Paragon Force

by WildFire15

Prologue: Can you Fly to Heaven?

Every step filled him with fury as the rain lashed across the tiny island that stood as a reminder of the Mediterranean state of Crimeora that once stood proudly here. So long ago, the last great age of the super hero ended on the very plateau Statesman marched towards.

In a world filled with super powered individuals, technical genius’ and exotic aliens, Statesman stood out as an icon for the good and honourable, the unstoppable force that would do anything to set right wrongs. Clad in form fitting blue and red spandex with a white star on his chest, flowing scarlet cape draped over his shoulders and a metal mask that covered much of his face, he was the very epitome of a hero. But he was here for a personal matter; to avenge the murder of his daughter.

Lightning criss-crossed the sky as Statesman finally stepped onto the summit, surrounded by the ruined Roman columns of an ancient temple and saw his quarry. Darrin Wade, so long thought of as nothing more then a peddler of dangerous magical artefacts, stood bold as brass with his mutated arms folded.

“It looks like you’re really taking your daughter’s death hard, Statesman.” He grinned as Statesman gritted his teeth. Wade had an unusually long face with goatee beard and a pair of sunglasses hiding eyes that had likely been effected by whatever magics he experimented with. The shabby black trench coat he wore over simple t-shirt and jeans blew about in the wind, as did his long, greasy hair which was tied back in a ponytail.

“There’s nowhere to run, Wade.” Statesman said in response, his mighty voice echoing around the ruins as he tried to keep his rage in check. “You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.”

“Oh?” Wade mockingly replied. “Are you going to kill me, Statesman? Avenge the death of your daughter once and for all?”

Wade started walking forwards as Statesman did. He wanted with all his soul to reach forward and crush this filthy, mutated wreck of a human to death with his bare hands, but as he stepped onto the raised centre of the temple, he knew that as an icon of what it is to be a hero, he couldn’t.

“No, Wade.” Statesman said, his voice measured. “You’re going to rot in prison, and I’m going to make sure you do so until the day you die.” He added, venom now in his voice, which he coughed away. “I don’t kill.”

It was a rule he had lived his life of a hero by and aspired others to do so as well. A hero who willingly killed could lose respect of their strengths so quickly in a spiral of destruction he had seen more than once in his long life.

“That’s too bad.” Wade chuckled, the predictable continuation of that sentence hanging for a moment before coming. “Because I do.”

Statesman sighed, disappointed. So many had tried to kill him and all of them had failed, but as Wade started to craft a spell in the air with his hands, something different happened. Light erupted around his feet and rocketed into the sky, surrounding him in a vicious prison.

Electrifying pain rocketed through every molecule of his body, feeling like he was being torn in every direction as Statesman fought against it. It was strange, he hadn’t felt such pain for so long and for the first time in decades, he roared in pain.

“Do you feel that, Statesman?” Wade asked as he rapidly drew runes in the air with his mutated hand. “That is the same power that killed Imperious, the last to wield the power of Zeus like you do. As we speak, your powers are being completely nullified. It should feel quite familiar.”

For a moment, the light stopped and Statesman dropped to his hands and knees, smoke rolling from his drastically weakened body as Wade finished drawing his ruins and smiled evilly.

“Do you have any last words before you die?”

Statesman tried to get back to his feet so he could fight back, destroy the man in front of him as he had destroyed his daughter, but he could barely stay balanced in this position, let alone find enough strength to stand.

“You’ll never succeed, Wade.” Statesman managed as he breathed heavily. “Villainy like yours never does.”

Wade looked slightly bemused as he absorbed the words.

“That was it? How trite.” Wade chucked before he started drawing fresh runes in the air “Goodbye Statesman. I’ll use your powers well.”

The column of light returned, lifting Statesman’s weakened body into the air before the electrifying pain returned, more powerful than before. Light poured from every part of his body as the power he had been given after drinking from the Well of the Furies nearly one hundred years ago left him.

He involuntarily screamed in agony, his mind racing desperately to find a way to escape.

“Grandpa, can you fly to heaven?” Came a simple, sweet voice in his mind, crystal clear as if the one who said it was stood beside him.

Such an innocent question from a young girl, Statesman remembered when he was asked on the day his wife had passed away. He could see her face so clearly; the face of his granddaughter Megan.

