The Man With A Dream pt 9

Lights glared red in emergency as he made his way to the battlefield.

With each corresponding flash, his gruff face smeared with blood revealed itself.

Each step he made echoed through the vacant stairway.  As if the world itself was warning of his presence.

His pistol, drenched in blood and brain matter, glinted in malicious intent as it hung limply from his hip.

And as he approached the door dividing himself and those he would do battle with, his piercing blue eyes burned with unending determination.

His heart was steady, his breath serene, and his mind a fortress. 

Wesley was ready.

With a gentle push, the door whirled open to reveal his adversaries.

Countless men and women clad in ebony suits surrounded the stairway with guns of all classifications.

The minute he revealed himself their sights were trained on him.

Neither side moved at first, both too occupied assessing the other to perform any manner of action.

However, after a moment, Wesley slowly reached for the back of his satchel and unhooked it.

The fastened gun fell to the marble floor with a low thud.

In a realm of villains and heroes, those with the ability to transcend the use of firearms weren't uncommon.

Hence, the encircling forces' vigilance only heightened at Wesley's actions.

Grips tightened and aims were readjusted as the perceived threat level of the man rose.

Unnervingly, the man took a moment to look each man and woman in the eye.

It was only after he finished did Wesley speak for the first time.

" I will not regret what I do here tonight. But in remembrance of your bravery, I have burned your likeness into my mind." 

How he recited these words struck a chord in the psyches of those observing.

It was practiced as if said a thousand times in the past.

Apprehension encompassed the majority at the thought some might not survive.

Then a brave, or perhaps foolish, soul piped up.

A gorgeous young woman in her twenties inquired the question all were too frightened to ask.

"W-who are yo-"

A bullet drilled itself through the woman's skull before she could finish.

Holding the still smoking revolver he had concealed in his sleeve, Wesley grinned as he felt the contract take effect.

Then all hell broke loose.

All at once guns blazed with unsaid fervor.

For ten seconds, the stairway was subjected to the might of dozens of firearms discharging in tandem with one another.

Once the necessity to reload dawned on them their senses slowly returned.

In the advent of their reckless firing, a cloud of debris and smoke formed, obstructing their visions from Wesley.

An instant later two bodies fell to the floor.

He had begun his counter-attack.

Rushing out the cloud of dust with quickness stepping into the realm of inhuman, Wesley shot his revolver at the head of another guard.

His death was swift and painless as the shell killed him immediately.

Bobbing to the side, Wesley managed to evade a barrage of bullets that would have torn him to shreds.

However, he wasn't so fortuitous with the high-caliber sniper rifle brandished by one of the senior units of the security force.

Wesley watched in slow motion as the sniper round tunneled its way through his skull, producing a golf ball-sized cavity where his eye was.

Mind-rending agony assaulted his senses.

But only for an infinitesimal interval of time. 

For in the following second his wound and any discomfort attributed to it disappeared.

"Oh, shit! He's a regenerator!"

The random goon who spoke out was next to perish as Wesly shot a slug through his heart.

Once again dozens of guns flared to life as the guards sought to possibly overwhelm Wesley's restorative abilities.

This time Wesley wasn't idle.

In an eruption of momentum, Wesley surged forward.

In less than two seconds he was upon his victim.

With vicious efficiency, Wesley promptly wrapped his arms around their neck and snapped it.

The body fell limply to the ground as he proceeded to his next prey.

Wesley operated as a cyclone of death. In his wake corpses fell like rain.

Yet, as he continued to add new carcasses to the steadily growing pile, subsequent kills became more disfigured as his strength swelled.

Punches that would slow or stun rapidly became blows capable of killing instantly, and techniques meant to cleanly slay their target instead generated gory messes. 

Already he had slaughtered over five dozen men and women.

And as a result, power, more than he's ever experienced, flowed through him.

Not only that but he could feel their knowledge and skills of combat melding with his own.

It was exhilarating!

Unfortunately, as all good things should, his high would come to an end.

A sudden urge telling him to move would be the only warning he received before a black blur tore off both his arms, a sword impaled his stomach, and a massive fist tore the head from his body.

The last thing he saw before his world went black was the sight of three men in menacing costumes.

Penguin's superpowered guards had entered the battle.

....

A/n: Don't worry mistress death won't be taking Wesley's soul.

But moving on. This chapter was more of a preview of the fight to come.

This was mostly for me to get back in the grove of writing fight scenes.

Besides that Hope you enjoyed.

Also I demand your thoughts!

Alt title: Battle fever