The Golden Jaeger

It was almost ironic. Vienna, a city once so safe and envied by many, its center was now engulfed in flames. From Volksgarten to Rathauspark, to Herrengasse to Schottentor, to Börseplatz and Schottenring. The heart of this beautiful metropolis was hardly recognizable. The chaos and the destruction. The frustration and the uncertainty. Shouting, crying, and wailing; the sounds and echoes of them were almost deafening.

Enoch could most certainly hear them. The mark of worry in his young, coral eyes was unambiguous. But there was an aura of strength, confidence, and courage too. Silently, he stood on the roofs of the St. Stephen’s Cathedral, beside the right Roman Tower, with the Giant’s Door, the main entrance to the church, beneath him. Although he had only descended from a line of humble chiefs, his presence up there was most certainly regal. His stance matched his face. His dreads, long and thin, shifted from black to gold ochre, covering both his ears and his eyes almost too. The sunlight that reflected on his locks gave the appearance of a bright halo around his head. A gold-yellow mask, covered in black spots, hid his profile, though it failed to disguise his cold expression. His street coat and superhero suit were much the same. The coat, which reached his thighs, had a furry feel, while the hoody-looking undercoat was white-ish with a trace of brown, gold, and yellow, though the hood itself was mostly black.

He tightly clenched his fists as he gazed upon the inferno in front of him. His city in disarray. There’s no doubt it was his doing, Enoch said to himself. Without hesitation, he leaped for the surrounding buildings in front of him and made his way into the smoke and blaze. The firefighters were still making their way. One could hardly blame them. After all, it happened so suddenly. He stood in front of the city hall at Rathausplatz, radiating in the heat with chaos on the streets. At least all was not lost, yet. The folks in the building were starting to emerge out from the flames. He could still save each and every one of them from disaster. Silas should already be here by now, he responded to himself quite anxiously. Nonetheless, it was all up to him.

“I suppose, they sent you to quench out the fire?“, a voice spoke not far off.

Enoch turned and his countenance grew into displeasure. A young man emerged from the smoke. At least, it seemed that way. His appearance was almost robotic-looking with metal details all around him. It looked like extra limbs were attached to those he already had; like an advanced armory, even an exoskeleton, to be more precise. The metallic battlesuit braced his whole form, his hands were equipped with large mechanical gauntlets and his face was mostly hidden by what looked like a gas mask. On his armor where the chest is supposed to be Enoch noticed the Star of Ishtar.

“Apophis,” Enoch replied resentfully.

“So, I see you still don’t know my name,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“I hope you recognize my effort in trying to make an animal-themed suit as they all do now,” he added.

The man slowly walked up toward the hero. Enoch at least gave him the benefit of the doubt and paid close attention to his appearance. But he could not find any detail on him that seemed to resemble an animal. Although, there could also be the fact that he is throwing Enoch off with his unfound knowledge.

“But, from what I see, I assume you haven’t had time to spot any hints.”

“I’m not here for games,” Enoch asserted. “This madness will end right here, right now!”

Apophis’s grin grew even wider in response.

“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”

Enoch’s ears flinched slightly as he heard crashes from behind and sides. He turned only to find some of Apophis’ henchmen strolling up to him. He quickly gazed at the surrounding inferno, but he stood surrounded.

“I suppose,” Apophis finally continued, “you will join us here for a while before you get back to a hero’s business?”