1999: A Superhero Novel

by Hodden, TE

  There was a sound, behind him and to his left, the creak of yew flexing, as a bow was drawn.

  A stout and hardy woman, in a riding hood over chainmail and a leather skirt stepped out of the shadows, her bow drawn. She had an open, friendly face, and a playful smile. Her eyes were three sizes too big, with good humour on the surface, but with something haunted beneath. “Well, I was looking for a stag to hunt, but I will settle for a trespasser.” She cocked her head. “Even if you do look a little too stringy to make a good meal.”

  Charlie raised his hands. “I’m looking for Tilda Fleetfoot.”

  The stout woman chuckled. “And if you want to find her, you should consider giving me a very good reason for finding your way here, uninvited.”

  “May I show you?” Charlie asked, evenly.

  The woman nodded. “Go on then.”

  Charlie unbuttoned his sleeve, and showed her the stud in his wrist. “You are Robin Greenwood?”

  “Yes!” The woman laughed, and lowered her bow, and eased the tension from the string. “You are one of us?” She stepped closer, and cupped Charlie’s chin, to stare into his eyes. “You are still tethered to flesh and blood, but…” She gasped. “Oh little brother… So much pain?”

  Charlie gently eased her hand away. “My name is…” He paused. “I call myself Charlie Gull. I have friends, who I care about very much, and I believe they are in terrible danger. Something to do with the Extinction Stones. I hoped Tilda Fleetfoot might help me understand the threat I face.”

  Robin put her bow over her shoulder, and slapped his shoulder. “Well, Little Brother, we had best go and find your sister, before you find yourself in any more trouble.”

  *

  After several hours of walking, they emerged from the forest to the shores of a lake. A ramshackle manor house of brick and timber stood on the shore, and stretched over the still waters on stilted platforms. A few boats bobbed on the lake.

  “Ethis,” Charlie whispered.

  Robin nodded, and followed the path around the edge of the lake. “Home. A… paradise of sorts.” She rolled her eyes. “Give or take the company you have to keep.” She snatched a pear from a tree as they passed under the branch. “Want one?”

  “That wasn’t a pear tree,” Charlie whispered.

  “It is if I want it to be,” Robin laughed. “So… You really think somebody is going to threaten the world with a bit of an old Extinction Stone?”

  “The messenger from my future believed so,” Charlie muttered.

  Robin softened her voice. “And you… trust her?”

  “It’s… complicated.”

  “Ah.” Robin nodded. “Which kind of complicated?”

  Charlie stopped walking and closed his eyes.

  A million miles away, the part of him that was flesh and bone, lay broken and burned, on a hospital breath, tethered an arm’s length from slipping over the side into death. It drew on the flow of magic to heal.

  A hand grasped his. Thoughts that were not his own brushed against the walls of his mind.

  He opened his eyes. “I am not a good friend. I am…terrible at being a friend. For a long time, I believed my duty required me to be distant, and that to protect those I cared for, I had to shield them from… me. From the dangers that swarm around me. Even when I met the Honour Guard, when I began working with those who were already entangled in the dangers, when I met Melisa, who has spent her whole life neck deep in…”

  “You still sought to protect them,” Robin whispered.

  “When her future-self called to me through the Magic,” Charlie said, quietly, “when we connected, for a moment were completely exposed to each other, and I felt things that I didn’t think anybody would see in me, or want to see in me… That I didn’t think had been possible since…”

  Robin cupped his cheek. “Since you lost your family?”

  He twisted away from her. “I didn’t lose them. They were taken from me.” He drew a breath. “The point is… I am terrible at being a friend, but Melisa is still patient enough to let me try, and… I saw nothing to trust her future any less than I trust her now.”

  “So,” Robin puffed out her cheeks, “somebody wants to use a burnt-out cinder of an Extinction Stone as a weapon? Perhaps they want to make the world smell of death and ghouls?”

  “Perhaps,” a voice snapped, so close behind Charlie that he could feel the breath on the back of his neck.

