Another long week, that’s all it had been. Giovanni had been busy working on his project for the Crawford siblings and he was close to finishing. Myla had been extra busy with her charities, which meant she was gone for long hours every day. Tate was healing, Tana was trying to find a work-vigilante-family life balance, and Isaiah was watching both of their progresses. It gave Isaiah something to focus on whenever he finished up each lesson in the dojo. Even though he was supposed to be retired, he still struggled being totally alone at times.
It was a day just like any other. Gio had been coming and going all day, Myla had gotten up and kissed him goodbye, and Isaiah was left completely alone right as the sun finally began to dip behind the horizon. Myla would return later in the night and Gio needed to stay in his own home for a night. He tried relaxing, first. Lighting some candles, brewing some tea, and huddling up with a book. When that didn’t work, he tried watching sports. Anything he could find as he channel surfed. Nothing held his attention for long, making his eyes want to cross and his palms feel sweaty. He was itching for something to do. Wanting almost desperately for a student to call him and ask for a lesson or Gio to come bursting through the door with a new idea.
Instead, Isaiah found himself standing by a window and watching as the city life dwindled down for a Tuesday night. There would always be someone wandering the streets in a city that never sleeps, but it did often dip at certain times. He would sometimes let his mind drift away and think about what random people’s lives may be like. Which was precisely what he was doing as he sipped his tea. He had every intention of finishing it before finding something else to do, too. Still too tightly wound, even after so many years as a civilian. Though it may have been a good thing that his senses were still as keen as they were.
All it took was a creak of the old, wooden floorboards behind him. So faint that most people probably wouldn’t have heard it with the television still on in the background. Isaiah, however, heard it and remained facing forward. Watching as buildings and streets lit up as it grew darker outside. Even though he chose to stay in the old brownstone building, in what was considered a rougher neighborhood, he still admired the newer buildings of New Elysium. Perhaps because they were all sprouting up thanks to his wife and all of her efforts. Without her, the city wouldn’t even exist to begin with. With her, it was a gleaming pillar that continued to grow and shine.
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“If you’re here for a fight then I must warn you, my wife would kill us both for breaking anything in this loft.” At the sound of Isaiah’s voice the person completely halted their steps. They were still a decent distance from him, and staying out of the reflection in the window.
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“And I’d expect nothing less from that fierce lady.” The voice jarred Isaiah. He paused the tea cup at his lips. Taking a moment before he took his final sip and turned around. Face to face with the last man he expected to see. “Good to see you again, old friend. How’s life been treating you?”
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There stood Walter Crawford in the middle of Isaiah’s living room. Shit-eating smirk, eyebrow quirked up, and arms outstretched. He was wearing a dressy suit, similar to the same one he had on the last time Isaiah laid his eyes on him in person. It looked both cheap and expensive at the same time — a certain quality that only Walter could pull off. The man hadn’t aged much in three years, but the same couldn’t be said about Isaiah. He’d grayed immensely in just a couple of years, put on a few extra pounds, and truthfully couldn’t see well without glasses or contacts anymore. He had been feeling his age a touch extra in recent months. He suspected that was what happened as someone inched ever closer to the age of fifty. Yet his wife, whom he had been with for over a decade and hadn’t aged a day in almost a hundred years, would argue that point with him.
There was a mix of emotions that flashed across the older man’s face. He truly didn’t know how to feel or react to his old friend standing before him. On one hand it was a bold move to show himself after everything, but on the other it could have been a ploy. There wasn’t any chance that this was Walter coming to turn himself in. Would he give up all of his plans and beg for forgiveness? No, that had never been Walter’s style. It became more obvious as he slowly sat down in one of the arm chairs near the coffee table that this wasn’t actually a social visit.
“We’ve certainly gotten old, haven’t we?” He tried to talk through Isaiah’s silence, probably looking for the trigger that would make him speak back. “Can’t believe we were both in our twenties and roaming the streets together at one point.”
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Eventually Isaiah walked over and sat his tea cup down on the coffee table. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch, keeping distance between himself and Walter. Though Isaiah himself had never known that Walter was Leviathan, he’d always known just how dangerous Walter could be. They’d both gotten into plenty of bar fights and came out the victors together in their youth.
“Why are you here, Walter?” Isaiah almost jumped at the sound of his own voice. It was stern, but came out louder than he’d meant for it to. He wanted to keep as much of his composure as he could. The last thing he wanted was to offer this man any chance of getting inside of his head. “I doubt you’re here to do the right thing. Doing the right thing has never really been in your deck of cards.”
For a moment Walter hesitated, frowning deeply as he looked away from Isaiah. He clasped his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees. Then started wringing his hands before finally looking back at Isaiah. The look that resided there was one of clear regret, but he’d always had a knack for hiding what he truly felt from everyone.
