Chapter 26

The two boys began running in the direction of the Kent farm and Apollo floated up into the sky and then shot towards the old farm the Mankins were holding the others on.

Apollo soared through the air at incredible speeds until he was floating above the farm.

The Mankins estate was alive with movement—but not in any way that would draw suspicion.

There were no grand auctions, no loud displays of wealth—only shadows shifting in the moonlight.

In the dimly lit barnyard behind the estate, the deal was already happening.

A line of immigrants in chains was being escorted into the backs of transport trucks. Their faces were hollowed with fear, bodies exhausted from weeks of forced labor.

The buyers weren't bidding in a ballroom.

They were standing beside blacked-out SUVs, their expressions cold and businesslike.

The men overseeing the sale—the enforcers of the Mankins' operation—stood by, watching impassively as money exchanged hands. Heavily armed security lingered in the background, prepared for any potential threats.

They had done this a dozen times before.

They had no reason to suspect that tonight would be any different.

They were wrong.

He saw Doctor Wesley with a man he didn't recognize.

"Quite an impressive shipment tonight. Each round is getting bigger and bigger" the other man said.

"Well we have an abundance of people we can acquire because of my employer and you know him a businessman through and through. He's always eager to supply if the demand is there and the money is too" Doctor Wesley replied.

"It must pay well to work for a man like that" the other man said.

"It pays very handsomely especially with the extra bonuses" Wesley said smirking at the truck. No doubt insinuating the sales of those people gave him some extra money. The other man smiled at Doctor Wesley and they shook hands once again.

"I should go my employer wants them by tomorrow morning and these animals can be quite noisy so best to transport them as quick as possible" the other man told Wesley who nodded.

Apollo's blood boiled. They were talking about innocent people like they were animals. People with families and loved one's who only wanted to make a life for themselves. Apollo clenched his fist having heard enough.

He shot down like a rocket.

Before the first guard could even turn his head—a red-and-blue blur slammed into him.

Apollo knocked him out cold with a single blow and caught his body before it could hit the ground.

The next guard turned—only for his rifle to be yanked away at super-speed.

Before he could shout, Apollo silenced him with a quick and strong tap to the temple.

One by one, they fell.

The buyers had just begun loading the last workers into the truck when they heard a loud crash.

One of the guards was flung into the hood of an SUV, crumpling it like tin foil.

The men whirled around—

Apollo stood in the center of the carnage.

His hands were in his pockets.

His eyes glowed faintly red.

"Bad night for business," he said.

For a single second—nobody moved.

Then someone shouted, "Kill him!"

The first man lunged with a knife.

Apollo sidestepped and caught his wrist, twisting it until the blade dropped. Then he knocked him out with a light tap to the forehead.

Two more rushed him with batons.

Apollo didn't dodge.

He let them swing.

CRACK.

Both weapons shattered on impact.

The men stumbled back, eyes wide with horror.

Apollo smiled. "Want to try again?"

A fourth man pulled out a handgun.

Apollo blurred forward, snatching it away before he could fire.

He crushed the barrel with his bare hands.

The fight was over in less than a minute.

Only two man remained—Doctor Wesley and the buyer.

They were already backing away, sweat beading down their foreheads.

Apollo stepped closer.

"You're going to let these people go," he said.

The man swallowed hard. "And if I don't?"

Apollo's eyes flared red.

The men's faces turned ghost white and they tried to run away.

Moving faster than the two men could hope to react to. He instantly knocked out Doctor Wesley and the other man. Sending them both hurling backwards through the air in opposite directions, Wesley smashed into the barn and the other man flew into the field.

Apollo hit them both harder than he would usually hit a regular person but he was angry. He could tell that he broke some bones but right now he couldn't bring himself to care too much about the traffickers. They were still alive and breathing.

He turned to the truck and focused on the people that really mattered right now, the ones who were in danger. Apollo ripped the padlock from the back of the truck and opened the doors and saw the faces of over a dozen people all of them scared. They all began to cry out asking to be set free and a part of Apollo's heart broke imagining the hardship they all suffered through.

