⚡️THUNDERFANG S3 #37

I wanted the memory of Ira to be seared into the very essence of my body and soul, or whatever would be left of me after Malice was done with us. I fought through the pain, forcing myself to remember the curve of his smile, the feel of his fingers intertwined with mine, the taste of his tongue, his earthy sweet scent, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps the next destined hero would be watching us as I had Arthur and Conan.

“We never settled on a last name.” I forced a laugh between winces. 

“What should we pick?” The thorny vines were hugging his chest now, drawing trickles of blood.

“I really loved Adler-Holmes.”

“That’s…a great name.” A tear fell from his eyes as he smirked.

“You do always come first.” 

“Don’t blame me because you’re long-winded.”

The pain silenced the laughter we shared as we held each other in our arms. He was losing so much blood now. I couldn’t feel my veins pumping anymore. The sounds of Siege or Jane screaming began to dull. The scent of death was only a hint now. I squeezed Ira’s hand tight, savoring our final moments together.

I stopped fighting through the pain. We’d lost. It was time to accept defeat.

. . .

“THEY HAVE TAKEN OVER OUR HOME AND GIVEN IT A NEW NAME TO WEAR—IT DOESN’T EVEN FIT! THERE IS KNOWLEDGE, POWER IN A NAME.”

Tick’s mumbling had turned to shouts. He’d broken through the din of chaos surrounding us, but it was easy to tune him out. I wanted my senses filled with Ira. Any moment now, the pain would stop and we would be able to rest, forever.

Would I see him in the after?

“THE NAMES YOU WEAR—THEY ARE NOT SIMPLY BY CHANCE.”

And yet…I couldn’t help but turn my head. Despite the sense-numbing lightning flashing all over my body, my sights focused in on Tick, clearly visible, still writhing in pain, mumbling between shouts. Why was he shouting?

“THERE IS POWER IN A NAME, MY SON. IN THE NAMES YOU CHOOSE AND IN THE NAMES YOU ARE GIVEN—EVEN THE NAMES YOU STUMBLE UPON BY CHANCE. THEY ALL HOLD A POWER THAT YEARNS TO BE WIELDED. YOU ARE BLESSED—AND CURSED—TO HAVE A NAME THAT HOLDS SO MUCH POWER.”

The 43^rd’s head perked up, small cuts adorning his face and hands. “I told little James that one day…”

“I KNOW THE TRUE POWER OF A NAME.”

Jillian stirred as well. Strange. I recalled her telling me the very same thing the first time she chased me on the Scarlet Adler…

“YOU NAMED ME THUNDERFANG.”

My words to Ira when I initially failed to rescue Jane.

“IS THAT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT? THE NAMES I’VE GIVEN YOU?”

Ira’s words to me.

“FUNNY HOW I GOT A NICKNAME THAT MATCHES WHAT I CAN DO.”

Tick’s introduction.

“AS IN, I’M NEVER RESPONDING TO THING OF EVIL OR ANY OTHER FUCKED UP NAME ANYMORE.”

John’s boundary with Siege. What was Tick going through? Why was he relieving those moments? And why did they all involve—

“YOUR POWER IS IN YOUR NAME.”

The Hivebranded’s words to me. 

Something…stirred, deep within me. I prayed that it was not hope—that was a dangerous thing to have, so close to the brink of death.

“I FORSOOK THAT NAME A LONG TIME AGO.”

Jillian and I shared a look, mutual confusion passing between us.

“A NAMELESS BEAST OF THE FIELD.”

Tick convulsed, more words tumbling out of him, faster and faster. Most of it was jibberish, the words smashing together as he tripped over his own tongue. And yet he kept going without end, foam bubbling up and down his cheek. His eyes popped opened, tears streaming as he rambled incoherantly.

“AND…THE…UNNAMED…ENTER…THE…EARTH.”

I pushed aside the pain. The something within me stirred even more as I stood to my feet. Something about what he was saying…

I snapped my gaze onto Malice, who’d been eyeing Tick with glee. All the peices had fallen into place now.

Thank you, Tick.

“The Miseries aren’t completed.”

A decaying, bulbous hand stroked Malice’s chin curiously. “And what makes you say that, Detective?”

“‘And the unnamed enter the earth, passing through the Veil as it is sundered by Daejmon, the left underling of Nechrubel.’” The first Misery I saw when Michael showed me Arthur and Conan during the Cataclysm. “There’s no one here by either name.”

It was a long shot, but…

I was feeling lucky.

