No Gods, No Heroes

Chapter 3

Sixteen Years Ago

Gunshots echoed across the desolate field as fighter jets carved through the sky. Commands from different voices crackled over radios, guiding armed troops forward. Soldiers stumbled over the bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. Some dropped to their knees, despair etched across their faces as the metallic tang of blood and smoke filled their lungs.

"They're here," a voice whispered through every officer's radio—relieved, yet tense.

From the hovering helicopter, two men descended, clad in black suits and masks that concealed their entire faces. They landed effortlessly between the firing squads. A brief nod passed between them, and in an instant, they charged forward toward the enemy lines. Bullets rained down, yet the two weaved through the attacks with unsettling ease.

"Run! They're VOR personnel!" a soldier cried out, retreating into the bunker.

"No! We stand and fight!" barked another.

"We bow to no one," the mustached man declared, his grip tightening around his rifle.

"But General—"

A single gunshot cut him off. Blood trickled down his forehead as he collapsed to the ground.

"Fight, or die," the general growled, lowering his smoking pistol.

"General… Do you have a plan?" another soldier asked, trembling.

"It's not about plans," the general replied, voice cold. "It's about showing my soldiers the way of a warrior. Steel bends or breaks—we forge anew."

He pulled open a drawer and retrieved a syringe.

"That's…" the soldier gasped.

"Yes." The general's gaze didn't waver. "I'll buy you time. Get reinforcements."

"General…" The soldier hesitated, then saluted. "Yes, sir."

The bunker door sealed shut behind the retreating soldier. Alone now, the general drove the needle into his vein and let out a guttural screech.

"That should be the last of them," one of the VOR operatives said, removing his mask.

"Yeah… but why were we deployed here?" the second operative asked, pulling off his mask as well.

Lucien glanced at his partner. "I noticed you didn't kill any of them, Isaac."

Isaac shrugged. "I knocked them out."

Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Knocking them out doesn't win wars."

"Killing doesn't either."

Lucien opened his mouth to retort, but his expression shifted. "Do you hear that?"

A low growl rumbled in the distance, growing louder.

"Everyone, stay sharp," Isaac ordered, pulling his mask back on. Lucien followed suit, tension crackling between them like static.

In a flash, something streaked past—a crimson blur that reeked of blood.

"Shit," Lucien muttered, spinning around to track it. The blur sliced through the distant troops like a scythe, leaving severed bodies crumpling in its wake.

"It's heading for the others!" Lucien's voice was sharp with urgency.

They could only watch as the streak halted, finally revealing its form. It loomed at an imposing height, sclera black as ink, blood dripping from hollow eyes. Jagged teeth peeked from its gaping mouth, and in its clawed hand, it held the limp body of a soldier.

Lucien's breath hitched. "What… is that?"

Isaac's gaze hardened. "That's a Bloodreaper. A Revenant—classified as a City Threat."

Lucien's face darkened. "So it's true… they were experimenting with strands of the VOR virus."

Isaac nodded grimly. "Yes. But whatever he was before… he had no resistance to the infection."

The Bloodreaper let out a piercing screech.

"You war-hungry mongrels… this is your doing. Look around—half the world lies in ruin, all because of your greed." Its voice grated, distorted but clear.

Isaac's eyes narrowed. "An intelligent Revenant? That's a first."

Lucien's expression remained cold. "Good. We'll take it back for experimentation."

"Help… me," the soldier in the Bloodreaper's grasp gasped, blood trickling down his helmet.

"I'll—"

The Bloodreaper crushed the man's skull with a sickening crunch, discarding the body like trash.

"Still think they're worth saving, Isaac? This is the reality of war."

Lucien surged forward, blade drawn, but the Bloodreaper's fist came down like a hammer. Lucien leapt back, narrowly avoiding the strike as the ground beneath him fractured.

Isaac seized the opening, closing the distance in a blink. His punch landed with enough force to send shockwaves through the creature's body. The Bloodreaper exploded into chunks of flesh and bone.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. You've been holding out on me."

Isaac exhaled, lowering his guard. "Don't celebrate yet."

The mangled pieces twitched, drawing together with a series of sickening, wet squelches.

"Persistent bastard…" Lucien muttered, rolling his shoulders.

The Bloodreaper reformed, faster this time. It lunged, claws slicing through the air—straight for Lucien.

Frozen Moment.

Time slowed to a crawl. To Lucien, the Bloodreaper appeared almost frozen in place. With calm precision, he drove his fist into its chest, sending the creature staggering back. His blows came in rapid succession, each strike accelerating as time warped around him.

With a final punch to its gut, Lucien planted an explosive on the creature's head and drove it backward—slamming it into the bunker with bone-shattering force.

"Lucien, what the hell are you doing?! Our comrades are in there!" Isaac's voice crackled with disbelief.

"So are dozens of explosives. Enough to destroy that thing for good."

"But they'll die!"

Lucien's gaze didn't waver. "So is war."