"It's okay. You're safe now. You're free now" Apollo said calmly in Spanish to all of the occupants of the truck as he reached out his hand to help them out.

One of them slowly and hesitantly took it and Apollo smiled at them reassuring them that everything would be okay.

Apollo helped take them all to his farm and when they were safe he flew back to the Mankins mansion prepared to confront the family who thought they could get away with this.

Apollo moved through the halls of the mansion, his footsteps light, ears listening for any sign of movement.

Nothing, it was too quiet.

The study door was ajar, a single light spilling into the dim hallway.

Inside, Bryan Mankins sat slumped in a chair, hands trembling around a half-empty glass of whiskey.

His face was pale, his usually slicked-back hair disheveled, and his red-rimmed eyes darted toward Apollo with something between fear and relief.

"It's you," Bryan whispered.

Apollo stepped forward, gaze unwavering. "Where are they?"

Bryan blinked. "What?"

"Your father. Corey. The others. Where are they?"

Bryan swallowed hard. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white.

Apollo's expression darkened.

"I know about the trafficking," he said. "The forced labor. Everything. How much of it are you a part of?"

Bryan flinched.

"I didn't want any of this," he said quickly. "I tried to stop it."

Apollo's jaw tightened.

"Tried how?"

Bryan let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"You remember the crash?"

Apollo's gaze flickered. The one from a couple of weeks ago. The helicopter he caught with Corey, Bryan and Doctor Wesley inside.

Bryan let out a shaky breath.

"I flew it badly on purpose," he admitted. "I didn't want them to find those people."

Apollo's stomach tightened.

Bryan rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers trembling.

"I thought… maybe if I just messed up the flight enough, if I stalled them long enough, they wouldn't find them."

His voice cracked.

"I didn't think I'd actually crash" Bryan admitted.

He set his glass down and ran his shaky hand through his hair and then chuckled.

"I guess I'm not as good a pilot as I thought" Bryan said.

Apollo stepped closer and looked Bryan in his eyes, his gaze sympathetic.

Bryan exhaled, shaking his head. He stared into the middle distance zoning out as he lets his thoughts consume him.

"When we were going down… and I thought I was gonna die?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I was happy."

His lips trembled.

"I was happy" Bryan repeated tears forming in his eyes.

Apollo's expression softened.

Bryan's shoulders shook.

"I thought… maybe that would finally stop what my dad was doing. Maybe that'd be the end of it."

He clenched his jaw.

"I was naive" Bryan spat out.

Apollo put his hand on Bryan's shoulder reassuring him.

"You're not naive" Apollo told him.

Bryan blinked. Apollo's voice was firm but steady.

"You knew what they were doing was wrong. And you tried to stop it. You still can."

Bryan exhaled shakily.

Apollo leaned in. "Tell me everything."

Bryan hesitated. Then, finally, he spoke.

"The Japanese group—they're looking for something. An ancient mineral buried deep under the estate. They say it has… properties."

Apollo's eyes narrowed. "What kind of properties?"

Bryan shook his head. "I don't know. But it's important enough that my dad made a deal with them."

He swallowed.

"They offered him immortality. Said they could make Corey… more than human."

Apollo felt a chill creep down his spine.

"When?"

Bryan's throat bobbed.

"Tonight."

"Thank you Bryan. I want you to know I'm going to put a stop to this. No matter what. So don't throw your life away, because it's far more precious than you think. Be brave and live Bryan" Apollo warmly told Bryan giving him a small smile.

Bryan smiled back and then Apollo turned away.

Apollo burst out of the mansion, his body blurring as he raced toward the excavation site.

The wind howled in his ears.

He was going to stop the Mankins, he was going to stop the organisation they partnered with and he was going to save all the people they had dared to hurt just because they thought they could get away with it.

This ended tonight.

—

The ritual site was a deep excavation hidden within the Mankins' private land—an area gutted by industrial digging equipment, its once-natural beauty reduced to a desolate pit. Rusted scaffolding, half-assembled steel frameworks, and a labyrinth of digging machinery loomed over the site like the remains of some long-forgotten civilization.

