Matt wandered for ten minutes before finding the shack. At first, he thought the silver glint in the distance was a car, but that’d seemed strange for this far out in the middle of nowhere. He’d walked towards it anyway. He had nowhere to run, anyway – nowhere to hide.

But the moment the shack came into clear view, Matt knew this was the place.

It wasn’t much more than a shed, if he was being honest. One room, corrugated iron roof and walls, a small shaded porch, solar panel on top, a reclining deck-chair out front. Maybe a hiker’s pit‑stop or a hunter’s retreat. Either way, there was a small round table inside and a workbench laden with a few tools, jugs, cloth, that sort of thing. There was even a small TV inside and (to Matt’s amazement) a small running bar fridge, stocked and loaded. Matt helped himself to a cold beer – he didn’t think the owner would mind, given the circumstances – and sat outside, stretched out on the deckchair with his hand pillowing his head. Waiting.

It didn’t take long.

There was a ‘pop’, the familiar rush of air and sulphur – and a man in black, a man he’d only ever seen in history books, stepped out from nothing.

He was bigger in real life. Somehow the photos always managed to look down on him, but now, in flesh and bone, the reality of his presence was apparent. He wasn’t big like Captain Dawn had been. Not over-large, not forcefully muscular. But strong. Strong and hard, fast and lean. His hair was slicked back, his lips flat, his skin pale and oddly smooth. He looked almost like a fake man; a perfect imitation of a person who nevertheless still lacked some vital feature, some intangible piece of humanity. A flawless doll, unreal for how close it scraped to reality. Maybe it was his eyes. Small but piercing, dark to the point of being black. No picture he had ever seen, no news footage, had ever properly captured those eyes – the way they twisted, burning with fierce, vicious intelligence. Looking at you, staring through you, as if you weren’t even there. The eyes of a creature that could destroy you, would destroy you, without an idle thought.

But Matt didn’t allow himself to feel afraid. He didn’t show any hint of surprise.

“You changed,” he commented. He tilted the tip of the beer bottle towards the man’s black uniform. “I guess capes aren’t for everyone. Looks hot though. For a desert.” He took a short, slow sip from the bottle, keeping his voice steady and his heart slow. He was choosing to be calm. Not to act calm – to be calm. Because right now, calm was what he needed to be.

The Black Death titled his head, ever so slightly, to one side.

“You’re not going to run?” he smiled, a twitch of the mouth which showed no teeth.

“Pffss,” Matt snorted. He dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “What would be the point? Where can I go you can’t catch me?”

The Black Death’s smile twitched again. “Smart.”

“Realistic,” corrected Matt. He took another sip of beer and glanced up at the mass murderer. “Know your strengths.”

There was a pause. A gust of wind rustled through; whipping a breath of dust between them. The Black Death, peering down, imperious, inspecting. Matt, nonchalant, gazing up.

“Do you want a beer?”

“I don’t drink.”

Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He took another swig, making no attempt to move.

“So,” he said, after a pause, “You killed Captain Dawn.”

“Yes,” the Black Death replied simply, gloved hands folded behind his back.

“Killed him, then shape-shifted so you looked like him, so nobody would suspect the truth.” Matt gave a small nod. “Gives you time to rest, recover…” He paused and made a face. “I mean, if people knew you’d won, the whole world would’ve been after you, and heck, you never know...”

The Black Death said nothing – but merely stared down at him with the expression of a scientist viewing a particularly novel strain of mould. Matt continued unabated.

“Here’s the part where I’m fuzzy though,” he asked, “Why’d you stay? Why not re-emerge or fake your death? What made you go, after being Dawn for a few weeks, ‘Hey! There’re some perks to these pyjamas’?”

“It didn’t take weeks,” the Black Death said softly, “The second he died, I’d formulated my plan.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you,” Heydrich replied sardonically. He rolled his head in a full circle, idly cracking the bones in his neck. “The Legion presented an ideal place to collect and process…” his eyes flashed over Matt, still laying comfortably on the deck chair, “…rare individuals, without anyone becoming suspicious.”

Matt let out a long, slow breath. “Which is why I was accepted in the first place,” he murmured. It all made sense. “Clairvoyants are pretty few and far between. You wanted my power. You wanted my blood.” It wasn’t a question.

The Black Death smiled. “The power to see the future…” he breathed, as if savouring the taste of a delicious steak, “It was the last one, truthfully, the only one I ever needed after Africa. I have the power to slay a God, but with your sight… I’ll be unbeatable. Truly, perfectly unassailable. There’ll be no enemy who could touch me, no threat I can’t anticipate. The others, they saw me coming, clearly, destroyed themselves rather than grant me my prize, but you… you are an amateur, fumbling blindly with your gifts. I will perfect your power. I will control fate.”

“We’ll see,” Matt said softly.

“Yes,” replied the Black Death, “We will.” He fell momentarily silent. “You have no idea how long I searched,” he whispered finally, “Year after year. Denied time and time again. But then I found you. And you walked right into my Academy.”

