By all sane standards of victory, The Golden Man had won.
The police, the Superbuds, Anne and her crew: all had been taken down by the resplendent Golden Man. Cat had been taken away, George had decided not to even engage in the battle.
That left The Golden Man, flying above everyone else, reflecting the Sun.
If anyone had been thinking about it, they would have realized how odd The Golden Man was in this moment. He’d won, yet all he did was float there. He didn’t start killing people, he didn’t gloat, he didn’t do anything in this moment.
He just floated there, while everyone around him cried. Of course, no one else thought about it, because they were too embroiled in their own self-doubt.
The moment lingered, moments of silence punctuated by more police getting caught in the web. There was talk of calling in The National Guard, but currently they were spread much too thin: a problem with cults in Utah, a Kaiju attack in San Francisco, and a gang war in Chicago had all made sure of that.
There were several reasons why The Golden Man’s type were small in number: the Renflaxxxians had stopped manufacturing them, because of how uncontrollable they were.
The problem came at this very moment, when The Golden Man sent his signal to the Renflaxxxians. One of their number would have to come get him, to give him further instructions.
But would the Renflaxxxian be able to stand under The Golden Man’s gaze?
Many had tried; all had failed.
So it was when Emprexx Melixxandra flew towards Earth, ready to meet her weapon.