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“I didn’t ever want it to go this far, Say.” And now Walter was resorting to using the nickname he’d given the older man so many years ago. Isaiah had given him a similar one, Yo-Yo. He knew exactly what Walter was trying to pull. How he was trying to manipulate the strings that held together Isaiah’s heart. Something he didn’t know was that Isaiah had cut those ties many moons ago.
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“How far did you expect it to go, Walter? Attempting to kill your own children not once, but twice? Teaming up with a woman that is suspected to be involved in hundreds of murders?” He couldn’t help it; he felt himself becoming angry. His patience had worn out when it came to this man years prior. He couldn’t muster any up even now. Meditation probably wouldn’t even help him.
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The look on Walter’s face changed drastically as Isaiah spoke to him. It held clear pain. His forehead creased as worry took over. His hands rubbed over his face roughly, resting on his chin and covering his mouth as he looked up at the ceiling. “And… how is Tate? Do you know?”
That shocked Isaiah. The genuine concern that Walter held. He was truly worried about his son and that was clear in his eyes whenever he looked back at Isaiah. He’d never been a good man, but he’d always wanted to be a better father. That was one of his very few commendable qualities. Whenever Walter wasn’t overcome by his addiction he wanted nothing more than to improve the lives of his children. At his worst, though, he had a God complex from hell.
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“He’s alive. He’s healing, but he’s tough. He had to have open heart surgery because of your partner.” Crossing one of his legs over the other, Isaiah used it as a subtle way to get the knife he kept strapped to his ankle. He could still feel it — something was off about this whole situation. Though, he watched as Walter looked conflicted again. Relief washed over him for a brief moment, but then the regret returned.
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“You have to believe me, I never wanted to hurt either of them.”
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“Never wanted to hurt them?! Walter, everything you’ve become is hurting them!” He couldn’t believe what this man was saying. How blind he still was to everything, but Walter wasn’t going to back down that easily.
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“I mean it! If I’d known Sentinel was Giovanni I would have never agreed to any of this! I could barely convince her-”
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“What did you do?” The realization hit Isaiah. Walter had made some kind of deal, an exchange, with Warmonger. He watched Walter’s eyes intently as they stared right back into his. Hoping to read anything on the man. “What the hell did you agree to?”
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“I’m sorry, Isaiah…” Walter’s eyes darted briefly from Isaiah to a place just behind him before moving back to look at Isaiah again. “Myla and Gio aren’t here. If I didn’t do this she was going to kill my family.”
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Isaiah tensed himself, bracing for what he now knew to be coming. “So that’s it, hm? Trying to trade my life for theirs?” He shook his head in disbelief at the man that he once called a best friend. “You’re a fool. She can’t be trusted.” Almost as soon as the final words left his mouth, Isaiah felt hands grip his neck and head. Probably meaning to break his neck in a swift move, he reached up and grabbed the person behind him by their shoulders and wrenched them forward. Sending them flying over him and the couch, crashing into the coffee table and revealing Warmonger herself. Walter activated his exo-suit and tipped the chair he was sitting in backwards, trying to get away from what he knew was about to be an all-out brawl.
No quicker than he could get over the back of the couch was Warmonger already back to her feet and standing like she was waiting to pounce. Isaiah pulled his knife up, holding it angled down. He didn’t enjoy using lethal tactics, but if he needed to he absolutely would. This woman had a personal grudge against him. He’d nearly caught her once shortly before he retired. She’d slipped just out of his grasp and disappeared from New Elysium City entirely for a few years after that, but Isaiah had retired by then. Yet clearly neither of them had forgotten their previous run-in.
Warmonger was the first to make a move, vaulting back over the couch and going straight for Isaiah’s knife. He was able to deflect several of her grasps and attacks, but it didn’t take long for her to land a blow and disarm him. The way she twisted his wrist made it immediately ache. He barely knocked her away enough to put some distance between them, but she quickly closed it again. Hitting him in his face hard enough to stagger him. He could taste the metallic flavor from where his lip had been smashed into his teeth. Countering it with a palm strike and a high kick directly to her head.
The difference between the two’s fighting styles were that he could be fast and light, but she hit much heavier. She could take much harder hits and only seemed to get angrier after each one. Every time Isaiah landed a hit it seemed like she landed two more. It didn’t take long for her to catch his leg and hit him right on the inside of his kneecap. He could feel the break instantly, and could hear the cracking sound it made as she snapped his bone like it was a twig. It left him with no choice. Trying to stay on his feet he quickly hit all of the pressure points he could get to on her, as hard as he could. Her right arm was the first to drop, losing her mobility in it briefly as he’d paralyzed it. He jammed his thumb into her brachial nerve, pressing into it and holding on as long as he could before she kicked him away and staggered backwards.
