Shield That Faced the Wrong Way

And then there was Kounter Stryke.

If Blaze was the fire that charged forward, Frost the stillness that held things steady, Singa the strength that bore the weight, and Nightveil the shadow that slipped through the dark, Kounter Stryke was the shield. Literally. Wherever he stood, nothing could pass. He could stop incoming blasts mid-air, deflect falling debris with nothing but a raised hand, and create an impenetrable barrier around anyone within his reach. He didn’t attack. He didn’t chase. He stood his ground, and nothing got past him. That was his whole purpose: to be the wall between harm and the helpless.

I saw it once during a villain attack downtown, when a massive energy blast tore toward the crowd. Before anyone could even scream, Kounter stepped forward, raised both arms, and the blast simply… stopped. It hit an invisible wall, flared bright and furious, and then faded to nothing. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stagger. He just stood there, calm and steady, until the danger had passed. Children ran toward him, and he nodded, keeping the barrier up around them until their parents reached their sides.

He was the one people didn’t always notice first, but everyone needed. Blaze got the glory; Kounter got the job done. Frost got the smiles; Kounter got the people out of harm’s way. Singa got the awe; Kounter got the quiet, unspoken gratitude of anyone who had ever stood behind him and felt safe. I admired him most of all in those early days because he never looked for praise. He just stood there, protecting, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

“Defence is the purest form of care,” my mother used to say, watching him on the news. “You don’t have to fight to be brave. Sometimes you just have to stand in front.”

I believed her. I believed Kounter was the living proof of it. His power was entirely defensive; it couldn’t hurt anyone. It could only shield. That meant, to my young mind, that he was the most innocent of them all. The one who could never do harm. The one who would always, always stand between the vulnerable and whatever threatened them.

I did not know then that a shield could be positioned to protect the wrong people. That it can be held up to hide what shouldn’t be hidden. That it can be used to keep help out, rather than keep danger in.

The day the sky turned dark over Kuala Lumpur, Kounter was exactly as he always was. He positioned himself at the edge of the crowd, arms raised, deflecting falling glass and debris, keeping families safe. He was the same steady, reliable protector I had watched for years. No one questioned him. No one doubted him.

Then Blaze gave the order.

“Eliminate the rest. No prisoners. No witnesses.”

I looked at Kounter. My heart leaped. He won’t let them, I thought. He’ll raise the barrier between the surrendered men and the others. He’ll keep them safe. That’s what he does.

He did raise a barrier.

But not between the attackers and the surrendered.

He stepped to the mouth of the alley. He raised his arms. And the invisible wall went up behind the terrified, huddled men, sealing them in. Sealing everyone else out. Cutting off any chance of help, any chance of escape, any chance that someone might see or hear or intervene.

I froze. The man who had stood between me and harm so many times was now standing between mercy and the people who needed it most.

No one else seemed to understand. The crowd cheered. “He’s securing the scene!” someone called out. “Making sure no one gets out!”

That was exactly what he was doing. But not to keep us safe. To keep them from being saved.

I walked home with my head down, the image of him standing tall at the alley’s entrance burning in my mind. His power hadn’t changed. He could still stop anything. He could still protect anyone. He had just chosen who to protect. And that choice had been the worst one possible.

That was the day I learned: it doesn’t matter how strong your shield is if you point it the wrong way. The most powerful defence in the world is worthless if it’s being used to keep the innocent from getting out. And the person who stands guard at the door of cruelty is just as much a part of it as the one who gives the order.