by Lucas Flint
Shell ground his teeth. “Yes, yes it would.”
“Good to see that we’re still on the same page,” said Eli. “Just remember, Shell, that you’re doing the right thing by spying for the Unwanted. The Neohero Alliance has become corrupt and it is your duty, as a superhuman, to aid us in taking it down from within.”
Shell nodded again, albeit reluctantly. “And what about my friends? What will we do with them once this is all over?”
“It depends on which side they pick in the upcoming war,” said Eli. “Because war is coming, Shell. I see it in the Unwanted. This much anger and resentment will not remain dormant forever. Soon, it will awaken … and once it does, no one in the country or even in the world will be able to contain it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blizzard stood on the front porch of her parents’ house, watching as Bolt and White packed the bags of the team into the rental car they would use to drive to the airport. The amount of luggage each member had taken varied, ranging from Shell’s simple suitcase with his clothes and laptop in it to Talon’s three large bags of clothes and makeup, so it always took Bolt and White a while to fit it all in the car. Blizzard would have helped, but Bolt had insisted that he and his brother could do it by themselves and that Blizzard shouldn’t worry about it.
But Blizzard sensed that Bolt had a different reason for not letting her help. He had been very angry with Blizzard ever since the battle against Zanni five days ago. Sure, he had told her that he forgave her for sneaking out and helping the government like that, but Blizzard could tell that Bolt felt like his trust had been damaged. And Blizzard understood; after all, she had sneaked out of the house without telling him, even if it was for a good reason. He had every reason to be annoyed with her, even though Blizzard wished he wasn’t. She figured their relationship was going to go through a rocky period for a while.
Guess this is what happens with every relationship at some point, Blizzard thought, wiping away the sweat accumulating on her forehead from the heat of the sun, even though she stood in the shade under the awning over the front porch. Mom told me that these kinds of things can make relationships stronger, but I don’t know how this will end. Guess we’ll just have to see.
A meow behind Blizzard caused her to look over her shoulder. Rebecca stood in the open doorway, Tom the cat purring contentedly in her arms. Rebecca looked better than she usually did; for one, her hair was brushed and she wore cleaner, better fitting clothes. Her skin was as deathly pale as always, but she no longer looked quite as awkward or unclean as she did before.
“Hey there,” said Blizzard, turning to face Rebecca. “You and Tom come to see me off?”
Rebecca nodded, albeit somewhat shakily. “Yeah, but I also wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” said Blizzard. “Sorry for what?”
“For being so rude to you during your stay,” said Rebecca. She sounded like she was having a hard time saying that. “And just for being so jealous of you in general. Until that night with that clown guy, I didn’t really know what you and your friends did every day. It just seemed to me that you and your friends were always having fun and getting all the attention and praise from other people, including our own parents, while I was stuck here having to go to school where no one really knew or liked me all that much.”
Blizzard blinked in surprise. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Rebecca?”
Rebecca smiled somewhat awkwardly. “Very funny, but I’m serious here. I was always really jealous of you because of your powers and how our parents treated you like royalty. I always thought you superheroes were overrated, but now I know what you and the others go through every day.” She shook her head. “How do you do it? I don’t think I’ll ever stop having nightmares about it.”
Blizzard shrugged. “You learn to deal with it. It helps that I have friends who I trust and who help me deal with it, as well as access to adult superheroes who’ve seen even worse things than us.”
“It’s still crazy,” said Rebecca. “But now, I don’t feel nearly as jealous of you as I used to. I’m okay with being a normal girl going to a normal school. I’d rather not deal with reality-warping clown monsters like that guy you fought.”
“We don’t usually deal with supervillains as powerful as that guy,” said Blizzard, “but yes, it’s a very dangerous job, what we do. It’s not for everyone, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “By the way, Mom and Dad heard my original musical composition and they liked it a lot.”
“They did?” said Blizzard. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, they’re telling all their friends about me,” said Rebecca. “It’s kind of weird, because I’m so used to them talking about you all the time, but now they seem to be talking about me all the time, too. It’s kind of nice.”
“Well, you’ll have Mom and Dad all to yourself once I’m gone,” said Blizzard. “But remember to text me when your next recital is. I’ll make sure to come and see it.”
For the first time that Blizzard could remember, Rebecca smiled genuinely. “Okay, sure.”
But then Rebecca suddenly frowned and, pointing behind Blizzard, said, “Whose car is that?”
Blizzard looked over her shoulder. Beyond the open gates in front of the house, a large, black, unmarked van was driving down the street. Although Blizzard had never seen this particular vehicle before, she had an ominous feeling about it. Bolt and White had also noticed it, because they had stopped fitting the luggage into the car. Though neither of them wore their costumes at the moment, the two brothers were watching the approaching van as if they expected a fight.
Saying a quick goodbye to Rebecca, Blizzard jumped down the steps and ran over to Bolt and White just as the van passed through the gates and came to a stop not far from them. The van’s windows were tinted so heavily that Blizzard could not see who was behind the wheel, but then the doors opened and from the passenger’s side came a man who Blizzard had not expected to see today. He was tall man with jet black hair and a nice suit; he didn’t look a day over 40, but Blizzard knew that he was much, much older than that. Another man, this one she did not recognize, stepped out of the driver’s side; he was a younger Mexican-looking man, probably not more than a year or two older than Bolt, although perhaps he simply looked young.
