The Chosen One

Angel Breaker's presence was an exquisite blend of white beauty and red evil, captivating all who dared to witness her malevolence. Her sword sat on the ground and oozed a red fog that settled on the trio and healed them. While the Manhunter's armour remained damaged, Angel Breaker's injuries and bruises turned as white as snow. The bruises and cuts on the purple man's lip dissipated. Nonexistent, as if the efforts of the superheroes had never happened.

Her lips curled into a devious smile.

"I see. So this is him. An honour, indeed," Angel Breaker pronounced.

"And you are…?" Aaron pretended to be ignorant.

"Fufu." Angel Breaker crossed her legs and cupped her cheek, elbow on the arm rest. "We are not ignorant. We know who you are and you know who we are. We know you were watching the battle. Aaron Reigner." His name rolled off her tongue seductively.

"I saw you," the Manhunter clarified. "Seated behind that desk. Hiding. Watching. My helmet was able to identify you from our database, through the steel."

Crimson-plated suit embossed with intricate circuit-like patterns, the armour was a technological marvel. Cracked and spliced but functioning. The hood and helmet defined his intimidating power, a testament to the indomitable spirit that fueled his quest.

His quest for the Chosen One.

"Why are you on my couch then?" Aaron asked flatly. Intimidating as they were, logically speaking, if they wanted to kill him, they would have done so.

His ears flickered at the sound of his daughter sleeping.

He corrected himself: they would have tried.

"Why do you think?" The third individual chuckled, arm on Chloe's waist. A nauseating chill went down Aaron's spine. His mouth exposed and in a crooked smile, the male added, "I am sure you of all people can guess."

Aaron stood silent. His gaze went up and down. "You must be Prometheus."

The description fit. The black battle suit, the purple visor, and the arrogance. His lips twitched in surprise. Bullseye.

"So you know me. Impressive. Most impressive," Prometheus acknowledged, nodding. "The legends are true then."

Aaron didn't blink.

The Manhunter rose. Aaron tensed. Then, the Manhunter fell to one knee, an arm extended. "O Chosen One, I have been searching for you. Now, you are here."

The Chosen One. The central piece to their operation. The mystery even the World's Greatest Detective couldn't solve…

…was him?

"Get to it," Aaron spat venomously. Seeing Chloe in Promtheus' lap, he couldn't care less about the revelation. It was an insignificant gust in the hurricane of fury surging in his head. "And put Chloe on the sofa. Otherwise, you die."

His intent to kill must have gone through because Prometheus got up to put the little girl on the sofa chair in a flash. He retreated next to the Manhunter in the same kneeling position. His actions were strangely complacent. Almost…fearful.

The fact that the Manhunter called him the Chosen One finally settled into place. He, Aaron Reigner, was the Chosen One.

What did that mean?

For one, judging by Prometheus' obedience, the Manhunter's sign of respect, and Angel Breaker's fuck-me eyes, he assumed there was a degree of uncontested authority. He had never talked to these villains before in his life yet their bodies projected unwavering awe and respect. He thought perhaps Angel Breaker would be less subservient but even she joined her compatriots in their kneeling. Doing something so reverent in the middle of his living room was…odd. Jarring. As a side note, he noticed the extra space they were using to kneel.

'Where the fuck did they put my living room table…?'

He exhaled, controlling his temper. His days were growing larger than life by the hour, it seemed. He hated it. They better not have shattered that table. It was the first thing he had gotten for his apartment.

"Explain," Aaron ordered, arms crossed, piercing grey eyes pressing down on their shoulders like boulders.

"You are the Chosen One, Aaron Reigner." The Manhunter announced it like it explained everything. It didn't. "I, the Manhunter, have been searching for you for trillions of years, waiting for your arrival."

"Trillions of years?" Aaron wanted to scoff. Instead, his brows furrowed. He had seen this caricature of a man defeat hoards upon hoards of superheroes and villains. The best that Gotham had to serve. He swatted them like flies. Given his abilities, his superiority, and the begrudging respect Aaron had for him, he accepted his words. "I see. And you?" He gestured at Prometheus. For the past couple hours, it was hammered into his brain that this motherfucker was a threat to the Justice League. No, that he had once defeated the Justice League through careful, meticulous, and cruel planning.

Prometheus was a monster. A threat. A super villain.

Aaron's gaze awaited his answer like a living lie detector. Swallowing, Prometheus answered, "I joined after Angel Breaker told me of your arrival. It was foretold that you descended and that you would shape the world."

"You're not a magician, you're a scientist," Aaron pointed out. "Why believe it?"

A smile rolled across Prometheus, impressed but not shocked by his knowledge. "Because I constructed a device capable of seeing into the future. I used it in hopes it would help me topple the Justice League. Instead, I saw you." His voice shook. "I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."

Aaron squinted, then swept his gaze over to Angel Breaker. He knew her story. She proudly told it in the cavern, in the Tournament of 100. Her black single-edged sword, the Angel Breaker, was a symbiote that told her of the inevitable future; stories and whispers of the destruction of the world and its saviour. From then on, Angel Breaker dedicated her life to the search of said saviour–the Chosen One. Her head pointed up at him, smirking, she anticipated he would ask her something.

He didn't.

He watched her behead person after person. Man after man. Woman after woman. Frankly, he wanted to chop her head off too. He wanted her to experience the suffering she bestowed upon the innocents. A taste of the fear, the agony, the constant resurrections, the bloody duel with Cassandra. He wanted her to feel it all. He wanted ****.

In the end, he stayed his hand because Chloe was still sleeping. He didn't want to wake her up to a rolling head.