  Charlie span on his heels, and staggered away from the short, curvy, fuller figured girl who stood as high as his chin.

  Tilda Fleetfoot appeared to be about sixteen, with flowers woven into her cascade of long, straight, lilac silver hair. Her face suggested schoolgirl mischief, but she carried herself in a regal and womanly way, and her eyes were full of wisdom. She wore an olive drab roll neck sweater over a black denim miniskirt, wool stockings, and knee high boots. She folded her arms. “I assume though, if you actually found the guts to come and see me, you must be pretty bloody convinced that it’s a serious threat.”

  Charlie’s heart turned to lead, and sank in his chest. He held out his hands. “Technically, I’m not breaking the promise. You said I shouldn’t see you again, as long as you lived. Well Nan… this is your afterlife, so…”

  Tilda slapped him, with a hand armoured by countless rings and bangles. “Pah! Any argument that starts with the word ‘technically’ is an excuse why you aren’t wrong, not a reason you are right. I taught you better than that Ale¬”

  “Charlie Gull!” Charlie nursed his cheek. “Look, do you want to have put up with an eternity of my being here when I die, or do you want to put up with a little time helping me now?”

  Robin blanched. “You can’t mean that? Little Brother, you are a Yeoman, and…”

  “No!” Tilda smiled. “Let him speak.”

  Charlie offered Tilda his wrist. “Help me understand the threat I face, and I will renounce my rights to retire here in my afterlife. The message said its name was Misrule. Help me learn what that means.”

  Tilda stared into his eyes, and placed a finger on his stud. “You give your word, as a Yeoman, and as my grandson?”

  “No!” Robin snapped. “Do not be a fool.”

  “Yes,” Charlie said.

  “And to follow me wherever we need go to find answers?”

  “My word is given,” Charlie whispered.

  Tilda cackled. “Oh, I am going to enjoy this…”

  Part Two: Secrets and Origins

  March 1999

  President Croft tours several cities in a renewed push for his

  “Millennium Legacy” projects.

  *

  Matthew Driver (Codename Praetorian) salvages the rare

  Alloy Six Three in the hope of seeding more protectors of the Earth.

  *

  Charlie Gull (Yeoman) continues his quest in the

  Twilight Realms.

  *

  Brandi Summers is at the end of a long day at work…

  00000

  The owner of the coffee cart punched two fresh holes in Brandi Summer’s loyalty card, and handed back to her. She offered him a smile of thanks, as she tucked it back into her wallet, and slipped it back into her purse.

  Hans took the two take away lattes, and scoffed on a laugh.

  “What?” Summers asked, as they walked across the plaza.

  Hans raised an eyebrow. “You still have that card in your purse?”

  Summers shrugged, feigning innocence. “My loyalty card? I’m not missing my free luxury coffee!”

  “Not that one.” Hans put his hands to his face, like a school kid imitating a superhero in a mask.

  “Oh,” Summers said.

  “Yeah.” Hans shrugged. “Are you ever going to call him?”

  Summers smiled. “He was cute, but…”

  Hans laughed. “I thought you liked cute?”

  Summers sipped her coffee, and toyed with her hair. “I do. And sometimes I want to call him, or find him online, or s
omething, but then… I remember that night, and…”

  Hans’ smile grew unsure. “Sorry. I did not think. I…”

  “It’s okay,” Summers whispered. “I don’t exactly tell people about it.”

  “You could.” Hans patted her arm. “If you ever needed to.” He looked up at the museum. “You know, if you wanted, I could talk to a friend in London. One of her staff is due to retire soon, and maybe we could encourage her to meet you in a few weeks when she’s over?”

  Summers shook her head. “I like DC. I like my job. I just wish…” She laughed. “I wish I could throw the card away, but he was cute.”

  Hans nodded. “Well, if you aren’t ready to hit the scene yet, does that mean you don’t have any dinner plans?”