“Oh, my little pawn.” Malice sighed. Flies escaped through a rotting hole in the cheek. “I can give people names, too—and titles. Little Jack back there? I’ve always referred to him as Deajmon, the left underling of his brother, Nechrubel,” Malice said with a bow. “You of all people know that sometimes you can’t pick the name you’re given by others.”

“True.” The adrenaline coursing through my veins made me more confident than I probably deserved to be. “And sometimes, you can. That Misery also says that the unnamed enter the earth. We are not unnamed.” I swallowed the pain shooting through me as I spread my arms out, looking to Ira, Jane, John, Siege, Hush, Tremor, Tick, and the remaining survivors.

“Tsk tsk. You were all stripped of your names. It’s why you all have literal brands.”

“Bullshit!” I spat. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn my voice echoed. Reverberated, even, much more than it should have. And with it, I could have sworn the chaos subsided, even just a bit. 

“We have names—we’ve always had names! We were never stripped of them despite how badly our captors wanted it so. My name is Locke Holmes! I am a Hero. I am a Bleeding Heart. I am THUNDERFANG!”

Ira stepped forward and gripped my hand. His breathing was ragged but it did not stop him from adding his voice to mine. “Besides, not all of us ever became literally branded.” He dipped his head and moved the collar of what was left of his suit, showing his unbranded skin. Jane somehow pulled herself free from the ground and rushed forward to do the same.

. . .

The ground shook.

Malice flinched.

The Miseries…

We could undo them. 

Ira ripped himself free of the thorny vines, as if they’d suddenly lost the will to climb further. Siege’s arms were no longer aflame and he flexed the scarred fingers on each hand. John and Hush stood tall amongst calm air. Tremor had just removed the last traces of her earthly prison. My skin was barely sparking anymore.

With that one move, that denial of what we’d been told was true, we’d weakened Malice.

We could win.

Gripping Ira’s hand tighter, I called out for my brother.

In seconds, Michael’s child-like form appeared before me—Malice’s face twisted in anger. “What are the other Miseries?”

There was no hiding the desperate-yet-smug emotion in my voice. A smile blossomed onto Michael’s face. A smirk crept onto my own. All we needed were the other—

Malice swiped a hand in the air furiously and Michael’s ghostly apparition snapped out of existance before he could open his mouth. I started forward, both hands outstretched as if I could grip Michael’s form and keep him in place, but he was already gone.

“None of that!” The ground cracked once again under the weight of Malice’s booming voice.

 I looked around for him, calling out his name over and over again. “What did you do!?”

“What should have happened when he was first taken.” Malice scoffed and pretended to adjust the tattered remains of the tie the 44^th had been wearing. “Pest.”

Michael was the only one who knew all of the Miseries. Our only hope of undoing them had been banished with the flick of wrist. I’d been right not to hold on to hope. The crushing weight of failure slammed back into me all at once.

But…

But…

But Michael had shown me. Not all of them, but a few. He’d made me live through four days with the loving husbands—and three of those days contained Miseries. I’d already denied one of them.

What were the other two?!

I slammed the butt of my palm against my head and blocked out everything around me, searching my mind’s attic for scraps of recollection. All of our lives—the entirety of the Forge!—rested on me jostling the memories of those days to the surface. I had to have packed them away somewhere in there. What were the other two Miseries?!

Ira placed a hand on my back and rubbed it. Even unseen, his presence was—

My eyes snapped open. “‘The City shall be made hollow. Of those who rest in hollowness, they shall not be seen.’”

“A good Misery, if I do say so myself.” Malice smiled triumphantly. “Reichenbach used to be such a thriving city.”

I was grasping at straws, but it was our only chance.

Deny, deny, deny.

“The city…sure, it was made hollow. But the people there, they were seen. I’ve seen them, the first batch of Branded, the ones who told me the name of Avam used to be Reichenbach.”

“Not again, Detective,” Malice snapped with both voice and fingers. Lightning struck the ground nearby. “The city of Reichenbach is gone, and they communicated with you before the city fell. After, they were never seen from again. Nice try.”

The ground rumbled in sync with Malice’s snarl and more cracks ripped through the ground. The wind began to blow again as black vines snaked out of the depths of Avam. Fuck.

“What was the last one?” I said, looking to my fiancé. Perhaps he would remember. I’d told him about the entire vision. “Something about a mother?”

“Flesh and cloak of demons?” he said, unsure.

It was enough. I nodded and returned my sights to Malice. “‘For five days and five nights, mother’s flesh shall be the cloak of demons.’” But as soon as the words left my lips, defeat settled in. What the hell was I supposed to deny about that? I didn’t even recall that one happening.

“Her flesh…rotted away…” Jillian stood, wiping tears from her face. 

