Banshee stands at the top of the tallest building, looking down at the perfection he’s created. Everything is falling into place, even Victoria. She’d come to him, tried to find him, and he found her. He told her it’s all going as planned.
On top of each building, as he looks around with a knowing smile plastered beneath his mask, stand the rest of the black masks.
They finish tying their masks on, and each look up to Banshee, who looks back down at the stage below.
He chuckles and nods.
And they all start dropping to the ground one by one.
. . .
Quill can feel the pricks of the needles as the Healers work on him.
But he begins to laugh.
The handful of healers look up at him.
The rest of the Maskless are either busy listening to conversations over the earpieces or working on the antidote for the poison.
Quill feels them finish up his stitches.
They give him shoes.
He slips them on.
Then he kicks them away.
He stands up, everyone looking at him now. He has one of the boys head between his hands. He turns in a slow circle.
“You will do as I say,” Quill says slowly, his energy suddenly back. “Or I will kill everyone here and everyone in that city.”
Two figures step out from the shadows of the trees.
A third steps out.
They hold small, round pieces of metal in their hands. A single light near the top flashes on and off.
“Do as he says,” Victoria says, and then smiles. “He’s not joking.”