The Man With a Dream pt 10

Alastor grinned at the eruption of Dionysus's strength.

Ever since Wesley had initiated his battle with the guards of the Iceberg Lounge, Dionysus had been steadily accumulating power.

However, it was the abrupt "death" of his subordinate that propelled Alastor's ability to new heights.

With its current state, Alastor was confident he could establish worlds inside the psyches of even the most mentally robust of people.

He couldn't wait to see how it would influence the likes of Batman.

"But for now, I believe it's time for Wesley to arouse from his slumber," Alastor said as he snapped his fingers.

...

With closed eyes, Wesley drifted in a sea of black.

He had died.

Killed while walking the path of vengeance.

Murdered without the opportunity to do onto others what was done to him.

Butchered alone and without an audience.

Carl Wesley, forty (forty-three) years old, slaughtered by three unnamed men.

That should have been the climax of his story.

Except it wasn't.

Next to Wesley a lush green portal the height of a man manifested.

It was oval-shaped, and green energy arced off it periodically.

Gradually from the portal, an enormous clawed hand extended out and seized Wesley.

Secured, the hand towed Wesley through the green portal and back to the land of the living.

Unbeknownst to Wesley a pair of eyes concealed in the ebony sea followed the exchange with considerable interest.

…..

Three men in costumes watched in curiosity as Wesley's fractured body rebuilt itself in less than a minute.

The smallest of the trio wore steampunk attire, had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a belt of gadgets was fastened around his waist.

This was Trinket, the trio's support unit. 

"I must say this level of regeneration is outstanding. It wouldn't lose against the likes of Deadpool, or even Wolverine!" Said the steampunk-themed man.

At his words, the man next to Trinket let out an impressed whistle.

"For real? Shit, we may just have a fight on our hands after all."  The man said with an arrogant smirk.

He looked to be in his very early twenties and wore a standard punk outfit. The only thing not punk-themed were a pair of metal boots that reached just before his knee.

The last and largest man of the trio shook his head helplessly at the punk man's words.

" Don't hope for a fight, Striker, we're here to do a job, not have fun." The large man said while staring at the punked-out man pointedly with his brown eyes.

Striker rolled his grey eyes at the larger man's words.

" Tank, did you see how easily we tore the guy apart? By fight, I meant a mildly competent punching bag." Striker explained to the large man.

Tank was a massive man standing at seven-foot and a half inches. His garb was similar to a standard military outfit, albeit with several modifications such as metal plating being grafted into the cloth.

"I agree with Striker, the man's reaction speed is abysmal compared to ours. He couldn't keep up with our attacks even if he tried." Trinket said matter of factly.

Striker nodded in agreement.

" Fine. If you're so confident then deal with him yourselves." Tank said with an annoyed growl.

Striker grinned while Trinket froze.

" H-how about we don't do that?" The steampunk-themed man said nervously.

" You'll be fine, kid. I actually agree with your analysis. Plus, I'll make sure you two don't die." Tank said as he stepped back to allow the duo to deal with Wesley as they wished.

Nodding, Trinket joined Striker in facing off against Wesley.

....

A/n: Yes this chapter was filler.

I'm in the process of writing the fight scene and well it's taking longer than I thought it would.

So here's a little bit of characterization of the super-powered guards, and a foreshadowing moment.

Beyond that I demand your thoughts!

Alt title: Filler 1