Good vs Good "Hero Adrift pt3"

A sudden, stinging chill nipped at the grip of Drifter. The fuming breath he was exhaling towards the corrupt Hardy was whisping out as a iced blue fog. Permafrost cascaded down the wrist of the round man and he whimpered.


“Stop! Stop you monster! What are you doing?!” Hardy yelped, struggling to escape the path of the monster. However, the onyx trench coated figure had not an ounce of fault to do with the impeding freeze. Tiny crystal snowflakes dashed up the mayor's arm, turning his ink black suit sleeve a silver cyan. His bulging eyes went wide as he exhaled a quick gasp of fog from his lungs.


The next moment, the disgusting man had vanished from the sight of Drifter. All that was left in his wake was a calm gust of snowflakes, dancing about in the air in a spiraling swirl. The mayor had jerked for a moment, like he had just been tackled in the shoulder; before fading from existence. Like a calm fade to black, Hardy had been whisked away from reality. The already terrified crowd gasped as shock as it appeared to them that Drifter had eviscerated their mayor right before their very eyes with some sort of ice based super power.


However, Drifter knew what had just happened. Just as it had the night that caused all of the grief currently unfolding. The night he had held the young blond child, Kerry, threatening his life; the very same thing had happened. Frost had crawled up his arm and in a blink of time, suddenly the boy had been whisked from his grasp and ventured to safety. Only one creature was capable of accomplishing such a phantasmal feat.


The Dusk.






Not a moment after the man had vanished from Drifter's grasp, a violent vortex of faded cyan fog burst through the glass window panes. It flooded the room so quickly that not even an ark could help anyone escape. The inhabitants of the room screamed and gasped at the sound of shattering glass and ducked low to the floor. Cries echoed off the walls of the building as the citizens scrambled towards all the nearest exits, still beaming red through the smoke. The tubed lights up above them shatter instantly, further increasing the beating hearts of the people below; forcing them out of the building.


The blue fog parted like the red sea in front the green haired man. A dark shadow stood in the canyon of free air. His spiked, torn, gnarled appearance was very blatant and quite familiar to the onyx coated man. Amongst the broken glass and dropped items of the civilians stood two pointed feet which were unmoving from their spot. His white glowing eyes narrowed, tearing into the heart of Drifter with contempt and malice.


”You want this people off your back? You love and you protect them. Smothering and submerging them only makes you as good as the vile criminals who feed off of them...,” The Dusk spoke loudly and clearly.


His glowing eyes became narrow slits as his brow lowered heavily.


”Or did you not learn that from your murderers? I thought you not a killer. Do not make a liar out of me for granting mercy upon you. It is a privilege, not an expectation. I thought you a servant, not a stain. You are changing my mind. I care not what this man has done to others or to you. By strangling and breaking him, you are no better than the group of three who would jump and rob him. You understand me? You break these people's spirit by showing them that their mayor is nothing but a helpless heap. It makes them, feel helpless. I don't give a damn how outcasted you are. How much they don't like you...,”


His eyes softened a bit, lowering his tone to a softer register.


”You think I don't know what this man does? Of course he's corrupt. Take a look around!” His voice gradually rose, throwing out a clawed hand to show off the world around him, ”This is Detroit. We are down trodden and fallen through the cracks and we are struggling to stay afloat. Is he corrupt? Yes. Until I can prove it otherwise, he stays.”


The Dusk's arm receded back beneath his drifting dark indigo cloak. His voice became a low rumble as he began to speak again.


”That's not why you are here, right? You are here to clear your name. You don't give a damn about these people or the struggle they go through. The only struggle clouding your mind is your own. It has blinded you to the morality of your actions. Scraping and clawing out the throats of the others to maintain your name. Perhaps a better path would be to make your name worth speaking well of. Earn your respect, beating it out of those who are helpless will accomplish nothing. Even to a Drifter like you.”

The Dusk scowled at the comment.

”I... don't think I am anything,” The Motor City Savior snapped, maintaining his composure while lashing out like a whip with his words. A heavy weight came upon his glowing eyes as they lost their furious edge for just a moment.