She knew that Misery?

“We just…left her there,” she continued. “It rotted. I remember saying it looked like she was wearing a cloak, the way her skin fell off, and…it looked like demons.”

I remembered now. Jillian had mentioned her mother when we were at the vault after I’d seen Lestrade die. 

“But it wasn’t actually demons, “I said, “or a cloak. She just…died. She was killed by her husband. That was miserable, but no Misery.” Once again, my denial was weak, but I spoke it with as much conviction as I could.

Avam shook once again, a crack nearby sealing up instantly. But it wasn’t as resounding as the one from before.

Malice scowled. “Fine. However, you cannot deny that the father did not weep for five days and five nights after. Another Misery well performed by my pawns.” Malice gave the 43^rd a pity clap as a wave of energy ripped through us, pushing anyone standing a dozen or so feet back. “Detective, I am done playing your silly little game. Admit it. You’ve lost. You don’t know enough of the other Miseries to deny them all.” Malice tapped the head of the 44^th, reminding me that my thoughts and my fears were not secret.

Moments ago, I’d been ready to give up. But I’d Sworn a Vow to defeat Malice. And now, with a spark of hope, regardless of how small, I wasn’t about to Forsake it now that I had a shot at succedding.

Every lesson I’d learned since the start of my journey that led me here replayed in my head. My power was in my name, right? My words just as strong as my fists—a power I planned to put to good use. I could move people, spurring them to believe in themselves. Ignite their sparks and lead them to do things they wouldn’t have done otherwise. I had lost my confidence with Jane, twice now. I had been led to believe that I didn’t deserve my names, and that I had to accept the way someone else saw the world.

But no. 

I clenched my fist, banishing what pain remained and forced myself to take in everything around me. If Jillian knew that Misery, then there was no telling what Miseries everyone else knew. I couldn’t deny everything on my own.

“EVERYONE!” My cry drew the attention of anyone left alive. I counted maybe a dozen or two—we’d lost over half of them. “We are running out of time and…I’m sorry but Malice is right. I don’t know enough about the other Miseries to deny them. But…you do. I know you do. All our lives, we’ve been told that we are something that we are not. We’ve been led to believe that we are lesser than, that we deserve everything that’s happened to us just because of the way we were born or some other bullshit circumstance. But you know yourselves and you know who you are deep down, regardless of what anyone else says.

“Please…deny it all. Deny the names you don’t agree with, deny the fault that’s been placed on you, deny the untruths. Speak your truths.”

My words pierced a few, confidence and strength overtaking them as they rose to their feet, bloody and nearly broken. They noded in my direction and it gave me strength.

But the vast majority looked too overcome with despair, as if they’d accepted their existence the way it had always been. As if they’d accepted that they could not be heroes.

“What do I even deny?” Jane said softly. “I’m a weapon, Locke.” She raised her bloodied hand, the one she’d used to kill Jack. “I always have been. I’m the reason the last Misery was fulfilled…I-I can’t deny that.”

“What if I am all those things? What if I deserved to be sent to Avam?” Siege said. 

Hush looked away, her expression pained.

Jillian’s eyes were shut tight as she choked back tears. “I’ve done…so much...”

Friends and enemies alike, unable to see past the hurt and pain. All of us had been maniplated in some way by Malice.

Nothing a Bleeding Heart couldn’t handle.

“Jillian, remind Malice of who you are. A daughter who lost her mother and swore to irradicate who she thought was responsible. Siege, I don’t care what you did before Avam—you are a great man and did not deserve what’s happened to you! Jane…You are not a weapon. You are the woman who has always fought to protect her family and those she cares about. And Hush, don’t think you don’t have a voice. You have always had a voice. We understand you. Do not let Malice think otherwise.”

A glimmer of hope sparked in each of them.

Thunder roiled above us.

“This is futile,” Malice said. But…there was a hint of something in those words that convinced me otherwise.

“Everyone, do not let Malice think you are anything other than who you are!”

One by one, a symphony of voices filled with hope and truth burst forth. They crescendoed, the denials rounding in harmony, each deafening note directed directly at Malice. I watched in awe as cracks in the ground pulsed at their words, pushing open in some places but snapping shut in others. The storm above seemed unsure of whether to swell or shrink. The wind stuttered, it’s staccato throwing all of Avam off balance as our song broke Malice’s hold.

John stepped forward, and shouted through his tears, “I am not a Thing of Evil! I am NOT afraid of you! I am not alone! I have people that love me and care for me and fight for me! I have a family“—he gestued to the Irregulars—”brothers and sisters who wouldn’t turn on me!”