“No, honey.” He remembered his reply as he tearfully embraced his granddaughter at the funeral. “You can only go to heaven when you die.”

He remembered the moment well, and he could see it vividly before him. She would grow up to take her mother's mantel as Ms Liberty and spent time as his sidekick, creating memories he cherished most dearly. She was strong, a natural leader and gifted teacher of the young heroes who continued to rise since the end of the First Rikti War.

“But if you can’t die, how will you see me, mommy and grandma when we die?” Megan had asked in response that day. It was a wound in his heart she hadn’t intentionally inflicted, but it was true. The thought he may live to see all he loved die while he was doomed to live on haunted him until now.

She was so young back then, before she had even thought about becoming Ms Liberty. Her face faded from his mind as another face became visible, a face he had not seen since the day he gained the power of Zeus.

“Marcus, hang in there. You will not die on my watch, do you understand?” He remembered the words clearly after being exposed to Mustard Gas during World War I.

Stefan Richter was once his best friend but now his mortal enemy Lord Recluse. Even now, Statesman remembered the kind man he once was, the man who helped him in his time of need to find the Well of the Furies and Pandora's Box, saving him from a slow death from Mustard Gas poisoning and kick starting this new age of super heroes.

In what seemed like they would be his final moment as his ability to fight diminished to nothing, he wanted to hate Lord Recluse, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, not to his best friend and brother-in-law.

Megan believed the man he was was still there. Even though everything told Statesman Stefan Richter was gone forever, he hoped Megan was right and he could be saved, just as he had been once before.

“Marcus.”

What thought of fighting, of struggling like an animal to avoid this fate upon a lonely island was left abandoned him at the mention of his name by a voice he had longed to hear for so long.

“Monica?” His voice came out like it was begging for the vision before him to be real, that of his long dead wife. She was Stefan’s sister and had once been Maiden Justice.

The gentle, ghostly spirit walked towards Statesman as the world darkened around him, knelling in front of his form and taking his hand.

“It’s over, Marcus.” She said, looking both happy to see him again and sad his death had come. “We’ve all been waiting a long time for you to be with us again.”

He’d wanted that for so long, to be with Monica again, but his urge to fight, to protect, was hard to resist.

“But, Darrin Wade.” He said, looking around for a way to get back. “Someone needs to stop him. He’s going to have my powers and-”

Statesman instantly fell silent as Monica gently put her hand on his cheek, bringing his face back to look her in the eye.

“The fate of the world never rested on one person’s shoulders, Marcus. It’s time for you to finally rest and see that.” She said softly. He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment as he absorbed her words and knew she was right.

Unseen by the man he had chased to his long forgotten place, Marcus Cole’s spirit departed his body.

“I can feel it, your power flowing through me, finally!” Wade roared to the sky before laughing. Decades of planning, of fighting, of desperate searching to find the means to gain so much power were finally coming to fruition as the lifeless body of Statesman jerked in the column of light.

“Soon, Statesman, I will bow to no man, no authority, no god! You are just the first step!”

The air thickened as lighting cracked all around, an almost ethereal whirling piercing the ears of anyone who could hear.

And then, it was done.

The mighty body fell to its knees as the column of light vanished. Steam rolled off the lifeless form as it fell forwards to be sprawled across the top of the ancient temple, thunder and lightning booming like a final punctuation mark.

Marcus Cole, the great Statesman, was dead.

***

A storm raged over the royal city of Canterlot, hiding the beautiful starry night from view. Stood watching the storm from a window at the top of the mountain castle was one of the rulers of Equestria; the fair and kind Princess Celestia. She was an exceptionally beautiful Alicorn pony with both wings and a magic horn, she was regal and elegant in almost every way as well as fair and kind to her subjects. Her pearl white body and light pink eyes gleamed, even in the candle light of her personal chamber while her pink mane and tail, which gradually faded into sky blue, flowed as if caught in a gentle breeze.

She had been signing some important documents, but as she watched the dark lightning crackling in the purple clouds she found she had to look. She knew the storm was neither natural or Pegasus made as it flared with energies only the very magically attuned could sense, such as herself. It was the sort of storm created when great power was moved from one being to another, usually through force, and the intensity of the storm told Celestria just how much power was at play; power on the scale of a god.

This was deep magic, she knew. Magic that was tied intricately into the very fabric of everything and could bring life and destruction by the whims of those who submitted to it, as Alicorns had in the distant past.

