10:00 p.m.
JOHN BROWN
The stage is alive, bathed in the warm glow of evening lights. I stand beside my best friend and musical partner, Kevin Hunter. The hum of the audience fades into a reverent hush, their anticipation almost tangible.
Kevin begins to sing, his voice carrying the raw emotion of someone who has truly lived the love we are here to share.
"I have tasted, I have seen
The realness of Your love for me
It's written on Your hands and feet
It's all the evidence I'll ever need."
Each word resonates, pulling the audience into his heartfelt testimony. Their faces soften, their eyes fixed on him.
Then it's my turn. I join in, our voices intertwining effortlessly, a product of years of friendship and shared passion for music.
"Your love is better than life
I can't even wrap my mind around it
One day here in Your house
Better than a thousand elsewhere."
The chorus lifts the room into unified praise. Voices join ours, filling the space with an overwhelming sense of love and devotion.
As we reach the bridge, Kevin's voice softens, soothing and steady:
"Surely Your goodness and mercy will follow me
Every time I turn around."
The crowd echoes the affirmation. It's a moment of unity—a connection between every soul present.
We close the song with the chorus once more, our voices soaring:
"Run, run, runnin'
Run, run, runnin'
Run, run, runnin' after me."
The final note lingers, then fades, leaving a powerful stillness in its wake. A moment later, the room erupts into applause, cheers, and a standing ovation.
Backstage, we slip into the dressing room to change into our regular clothes. As I zip up my jacket, my adopted parents and biological mother enter, their faces lit with pride.
"Hey! Good evening, sir, ma'am! How are you all doing?" I say, hugging them.
"We're good," they reply in unison.
"You both were incredible tonight," my adopted father says.
"Thank you, sir," I reply, smiling.
"There's someone here to speak with you both, especially you, John," he adds.
"Who?"
"He's waiting in the hallway."
Curious, Kevin and I follow them to the crossover hallway. There, standing tall in a striking black costume adorned with intricate gold designs, is a formidable figure.
"Good evening, John Brown and Kevin Hunter," the man says, his voice resonating with calm authority. "I am Path Finder, god of elements and genius. You may also know me as the clairvoyant."
Kevin can't hold back his amazement. "Man, that costume is incredible."
"Is he a family member?" I ask, confused.
"No," my adopted father says. "He's here for a more serious matter. Pay attention."
Path Finder steps forward, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "The first Apocalypse looms, John. A confrontation between Earth and Gavaria is approaching, and the fate of both worlds hangs in the balance. While Earth enjoys peace, there are forces determined to shatter it."
"Who are these forces?" I ask.
"Outsiders," he says grimly. "Malacoda, a rising power among them, has sent his messengers—Birsha, Allatou, and Aynat—to announce his imminent arrival. Earth has fourteen days to prepare for war. And you, John, have been chosen to join its fighters."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because you have the potential to tip the scales. Your gifts are extraordinary, and your service will shape the destiny of this war—and your own life."
I turn to my mother, confused. "Mom, you told me never to use my powers again."
She hesitates, then sighs. "I was wrong. Exceptional skills come with exceptional responsibilities. It's time you embraced that."
Kevin jumps in. "Wait—what about school and our music career? Are we supposed to put everything on hold for this?"
Path Finder's expression softens. "John can still help me fight this war without giving up on music. You two can rehearse online, share notes, and support each other from afar. Nothing has to stop—only adjust."
I pause, my heart racing. This is bigger than anything I've ever faced.
"So, John," Path Finder says, "are you in or out?"
I take a deep breath. "I'm in. When does it start?"
"Soon," he says, his tone steady. "Meet me at Billings Logan International Airport in Montana. I have one more fighter to recruit."
The weight of his words settles over me. A new chapter of my life begins, one filled with uncertainty—but also purpose.
10:30 p.m.
JOSEPH
A Russian stumbles through the dense outskirts of the Australian bush, his breath ragged and uneven. His boots crunch against the dirt, and his head snaps back every few seconds, eyes wild with fear. The night is heavy, cloaked in shadows that seem to tighten around him. He bursts out of the tree line and leaps into his car, slamming the door behind him, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the keys.
He thinks he's safe.
From my perch in the darkness, I draw my bowstring, my movements silent and deliberate. The arrow flies, slicing through the air with deadly precision. It strikes its mark—a sickening thud as it pins his brother's lifeless body against the car door.
"What the hell?!" he screams, panic flooding his voice.
The engine roars to life, and he peels away, the tires kicking up dirt and gravel as he vanishes into the night. I lower my bow, my mind already shifting from the chaos of the hunt to what awaits me back home.
By the time I step into the house, my younger sister, Benedicta, is finishing her evening routine. She carries two plates to the dining room, humming softly to herself, oblivious to the weight of the night I carry on my shoulders.
When I enter through the window, her soft hum halts. She turns, and the glass of water in her hand slips, shattering against the tiled floor.
"Ahhh! What the hell are you doing here?!" Her voice trembles, the panic raw and cutting.