Malice scowled as the wind surged around John, slicing at his skin even more. Hush wrapped her arms around him. I could once again feel both of their manipulation on the wind, even more than Malice’s, and the assault suddenly ceased. Cracks in the ground closed around us.

“I am not a Miss. Having a high Shadow is not a bad thing! And…stars, Locke is going to think I’m crazy for this but…landing on the Avam was the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Ira stood tall and proud, ripping his feet free from the thorny roots that had threatened to keep him in place. He stood by my side, hand in hand, and raised the other upward, fingers splayed. Those roots that had gripped him followed his command now. They burst forth from the ground, new green growth sprouting from the withering blackened vines. Some turned into daisies or lillies or tulipis or any other flower I’d seen countless times around our home on New Bohemia. And occasionally, roses. Trees sprang from the ground, towering into the sky, as if they’d been biding their time for centuries.

Malice lashed out, aiming more and more black thorny vines at Ira. I stood in front of him, taking the brunt of the whipping as the vegetation ripped what was left of my environment suit to shreds.

Jillian picked up a fallen rose and sniffed it, then held it close to her chest as she eyed down Malice. “My name is JILLIAN MORIARTY. Nothing else.” Her angst rivaled Malice’s, her previous fear replaced with fury. “I chose my name—not my father, not my mother, and definitely not you! I loved my brothers, even when they were pains in the ass!” 

She looked in my direction, the tears smudging whatever was left of her makeup. “I am so sorry I targeted you Locke. I just wanted to be happy. I wanted to live my colorful fucking life without the fear that YOU”—Malice flinched as she snapped her gaze back to it—“put in our heads! So if standing with the Detective now, denying you, brings color back to the world, then so be it!”

A bolt of lightning snaked through the clouds. As Malice brought a hand into the air, face wild with anger, I ran and pushed Jillian out of the way. Malice brought the hand down in time with a crash of lightning. It struck me, but I welcomed the blow, letting the lightning course through me. I’d survived worse.

“I am not a plague,” I said as the surge of electricity began to subside. “I am a hero. I was given a name by the love of my life, and I have fought every day to live up to it. I do not accept the names given to me by anyone I do not love!”

“I am PERENNIAL.” Ira was once again at my side. “I was named by the love of my life, too. It reminds me every day that no matter what I’m up against, I will persevere. We are not your pawns. We are not even pieces on your board. We do not play your game!”

“I go by Dr. Watson. NEVERMORE. Ripley Slater. Johnathan Morstan. I choose my names. Not you.”

“My…my name is Jane Sheppard. I am not a weapon. I want to be a hero!”

“I only answer to Siege.”

“I earned Tremor and I’ll be damned if I let you refer to me as anything but!”

“I no longer want to be addressed as the 43^rd. Call me James Moriarty.”

“My brother’s name was James Moriarty, the 44^th. Not just the 44^th. And I will live the rest of my life missing Jack Moriarty. We are the Moriartys!”

One by one, everyones name struck Malice like daggers. Malice stumbled back, then tipped forward and fell to the ground. He launched more desparate assaults in our direction, but it did not stop us. At this point, they barely phased us. We held the power now. Malice’s eyes went wild, looking in all directions as the previously oppressed dared to fight back.

And win.

Their verbal assault continued as Ira and I stepped forward to stand in front of the now withering body Malice had siezed control of. 

“My name…is Locke Adler-Holmes.”

“My name is Ira Adler-Holmes.”

“We are not unnamed.”

Our words, in unison, sliced at whatever was keeping Malice tethered. “I can play this game for eons!” Coagulated spittle flew in a last desperate attempt to cling to the stolen body. James the 44^th’s body writhed, Malice’s demonic shrills escaping through a rapidly decaying mouth. “TWO MOONS! A missing soul wandering sundered lands! Hahaha! Do NOT think I am gone, Detective. When you are dead, I WILL RISE!”

Every beast Malice had freed slithered back under the surface and every crack along Avam closed up tight. Each Risen collapsed, no longer under Malice’s control. 

And with them, the 44^th’s body sat motionless.

Despite the darkness of Avam’s sunless sky, things seemed brighter. None of us cheered, not yet. A stillness swept through us all as we waited for the other shoe to drop, as had been standard with everything else in most of our lives. Had we actually won? I looked up, wishing on a star for a sign that—

Avam was brighter.

The clouds had parted.

The sun rose on Avam.

Next week on ⚡️THUNDERFANG:

With the sun rising on Avam, Locke Swears to leave his mark on the Forge, ensuring that Malice will never return again.