A group of immigrants—men and women—stood at the bottom of the pit, forced to work the excavation. Their faces were streaked with dirt and sweat, their hands calloused from days, maybe weeks, of brutal labor. Some operated strange mechanical drills, designed to cut deep into the rock, their edges glowing faintly from contact with something unnatural beneath the surface. Others were forced to shovel the loosened debris into carts, under the watchful gaze of silent, masked figures.

At the heart of the pit stood a massive stone altar, its surface carved with ancient symbols. A stone basin rested atop it, filled with a thick, dark liquid. Its sickly, metallic scent lingered in the air, a smell that seemed almost… alive.

Standing before the altar were Montgomery Mankins and his son, Corey.

Montgomery wore a dark suit, but unlike his usual appearance—pristine and commanding—he seemed uneasy. His sharp gaze darted between the altar, the workers, and the figures in black standing around them.

Corey, dressed in ceremonial black robes, was a mirror of hesitation. His usual arrogance was nowhere to be seen. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides as he whispered to his father.

"This… this is insane," Corey muttered. He gestured toward the basin, the shrouded figures surrounding them. "I thought you said they were just going to enhance me. Give me strength. But this?"

Montgomery kept his voice low, firm. "This is what we worked for." He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with his son.

"Do you understand what's at stake?"

Corey swallowed.

Montgomery's grip on his son's shoulder tightened. "Immortality. Power beyond human limits."

Corey hesitated, staring at the thick, inky substance in the basin. Something about it felt wrong.

Then, a voice cut through the silence.

"Do I sense doubt in you" a voice spoke.

The voice was smooth, controlled. But beneath its calmness, there was a weight. A presence that made the workers tense.

One of the masked figures stepped forward.

He was different from the others. Taller. Slender. Dressed in a black suit with intricate silver embroidery. His long, dark hair framed a pale, angular face. Despite the stillness of his posture, he radiated deadly precision.

A katana hung at his side, its hilt wrapped in black silk.

His name was Tomi Shishido. But Montgomery knew him as The Gorgon.

"No, Gorgon. No doubt" Montgomery spoke quickly.

The Gorgon walked forward his eyes covered by his dark sunglasses and smiled.

He looked at the few members of Montgomery's security detail around the site and frowned.

"You have no need for security anymore" Gorgon spoke simply.

Montgomery turned toward him, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

The Gorgon slowly removed his sunglasses.

Beneath them, his piercing pink-red eyes gleamed like burning coals.

Montgomery barely had time to process what he was seeing before—

The Gorgon's eyes turned white.

A ripple of unnatural energy pulsed outward.

One by one, the armed guards standing around the perimeter of the site froze—then began to change.

Their skin hardened. Gray veins crawled across their faces. Their expressions—some of shock, some of fear—were locked in place as their bodies solidified.

Stone.

In mere seconds, every single one of them had been turned into lifeless statues.

The workers gasped. Some screamed. Others fell to their knees, terrified.

Corey staggered back. "What the hell—?!"

Montgomery's breath caught in his throat. For the first time, real fear crossed his face.

The Gorgon exhaled slowly, slipping his sunglasses into his suit pocket.

"They were no longer necessary."

Corey's heart was pounding. He looked at his father.

"You knew about this? This is insane. This isn't what we agreed to" he said his voice dripping with fear

Montgomery's jaw tensed. "It's too late to turn back."

Corey took a step back.

"I—"

"The Black Sky," the Gorgon continued, his voice eerily calm. "That is what you agreed to be. And that is what you will become. A being beyond human. The weapon that will reshape the world."

Corey felt his stomach twist.

Montgomery hesitated. "You said this would make him stronger, but—"

The Gorgon's eyes snapped to him. "It is too late for hesitation."

Montgomery tensed.

Two ninjas moved in unison, grabbing Montgomery by the arms. Another pair grabbed Corey.

"Hey—no, wait!" Corey struggled, but the figures blindfolded him and forced him toward the altar.