I raise my hands in a calming gesture. "Don't panic, Benedicta. I'm not here to hurt you. We need to talk."
Her breath steadies, though her eyes remain sharp and wary. "Talk about what?"
"Do you know Andrew Williams?"
Her expression hardens at the name. "Yeah, I do. Why are you asking?"
"He's becoming a serious threat to Australia. I can't let him continue his criminal activities."
She folds her arms, a shadow of concern crossing her face. "I get it, Menace. Williams is dangerous, and his grip on this city is getting tighter. But do you really think you can take him on alone? The man's got connections everywhere—police, politicians, the underworld. He's not someone you can just take down without consequences."
"I know the risks, Benedicta," I say, my voice firm. "But I can't stand by while he corrupts the system and destroys innocent lives. Someone has to stop him."
She steps closer, her voice softer but no less urgent. "You've already been through hell—physically, emotionally. Is this worth risking everything?"
"It's not just about me. It's about the people he's hurting. Williams preys on the vulnerable, and they deserve justice. If I don't do this, who will?"
Her shoulders sag slightly, the weight of my words sinking in. "I get that, but you're not invincible. You've come back beaten and bleeding more times than I can count. What happens if one day you don't come back?"
I meet her gaze, unwavering. "I've trained for years to be ready for this. I know the risks, but I've also learned to trust my instincts. I can handle him."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Fine. But brute force isn't enough with someone like Williams. He's always a step ahead. You need a plan. Gather evidence, expose him, and let the system take him down. You can't just fight him in the shadows forever."
I nod slowly, her words cutting through my resolve with logic. "You're right. I need to build a case against him, something solid. It won't be easy, but it's the best way to make sure he faces justice."
A small smile tugs at her lips, though her eyes still hold a flicker of worry. "That's more like it. Just… promise me you'll be careful. You might be a hero, but even heroes can't do everything alone."
I take a step back toward the window, my mind already racing with plans. "Thanks, Benedicta. I'll be careful. And I promise, I won't let him win."
"Goodnight, Menace. Be smart out there."
"Always," I reply, slipping into the night as her words linger in my mind.
MR. WESLEY
Across town, the Russians gather in a dimly lit warehouse with me, their faces tense and drawn. The air is thick with the smell of oil and rust, and the faint hum of machinery fills the silence between us.
"Gentlemen," I begin, my tone smooth but commanding. "You're making a grave mistake by not considering Mr. Williams's offer."
One of the Russians, a wiry man with sharp features, leans forward. "We've had enough of that violent devil. He's a problem we don't need."
I smirk, keeping my voice steady. "Menace is a problem, yes. But Williams can offer you something Menace can't—structure. Power. Survival."
The Russians exchange uneasy glances. One of them finally speaks, his voice hesitant. "We're not sure... he's asking too much."
"Change is inevitable," I say, leaning forward. "You either embrace it or get swept away by it. Make your decision wisely."
The Russians remain silent, their unease palpable. Finally, they nod in agreement, though their tension remains.
At the hospital, the Russians visit their colleague—the one Menace left broken on Benedicta's rooftop. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the room, highlighting the bandages that cover his battered body. He winces as they approach, his breath shallow and labored.
"You need to tell us everything about that devil who attacked you," one of them demands, his voice low but insistent.
The injured man swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "The devil... he's dangerous. And Benedicta..." His words trail off as he fights for breath. "He knows about Benedicta."
The Russians exchange sharp looks, their plan forming unspoken between them.
"Good," one of them mutters. "Find Benedicta and make her talk. We'll get his real identity. Meanwhile, we'll report this to Mr. Wesley."
In Mr. Williams's opulent office, I sit across from him, the glow of the city skyline casting long shadows across the room. Williams lounges in his leather chair, his brow furrowed in thought as I outline the latest developments.
"It's clear that Menace is becoming a problem we can't ignore," I say, steepling my fingers. "The Russians tried to handle him, and they failed. He's more resourceful than we anticipated."
Williams nods slowly, his gaze distant. "You're right, Wesley. Menace is a wild card, and we can't let him jeopardize everything we've worked for. But brute force hasn't worked. We need a different approach—something more... surgical."
I lean back, considering his words. "Leverage," I suggest. "We need to find out what drives him, what weaknesses he has. If we control the narrative around him, we can control him."
A slow smile spreads across Williams's face, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Information is power, Wesley. Let's dig into his past—find the skeletons he's hiding. And if there aren't any..." He pauses, his smile turning cold. "We'll create some. His reputation will be our weapon."
I nod, a plan already forming in my mind. "Understood. Menace won't know what hit him."
The room falls silent as we finalize our unspoken agreement, the weight of our scheme settling like a storm on the horizon. The war against Menace has begun, and we intend to win.
JOSEPH
I return home, only to freeze at the sight of a group of Russian thugs, led by Yuri, dragging Benedicta into an unmarked van. My heart pounds, panic and fury surging through me. My sister is in danger, and I can't afford to waste a second.
