The Phantom By Andrew HongA velvet cape whipping behind him in the wind, a distant figure stood on the ledge of a building, overlooking the quiet city. The sun was a burning medallion, waiting for the moon to replace it over the horizon. Suddenly, a series of shrieks pierced the misty air. The figure turned toward the sound. In seconds, he had already calculated the distance and origin of the cries for help. Trusting his abilities, the man thrust out his chest and flew off the building. The wind swarmed around him like an angry pack of bees, stinging his face. Posing his arms in front of him, he bent sharply and landed in the middle of the street. A group of workers and businessmen stood beside him, staring at a line of cracks which swam into the street. Without warning, a toxic gas erupted from the concrete street. Immediately, citizens fainted, but the caped man stood still. “So! It has come to this!” a voice roared through the ground. Another earthquake aroused and a man covered in gleaming armor emerged. “It is I, the Phantom Whirlwind!” the armored man announced. The Whirlwind turned to face his velvet-caped foe, cackling with amusement. “I need no light to identify you, Crimson Conservator. Soon the world shall be mine to conquer!” The Phantom snapped his fingers and disappeared, shutting off the lights, plunging the world into twilight. The Conservator realized he would have to face the Phantom soon. Soon, he would face his twisted brother again.