It was long ago that Celestia had learned this magic and how to gain it without becoming a slave to it and every day since she had sort to contain and keep it out of the hooves of those who would do tremendous damage with it. She knew she could never truly succeed, there was simply too much power for any single being to contain, but she did her best regardless.

“Sister!” Came the familiar voice of her younger sister Princess Luna.

She too was an Alicorn, like her sister, and while she was every bit as regal and elegant, the similarities ended there. Luna had a black body, midnight blue eyes and her mane and tail, while flowing in a similar manner, looked like a night sky filled with stars. She too ruled Equestria but whereas Celestia looked after the day, Luna would guard the night.

Celestia turned to see her in the door way and she had a serious look on her face.

“I saw his dreams again. He's in the Foal Mountains.”

Celestia put her quill down.

Something powerful was lost in Equestria. Luna had seen his dreams; dreams of a destroyed utopia that had been built on the blood, sweat and tears of many and seemingly now lay in ruins at the mercy of an unstoppable force if his dreams were accurate and even that was questionable given how inconsistent they were, as if the dreamer had passed out somehow.

Princess Luna was drawn to nightmares with a desire to sooth them and bring gentle dreams to the slumbering, but this nightmare was as powerful as those that had turned the power she wielded against her and created Nightmare Moon.

“Then we’ll go and find him.” Celestia announced, going over to and opening the window. The strong wind blew her shimmering aurora like hair and tail as she spread her majestic wings before adding. “Guide the way, Luna.”

Together, the regal sisters flew across the night sky, through the driving rain towards the Foal Mountains. They would find out who he was and why his dreams troubled Luna so much.

At the peak of the mountain Canterlot castle was built into a strange figure watched the royal sisters fly into the distance. The figure was unusual beyond anything, a mismatch of animal body parts almost thrown together to create a twisted, chaotic dragon of sorts.

Discord, the spirit of chaos, observed the powerful magical storm as it continued to rage, crackle and glow with its powerful magics. He waved his bear like hand, as if whipping steam off a mirror, and looked through the storm at where it was coming from.

He saw a city, not unlike Manehatten in appearance with glass skyscrapers reaching for the skies, but each district was surrounded by mighty walls topped with blue force fields. It was a city unlike anything that existed in Equestria, inhabited by upright and clothed creatures, some more colourful then others.

It was boring to look at, a peaceful world with little going on, but a sudden explosion from a building with ‘Bank’ written on it caught his attention.

The people nearby ran screaming as smoke and flames poured from the door. A figure walked out of the smoke, flanked by two crazy looking people wearing skulls over their faces and dirty aprons with huge bags slung over their shoulders. The lead, a female Discord guessed, wearing blood red looked around before noticing a figure in the smoke before her.

This figure was tall, clad in form fitting black and red padded armour with a black cape with flame details flowing in the wind, his arms folded. He had slightly tanned skin, almost gleaming blonde hair and wore dark tinted goggles over his eyes.

“Black WildFire!” The woman snorted at him, rage etched across her face as sharp spines erupting from her body.

“Blood Thorn.” He said simply in response. His accent reminded Discord of the Yorkshire ponies. “I’m guessing you don’t want to come peacefully?” Black WildFire asked as well, unfolding his arms as his hands and forearms generated and became engulfed in flames.

The goons flanking Blood Thorn threw what looked like butchers cleavers at Black WildFire, answering his question. He dodged the first and knocked aside the second before throwing a fireball at them. It exploded, sending the goons hurtling back into the bank as Blood Thorn rapidly advanced on the fire wielder.

Blood Thorn swung wildly, an unpractised brawler against a seasoned pro as Black WildFire dodged and replied to her attacks, powerful punches landing against her stomach and winding her before a strike from above knocked her to the floor, unconscious.

Discord looked away from the scene as Black WildFire and some police officers arrested the bank robbers, past the glittering building and saw the crime that infected the city’s many dark alley ways and sidewalks being fought by police and ever more colourful costumed individuals with sparkling powers. Thugs, Militants, Cultists, even Aliens. So much beautiful chaos, hiding just under the happy and shining surface.

He looked down at Canterlot below him, a wide grin spreading across his face. They’d experienced his own personal brand of chaos before, but now he’d seen this world he wanted to introduce them to a very different style of chaos.

One that wasn’t going to be all laughs.