”Revenge... anger... sorrow... you say?” Dusk spoke slowly, his words drifting into the air like lost orphans. For a brief second, a shimmer of emerald green graced the eerie blank white glowing eyes of the shadowed hero. His chin seemed weighted. His head lowered between the two spikes sticking up from the top of his deltoids.

Drifter's eyes must have been playing tricks on him. For a flash of a second, he swore he saw some sort of... red mist hovering around the head of the Dusk. Long, flowing strands of red... essence floating about the horned head of the demonic despot. It was at this moment that his head suddenly hiked up to meet the dark haired stranger eye to eye once more.

”I will never forget...”

”Revenge? Anger? Sorrow? The very same aspects you are exhibiting by trying to slaughter someone just to gain favor? What are you attempting here? Killing the mayor won't gratify your revenge for the city not favoring you? You won't feel relieved of the anger you feel when they call you menace. You will not be rid of your sorrow of being despised. You will only be hated more by lashing out and killing others. These are OUR people. Good or Evil, and they won't tolerate someone appearing and murdering their people.” The Dusk spoke proudly yet sympathetically.



”You've already killed my family. And today, you almost killed another member. My patience wears thin Drifter...,” He coldly warned.

The two heroes with different view stood face to face. A malevolent emerald blast of energy tore the wood asunder underneath them, along with parts of the floor being ripped. The gust of wind from the new found raging energy sent papers in the area whipping around, riding the winds and blending with the air before landing. Though, the crowd of people were not so lucky. The doors were torn as they were forced through them, and out into the next room of the gigantic tower they resided in. The tornado of green around him was still whipping. The force was pushing against the dark, cloaked torso of Dusk. 

Drifter's eyes were locked onto his new 'opponent'. He had provoked him. And he had also moved him from his mission. Sooner or later he would get his vengeance, but now, he had to take care of a man who foolishly stood in his way. Slowly his left hand lifted from his own dark cloak that he tossed off, letting the cloth hit the ground, spreading across the marble, shining floor and covering the puddle of blood from earlier. His glove was snatched from his right hand, and immediately, Dusk could feel power rising. Much stronger than the tornado of green that was all around his form.

The veins that traveled down his arm was pulsing outward from the strength of his shaking fist. Green energies surged through his form.. cracks appearing in the skin and running around his form and up to his facial features. The knuckles were busted open from the clenching strength as the whole hand had been covered within a shield of raging energies emanated from his sudden anger. The grimace he wore hardened, as the both of his hands flew forward. 

A wall of sudden energy shot from his cracked palms, tearing into the ground that used to be between them. The winds were angered from the speed of the wall, and they were parted, slashing through the vicinity of the new found violence and going each and every way. He added his strength with this, along with his anger, and his weight. Pushing on the wall, making it go against The Dusk. This force was faster than he could seemingly notice, and strong enough to send him flying for minutes.

The Dusk grimaces heavily, burning ridges into his face with fury. The black ink surrounding his eyes become a deep black as his white eyes become narrow slits. The Motor City Savior scooped himself up into a ball to make himself as covered as possible. He tucked his arms and legs up around his vital areas as the wall slammed into him. He grunted as drywall and wooden shattered across his durable frame. The dark avenger groaned as he felt himself soaring through one of the broken glass windows. A group of African American teens shouted frightened obscenities as their hometown hero tore through a parked car. The once proud stature of Dusk skipped off the roof of the camry like a stone across water. The crimson car flipped up into the air, following the form of the demonic despot as he tore into the foreclosed building. Wooden boards exploded and splintered into his suit. The small house wall caved inward from the force of the car soaring through. The Dusk landed in a dusted heap on his belly at the back side of the house.

He had a moment of breath before the camry slammed into him. The left tire dug into his chest, forcing Dusk to gasp in agony. The hometown hero gritted his teeth, gripping the tire with his claws. To much cursing, the sharp tipped fingers tore right into the tread of the tire; popping it like a bubble.

