RENATA SOLIZ STOOD in the centre of the empty field, directly in the path of the approaching figure.
She had her long black hair tied back and was wearing grey jeans and a plain red T-shirt. The only thing that marked her out as anything other than a normal girl was a pair of thick leather gloves and the black Zorro mask sheâd âborrowedâ from her little brother.
The midday sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the tall man making his way towards her.
Renata stood her ground, watching him approach.
Though Dioxin was still twenty metres away, there was a stench of death about him: a putrid, damp, fungal smell that reminded Renata of the rotting timbers in the basement of her grandmotherâs house. He sneered at her as he stomped forward over the rough ground, his grin spreading across the blotched yellow and red skin of his face like an opening wound. âHavenât you got the sense to run away, little girl?â
He continued walking towards her, the grass dying where his bare feet touched it.
Renata watched him carefully. She knew all about Dioxin, knew what he could do. His skin oozed a thick, clear, acid-like venom and if his touch didnât scorch the flesh from your bones, it infected you with a deadly poison.
Dioxin stopped a couple of metres away. âSeriously. Run away.â
Energy had told Renata that of all the villains she had faced, the one who scared her most was Dioxin. Ragnarök was incredibly intelligent, strong and fast; Brawn was four metres tall and capable of knocking a moving train clear off its tracks; Slaughter was a ruthless killing machine; but they were nothing compared to Dioxin.
âSo what do they call you?â Dioxin sneered.
âDiamond.â
Dioxin looked her up and down. âWhatâs the deal here, kid? Donât tell me that youâre one of Titanâs crew! Youâre what, fifteen?â
âFourteen.â
âFourteen. And you think you can stop me?â
With that, Dioxin lunged towards her, his poisonous arms outstretched.
Paragon quickly checked the information that was projected on to the inside of his visor. Flight power was down to less than forty per cent.
A plasma bolt hit him in the left shoulder, burning a hole into his armour. He dodged to the right, quickly unclipped the still-burning shoulder pad and let it fall to the ground. A deep red welt appeared on his dark skin. One of the few active superheroes who didnât have any superhuman abilities, Paragon relied on his armour and weapons as much as his natural intelligence and athletic abilities, but there were times when even these werenât enough.
Paragon was sweating â and it wasnât just from the weight of his armour, or the heat of the plasma bolts.
This was a bad situation.
There had been no sign of Ragnarök for months and now this: a hundred-metre-long mobile fortress, rumbling its way across Pennsylvania towards the city of New York. The tank stopped for nothing; cars, trees and even houses were crushed beneath its giant wheels. Unable to halt or even slow the machineâs progress, the police and army had concentrated on evacuating people from its path.
Another volley of plasma bolts streaked towards him and Paragon cut the power to his jetpack and dropped, angling his descent so that he was falling directly into the path of the enormous battle-tank.
He reactivated his jetpack ten metres above the ground and found himself face-to-face with Ragnarök, protected by the battle-tankâs metre-thick windshield.
They stared at each other for a split second, then Ragnarök frantically gestured to one of his henchmen, mouthing the words âKill him!â
The armoured hero dodged to his left just as a huge column of white flame scorched the air around him.
He swooped down towards the battle-tankâs undercarriage, settled long enough to attach the explosive charge, and then zoomed away, dodging a storm of bullets and plasma bolts.
Paragon glanced around. He could see Energy floating above the battle-tank, using her powers to deflect the tankâs fire away from the others. Paragon activated the communicator built into his helmet. âEveryone! Pull back! Three seconds!â
There was a flurry of activity as the assembled superheroes darted to a safe distance, thenâ
The sound of the explosion was almost unnoticeable over the roar of the tankâs massive engines, but everyone felt it; the ground trembled, the blast rattling windows for ten kilometres in every direction.
Paragon peered through the huge column of smoke and dust. He activated his visorâs infrared filters and ⦠Yes! The tank was burning!
âAll right, people!â Paragon said. âMaybe the big guy isnât with us, but it looks like weâve just had our first break. Max?â