Part I: The Siege

A war is the result of one side realizing they’ve lost without having put up a fight. They haven’t gotten their way, and so they send in forces hoping to change that. The war ends either when they’ve achieved this goal, or when they find they can’t. For most of its existence, Traverse, Alabama, was hardly the staging ground for a war. It was a place to pass through to get to other places. In fact, it became important simply for this reason. So many had passed through, they discovered how strategic it was. In ancient times, it had known such status before; the power of the Mighty Palomar was always respected. It was named for an immortal fighting tribe long forgotten, of whom the wise William Tekamthi was the last son. They were the scourge of the old empire, the former America, of all civilization, awed of and respected. Their reputation persisted until the new ways brought new names even to everlasting rivers. When the whole area had been tamed and the white man had brought its savage ways to life, the Palomar was no longer respected, its power diminished, forgotten. Until this day. Now its weight would crush Cotton Colinaude, a man once known as the Eidolon.

***

Godsend is someone you could easily mistake for a hero. In his golden, royal garb, the Alabama Lamb stands in the same line as a tradition dating back the past century. He is the epitome of the golden boy image, the boy scout, the do-gooder, the selfless champion of justice who opposes, in a single word, evil. He acts in the best interests of the population, just as policemen, the military, and the courts do, only he does it without having signed up, without being paid to do it. One day he decided this was what he was going to do with his life, and so that is what he started doing. Wherever there is a wrong against the citizenry, there is Godsend to right it. In the traditional sense, it means he fights others so bedazzled as himself, outsized personalities with assumed names and enlarged egos, who crave megalomania and general ideas such as complete control of a city, a country, or even the world.

The nature of Godsend’s work, of his approach to it, could be summed up in the idea of the alpha male. He is not the sole super powered - and as part of his protection Godsend does have powers to aid him - hero to operate in the area of Traverse, Alabama. For years, even, Godsend left Traverse to others. He held as his base the state that adorns his moniker, but he had as his broad territory the entire country of the United States, and when such moments called for it, the world itself. He was not alone, no. He had a partner, the Eidolon, in a Terrific Tandem. Together they opposed many of the same enemies, sometimes for different reasons and always battled in different ways, because the Eidolon was merely human, whereas Godsend and many of their foes were not. Godsend was also, for many years, team leader for the Latter-day Allies, a collection of heroes primarily from the U.S. but also including such international figures as Brother Jack and the Staged Man from time to time.

But there was never a question of who was in charge. It was always Godsend. His very presence always allowed him to set the agenda. In many ways, that was why Traverse became a battleground. In these days, Godsend leads another charge, because this city was claimed by opposing forces while he wasn’t looking, and that turned out to be something he wasn’t happy with. The same things make Godsend happy as anyone else, the freedom to live ones life as one chooses, the freedom to live in a community of one’s choosing, one that reflects the sensibilities of its inhabitants, the freedom to live in a community that allows one to express whatever interests one chooses to embrace. Godsend believes that an individual has the right to be an individual, and, as an individual, embrace many others as well, because it is a birthright, it is a basic fact of existence. He does not like when there are those who would hedge this tenet in. He believes that the order of society was created to subdue chaos, and that he is a member of that ruling order just as anyone else. He has simply chosen to represent it. And the chaos that threatens to emerge again is within his duty to subdue. In Traverse, chaos took over ten years ago, when the crime lord known as Rancor was murdered and in his place, order Godsend didn’t know existed broke apart.

Rancor’s murderer goes by the name of Viper, but was also once known as Peter Cooley, a deaf reporter who forged a relationship with the Eidolon, Godsend’s former ally in the Tandem, before that union broke and the Eidolon, in fact, retired. Ten years ago, the Eidolon returned, asked for Godsend’s help, and Godsend refused. Now all three stand on a precipice, the full height of Humbert Savings, the architectural touchstone of the city. Viper has, if not been the chief adversary for order in Traverse, come to be known as the symbol of all Godsend stands against. There is no one with a greater grudge against him than the Eidolon, but Godsend has now embraced Viper as his own great foe. The Eidolon, clad in his midnight blue garments, and Viper, in his serpent greens, clutch at the top of a building Godsend positively beams over. Ten years ago, Viper was a lowlife thug, a lackey, who would never have interested Godsend. Ten years ago, Viper changed this when he revealed his cunning, his machinations, when he assassinated one of the greatest criminal minds of the late twentieth century and presented himself as the Eidolon’s blood enemy. He set to work undoing all of the binds that strung together the element of chaos, creating a city unhinged by order, breeding grounds for a new war. The rest of the country, let alone the world, hardly noticed. The business of heroes had a new central arena, Traverse was elevated, but it was under control. What could possibly come of it, of victory or defeat, that mere words couldn’t quantify? So the pundits had their field day and battles of unspeakable brutality began.