”Urgh, Dammit!” Dusk grunted, taking a vicious hold on the axle of the car. He pushed as hard as he could, lifting the car forward as he extended his arms. However, like a trainer who'd put too much weight on his barbell, it came back down on Dusk's chest with force. The MotorCity Savior cursed himself before fading into Realm of the Dead. For a brief moment, the whole world around him become dark, faded blue. Whisping gray energy bled from every aspect of color in the broken land around him. He rolled quickly to the right and stood back up, fading back into the Land of the Living. Color restored itself to his surroundings as he pushed his torn cape back angrily.

”Shit. He's even more powerful than he was last time. I didn't even see that coming, not even with my hearing.”Terry grits his teeth beneath the mask, ”He's fast... TOO fast. I need to take this slow and careful... Don't let your anger get to you Terry, you'll kill all these people with your recklessness. He just tossed you like a ragdoll. These people aren't nearly as durable as you. Not even close. Maintain control over your emotions, just like you do everyday.”

Dusk exhaled heavily, letting his inner coaching flow through his cold veins. He closed his eyes hard for a moment, breathing in slow.

Suddenly, he heard the glass crack in front of him. His eyes came into full glow as he shot his head upwards.

”Yo, you okay man?” one of the young men was standing in the remains of the front living room of the house. He was crouched low, like avoiding gun fire. The teen had dreads that spread the length of his neck hiding beneath a Reds snapback hat. His pants seemed to sag a bit as he crouched, the torn knee threads drifting in the wind. His black tank was torn on the left side. A small cut just below his collar bone. It was trickling blood very slightly.

The Dusk stood tall,sticking his claw out to move the strap away from the wound. He was shadowed by three of his friends, dressed significantly more like gang members than the boy before him. They were much older than the injured teen. Much of them had facial hair and tattoos. Dusk couldn't help but glare for a moment at the tall one, a tear drop imprinted beneath his eye; before snapping back to the hurt teen.

”Hold still kid.”” Dusk ordered.

”Jess is my na-OW!”Jesse yelped as Dusk's claw removed a shard of glass from his flesh. The MotorCity Savior's brow lowered as he walked on by without a glance back. His torn and ripped cape buffeted in the wind as he strode out of the remains of the house. The Dusk glared heavily at the member of the group with the teardrop tattoo. There was a cold tense moment where neither broke eye contact, neither budged. It was astonishing the Dusk had to look up to the guy, much less the fact that his frightening appearance didn't even slightly deter the thug. His white eyes narrowed before exiting onto the sidewalk.

”Yo Dusk!” Jess shouted out, chasing down the dark hero like a child not wanting his father to leave for work.

”Get the people in this hood out of here then get medical attention Jess.” The Dusk spoke, not turning back to look at the boy at all.

”But-,”

”-And get new friends. You're too smart to get caught up in that.” Dusk hissed, giving a fiery glare to the tall thug behind the fat one. Jess would have continued to protest, but the dark hero whisked himself up into the air with a powerful leap. He extended his cape around his fists and began to fly like a bat back towards Drifter.

He soared like a bullet back into the torn up building. Dusk stuck to the corner between the ceiling and the wall like a spider as he glared with deep contempt at Drifter.


”You try to get under my skin with your talk of people I've lost. But who the hell did you lose kid? Huh? What gives you the damned right to kill when killing is what got you to this wretched place?! You're no better than who killed who was special to you!!” The Dusk shouted with rage at the monster, giving him a subtle last chance.

Dusk scowled at the sight of Drifter's choice to continue fighting him. The Dusk quickly fired a blast of ectoplasmic goo straight at the face of the cloaked figure. The green bullet sped at him without any mercy. The dark hero quickly detached from the ceiling and fell to the broken floor below him. He tucked onto his back, tumbling out of the fall and rolling towards the crowd.