The man in the suit didn’t smile as he walked over to Blizzard, Bolt, and White. His hands were in his pockets, which was perhaps an effort to make himself look nonthreatening, but Blizzard knew that this man was a bigger threat than all three of them put together.
“Hello there, Bolt, Blizzard, White Lightning,” said the man as he came to a stop several feet away from them, with the young Mexican man stopping beside him. “Long time, no see.”
Bolt growled. “Not long enough, Cadmus.”
Cadmus Smith—the Director of the Department of Superpowered and Extraterrestrial Beings and the leader of the G-Men—smiled in an amused way. “As friendly as ever, I see. Not that I expected any less from you, of course.”
Bolt stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t stuff you into that van and drop it somewhere in the Arizona desert.”
“Because then you’d have to deal with me,” said the Mexican man, his voice soft but deadly. “And trust me, my friend, you don’t want to deal with me.”
“Who are you?” said Bolt, looking at the Mexican man in disgust. “Another G-Men agent?”
“His name is Vengeance,” said Cadmus, causing Bolt to look at him again. “He’s a relatively new agent, having transferred from the Air Force within the last couple of months, but he’s already proved himself an effective and loyal agent to the United States.”
Vengeance nodded. “Yes. When I joined the Air Force, I swore an oath to protect the United States from all threats, domestic and foreign. And trust me, Bolt, that you don’t want to be upgraded to ‘domestic’ threat in the eyes of the government.”
Bolt lo
oked like he was about to punch out Cadmus anyway, but Blizzard put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Bolt, now is not the time to pick a fight with the government, especially not in my parents’ front yard.”
“Your girlfriend has a point,” said Vengeance. “Of course, if you’d still like to go a few rounds with me, I’m always game.”
For a moment, Blizzard feared that Bolt might just ignore her advice and attack Cadmus and Vengeance anyway. White looked ready to start cracking skulls, too, although he was clearly waiting for Bolt’s go ahead before he did anything.
But then Bolt lowered his fists and stepped back. “Fine. But I want to know why you’re here. Did you come back for White?”
“Actually, I came to speak with Blizzard,” said Cadmus. “As per our prior agreement, we will not lay a finger on White.”
White visibly relaxed, while Blizzard said in surprise, “Me? Why?”
“Because you were working with Shade on her mission when she disappeared,” said Cadmus. “I have also gathered that your other teammate, Shell, was there.”
“Yes, we were both present,” said Blizzard. “Why do you ask? Have you found Shade yet?”
“Yes,” said Cadmus. “She’s safe but … is on leave for the time being.”
Cadmus spoke vaguely, but Blizzard could tell that, although Shade was probably ‘safe,’ that didn’t mean she was in good condition. Blizzard wondered where Zanni had banished Shade and how the G-Men had found her so quickly, though given the resources that the government had at its disposal, she supposed that she shouldn’t have been so surprised to learn that they had already located her.
“But the reason I came here in person was to ask you a few questions,” said Cadmus.
“What, you’re not just going to rip the answers out of her mind with your telepathy?” said Bolt. “Too polite to do that?”
“Typically, I only use force to get my answers when the situation is urgent,” said Cadmus. “This particular situation isn’t very urgent, so I see no reason to use force to achieve it.”
“All right,” said Blizzard. “What do you want to know?”
“The Call,” said Cadmus. “Where is it?”
Blizzard shrugged. “I don’t know. Eli Corey and the other Unwanted left the street after Zanni was defeated. I have no idea where they went. I don’t even know what ‘the Call’ is.”
“I see,” said Cadmus, although his tone suggested that he already knew that she would answer that way. “Next, did Zanni mention anything regarding his employer or what his goals were or why he wanted the Call?”
Blizzard shook his head. “No. He didn’t mention John Mann at all. He was too focused on trying to kill me and Shell, I think, to talk about Mann.”
Cadmus stroked his chin. “Not helpful, but interesting nonetheless. Last question: Did Zanni mention the Starborn?”
Blizzard thought about it for a moment. “No, not to me, at least. Shell told me later that Eli had asked about some group of people known as the ‘Starborn,’ but Zanni was interrupted before he could explain.”
“Starborn?” Bolt repeated. “Who are the Starborn?”
“Top secret,” said Cadmus, glancing at Bolt. Then he looked at Blizzard again. “Thank you, Miss Ricker, for answering my questions and clearing up a few issues for me. I know have a much better idea of what happened that night and what to do next. Good bye and good luck.”
Cadmus turned and walked away. Vengeance followed, but not before shooting a smirk over his shoulder at Bolt. Bolt just glared at him until the two G-Men agents climbed back into their van, backed out, and drove away, leaving Blizzard, Bolt, and White standing alone in her parents’ front yard next to their own car.
Bolt made a sound of disgust. “Glad he didn’t stick around. I can’t stand that bastard’s smug attitude. You never know what he’s thinking, but he, of course, always knows what everyone else is thinking.”