The Gorgon turned to the basin. He took a single black meteor rock from a nearby pedestal, dropped it into the liquid, and watched as the substance reacted instantly—boiling, shifting colors between crimson and pitch-black.

Then, he lifted a small ceremonial dagger.

"Let the ritual begin."

Then—

A blur of motion.

Something hit the ground like a thunderclap.

The earth shook.

A massive shockwave of dust and debris blasted outward, sending workers and ninjas staggering back. Montgomery Mankins flew into a steel beam and quickly crumpled to the floor knocked out.

The Gorgon turned sharply.

When the dust cleared, a lone figure stood in the center of the crater.

Apollo.

He was only wearing his standard red jacket, blue shirt, jeans and boots. But even in that, he was imposing. His piercing blue eyes burned with fury.

His gaze swept over the frozen stone bodies. The terrified workers. The altar. The basin.

Then he looked at the Gorgon.

Apollo's fists clenched. His voice, when he spoke, was low. Firm.

"This ends now."

The air crackled with tension. The only sounds were the distant rumble of machinery and the uneven breathing of the workers, their eyes darting between Apollo and the figures clad in black.

The Gorgon tilted his head slightly, his red eyes filled with intrigue. "Interesting."

Then, with a simple motion, he gestured to his warriors.

They moved as one.

Like shadows detaching from the darkness, the first wave of ninjas lunged at Apollo. Fast. Efficient. Deadly.

Their black garb barely made a sound as they moved, their forms fluid and practiced. Gleaming curved blades flashed in the dim light, their edges sharp enough to cut steel.

Apollo exhaled sharply.

And then, he moved.

A ninja swung a katana at his head. Apollo tilted slightly, letting the blade pass within an inch of his face. His hand shot forward, grabbing the attacker's wrist and twisting—a sickening crack echoed as the ninja dropped his sword.

Another came from behind, twin daggers flashing. Apollo ducked low, sweeping his leg in a blur—the ninja was airborne before he even realized what happened.

A third tried to impale him from the side. Apollo caught the blade mid-thrust—his grip so strong that the metal buckled inward. He wrenched it from the assassin's hands and snapped it like a twig.

Then, without even turning his head—he backhanded the ninja with enough force to send him skidding across the dirt.

Two more charged from opposite sides. One wielded a naginata, the other a kusarigama— a sickle attached to a long chain. They attacked in perfect synchronization, one striking high, the other sweeping low.

Apollo sidestepped the naginata, caught the chain mid-air, and yanked.

The ninja holding the kusarigama was ripped off his feet, flung through the air like a ragdoll. He collided with a nearby scaffolding, the impact bending steel beams.

The last ninja hesitated.

Apollo stared at him. "You sure you wanna do this?"

The ninja hesitated a second too long.

With one step, Apollo closed the distance, drove his fist into the man's chest not hard enough to kill, but enough to send him flying.

The remaining ninjas shifted uneasily.

They were skilled. Trained in every art of combat, masters of deception, stealth, and precision.

But none of it mattered.

Apollo was stronger. Faster.

He wasn't just a warrior. He was something else.

And they had no answer for him.

Their weapons shattered against his skin, their arms and legs broke the few times they managed to strike him.

One by one, they fell. Some tried to flee—Apollo made sure they didn't get far. He moved like a hurricane, tearing through their ranks with frightening ease.

Within seconds, the once formidable array of ninjas lay scattered across the site some groaning in pain, others unconscious.

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield.

Apollo turned, his eyes locking onto The Gorgon.

For the first time, The Gorgon smiled.

Then, he drew his sword.

The black steel katana gleamed in the dim light. The blade had no doubt tasted the blood of countless warriors.

Apollo rolled his shoulders. "Alright." He exhaled, eyes narrowing.

"Your turn."

The wind howled through the dig site. Dust and debris swirled in the air as Apollo and The Gorgon stood across from each other, two forces of nature poised for battle.

Apollo clenched his fists. His hearts pounded—not from fear, but from something else.

Excitement.

The Gorgon was different from the others. He wasn't just another highly trained assassin. He radiated something unnatural, something that made Apollo's instincts scream at him to be careful.