The Dusk shot his head up to see a wall of emerald energy confining the people like barriers at a sports event. It was walling them off, keeping them... safe. The dark hero could only look onward with perplexity at the sight before him. He looked across the faces of all of the people stuck in the confined area. They were all scared, but they were no where near as frightened as when Drifter first entered. The citizens were just happy to be out of the fire fight.

A fire set for no reason it seemed.

Why were they fighting anyhow? He had planned to kill the mayor. However, he turns around and shields the people that Dusk holds so dear. Many of these people were also corrupt, down trodden. Why did Drifter offer his aid to them? Was it to impress them? Or did he actually spare beloved care upon them? The whole ordeal had become incredibly blurred for Dusk. Just as it probably was for Drifter.

The fight was about murder.

The Dusk had already taken the mayor away from the location. He'd reappeared in the Living Realm and let Hardy run for his fat lard of a life. It sickened him to do so. Drifter wasn't wrong in that aspect. Even Dusk knew just how rotten the mayor was. There was no doubt that he was caught up in much of the territorial disputes of the gangs and the structure that “looked the other way”. However, there was no real evidence to it. Despite his medical choices, Hardy was very clever intellectually. He knew how to go about the underbelly without getting his hands dirty. Without evidence, he couldn't do a damn thing to Hardy.

That's where Drifter and Dusk disagreed.

Terry still believed in the system. The system wasn't broken. The people involved in it were. Detroit was a broken town. However, it had not always been that way. There was a time where the very same method of working about the law worked fantastically. The only reason it failed was because vicious, power lustful men like Hardy started to abuse their power. When they did, no one kept them in check. When the leaders meddle with the dirt, they set an example for the commoners to meddle with the dirt. The example set by powerful men like Hardy is to lie, cheat, steal and not give a damn about your fellow man as long as you come out on top. With a great leader, someone who opposed everything Hardy stood for, the system would turn for the better.

Terry couldn't help but smirk beneath his mask thinking about his partner, Wayne Marshall. Marshall didn't know it, but he was the cop who made the Dusk possible. It was his detective work that incriminated Terry's father, Brogan, when he shot and killed Amy. It was Wayne who proposed the deal where Terry would walk free and keep some of his father's funds in order to capture Brogan. Without his mercy and empathy towards Terry all those years ago, he'd be locked up in jail just like the rest of the corrupt and evil that infested the city. He's the kind of man you need in charge.

Like a light being turned on, an idea flashes through Terry's head.


Drifter doesn't seem like he's lived life on both sides of the law.

That's what a lot of these vigilante's these days had no piece of mind to understand. The Dusk was a force to be reckoned with, because Terry was scum once. Terrance and his father were once the best thieves in all of the mid-west. There wasn't a belonging in the entire area that the duo couldn't procure for whoever paid the right price. Sure, Brogan considered his work to be on a higher level than that of the thug who broke into the TV store straight through the glass without care. However, Terry recognized that that was nearly no difference between the two besides finesse, skill, and income.
Brogan and Terry would deactivate the ADT with a remote controller, while the thug would just bust the back door. Brogan and Terry would have to remove the jewelry, document, etc. with precision to avoid detection, where the thug would just have to snatch the TV as long as there were no alarms. The main difference was income. The TV burglar could get a hundred bucks, at most, off of his heist. Brogan was the main infiltrator for the Mafia. This meant, big checks. Not like it mattered really, he blew most of it on liquor. However, Terry for a time was able to live in a two story home and the devilish man he had to call father wasn't as dumb as he appeared. Brogan had actually saved a little bit of each of his job's income, which piled up after a long while.

It was still wrong. Brogan was still never a good father to Terry. Never will be. Nothing about what they did was right. They stole from honest men. They ruined lives of people who wanted nothing more than to build the city straight into the heavens. Just at the whim of a Family member rubbed the wrong way, they turned some of the nicest people into homeless whelps. It wasn't fair. It made Terrance sick sometimes. The only motivator that kept him there was the years of abuse and manipulation by Brogan. He feared him above all else, keeping him tied to the horrible profession for years of his life.

Bang Bang.

