It had been quite some time since he had seen such a degree of destruction. Such a dark force laying siege to everything in their path. Innocent people were being caught in the middle, screaming for their lives as the monstrosities tore through them like they were nothing but paper. Blood painted the streets crimson and the smell of smoke, blood and death lingered like a pungent aroma that one could never forget. This was why he was there now. To fight once more against dark forces, to keep the innocent safe. Prometheus's strong fingers squeezed his spear as he watched the horde approach a building that he had recently learned was the city hall. A place where those in power tended to use for themselves. What were the odds that there would be people inside who needed help? That needed rescuing? For centuries, the spear that Prometheus carried had been his greatest weapon but as time evolved, so did the weapons one would bring to a fight. He was never a fan of firearms. Too impersonal when it came to a fight. Plus - what good could bullets do against something supernatural in their origin? But a spear? One enchanted by the Sorcerer Supreme of way back when? It held power. Legit power. And Prometheus knew how to be one with his spear. How it was an extension of his arm - how he had learned to fight with it through the rough trials of what had once been his homeland. The way he moved into the city hall was… different. While others took their aggression out head-on and with brute force, Prometheus used aeons of experience to put a quick dent in a small horde dragging themselves to the city hall. Why waste precious energy beating something down when they could do it for him? He danced around the zombies with an experience that could only come with practice. Impaling one with the spear only to toss the discarded body against another. Taunt the brainless creatures into brawling one another for meat they would not have. It wasn't as fast as Prometheus had expected but by the time he was sneaking into the city hall through a window, there was not a wound on his body. There was only the liquid the creatures called blood staining his old Spartan armor as he quietly tip-toed around the empty halls. "Is anyone there? I'm here to help you. Get you to safety. Hello…?"
@heroescue gets a story time