Isaiah was only still standing on his broken leg because of the adrenaline. He knew it. He knew that soon he’d not be able to fight any longer. Getting space between the two of them was good, but that quickly proved to be dangerous as the elevator door pinged open and revealed Giovanni standing inside. It happened in a flash, he looked directly at Isaiah and then turned his head to see Warmonger and Leviathan on the other side of the room. His face twisted into distress as he took off running, making it out of the elevator with a hand stretched outwards. During the brief moment that Isaiah had looked towards the opening doors, Warmonger had pulled out a grenade with her only hand that still functioned and launched it right for Isaiah. Gio’s fingertips barely touched it, but even though he was a football legend he didn’t have Nia’s superhuman reflexes.
Just out of his grasp, the grenade went slightly wide due to his fingers pushing it, and it exploded just to the left of Isaiah. Gio went flying backwards due to the blast and hit the elevator door. Shortly after the floor began to shake underneath him. Small charges had been placed in the dojo below, on all the support beams. The foundation under them cracked and before they knew it they were all falling ten feet into the concrete ground below. Gio was barely conscious, but when he opened his eyes fully he realized that he was hanging just inches above the ground. Leviathan had caught him and shielded him from the debris that was still falling, lowering him completely to the ground before part of the roof came crashing down into him. Knocked off to the side, it left Gio frantically looking around in the dust trying to see Isaiah. Ringing ears, seeing spots from how bright the explosion had been, but he finally spotted him. Lying pinned underneath a slab of concrete was Isaiah. Gio got to his feet and ran towards him, struggling to push the debris off him. Isaiah was burnt, bloody, and not breathing.
It didn’t take long before Warmonger emerged from under debris herself, pulling out a gun and stumbling towards both Giovanni and Isaiah. Not knowing what to do, Gio was paralyzed in fear. He shook Isaiah to try and wake him, begging him to open his eyes, but to no avail. Giovanni in that moment simply accepted his death. He looked up at Warmonger and watched as she staggered closer, resigning to close his own eyes and allow it to happen. She took aim and, as the ringing in his ears was finally starting to cease, heard three shots.
When he felt nothing he opened his eyes and was astonished at what he saw. Standing in front of both Giovanni and Isaiah was Myla. Bathed in a golden glow, clothes burning away to reveal metal armor that was materializing on her body, large wings jutting from the slots in the back of her armor, and holding a magnificent shield that sparkled like what Gio imagined the heaven’s would. A circlet donned her head as her hair flowed. She extended her right hand and a sword materialized into it, shining golden and sparkling just like her shield.
She opened her mouth to speak and her voice boomed, causing a wind to blow with every word. “YOU WILL DIE HERE!” She raised her sword high as Warmonger attempted to shoot her again, slashing down and causing a shockwave of blinding light that sent the woman flying backwards and crashing through what was left of the wall. More debris fell down on top of her and immediately after Myla turned around to drop to her knees beside Gio. She dropped her sword and shield, which caused them to dematerialize, and grasped at Isaiah. Her hands were desperate, as was her expression, as she rested her ear to his chest and pulled away. The scream she let out was deafening, it caused Gio to have to cover his ears with his own hands.
At first, Myla spoke in a different language. It sounded Norse, but if Giovanni had to guess he would assume it was Old Norse. A wind continued to blow as she spoke, but eventually came to a halt as she began to sob. “Please! I beg of you, hear me! Odin, Freyja, I will return to you as your valkyr if only you allow me to save him!” Gio was shocked at what she was saying. “I will never again leave your side if that is what it takes! I will forever stay in Valhalla, if only you do not take him! Please, give me back my full power so I may bring him back!”
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Almost on cue, Isaiah took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes wide. He looked around frantically as Myla began to sob again and speak to him in Old Norse. She gently pushed his hair off his forehead, telling him that it was all going to be okay as the fire department and ambulances finally began to arrive on the scene. Even though he was breathing, Isaiah lost consciousness again shortly after. Myla watched as both Isaiah and Gio were loaded into ambulances, standing at what was once the entrance to the dojo. Just before the door was shut on Gio’s ambulance he could see as she, herself, began to apparently dematerialize similarly to how her sword and shield had prior. She looked up at the sky and smiled, fading away entirely just as the door was slammed.
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Valkyrie, also known as her true identity of Hildr, had her prayers answered. Coming to earth in 1944 to stop another collapse of civilization, she fought a man only known to the world as Armageddon. She defeated him, with some help from a few friends she made along the way, and ultimately chose to defy Odin and Freya to stay with humanity. Feeling that she was needed far more on earth than she was in Asgard. She was one of the founders of New Elysium City, and became known as its fearless protector. Once again rising to the cause to stop Armageddon when he ultimately returned in 2012, where she stopped him with Isaiah as Sentinel. Without their main protector, what will become of New Elysium? Of the supers who call it their home? Nothing good can come of Valkyrie choosing one man’s life over that of millions.
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