The error of his ways became frighteningly true in the flash of just two bullets. Two bullets that echoed through his life each moment he took breath. Two bullets that took his life away. Her life away...

Terry had learned the hard way that if you even aid these men, these same methods; you will become them. He had never agreed to his father's ways, but he participated in them. The result was the murder of his fiance right before his very eyes. The rest of his life shattered simply based on the fact that he participated in the same idealism that his father had done, even if he didn't agree with it.

That's why they were fighting. Drifter believed murder was a tool to solve his problems. When really, that lowered him to the level of the same men he was trying to usurp. His tragedy corrupted him, making him ignorant to the fact that he was creating more and more tragedy each time he took a life. These men, no matter how rotten, have loved ones. They wouldn't exist without a mother and father. What if they had sisters? Brothers? Friends? Significant others? Taking a life doesn't just destroy him, it destroys every loved one attached to them. Terry met a sweeper by the name of Dave once in his youth. He killed every day, and cleaned all evidence. All of his profits went to his small home where he nursed his mother in the last years of her life. Everything he did, despite how evil it was; was for his beloved mother. Why was it within our judgment to kill and take which we never created? If Drifter had known about Dave, he would have killed him on the spot and let his mother rot by herself. She would spend her dying days alone and unsupported. A horrible... horrible death.

That's what Drifter didn't understand. The infinite spiderweb of life.



The Dusk rose and turned slowly to his opponent.



”I will not fight you. I want you here. With me, Drifter. No killing, that's all I ask. Please, you don't see these people everyday. You don't see them suffer. You don't see them love and care for others. I can't ask you to understand, it's almost impossible to do so without living amongst them. But please, if you have empathy beneath your rage, let this go. I know you can do good for this city. Just like I have.” Dusk spoke confidently.

His white eyes turned and met Jimmy, the young boy trying to mirror his image. The Dusk gave the inspired youth a simple, knowing nod. The child's grin faded to warm smile, nodding back to his inspiration. Jimmy slowly removed his strapped on mask, dropping it to the floor. He slowly removed the black bed sheet from his back and wrapped it about his arms like a cloak. The boy let a affirming smile spread into his dimples, black paint still across his eyelids. Both Dusk and the boy looked to the lonely drifter.


”You're right... I do know nothing about you Drifter. But I'd like to...,” Dusk paused for a moment, allowing Jimmy's beaming green eyes to stare right into Drifter's emeralds,”... And I think Detroit would too. If you just give us a chance, we aren't pigs."


"We are all heroes.”

The winds were cut apart by his now free flowing form.. a blast of ectoplasma drifted right past him. His emerald eyes turned to the side as he landed on his feet. His dark cloak spread across the ground.. blood still dripping from his right hand from earlier. 

Why? 

Dusk looked onward at the young man as he pulled out the tiny instrument. The sweet little melody bounced off the walls of the broken and battered city hall. An overcast had faded over the sun making the world around them gray and lifeless. Dusk's narrow eyes softened as he stared at the Drifter, who paid him no attention, intently focused on his whistling item. The beaming emeralds had dimmed, falling beneath half lidded eyes that stared... lovingly at the compass in his palm. 

Terry's expression folded. The humming music called out to the inhabitants of the world. The Drifter was viewed as a tyrant, killing and spilling blood as he pleased. However, in the moments of the melody, the crowd was awestruck and ultimately perplexed by the soft display. Terry could only stare mournfully at the compass. He knew that look. The same look Terry gave Amy's tombstone each time he would visit. A somber tone, trying to find joy in the memories of the past, but ultimately always remembering that new memories could never be created again. It was a satisfaction in the idea of life and love, but a despair in its sudden passing. 

It hurt Terry to watch Drifter. It was like looking into a water's reflection. Did he really hurt that much? It was all so blind to him most of the time. The nights he spent out as the Dusk served as a violent venting of this despair and agony. Despite that, Terry could never shake the interminable weight that sat hooked to the bottom of his heart. It tried to pull it down into his gut, stretching it like a torture rack. The feeling was always so... constant. Always gnawing and tearing at him, pulling him so thin he thought he would snap sometimes. Terry couldn't let such feelings get in the way of his duty to his family. He had to keep them safe and sound at all costs. That rose above any sort of emotional turmoil he was enduring. 