Isaac's heart pounded. "Damn it… I can't reach them in time—"

Before he could move, the bunker erupted in a fiery blast. The shockwave knocked Isaac back, flames consuming the horizon.

Isaac spun on Lucien, his fist connecting with his jaw. Lucien hit the ground hard, his mask skidding away.

Lucien met Isaac's glare with an icy stare, emotionless and unmoved.

Isaac's breath hitched. For a moment, the fury drained from his veins, replaced by something colder—doubt.

Lucien sat up slowly, wiping blood from his mouth. "I don't blame you for being angry, Isaac. Just hope your guilt doesn't haunt you the way mine has."

Isaac said nothing. The echo of the explosion lingered between them.

Present Day

Lucien walked slowly down the long, interlocked path, five bouquets of flowers cradled in his arms. As he passed rows of tombstones, his footsteps softened, and his gaze fixed ahead. Eventually, he arrived at a secluded section of the cemetery. With a quiet creak, he pushed open the iron gate.

In the vast, empty plain beyond, five tombstones stood in a neat row, solitary yet unwavering. The vases in front of each stone held flowers, their petals drooping and brittle with age. Isaac knelt, carefully replacing each arrangement with fresh blooms.

Once finished, he sat down before the graves, pulling a whiskey bottle from his suit pocket.

"I knew I'd find you here, General," a soft voice said behind him.

Lucien didn't turn. "You were looking for me?"

"As your personal assistant, I make it a habit to know your whereabouts, sir," she replied, settling beside him.

"Don't trouble yourself with that, Helen," he said quietly.

Helen was petite, her sharp features softened by the cascade of lavender hair falling over her shoulders. Dressed in crisp formal attire, she held a tablet tightly to her chest, though the professional front was eased by her presence here.

"You've mourned them for over fifteen years, sir." Helen lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. "They say time heals wounds. Some people think you're overdoing it. They say this… ritual is just a show—to make you seem human. A way to hide your real nature. Especially after what happens every time you visit Eunice's grave."

Lucien's eyes didn't leave the tombstones.

"Time heals, but scars don't disappear." He swirled the whiskey in his hand. "I don't care what they say. My mistake killed them. Every time I believed in forgiveness—believed in the good in people—someone died because of it."

He took a long sip from the bottle, the burn cutting through the cold air.

"People don't change, Helen. They just haven't found the right reason to show who they really are."

Helen let the silence settle between them, her cigarette ember glowing faintly against the darkening sky.

"Let's go, General," she said finally, brushing ash from her sleeve. "You have a meeting to attend."

Nova

Isaac sprinted down the empty street, his breath sharp in the cold night air. Malick stood at the entrance of the house, eyes scanning the area nervously.

"Did you get it?" Malick asked the moment Isaac reached him.

"Yeah. Where is she?" Isaac panted, gripping the small silver box in his hand.

"Inside. Hurry."

Isaac pushed through the door, moving swiftly to Janice's side. Her breathing was shallow, skin pale and clammy. Without hesitation, he opened the silver box, extracting a vial of glowing liquid. In one fluid motion, he jabbed the needle into her chest.

Janice's body arched violently off the bed before collapsing back onto the mattress, her breathing stabilizing.

"Will she be alright?" Malick asked, his voice tense.

"She should be," Isaac replied, watching her closely. "I injected her with a biologically engineered strain of the VOR virus. It should neutralize the Revenant infection… at least for now."

Malick exhaled, relief softening his face. Isaac smiled faintly.

"I had someone like her once," Isaac said quietly. "Her name was Eunice. My memory's still a mess, but she's the one thing I haven't forgotten. Protect her, kid."

Malick chuckled. "I'll do my best."

Before Isaac could respond, a low voice rumbled from the doorway.

"Isaac Hart… so this is where you've been hiding all these years."

A man stepped into view, his massive frame filling the door. His green tank top strained against his chest, and thick dreadlocks hung loosely, adorned with white beads and rings.

Isaac rose to his feet instantly, eyes narrowing.

"Who are you?"

The man grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light.

"When I heard you were alive, I couldn't let that sixty-million-dollar bounty slip away."

"Bounty?"

"You didn't know? You're the highest-priced target on the Deadpool, Hart. And tonight, I'm claiming the prize."

Isaac's jaw tightened. He shifted slightly toward Malick, lowering his voice.

"On my signal, grab Janice and run. I'll hold him off."

Malick nodded.

Isaac knelt, placing his palm flat against the floor. A faint vibration rippled through the room before shattering the ground beneath the man's feet.

"Run!" Isaac barked.

Malick didn't hesitate. He hoisted Janice onto his shoulder and darted toward the back exit.

As the dust cleared, the man—Kang—emerged, grinning wider than before.

"You should've run with him, Isaac. Kang the Hunter likes to toy with his prey." His laughter echoed, low and menacing.

Isaac's eyes stayed locked on him. "This won't end well for you."

Kang cracked his knuckles. "We'll see. 

"After I'm done you'll tell me who put that bounty on my head."

"You'll have to survive long enough to find out."

Isaac chuckled. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."