###

Tschida refused to release Luca as he watched the winged Adonis hover about five feet from the earth. The man – no, he wasn’t human – hovered shirtless, the starlight caressing the dips and ridges of his well-honed muscles. He was clad only in form-fitting black leather pants, wings spread like some dark angel. Horns curved from thick, soft tresses of vivid blue. Was he blind in one of his eyes? His left was a complete matte black.

I cannot be distracted right now. He should not be shirtless. Not with a body like that.

Tschida had grown up in a mansion full of sculptures from across the world, and not a single one could compare to the perfect body before him. His body was art incarnate – a faultless dream in hard flesh, softened by the black feathers sprouting from his back. He needed to make this beautiful creature go away so he could focus.

“Aces Wild!” Tschida shouted without thinking.

Two cards flew from his hand at Adonis’s bare chest.

Adonis roared, a mass of black rock, no, coal, exploding from his pectorals in a spray of blood to block the green cards, sending them harmlessly to the earth. He gritted his teeth, blood seeping around his white teeth. But he laughed. “You think to beat me easily? You aren’t even something I’d deign to fight, humans.”

What kind of magic was this that hurt its user? That coal might have done more damage than Tschida’s cards. But then again, Tschida didn’t really know what his cards did.

“Is that coal?” Luca shouted, trying to break from Tschida’s grip. “Are you telling me we’re fighting a coal-themed villain?”

“I just said that I’m not fighting you,” Adonis said, shaking his head. “And are you so negligent with the local history that you don’t know what a role coal-mining has played? I begin to suspect you’re not from around here.”

“I’m aware. I’m just tired of it…AnthraPsycho!” Luca retorted. “We even have craft beers named after mining, because that isn’t a buzzkill.”

It took all of Tschida’s effort to school his features. Part of him wanted to spirit this dark angel to safety, bind his wounds. What is wrong with me? This is what Father meant when he said I could not control my emotions. My friends may die, and I am distracted by this bare-chested angel in tight leather pants and his very obvious bulge.

###

Anthra…Psycho? Did Titania just give me a terrible villain name? And why is the jester giving me a judgmental look? As if he has any business giving me such a dismissive look when his Aces Wild was thwarted?

Puck tipped his head back as he slid his mask back into place. Dismissive. Gold stars danced around his head. The stars weren’t really there; this was one of Despair’s visions. Fate. This…failed jester? A human?

“I am the tragic protagonist!” Despair shouted. “Don’t go handing out villain names without my approval.”

“What’s that, AnthraPsycho?” Oberon gave him a feral smile and charged with his hammer.

Despair snapped his whip, setting Stan in front of the three humans. Oberon backpedaled, wincing as he shifted his weight to his right leg. Did he have an injury? So, they are definitely human if they have such weaknesses.

Stan’s silhouette shuddered, like the image on an old television with bad reception. His shape expanded and distorted to something that was no longer recognizable as human. Was it a stingray? Despair had never used this power, but his father had, plenty of times.

No, it wasn’t a stingray, Despair saw when the ash cloud dissipated. It was a giant pierogi, dripping butter and towering over the street.

What? Why did Stan become a pierogi monster? I expected true horror from the Black Diamond’s power. Their transformations should be based on their rage or fear. I guess Stan’s very passionate about his pierogis.