The train shuddered violently, shaken by the raging storm that swirled around it. The wind slashed at the walls of the train with icy claws, slipping in through chinks in the metal shell. The frigid air burst through gaps in the sides of the shoddy cars at the back of the train, waking someone who wasn't meant to be there. They opened their eyes as their body felt the sudden surge of cold air swirling about them. He checked his watch; it read 1:00 AM. It was time for him to do his job.
From the pocket of his jeans, he pulled a small metallic disc. It had a singular button on its surface. He clicked it and read the pale green words that appeared on its surface.
Target: John Gonzales. Code Name: Twister. Hunter: Peter Het. Difficulty: 7.
He shut the device off and forced himself up. It was finally the right time. The room around him was engulfed in inky blackness, which didn't bother him. The shadows were comfortable. He pulled on a tough overcoat and checked his belt to ensure that his knife was still there. The cold wooden handle was a comfort as he set his hand on it. It reminded him of the life he'd had when it was given to him. He stopped himself. It wasn't the time to sulk on the past; it never was.
Still surrounded by deep shadows and frigid air, he stalked forward down the length of the train. He had a job to do. He'd been sleeping hidden among the cargo of the car at the very back of the train. Like most, it was designed to fulfill as many purposes as possible, transporting people and whatever else would fit. There were a few others who had snuck into the storage cars, either too poor to afford a seat in the posh passenger seats or convicted of too many crimes to be given one.
Outside of the train, a ruined landscape flashed by, destroyed by a war that had shattered the world decades ago. The world had crumbled as it changed, the old way of life dying as new forms of life emerged. Before the war, nuclear conflict had been a fantastic horror, an apocalyptic future that loomed over the horizon. Then it happened, and the aftermath became the grim reality of life. In the aftermath, the powers emerged. They had been what sparked the war and then became the inferno that consumed the world after.
Peter stopped his musings and jumped from one car to the next. He found himself in front of the door to the passenger car. His hand rested on the handle of his blade; he imagined it crying out for blood. One deep breath in, one breath out. He stepped through the door.
As the door slid open, the storm outside tore out the warm air within like the void of space. It shut quickly behind Peter, the cold air drifting about the entrance like dying wisps of fog, darting away from Peter. Few of the occupants looked towards him; most of them were dead in their sleep, and for those who were awake, the disturbance was too small to draw their attention. Like a small child shouting, his entrance was a nuisance and nothing more to them. It wouldn't be that way in a few moments.
Peter stalked confidently down the aisles and came up to one of the private booths. The sound of his knuckle rapping against the glass door joined the rattle of the car under the force of the deluge. The sound of his knuckle droned on and on, ignored by the people around him. The door slid open with a grating hiss, and the smell of expensive tea greeted him. A well-dressed man stood in the doorway, his hand hidden behind his back.
"What business do you have with Mr. Gonzalez?"
Peter used the lie he had prepared. "I'm just a big fan of Twister and wanted to meet him in person. Could I?"
The bodyguard turned away, and Peter acted in that moment. He shot forward with unnatural speed. Just before he collided with the guard, his body vanished, replaced by a shadow. Both entities - the shadow and guard - were jettisoned through the train wall, leaving a rupture that bled into the night.
One deep breath. Peter locked his eyes on his bounty. The man wore a sleek gray jacket and sat next to the newly torn gash in the train wall. He stood to his feet, barely holding in his bloodlust. He looked at Peter, his eyes glimmering with a crazed excitement.
Peter had drawn his blade.
The man across from him held glinting steel screws between each of his fingers.
Lights in the hall of the train flickered. The sound of panicked passengers struggled to overcome the howl of the wind. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Twister shouted over the wind.
Peter looked the man in his eyes, holding his emotions behind a dam. It wasn't the time to feel. A few of the passengers rushed past him like frightened animals searching for refuge from a prowling beast.
Peter spoke. "We should wait for all the passengers to get out."
The other man tilted his head to the side like a cocky child; he shifted the screws in his hands. "I don't think I will. Makes a better story if it looks like I saved the survivors from some psychopath."
The wind from before suddenly felt like a light breeze compared to what followed. The air swirled together into a rioting vortex that threatened to throw Peter through the wound in the wall. He disappeared, leaving a dark shadow in his midst. The shadow exploded into pieces as three of the screws from the man's hand tore it apart.
"John Gonzales, code name: Twister. Your Prime power allows you to rotate objects and control their orientation. Responsible for a minimum of fifteen civilian casualties. Today I -"
"Shut Up And Fight!" Twister shouted. From his clenched hand, he hurled two more of his screws at Peter. Peter jumped to the side, seeing the screws rip through the walls behind him like parchment paper. The wind around him twisted and tried to throw him through the hole in the wall. For the third time, he vanished. This time, he appeared behind Twister.
"I'm not here to fight, I'm here to carry out justice." He spoke the words right into Twister's ear. The tip of his blade was on their ribs. An incensed strike passed within an inch of Peter's face; he stepped back unconcerned. Twister spun the air into a violent vortex, widening the hole. Peter heard a metallic screech as the damage grew and the wind tried to pull him into the storm outside. It didn't scare him. If he'd wanted, he could have already killed his target five times over, but he didn't want to. He wanted to let them live, to prove a point he so badly needed to be true.
"You're supposed to help people."
Peter darted away from another strike, and a shadow emerged from the air, striking Twister in the neck. A second one materialized behind him and wrapped its arm around his neck.
"You hurt people instead." Peter stepped forward, pointing the tip of his blade at their forehead. "To be honest, I don't want to kill you, so I'll give you a choice: leave The Watch - go live a normal life, help people - or fight me and die."
The cocky excitement that had been in Twister's eyes was gone now; all that Peter saw was fear. It was the same fear he'd seen a thousand times before. Rarely had he been the cause, and he couldn't say he enjoyed the feeling it gave him. He hated the sight, the deluge of awful memories it brought; his parents dying, the subway crash, his friends' deaths. Blinking away tears, he focused on the moment. "Your choice."
In a disgustingly pitiful voice, Twister pleaded. "Please let me go."
The shadows melted into the air, letting Twister free. Peter walked away. He hoped that he was done with his task. "If you try anything… I'll have to kill you."
There was a moment, a breath of tense air, a single pinpoint in time that would determine a life. Peter faced away from Twister, waiting for something he knew would come. He reacted to an unseen threat quicker than a normal person could imagine. Twister sent a piece of debris hurtling towards Peter. It barreled past him and through the wall on the other side of the train car.
They faced each other, Peter holding his blade. Twister gripped his screws so tightly that they drew blood from the soft skin between his knuckles. "You should have killed me! You won't get another chance -"
It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he didn't get the chance. A shadowy form appeared behind him, and Peter changed places with it in less than the blink of an eye. Like a hawk swooping for its prey, he moved too quickly for his target to run. He forced his blade up through the gaps in the ribs of his opponent. "I didn't want to do this."
Holding their body, he twisted to the side, hurling them out through the gash in the wall. The dying Twister flew into the night like a stone into the depths of the sea. Peter didn't even see their body as it entered the storm and the night.
His legs suddenly became shaky, and he collapsed to the floor, joining the carnage on the ruined carpet. He wished there was someone there with him, even just to share his pain. Someone to tell him he wasn't alone.