Brendan stood right where he had been buried. His whole costume was covered in dust and smudges of blood by the arms of his leather jacket. His eyes were completely black in color, smoke spiraling inside them like a fog, like there was a darkness that had resurrected him from his grave.
'How can this be?!' The Finch walked towards him with her eyes focused on him in astonishment. She began massaging her head, 'You're a figment of my imagination or…or a ghost. There is no way you could have survived the Dirty Fate fist…Yes, that's true….you're just a ghost…Sweetheart, you're a ghost or a soul who lost his way to hell.'
One would think that the Finch had gone mad as she walked slowly toward Brendan, her eyes closed, talking almost to herself like a schizophrenic.
'You couldn't have survived the Dirty Fate fist…or maybe did they lie..? Or maybe there's something I didn't do right..?'
Brendan stood still, facing her. Even though his eyeballs were completely black and misty, everyone could tell that his focus was on the Finch.
'Maybe I should try it again…Yes, that's right..,' she nodded vehemently, her eyes still shut, 'I should try it again. I'm sure this time…'
'Life is the source of my power…'
Her eyes opened wide and she paused, a stone throw away from him. When she heard him speak she realized that he was not a ghost.
The multitude looked on, their mouths still wide open and their eyes on Brendan, the Finch or both as they stood a wary distance away from him…
'…Darkness, wickedness and injustice I shall devour. Vengeance is my specialty, upon those who show no mercy. My speed is a stranger to rivalry. My punishment could be beyond iniquity. I am the boy of legend. I live only to conquer…I am the Marauder!' He took a long breath and just as he did, the warmth left the air, leaving a nippy breeze which everyone could feel. He began walking towards her, his back straight and showing no signs of pain.
She did not attempt to run away but stood rooted to her spot with her eyes still wide in distress. 'Breaking prophecy is my specialty! I am stronger than you! Not even a Quilf can save you now..!'
Brendan maintained his slow speed.
'I don't love you..! I hate you! You didn't follow my script! You were supposed to die and I was supposed to live and lead the Versatiles in killing the human race..!'
He was now an arm's length from her.
'I am the hope for the Supremes!' She clenched her fists and stood in her Gwanjundo fighting stance. 'The Blind helper is stronger than the boy of legend!' she yelled before throwing her right fist at him which was engulfed by the green flames she had on earlier.
Brendan grabbed her wrist with his right hand with not even much of an effort. The green flames subsided and disappeared. He twisted her arm behind her, breaking it in the process.
She screamed in pain, the anguished noise filling the ghost-silent air. 'ELECTRON! First ancestor of my Race…give me strength to silence this traitor!' She was now gasping heavily in frustration. She threw her left fist next but like before, Brendan grabbed it, twisted it and broke her arm. She howled again in anger and pain. Her arms were loosely dangling by their shoulders.
'Did you honestly think that the Marauder could be killed by such a simple and inferior blow?' he asked her. 'The Marauder is truly angered by the Blind helper's actions and she too knows that she must pay for her crimes.' When he spoke, he spoke with two voices as if someone else was speaking for him.
'You're not the judge…'
'The Marauder is the judge, jury and executioner of any criminal of this city. The marauder has found the Blind helper guilty of countless first-degree murders, attempted murder, witchcraft, torture, terrorism and public threats, and he sentences her to…'
'Wait! I do not die alone,' she said.