And a part of Apollo was revelling in the chance to let loose and dish out some real punishment. He had held back at every step because he didn't want to kill anyone. As trained as the ninjas were they were still ordinary men.

The elite warriors had barely scratched him, but The Gorgon…

He felt dangerous.

Apollo could release his pent up anger at the unfair treatment of the immigrants on him.

The Gorgon smiled and raised his blade. The black katana gleamed, its edge impossibly sharp.

Apollo took a step forward. "You saw what happened to your guys. I'm guessing you and your ninjas came here looking for some ancient power but you won't find it, trust me. Not as long as I'm here. So do yourself a favour and walk away"

The Gorgon smiled.

"You don't know what I am, do you?" His voice was calm, almost amused.

Apollo's gaze flickered to the pale man's eyes. His instincts screamed at him—there was something wrong with his eyes.

"Last chance," Apollo warned.

The Gorgon smiled before getting in his fighting stance but Apollo didn't wait for him he blurred and smashed into him with incredible force.

The Gorgon flew into the wall and smashed into it hard enough to send cracks through it. He crumpled to the floor as rubble fell over him and Apollo looked at him.

It couldn't have been that easy right?

The Gorgon rose from the rubble, his red eyes glowing eerily in the dim light. Dust clung to his suit, but he barely looked hurt. Instead, he wore a slow, predatory smile.

"A remarkable display," he mused, rolling his shoulders. The sickening crack of his bones resetting echoed through the pit.

"But you are… untested."

Apollo stared at him and then he blinked.

One second, he was standing still. The next—he was gone.

Apollo barely had time to register it before the katana sliced through the air.

CLANG!

Apollo's forearm shot up, blocking the strike at the last second. Sparks erupted from the impact. The force was enough to make the ground beneath them shudder.

He barely had a moment to react before—

The second strike came.

This time, it was faster. Sharper. More precise.

Apollo dodged left—barely avoiding the blade as it whistled past his ribs.

Then, a blinding kick slammed into his chest.

Apollo flew backward, crashing through a pile of steel beams. He skidded across the dirt, stopping just before hitting one of the digging machines.

He groaned, he wasn't in pain but he actually felt that.

The Gorgon slowly walked toward him, rolling his neck.

"You're strong," he admitted. "But strength alone means nothing."

Apollo exhaled sharply.

And then, he rushed forward.

Faster than sound.

To an untrained eye, he would have been *a blur—*but The Gorgon saw him.

Apollo threw a punch—one that would have sent a truck flipping through the air.

The Gorgon dodged.

His body twisted at an unnatural angle, his movements flawless. He stepped around the punch and dragged his sword across Apollo's side.

Sparks flew once more as the blade cut through his clothes and hit his side.

Apollo curled over as he winced and grabbed his side. He inspected his body there was no blood but the slash left an imprint on his skin. A mark that his blade actually had the capacity to affect him.

His skin didn't break, but he felt the burning sensation of the blade cutting into him.

His eyes widened.

That sword… it might actually hurt him.

The Gorgon saw the surprise. And he smirked.

Before Apollo could react, The Gorgon's eyes flashed white.

Apollo's vision blurred. His limbs felt heavy.

A creeping, suffocating feeling spread through his chest, like something was pulling him down.

Then he saw it—his fingers.

The tips of them were turning gray.

Turning to stone.

Apollo's breath hitched. His heartbeats pounded in his ears.

The Gorgon's voice was eerily calm. "Now do you understand?"

Apollo gritted his teeth. He fought against the sensation, clenching his fists.

And then—

He broke free.

His entire body shook, and the stone-like texture crumbled away from his skin.

The Gorgon's expression flickered—for the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.

Apollo took a deep breath. His skin was normal again.

He met The Gorgon's glowing white eyes.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I get it now."

"Remarkable" The Gorgon said.

Apollo smiled.

"Trust me, Medusa. You haven't seen remarkable yet" Apollo told him.

Then, he attacked.

This time, he wasn't holding back.

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Also read Superman(Marvel+DC) and Marvel: Hyperion.