, fate uncertain behind the haze.

This always happened when they wouldn't listen.

Anticipation grew with the parting of smoke. Ultra's stoic figure betrayed the gnawing suspense, his every nerve in a heightened state of trepidation. Fingers writhed impatiently, oversaturated with violent impulses. The sensation of impending impact swelled, fueling a certain, toxic eagerness. Quickly, that feeling festered into aimless agitation when nothing penetrated the smog to challenge him. Ultra's digits ceased their fidgeting and balled into indignant fists once the smoldering black fog had cleared, and that agitation found direction.

Chellizard wrote:"You're no better than them if you can't even stop them without shedding blood and leaving destruction in your wake!"

Crimson eyes gleamed behind the dissipating haze, unperturbed and indifferent to the alien's attempt to intimidate him as a sneer slowly crept across his face. Long red tails of ultrawave energy were billowing from the central glow of his eyes, their movements serrated and erratic like lightning.  They swayed with his head as it turned slowly to look between the sphere and its conjurer, and then back again. Ultra withheld his reply long enough that the silence nearly became tangible beneath the tension. There was a small contortion in his brow that telegraphed the gears turning in his head.

"Ya' really believe that?" he challenged, finally breaking the silence.

Fists released from their disgruntled knots, the stiffness of anticipation fading with wordless assessment. A blink separated the tails of energy from his gaze, his eyelids clamping shut like miniature guillotines. The red lightning-like streaks floated into the air, dissipating into a red vapor before dissolving entirely, leaving behind nothing but an ozone-esque scent. Ultra took a step forward and threw a half-assed gesture toward the path of destruction he'd wrought only moments before.

"Reckon I didn't see you anywhere when they was leavin' blood 'n bodies behind just to make a buck."

A few slow steps later he was in arm's reach of the sphere that had trapped his almost-victim. His hand raised and flicked the surface of the sphere with a force great enough to expel air from the vicinity, causing a gale in all directions that disturbed leaves, litter, and the sable hair that hung at either side of Ultra's face. Much of the blood that was spattered across his suit, half-concealed by the black and red threads, was liberated by the gust and sent into the air and onto the pavement. Thunder cracked behind the gust, shattering the glass of car windows and walkways lamps within a few dozen yards. The woman inside belted a silent scream and flinched into a protective position.

Yet, the sphere held, and the woman was unharmed. Ultra emanated a vexed yet inquisitive hum before turning his body to face the interloper.

"Someone had ta' do somethin', right? 'S just that, when I see so many people cut down for nothin', I can't help but get a little..."

Over his shoulder, Ultra glanced the flattened and mangled formed of the speedster on the pavement, now slightly disturbed from the wind moments earlier. Looking back to the alien, he nodded his head lazily in the direction of the corpse.

"Biblical."