Viper was a focal point, but an elusive one, a mind constantly at work, always one step behind another conflict. The mayor stood on the verge of declaring martial law, and yet he was quietly assassinated, too, elections were held to replace him, and no one understood the significance of Malcolm Bidd, the godson, as it were, of this war, and what his presence would mean to the outcome. In close quarters, Viper would not stand for very long, but he was always willing to get his hands dirty all the same. A hero known as Dust, whom Viper had killed once before, saw his son murdered by the mastermind, who envisioned a city unfettered by costumed pretenders, free of shackles that bound economic possibilities. His original goal had always been to reclaim Traverse from the vigilante known as the Eidolon, who for so long had imposed his will not just on petty thieves, but on the free will of those he deprived of life’s rich harvest, the opportunity of capitalism, and instead set about his own tyranny. The Eidolon, to Viper’s reckoning, decided he alone had the right to tell people what they could and could not do. Achieved almost immediately, Viper finally made this hero see the folly of his ways, and began his reclamation of the city. And yet the Eidolon did not entirely go away. And when he returned, he brought with him Godsend.

Godsend, who now determines what a vermin Viper has been, what an evil he has been. He holds Viper by the neck over the edge of the great structure. No one watches below, no law enforcement begs him to reconsider. Godsend himself is the law enforcement; the people have recognized this long ago. He has led a siege against those who would cause undue harm, bore down on the walls of this fortress, and taken this champion within his grasp. He feels that it’s necessary to explain himself:

“This is your end, Peter Cooley. This is your end because you have brought it upon yourself, you have misled yourself. Let me tell you what you apparently never understood. Let me tell you about heroes. And let me start from the beginning.

“In the beginning, there were no heroes, because there wasn’t a need for them. Human life consisted solely on the basis of survival. And in that sense, every man was a hero, because they faced adversity and triumphed. We know this because we are here. There was competition, surely, but much of this would have been tempered by the harsh elements and the wild beasts around them. Civilization was built around primitive communes, and the first small nations became aware how they were not alone, and that this awareness was a weapon. Even if they did not bring conflict upon their neighbors, their neighbors saw fit to bring it to them. Wars were waged. Heroes were the champions who slaughtered the most of the enemy. They were blood demons, who inspired confidence through their great skill. We know this because we read of them. Other heroes in this time achieved greatness in trials of skill, labors, if you will, or captured mighty gifts.

“Heroes were conquerors, Peter Cooley. We don’t call Alexander, or Khan, heroes, but that is what they were. Eventually, empires were created, and the known world no longer needed heroes, because it was ruled by self-made gods. Heroes were no longer gods when continents were claimed and their inhabitants were put to the task of the new conquerors. We renamed them explorers, and for a long time, we didn’t know heroes. When we began again to see the ends of the earth, we waged wars, and the heroes returned, because we needed hope. Heroes are hope, Peter, they are shining lights, living embodiments of the message that we are right, that ours is the noble cause. And what are villains, you may say? Embodiments of what is wrong, what must be overcome. You are a villain, Peter. You have sought after only what benefits yourself, opposed those who performed selfless acts. You created a cesspool, tossing in whatever toxins you could find until your perfect, lethal blend was discovered. I am here to tell you that you failed. And the cost of this failure is your life. Too often you were given a second chance, until those chances amount to a new lifetime, and what you decided to do with it was inform others that their own lives were forfeit. Today you receive that message yourself. You will die, in a moment, and as you fall to that inevitable end, you will realize this: your cause was always doomed to failure. The human race is on a path to perfection, and aberrations, though they are constant, are never permanent. Freud told us of survival, of whom survives. You apparently weren’t listening. You are sick, you have always been sick. You were blessed with a unique view of the world, you were given every advantage to cope with this, to embrace it, and yet what you did was turn your back on all of it. There are wrong choices. You made one, and expected everyone to fall in line behind you, because you were right. Well, you were wrong. So end your mistake.”

The Eidolon, were he in the position he would have wanted, would have prevented what happens next. There is nothing he has ever wanted more than to rescue his cursed foe, but in this moment, he is thwarted, and he watches as Viper plummets to the pavement below, unyielding, never flapping a single limb, silent as the night. It is nighttime, yes, and yet the city glows in protest against it. There is still more yet to do. Godsend knows this, and yet this is a triumph for him, and he is savoring it. His former ally’s protests from moments before still echo in his ears, but he is, for the moment, entirely impervious, more than he has ever been. He might as well be immortal, for all the world can do to him now. He flies away before Viper hits, but the Eidolon witnesses. He grieves, even. This was never what he wanted. This wasn’t justice, it wasn’t even vengeance. It was Godsend, the pompous bastard, sending a message. Don’t fuck with him. He is the hero, the champion, and he intends to end a war that has been raging for a decade, because an opening became evident, and he seized it. The siege is pressing forth.