Keeping my distance, I trail the van through the dimly lit streets to an abandoned warehouse. As I park, I change into my red and black costume, every motion sharp with urgency. From the shadows, I watch them pull Benedicta out of the van and shove her into the decrepit building.
Inside the warehouse, the air is heavy with the stench of mold and despair. I glimpse Benedicta tied to a chair, her face bruised, her breathing uneven. Yuri towers over her, his voice laced with frustration.
"Tell us who Menace really is," Yuri demands, gripping her chin roughly. "Or you'll regret it."
"I don't know!" Benedicta snaps, defiance flickering in her eyes despite her trembling body.
Yuri's patience wears thin. He nods at one of his men, who stuffs a filthy rag into her mouth, muffling her protests. My fists clench as I see tears streak down her dirt-stained face.
Every instinct screams at me to act, but I hold back, waiting for the perfect moment. When Yuri pulls a knife and presses it to her arm, I can't wait any longer.
The snap of my bowstring breaks the tension. An arrow strikes the knife from Yuri's hand, clattering it to the floor.
"What the—?!" one thug shouts.
I fire another arrow, this one piercing the wrist of the man holding Benedicta's gag. He cries out, dropping the rag and stumbling back.
I leap from the shadows, using an arrow to swing down from a hanging chain. I land silently behind another thug, who barely has time to react before I knock him unconscious with the tip of my bow.
"Who the hell are you?" Yuri yells, grabbing a gun.
I stay silent, firing a gas arrow at his feet. Smoke fills the room, disorienting the thugs. In the chaos, I disarm two more men, pinning one to the wall with an arrow through his sleeve and immobilizing another by shooting his boot into the floor.
"Get him!" Yuri commands, coughing through the smoke.
Another thug rushes at me blindly, but I sidestep and strike him with a blunted arrow to the chest. He crumples to the ground, groaning in pain.
With the thugs incapacitated, I stride toward Benedicta. Her wide eyes meet mine, filled with both relief and disbelief.
"You're safe now," I whisper, cutting her restraints.
"Menace," she breathes, her voice shaky. "Thank you."
I nod and help her to her feet, guiding her out of the warehouse.
---
In my underground laboratory, Benedicta sits silently as I patch her wounds. The dim light casts long shadows, adding to the weight of the moment.
"This is where you live?" she asks, her voice breaking the silence.
"Yes," I reply, focused on cleaning a cut on her arm. "Does it still hurt?"
"A little," she admits. "But thank you... for everything."
"You don't need to thank me," I say, setting the bandages aside. "It's my fault you were taken. They tortured you because of me."
She shakes her head, her voice firm. "No, Menace. It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for what those monsters did."
"I hesitated," I admit, the guilt heavy in my voice. "I should've acted faster."
"And gotten yourself killed? You saved me, Menace. That's what matters."
I hesitate, then pull back my hood and remove my mask, revealing my face to her. Her eyes widen in shock, her breath catching.
"Joseph? You're... Menace?"
"Yes," I say quietly. "I'm your brother."
She stares at me, processing. "How... how is this even possible? Where did you learn all this?"
I lower my gaze. "Have you forgotten? Our brothers sold me to the herdsmen, and the herdsmen sold me to Captain Anatoli. He taught me everything—martial arts, archery, survival. I trained for years to become what I am now."
Benedicta nods slowly, tears glistening in her eyes. "And you became a hero. You've been through so much, and yet here you are, protecting people—even me."
"I showed you my face because I trust you," I tell her. "And because if they come for you again, you need to know who I am."
"I'll never reveal your name, Joseph," she says firmly.
"Even if it means saving your life?" I press.
"Even then," she insists. "You're my brother, and I'll protect you, just like you protect me."
A voice suddenly cuts through the moment. "Touching. But the world needs more than a single archer's protection."
Both of us whip around. A man in a black and gold costume steps out of the shadows.
"Who are you?" I demand, grabbing my bow.
He raises his hands in a gesture of peace. "I am Path Finder, god of elements and a clairvoyant. I've come to recruit you, Menace, for a far greater battle."
I keep my arrow trained on him. "What do you mean?"
"Earth is on the brink of war with external forces," he explains. "Malacoda, a powerful enemy, has given us fourteen days to prepare. I need your help to fight for the survival of this planet."
I hesitate, my mind racing. "Why me?"
"Because you have the skills and the will to make a difference," Path Finder says calmly. "But if you refuse, your city—and everything you hold dear—will be among the first to fall."
Benedicta places a hand on my arm. "Joseph, you have to go. If what he says is true, this is bigger than all of us."
"But if I leave, who will protect you?" I ask, torn.
"I'll manage," she assures me. "Joshua will help. Go save the world, Joseph."
I lower my bow and nod. "Alright, Path Finder. I'll help. But once it's over, I'm coming back."
Path Finder smiles. "Good. Meet me in Billings, Montana. The battle begins soon."
As he vanishes into the shadows, I glance at Benedicta. Her strength and faith in me give me the resolve I need.
"Take care of yourself," I tell her softly.
"You too," she replies.
And with that, I prepare for the fight of a lifetime
To be continued....