  Summers hesitated. She considered admitting the truth, accepting his offer, and maybe suggesting the Thai place she liked, but she couldn’t find the enthusiasm. “Sorry. I have to finish compiling some reports before the meeting on Friday.”

  “Okay,” Hans said. “Rain check.”

  “Sorry,” Summers added, again.

  He dismissed her concerns with a wave of the hand. “Okay, so you are liking the job?”

  “Yes.” Summers sipped at her coffee. “It is wonderfully boring.”

  “Boring?” Hans asked.

  “Wonderfully boring.” Summer chuckled. “Boring is safe. Boring I can deal with.”

  Hans raised an eyebrow. “Huh.”

  *

  The afternoon was the busy kind of boring, and stretched well into the evening.

  Eventually, the last emails were sent, the paperwork was filed, and the day was done. She kicked off her heels and left them under her desk, and enjoyed a moment of bliss before putting on her sneakers, that lasted most the way to the bus, before it faded away.

  She hopped off the bus a block from home, to pick up two take out orders, and knocked on the apartment across the corridor. Mrs Calder answered, carrying one of her ever-changing herd of cats. The widow took the proffered bag of food, and vanished into her apartment, followed by a half dozen curious felines.

  “Oh by the way dear!” Mrs Calder shouted from the kitchen. “You had a delivery, while you were out. It is on the telephone table.”

  Summers inspected the small cardboard box. It was a courier delivery, from an address she didn’t recognise. “I didn’t order anything.”

  “A secret admirer?” Calder offered.

  Summer wasn’t sure. She took the package with her, as she returned home.

  She ate out the carton on the sofa, shoes off, in her baggy sweatpants and comfy tee, and failed to find the energy to support her curiosity all through her regular quiz shows and cartoons.

  Eventually, she opened the package while the coffee was brewing in the machine. Within the cardboard box was a more delicate gift box, decorated with gold ribbon. There was no card. She lifted the lid from the gift box. Within was a nest of shredded tissue paper, and a needle of crystal, veined with silver and gold circuits, tipped by metal.

  Just like the ones from Antarctica.

  She dug her magnifying lens from under a pile of magazines, and studied the needle in the box. It was intact, and without laboratory testing, she couldn’t be sure, but it looked genuine.

  A cold chill ran down her spine, and a sudden whirlwind of panicking thoughts closed in around her. Extra Terrestrial Finds had been closely regulated for years, ever since the Doctor Inferno incident. Excavations had to have permits, finds had to be registered, private collections had to be licensed and insured, their sales carefully monitored, and they couldn’t cross borders without paperwork.

  She double checked the box, but there was no paperwork.

  Acid burned her chest. Assuming the gift was well intentioned, an undeclared ETF could make life troublesome and stain her career. She reached for her cell phone, and tapped through to the local FBI office. The ETF officer was off duty, of course, the office closed, but she left her message. Bitter experience had taught her that it was better to have a call logged, to show she was above board.

  She clicked off the phone, her throat dry.

  The needle glistened in the light.

  Summers touched a finger to the tip of the needle.

  The crystal glowed, and a hologram shimmered into being. An older man, gaunt, and regal, with intense eyes that were no longer as kind or fatherly as she remembered. Professor Jeff Warner was dressed all in black, a turtle neck, suit jacket, and sharp trousers.

  “Brandi,” the recorded message said, staring at her kitchen. “I know this must be a shock to you. I can only imagine the upset you have been through, thinking I abandoned my friends, searching for me, losing me, maybe even mourning me. I am sorry. I apologise for that, and for what you must be feeling now. I… will explain, and I will try to find a way to make all of this right, but for now, my friend, please, I am very much afraid I must ask your help. My address is on the package. Please…”

  The hologram dissolved away.

  Summers let out a scream she had not known she was holding in. She dropped onto her sofa panting.

  “Box!” She squeaked, grabbing the cardboard box.

  There was a return address she didn’t recognise. For a town in Campbell County, Virginia.

