V 

Nothing cries out for a superhero's help more than wailing security alarms, followed by a power cut. the Doppler thought, as he infiltrated the museum, sneaking through the service entrance. The corridors were bathed in surreal red light. The Doppler steadied his breathing; evil bred in the darkness, but he would brave it. He wondered where the security guards were, while scratching at an unmentionable itch. His spandex suit always rode up, he didn't know how the other superheroes did it.

He heard a deep, predatory voice coming from the far end of the corridor. "What makes you think we want the same thing?"

"As much as you hate to admit it, you need humankind to survive," a quiet, high pitched voice replied.

"Your idea of saving humankind is to convince a robot to shoot a bunch of them?"

"Non-fatally," the voice asserted. "The future depends on it."

"You're no superhero," the voice scoffed.

"The future needs hope. It needs timelines that don't end in destruction and death! I'll play whatever part I have to, to nudge it in the right direction."

The Doppler skirted around the entrance to the conference room. He squinted. It was red, and hazy. On stage, a pest controller was conversing with the metal AI Unit. A female guard lay unconscious at his feet.

"Don't harm the civilian," he said loudly, placing his hands on his hips.

The pest controller turned around slowly.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. "You!" the Doppler shouted. "Subterranean Terror, you will pay for your crimes!"

The blonde villain scowled. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Justice has no sense of humour."

"Oh, right then." A massive pair of fangs burst from the man's mouth. The red light glinted off them demonically. "Let'sh do thish," he said through his grotesque teeth.

The Terror stepped towards him, volatile energy flowing off of his thin body. He moved faster, and faster still. The Doppler squinted, as a luminescent 'B' appeared on the AI's shoulder. Distracted, he didn't see the first punch as much as he felt it. Knocked from his feet, he collided with the door frame. Even with the suit's body armour, he found himself unable to do anything but curl up on the ground, gasping for air. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck. 

"You're right Seth," the high voice spoke again. "He copied my costume."

The Doppler could feel his body knitting itself back together beneath his suit. The superhero faked a groan, and pulled himself to his feet. He feigned a stumble to the left. When the Subterranean moved in, he swept the man's legs from underneath him. Before he could recover, he stomped on the man's chest. Ribs splintered and cracked underfoot.

The villain snarled, grabbed his onto his leg. An excruciating pain burnt through it, as the villain tore into it with his fangs, slicing through the suit's protective material like it was cheese.

The Doppler screamed in pain, as the man plunged his tongue into the gaping wound. It felt like his leg was on fire. He collapsed to the ground, kicking frantically at the Terror with his other leg. "Get the hell off me!"

The villain spat at him, as blood dripped down his chin. "You taste awful."

"You're a sick bastard!" he cried, stalling as long as he could, willing the muscles in his leg to rejoin with one another.

"And you're weak," he replied. He rolled over and stood up, his back to him. "You flee, or I break you. Slowly."

"What?"

"You heard me," the Subterranean said. "I'm giving you a chance to walk away. This is a limited time offer."

The Doppler scrambled to his feet, glancing at the shoulder of the AI unit, and the creature with glowing red eyes that sheltered beneath it. They seemed so familiar, and it wasn't just the costume. He puffed out his chest. "I'm not leaving. Not without the security guard."

The Terror shrugged. "Why not? I'm feeling particularly charitable tonight."

*

Lars watched as the man limped from the room, the unconscious guard cradled in his arms.

The blonde-haired man spoke first. "I'd turn the robot on now. That guy will definitely raise the alarm."

"Technically it's an AI unit, but that's a good point." Lars said. "We just need power it on, it will head towards the greatest area of human concentration," he paused. "What's your name?"

"No one has called me by my name for a long time. You may call me Bastian."

Seth whined, and Lars translated: "Bastian, my friend would like to know why you didn't kill the superhero."

Bastian smirked, his massive fangs retracting into his mouth. "That creep? I think I'll catch up with him later tonight."

Lars felt around to the back of the AI's neck. His skin crawled with its contact on the cold metal. He could scarcely believe he was touching humanities downfall. 

He heard the metal man's eye lids blink open, and shivered. The AI's eyes lit up the room with piercing blue light. Lars almost lost his balance, as the AI left the stage, walking towards the museum's entrance.

Bastian spoke. "See you around, I guess."

Lars jumped from the AI's shoulder and mounted Seth. "We probably won't, but I appreciate the gestu-" He turned around, but the dead man, whatever he was, had melted into the darkness.

"Back to the future?" Seth asked. 

"You got that right," Lars confirmed. "We just need to be closer to our entry point."

The first gunshot punctured the air. Lars heard their screams build as successive shots followed it. Humans fled from the square like a termite nest under assault from an anteater. Their panicked footsteps make the ground tremble.

"We've got to go!" Lars said. "We can run under the cover of them,"

"We'll be trampled," Seth protested.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Lars said, a look of determination etched into his face. He checked their water reserves. 70%. The humans had better stay out of their way.

*

George Goodman checked his watch. It was pushing 4:30 a.m. The code red investigation had been going on for hours now. He slunk past the desk of Major Cayman Oshiro, and bolted the door to the bathroom. After several tense minutes, a knock rattled at the frosted glass. He pulled it open.

"Thank goodness you're here," he told the Doppler, "I was getting worried."

"I've had one hell of a night," he replied, stripping out of his suit. "You won't believe who I ran into. You remember that dream we had as kids - about those things who stole our comic book? I'm not so sure it was a dream."

He let the suit drop to the floor. The navy material was torn in places, and inky black stains were streaked across the fabric. George pulled his shirt over his head. They were about to fuse together when there was a second knock at the window. His other Doppler had escaped the clutches of the zombie lady? George sighed in relief. That was great news. He hauled the third storey building window open, and stared in shock at the new arrival.

The Subterranean Terror leered at him in the darkness. "I changed my mind," he said simply. "I'm not feeling charitable after all."