Golden Guardian: The Birth Of A Superhero Issue- 4

Afghanistan- 3 Years Previous

An explosion rocked the market place as pieces of shrapnel flew through the air like bullets.
Ryan threw himself behind his vehicle. A shard of glass flashed past his head, burying it's self in the dirt a few feet away.  Ryan waited for the noise of the explosion to die down before clambering to his feet.
The street was a mess. Buildings had large chunks missing from their walls, the dead and injured lay on the floor amongst the rubble and blood. Parts of those closest to the explosion were scattered around the ground and walls in random patterns, as if dropped from the sky like raindrops.
Ryan made his way over to the epicenter, a burnt out pickup truck outside what a few seconds ago was a quiet café. The driver was only a thin veneer across the inside of the car, except for the bits mixed in with the body parts of his victims. Ryan sighed. Why does anyone think this was gods' will?
He quickly checked under the car for any other I.E.D's before turning to see if there was anything else he could do.
The squad doctor was helping tend to the most seriously injured, whilst other members of the squad were helping others. He made his way over to the doctor, who signaled him to go help a man over his shoulder.
The man was bleeding deeply from his shoulder. He twitched as Ryan approached.
"Can I help you sir?" Ryan asked, kneeling down next to him. The man didn't answer, instead shuffling slightly, as if trying to reach for something underneath him.
"Sir, stay still so I can treat your injury." Ryan said, calmly cleaning the wound with a cotton pad from his first aid kit and some water from his canteen. The man flinched as the cotton came in contact with his wound. A large piece of shrapnel was wedged into the mans left collarbone, and chest area. I had obviously penetrated an artery or something near the heart, with all the blood still running out of it. It would require someone much more experienced in medicine to remove it Ryan thought as he put away his canteen. Something moved in the corner of his eye and he turned back to the injured man, only to come face to face with the barrel of a pistol. The injured man was holding it with is good hand, smiling nastily.
"You die with me westener." The man said grimly.
The shot rang out around the square. Some of the injured screamed and the man fell back dead, the bullet hole visible on his forehead.
"You should be more careful there kid." Came a voice from behind Ryan. Ryan quickly jumped to his feet, turning around as he did so.
"Thanks Freddie," He said gratefully. "I owe you one."
"That's Captain Vass to you."
"Sorry Captain Vass," Ryan said sheepishly. "But I still owe you one."
Captain Vass smiled as he turned back to the casualty he had been treating.
"You don't owe me anything kid." He said quietly. "Now go do your job."