  Summer darted to her computer, and tapped it awake, typing the address as soon as she could open a search window. The map popped on the screen, and she was about to hunt down a phone number, when something else occurred to her.

  She opened her purse, and dug a battered business card out of her wallet.

  Barney Mitchell answered on the second ring. “Mitchell.”

  “Hey,” Summer said. “Barney? Osprey? I don’t know if you remember, we met at the museum, the Humanities Museum, in DC? You were…working?”

  “Brandi?”

  “Hi.”

  “So… how are you?” He asked, with a flutter of easy laughter.

  “I…” Her throat was parched, her lips trembling. “Actually, I’m not so good. I need… could we… talk? Please?”

  00001

  A hundred kilometres above Jupiter, Melisa Williams brought the Bumblebee alongside the wrecked star ship. Her brow wrinkled in concentration as she hovered alongside the ruined engines, illuminating them in the spotlights.

  Angel stepped over to join her at the controls. “The elements we need are behind those heat sinks. We should be able to reach them… relatively easily.” She sat at the weapons console, and called up the targeting away. “Are you ready to catch them Matthew?”

  The Praetorian flew along side the shuttle rubbing his hands. “Oh yeah. Today is going to be a good day. I can feel it in my bones.”

  Melisa edged the shuttle closer, and anchored it to the outer engine mounts with a docking arm. She opened the cargo hold, lowering the loading ramp.

  Angel took careful aim with the laser turret, and sliced away several engine parts, with surgical precision.

  Matthew caught the parts in his aura as the floated free, and set them into the hold. “And there we go,” he said, using his aura to strap them down. “I’m clear.”

  “That’s it?” Melisa asked. “All this way, for a few minute’s work?”

  Matthew chuckled. “It took my father years, to gather a fraction of this much material.”

  “Okay…” Melisa buried her misgivings. “Are you riding home with us?”

  Matthew hovered past the shuttle. “Sorry girls. I have places to be, and people to see. Have a safe journey home, and I will meet up with you in Lunar Orbit, tomorrow.”

  With a flash of light, he was gone.

  Angel folded away the turret away, and flicked off her screen.

  Melisa unclamped, and took them away from the ship, before she brought the Bumblebee about and laid in a safe course for Earth.

  After several long moments, they were clear of the debris field, and the autopilot could take over.

  Melisa settled back in her seat, and tapped open the long range communication�
�s array.

  “Hello?” Catherine asked, over the link.

  “Hey,” Melisa reported. “We are headed back now, on autopilot. All safe, and all good.”

  “Good to know,” Catherine said, with a smile.

  “So?” Melisa asked, stretching out the world.

  “I stopped by the hospital,” Catherine reported. “Charlie is still in his trance…coma… whatever it is, and he’s still unresponsive, but the doctors are confident. His body is still showing signs of healing, and he is getting stronger every day.”

  Melisa sighed. “And?”

  “I apologised you missed visiting hours.”

  “Thank you,” Melisa whispered.

  Catherine let out a breath. “Mel, I know that it can’t have been an easy choice, to help Matthew out. You know we appreciate it.”

  Melisa tried not to smile. “Actually, it’s… good to have some girl time with Angel. You still checked in on Charlie, and…”

  “And you can tell him yourself in a few days,” Catherine promised.

  “Sure,” Melisa agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She cut off the link.

  Angel put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Melisa nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Angel knelt on the floor, and began unpacking her candles and chalks. “Then I shall begin.”

  *

  Angel knelt at the centre of a complex pattern of interlocking circles and candles, with a glass staff across her lap.

  Melisa walked around the edges of the circle, lighting candles. “You truly think this will work?”

  “Of course,” Angel said. “His magic is as distinct to me as his voice, and out here, there is less background noise. I know part of him is tethered in his bedside, and I know that he has a connection to you.”

  Melisa held up her hands. “Now, hang on, whatever happens in the future… We aren’t there yet.”

  Angel tilted her head.

  Melisa crouched, and lit the last candle. She stepped into the circle. “What do I do?”