“It’s the perfect front,” Matt laughed dryly, his suspicions confirmed. “Rare powers. Unlimited time. Unlimited access.” He paused. “All while influencing promising young minds.”

“I’ll admit, that was my hope,” the Black Death drawled, “Dawn had his band of fools he’d tricked into following him – why couldn’t I? Imagine it: a new Legion, a true Legion, forging a new world empire.” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “But that was always a secondary consideration.” He sighed. “And it’s over now. I had thought to work under Dawn’s name a while longer, make use of his goodwill to begin shaping my better world. But you and Jane scuttled that by going public. Forced me to play my hand.”

“Sorry,” said Matt.

“Don’t be,” smiled the man, his eyes gleaming black against the desert sun. He breathed slowly, without a single drop of sweat. “An army may have been useful, but in the end a leader’s role is tiring. It’s easier to do things yourself. Simpler. Purer.”

“Other people just weigh you down,” mused Matt, “Can’t rely on anyone these days."

“Exactly.”

“So what?” Matt asked, “What was the plan? Reinstate the Legion of Heroes, bring Dawn out of the darkness – only a little more forceful this time? A little more controlling?”

“Baby steps,” Heydrich murmured. A part of him seemed almost pleased to be talking, to finally be saying these things out loud. “People follow those in authority. You have no idea how far humanity can be led in the name of the greater good. If you’re willing to be patient.”

“And patient you were,” said Matt, “Ten years patient.” He paused. “Didn’t you ever get bored?”

The Black Death smirked. “I have come too far to rush. What are years, compared to eternity? I am ageless, child.”

“Of course,” Matt continued mildly, “Ageless, invisible, intangible, supersonic, telekinetic. You could practically be a ghost. Cut me, the others, anybody, drink whoever’s blood you like. Piece by piece. Drop by drop. So many day-to-day wounds, so many injuries at a place like the Academy.”

He paused and put a finger on his cheek in mock contemplation. “Of course, ten years is a long time. Even as a recluse there was always the risk someone who knew Dawn before he was you would blow your cover. Someone who, I don’t know, knew him, or knew something about him or had shared some memory with him, which of course you couldn’t know. The face would only carry you so far.”

Matt laughed, dull and dry. “The whole time, I thought someone was killing everyone Dawn ever knew to get at the Captain. But it was the opposite, wasn’t it? You were removing anyone with any connection to who Dawn really was.”

The Black Death chuckled. “You’re clever, clairvoyant,” he murmured, and there was just the slightest hint of bone white teeth in his smile. “I like you.”

“But then comes Ed,” continued Matt, wrapping his fingers neatly around the bottle, “Completely by accident. Some do-gooder wanting to organise a surprise party, starts looking into your past.”

“Course, he could churn through the data a thousand times faster than I could. He would have made the ten-year connection right off the bat. What happened ten years ago? The title fight of the century, which everybody knows Dawn won. Except… well, it’s a crazy possibility, but he’s a genius, so it crosses his mind. And then everything falls into place. And suddenly, without you making a single mistake, someone’s figured out your secret.”

Matt shook his head bitterly. “Wally was right. No psychic could have made Ed kill himself from outside the room. But you were inside the room, weren’t you? Invisible, levitating, able to move through walls. And of course telepathic. Able to break into Ed’s mind and make him jump off that roof.” He paused, glancing casually up at the Black Death. “How’d you know?” he asked, “How’d you know he’d found out?”

“Luck,” the Black Death said simply. He gave a small, idle shrug, as if they were discussing house prices. “I was nearby. I sensed his wild panic, his thoughts of me. The boy was ill-disciplined – his mind practically shouting. I took care of it. Quickly, quietly. He did not suffer. I am not cruel.”

“You kill people on a whim,” reminded Matt.

“There is no inherent value in human life,” Heydrich stated, neither defensive nor passionate, “It is one of the greatest lies of this era. The strong survive, the weak do not – it was the way of the world, before our simpering outgrew our sense. Is the human race any lessened for what I have done? Was anything of value lost?”

“Far be it for me to argue philosophy,” Matt said calmly. He took another, slow sip. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

“Oh?” replied the Black Death, merriment touching the edges of his voice, “Then please, do tell little clairvoyant – what are we here for?” He paused and his smile widened. “Are you trying to stall me? Maybe give the Legion of Heroes time to formulate a plan? Clever, but I’m one step ahead. The Legion has already been destroyed.”

It took every ounce of control Matt possessed to stop his heart racing or his stomach dropping. He stared up at the man – at his smooth face, his small eyes, his wide, cruel mouth. And then, suppressing the dread in throat, the sickness in his guts, he forced himself to smile.

“Well, that may be,” he said. He was certain. He was calm. “I couldn’t tell you. Not the way this works, unfortunately – it isn’t mine to know. But either way, it doesn’t change anything.”

A small frown creased the Black Death’s pale lips. “Change what?”

“Change the choice you have to make,” answered Matt.

“Change your future.”