Ryan woke up.
Sweat was dripping from his body as he slowly pushed the covers off. He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. It was ten in the morning. He hadn't slept in this late since his teens. Stretching, he lifted himself out of bed and, after doing numerous push ups, made his way down stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing himself a bowl of cereal he sat down at the kitchen table, still trying to banish the lingering thoughts of his dream from his head.
Being back at home had done nothing to quell the sense of unease he had about the mission he had been set. Freddie had saved his life, he couldn't forget that, and he was his friend. Friends shouldn't fight, let alone hurt each other. But, if Freddie had become a mad man, if he was a danger to innocent lives, he couldn't be allowed to hurt anyone.
Ryan glanced down at the mini transmitter Dr. Mitchells had given him before he ha left Midas labs. Life was so much simpler when you didn't know your enemy, he thought.
Ryan was suddenly brought crashing back to reality with the ringing of the doorbell. Hastily, he rushed to the window, almost knocking his cereal over in the process. Glancing out of the window, he relaxed. The figure standing at the door was female. If it had been the military sent to check up on him, he would have expected at least five marines Ryan quickly shoved his cereal bowl in the sink before opening the door.
"Hello Ryan," the girl said as he opened the door. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Tara?!" Ryan said, surprised. He hadn't expected to see her so soon.
"Ye, it's me," Tara smiled. "Do you mind if I come in?"
"No, not at all." Ryan stepped aside, allowing Tara in to the house.
She was a very beautiful woman, any man would tell you that. Her slim, athletic figure, toned by years of military training and flying fighter jets, was covered by a loose fitting cardigan and scarf. Her long legs framed perfectly in skintight jeans and accented by her slightly heeled boots. Her long, light blonde hair was partially covered by a cream net beanie hat, with her fringe, which usually would have been brushed back whilst she was at work, just covered one of her deep blue eyes.
"I heard you just got back," she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "How did your assignment go?"
"I can't really talk about it," Ryan said taking the seat beside her.
"I understand," Tara said. "Classified, need to know only and all that other military mumbo jumbo."
"Well you'd know," Ryan said smiling. "You're in the air force and they're just as bad."
Tara gave him a cheeky smile. Ryan's face became pensive.
"It was hard though," he said in a much quieter voice. "I'm a different man now than I was before, in so many ways. I've been put in a position that could end up destroying me and people I care about and I don't know what to do."
"You're a soldier," Tara said comfortingly, placing her hand on his cheek. "That's all part of the job. You have to be the hero, even if being the hero isn't what you'd want it to be, because at this very moment you are the only person who can do it."
"You're right." Ryan smiled and took Tara's hand away from his face, holding it in a tender fashion. "I have to do it, because if don't then people will be hurt and it will be my fault for not acting. Thank you Tara. You always make me feel better."
"You should talk to me about things more often," Tara said, taking her hand back and smiling.
"I have to go now," Ryan said, rising from his chair. "You can stay here for a while if you want. There's a spare key under the mat outside for you to lock the door on your way out."
"No that's alright," Tara said, also vacating her chair. "I'll leave now."
Ryan smiled as he put on his coat and shoes.
"Ryan," Tara said with a slightly apprehensive tone.
"What Tara?" Ryan replied cheerfully.
"When you said you are a different man than before, does that mean your feeling towards me have changed?"
Ryan smiled again as he opened the door and the both stepped through.
"Nothing could change my feeling for you Tara."

Meanwhile- In Midas labs.

"You are questioning me Mitchells. Captain Dawn is our only hope of survival and you know it as well as I do."
"Yes, but I don't think that your methods are the best way of achieving that goal. I mean, making threats against innocent civilians, Jesus Christ. Are you trying to turn us into the bad guys Arthur."
General McKeller and Dr. Mitchells shouts could be heard down the corridor. If anyone had been around they would have been privy to what sounded almost like a lovers quarrel. However, it being Saturday, the labs were empty. Except for one lone figure.
"If it protects this division, this laboratory and the people in it then I don't care if we are painted as the bad guys." McKeller screamed at Mitchells. Neither man noticed the door slowly creaking open and a shadowy figure enter the room. "We created numerous mutant freaks during our time here Mitchells, or have you forgotten that? I am just trying to protect people from our failures, save people from those monsters we created."
"But general, you can never escape the monsters. They always find you."
The venomous voice can from behind Dr. Mitchells and both men looked up to see its source. From the shadows in of the bookshelves a tall figure stepped forward, his muscular frame thrown into sharp relief by the light from the window.
"Vass?" Dr. Mitchells throat ran dry as the man reached out towards him.
"Correct doctor." Vass smiled menacingly as he grabbed Mitchells by the neck and slowly twisted.
General McKeller reached down into one of the desk draws for his revolver as Vass dropped the limp body of Dr. Mitchells.
"That is foolish General." Vass hissed as McKeller pulled out the pistol.
Vass' turn of speed startled McKeller. Before he could fire, Vass already had the pistol in his vice like grasp and with what seemed like very little effort, he crushed it in his hand, with McKeller's hand still holding on for dear life.
McKeller screamed as Vass crushed his hand, gunmetal and wood splinters digging into his hand, lacerating it. Vass smiled as the general dropped to the floor clutching his hand and wimpering.
"I will enjoy this." He said as he knelt down to pick up the old man.