A red streak shot across the pale-blue sky above Salt Lake City.
The streets were largely empty, but screams could be heard.
‘That’s him!’
‘He’s here!’
Silvia—Cobalt Silver—stood alone outside the magnificent front entrance to the cathedral.
The Fury of Russia landed on the open plaza in front of her.
He started striding forward.
He stood a full foot taller than Silvia. Compared to her soft and formless grey nun’s habit, everything about him seemed bigger, more menacing.
His carbon-ceramic mask seemed sharper. His helmet, armour and gauntlets seemed more hard-edged.
‘I will not fight you,’ Silvia said.
‘You still must die.’ Through the mask, his voice even seemed more inhuman.
Silvia stood her ground.
‘I can smell your fear,’ he said.
‘You won’t win,’ she replied.
‘Who will stop me if you will not fight me? Your god?’
‘Maybe.’
The Fury said, ‘There is no god but me. If God chooses who lives and who dies, then I am God now. No-one can stop me exercising my will.’
‘There’s only one God and you aren’t Him,’ Silvia said.
The Fury tilted his head as he took another step forward. ‘Is that so? If we allow that your God does actually exist, then He is permitting all this to happen. He is permitting me to do all this. All this killing. All this wanton destruction—’
‘I know someone who can beat you,’ Cobalt Silver said firmly.
That actually made the Fury stop.
He was a few feet in front of her now. He towered over her.
‘The one in Las Vegas?’ he asked. ‘The one who wears gold?’
‘He’s good, but no, it’s not him.’
‘No person on this Earth can beat me,’ the Fury said. ‘I will kill you all and I will rule the cosseted, pampered people of this land with an iron fist. I will crush their spirit with unspeakable violence.’
He was inches away from her now. Silvia just stared up at him . . .
. . . and closed her eyes. Despite herself, she was quivering.
She started praying, ‘Hail Mary, full of grace . . .’ as the Fury clasped his hands on either side of her head and started squeezing.