Perhaps that was what was wrong.

Perhaps Drifter didn't endure. Drifter... fell to his turmoil. It was a great irony to see him hunt down the corrupt mayor when he himself, in his own way, had been corrupted. Terry took Amy's death and used it as a vehicle to be a force of justice. He was an everlasting, strong hero. Something his fallen fiance would be proud of. She would only love him more for putting himself on the line so selflessly for the people he loved. Sometimes, it was the only thing that drove Terry to keep walking every day. It was her constant presence, always watching over him. She could see him, from her Sanctuary, like a guardian angel. He lived for her, even when she had passed on.

What did Drifter live for? Terry didn't think that the outsider knew anymore. He was lost, fallen away from his ideals, morals, and what really mattered deep within his heart. Furthermore, Drifter had lost himself. He had no identity. Terry didn't know what to even call him besides a simple drifter. He had no other name, never introduced himself as anything. It was ironic that he was accusing Terry of such loss, when really; Drifter had become loss incarnate. 

There was a silent nod before Drifter faded away.

The green energy faded from the crowds as they cheered and stammered about. Jimmy bounced up to Dusk as he stood still in the middle of the broken city hall. Wood chunks and shards were strewn about. Pieces of dry wall and brick lay everywhere. Glass flooded the floor like a broken dam. There was a small tug at Dusk's cape that finally caught his attention. His head turned down to the the small boy, whom only came up to his knee.

"Dusk?" he stammered,"Where'd the bad man go?"

Dusk sighed.

"To find himself... to find himself," he spoke with heavy weight in his voice. Without another word, Dusk strode slowly out of the destroyed city hall before he would extend his capes and leap high into the air. He made the cape into their winged form by grabbing it within his fists then soared away.

=========



Terry stared for a long while, for what seemed like years, at the statue. 

Here he was again, in Elmwood Cemetery, standing alone in the bustling leaves. His long hair drifted slightly in the wind. A slight chill made him huddle further into his black aviation coat. A couple brown leaves dashed across his feet as he never broke his gaze on the angelic statue sitting upon the grave. His face was stoic, completely devoid of emotion. 

Terry's black "X" gloves reached out towards the smooth stone of the statue's face. The fingerless holes allowed him to feel the cold of the surface beneath his fingertips. His index and middle finger trailed from the high cheekbone downwards. His ring finger joined as he cupped the chin. His gray eyes caught a glimpse of his engagement ring sticking out from beneath the glove. A deep frown was engraved on his face. 

The young man feel to his knees, leveling himself with the gravestone beneath the statue. He used the three same fingers the carefully graze across the name. Part of the name had a slice carved through it, due to a blind time where Terry didn't retract his Dusk suit doing the very same thing. His eyelids fell like night. He could read each name just by feeling it with his fingers.

The A, the M, the Y,.. the E, the L,the I, the Z, the A, the B, the E, the T, the H... Even with the scratch, he could still feel the... B, the R, the O, the C, the K....

His fingers retracted and formed into a clenched fist. Terry's teeth sunk into his inner bottom lip. His closed eyelids clenched hard. Dirty blonde hair hung over his face as he bit hard into his lip, causing it to slightly trickle blood. He used his dry tongue to scoop it out of the way as his misty eyes slowly came back into view of the evening sun.  The dusk has shining through the dying trees of the cemetery. The wind grew heavy, bouncing over the rolling hills; knocking leaves off their parent trees. Terry's hair buffeted against his face in the passing gust.  Leaves crunched and crackles as they bounced across the hill. 

Terry sighed heavily, leveling a soft gaze with the angelic statue above him. He cupped his hands in his lap, staring up pass the statue into the sky. The wind continued to whip at him as he got lost in the overcast sky. 

It would storm that night.