Blizzard nodded, but she didn’t feel as angry as Bolt. “I wonder who the Starborn are. The fact that he said it was top secret seems to me to indicate that it’s some kind of government secret, like the Apocalypse Switch.”
“Don’t know,” said White. His voice sounded tighter than usual, probably because Cadmus’s presence had reminded him of his time under the government’s control. “Never heard the name before.”
“It’s probably just more government BS,” said Bolt, shaking his head. “Not worth worrying about, in my opinion. White, let’s get back to fitting the luggage back into the car. I’m ready to go home.”
White nodded and soon the twin brothers were back at work trying to fit all of the suitcases and bags of seven people in a way that would still leave room for the team to sit comfortably inside it.
As for Blizzard, she stared at the street corner that the government van had disappeared around. Bolt may have been able to glibly dismiss the G-Men’s questions, but Blizzard couldn’t.
Between the Venetians, the G-Men, and the Unwanted, I feel like we’ve stepped into a conflict that is much bigger than it appears, Blizzard thought. I just hope we don’t get caught in the crossfire.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
John Mann stood in front of the huge door to his private vault deep beneath his mansion, leaning on his metal cane as he watched his assistant—a young blonde girl named Anna—input the code to open the vault door. Mann could have done it himself, but in recent weeks, he had started feeling more exhausted than usual. His doctors told him that it was just his old age catching up to him, but they had given him some medications that would give him enough energy to keep up with the demands of his business. Even so, the medications only helped a little and were more a reminder of his own fragility than anything.
And given how close I am to achieving my goals, I cannot let my health fail me yet, Mann thought, glancing at his thin, wizened hands. Not when my mission is so close to being complete.
“There,” said Anna suddenly, standing upright and stepping away from the vault door. “Done. The vault door will now open, Mr. Mann.”
Just as Anna said that, the huge vault door began to open inwards automatically. It opened slowly, its hinges loud as it scraped against the concrete floor of the vault. The noise hardly bothered Mann, but Anna cringed, probably because she wasn’t as used to it as he was, even though she had visited the vault with him several times already. But Mann did not move or enter the vault until the door was completely open; once the door was opened entirely, he entered the vault, but Anna stayed outside, mostly because Mann allowed very, very few people into his vault aside from himself and Anna was not one of them. She may have known the code to enter the vault, but Mann had trained her well enough that she would never even think of entering the place without his permission even if he were to leave the door open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
The vault was huge, with soaring arches and pillars made of solid concrete and steel supporting the ceiling. Along the walls were rows of shelves containing a myriad of treasures that Mann had collected from all over the world during his long life; Egyptian tablets, Native American necklaces, even bits and pieces of what may have been the Cross that Christ had hanged upon, as well as Pokacu technology and weapons procured from the failed second Pokacu invasion of Earth. From a young age, Mann had always had a strong interest in collecting what most people would term strange and rare objects; indeed, one of the things that led him to become such a successful businessman was his desire to purchase and own as many of these objects as he could.
Today, however, Mann was interested in a particular set of objects, one that he had been collecting from a very young age, well before any other part of his collection. Passing his collection of Victorian age silks and crowns, Mann stopped in front of another door in the vault. It was a smaller door, but it was locked every bit as tightly as the main door to the vault. Mann looked both ways, even though there was no one else inside the vault but himself, before he waved a hand over the lock’s DNA scanner. A couple of seconds later, th
e scanner beeped confirmation of his identity and Mann entered the room, making sure to close the door behind himself.
The room was initially pitch-black, but as soon as he closed the door, lights on the ceiling flashed on, allowing him to see that he stood in a much smaller room than the main vault. It was about the size of an ordinary bedroom, with only three shelves along the back wall. Aside from the shelves and their contents, the room had nothing else.
Mann rested both his hands on his cane. He waited a second or two, and then said, “Zanni, are you there?”
One moment, Mann was alone in the room; the next, a ghoulish man wearing a Zanni mask appeared before him. Zanni was kneeling already; that was good, because Mann disliked having to tell his servants—including the Venetians—to kneel before him.
“I am here, master,” said Zanni, “and at your command, as always.”
“Is that why it took you five days to return to me?” said Mann.
Zanni flinched. “Master, I suffered an allergic reaction to the powerless gas. I had to go home for a few days and—”
“Your lies are not very amusing or believable,” said Mann. “You ought to be more like Bauta. He never lies to me. You are a prime example of what happens when an individual allows fear to control their actions.”
Zanni gulped, but did not look up at Mann. “You … you aren’t going to punish me, are you?”
“No, because I already learned about the events in Phoenix from my other sources,” said Mann. “The rest is minor details I will get later.”
“Other sources?” said Zanni, looking up at Mann in surprise. “I didn’t know you had other sources in Phoenix.”
“You’ve worked for me for years, yet you act surprised when I tell you that you are not my only servant in a large city like Phoenix,” said Mann. “I have dozens of servants in every major city in the world. There are twenty in New York City alone, which is why I am aware of everything that goes on there. Despite your immense power, you clearly are not very clever.”