HOPE BRINGERS (Strong superhero women) (Mystical Slayers Book 2)

by Michael W. Huard

  Acting Y-Wood Corporation president, Berlin Purcell, and his team of robotic engineers had rebuilt Omagus, a highly prized masterpiece of the late President Arn Marcou, rather nicely. His indestructible chest piece was one of the only things retrieved from the rubble of the home base bombing at Old Fenway in Boston, Massachusetts.

  The bot's glowing green eyes scanned the prisoner's mind as sharp probes slowly extended out of his chin toward the woman's face. He knew she was holding back, hiding all the details he sought. He could drain her brain with these metal probes. The woman shrieked in fear and tried to peel herself away from the bot. Closing her eyes, she wanted to hold onto one last vision of a more peaceful, unified world, one that she could still see so clearly in her imagination.

  This prisoner was named "#77." Those that remained loyal to the sisterhood were never given regular names. They were treated in the same way as the metal cobra-like snakes, known as "spitters," that were now kept as pets by many in the new world. Number seventy-seven's nose began to bleed. She looked up at the robot's green eyes and knew she would soon perish. His probes pierced through her skin and bore deep inside her brain.

  The excruciating pain brought her to the verge of passing out. Yet she held her head up with pride, and with one last breath, one last defying gesture, she said, "I pray to God each and every night. I ask for He, the Lord, to help us, to save us from monsters like you." Her life faded before the robot's eyes. With a single tear rolling down her cheek, she had left this world revealing nothing of the sisterhood's new locale.

  The robot shook his head, disappointed by another lost opportunity. Like all the rest, he took her body to the incinerator and left her to burn to ashes. As he made his way back to the upper level of Y-Wood's new Corporation building, he said to himself, "God? Is that all these women have?" He chuckled and sighed. "Why do people insist on seeking a higher calling? Humans, cyborgs, robots; we're all the same."

  Even Omagus was not what he once was. He had lost his true boss, Arn Marcou, but as yet unknown to all, a chip inside his surviving system had downloaded the entire knowledge of his former owner. This made him see things differently. For now, he would follow another; his general and acting president, Berlin Purcell. But not for long.

  As a military commander, Berlin Purcell prospered and enjoyed the work. He was good at it too. He and Galax, his mega powerful, smart robot sidekick, were, in his own words, "Unstoppable."

  Over the past few years, he had taken great pride in being the intern president of the rebuilding of world power. He had also grown his beard out, and even though the gray showed much more clearly these days, he didn't care. After all, there was way too much other stuff to think about. His hair, as always, was still shortly cropped and spiked back, and his jawline was still square and clenched most of the time.

  Omagus now entered his chamber. President Purcell still found great use in such a reformed creation. Omagus had not belonged to him before the attack, and at one point, he had been his own robotics sidekick's competition. Since the attack, Omagus had become a soldier and Purcell was his leader in command.

  "General, I have yet again indulged my seeking via another prisoner. The results, however, are no different than the others." He saluted his new boss with a robotic fist to his chest and awaited further instructions.

  At one time, Omagus was part-hologram, and his image was projected like a three-dimensional visual. But now, after his rebuild, he was more regular in robot-like appearance—well, sort of. The bot's uniqueness and his intimidating presence came partly from the many openings about his eyes, neck, and head. It was in these areas that his wires and mechanisms were fully visible. He was powerful to say the least.

  Berlin ran his hand through his waxed, cropped hair and peered up to the bot. "It truly amazes me that these imbeciles will not talk." He then took a swig of his now-cold coffee before continuing his thought. "Those fucking women are just that: a bunch of girls messing with everybody's minds. All their bullshit paraphernalia, flags, storybooks, pledges…it's all hogwash."

  He then slammed his fist down on the table. "We need to find any remaining survivors, and we need to kill each and every one of them."

  Omagus nodded in agreement. "I hear you loud and clear, Commander." The super bot thought deeply; he was smarter than anyone alive. "Sir, I think I know another way to locate them, to lure them out. I am on it, and I will not let you down, Mr. President."

  Berlin still got a kick out of hearing his new title spoken out loud. The Corporation had suffered dearly in the raid and the subsequent explosion at Old Fenway. He rolled his neck at such a stressful thought. Their allies were uneasy, so new bonds were needed. The general population found some sort of rally cry via these silly girls. He hated crap like that. He was a soldier. He wanted to fight, to destroy the enemy. He threw his coffee cup across the table and onto the floor.

  "Omagus, contact all our best Corporation leaders; those from California, Washington D.C., here in New York, Texas, and any others with numbers and a decent enough infrastructure. I've decided to invest in a much larger army." Omagus nodded and turned to leave, but Berlin called back to him. "I almost forgot. Tell Galax…ah, forget it. He's probably teaching the boy like always. I will go tell him myself. Carry on."

  A news broadcast crackled to life on a large TV screen, and the president instantly turned his chair around to watch.

  We interrupt this broadcast for a B-Purcell information notice.

  Here at the Y-Corporation, we have the largest army in the world for your protection as a citizen of this country. We take this very seriously. Make sure to have your microchip inside your wrist at all times, and our watchful security bots will make sure that you are safe on all your travels. Anyone not registered with the Y-Corporation will be considered a threat, and we will make sure individuals are apprehended immediately. Trust in Y-Wood!

  ***

  She saw the flying ships, lines upon lines of spacecrafts filled a long strip before her. In unison, they all took to the sky and quickly formed a line of defense in front of a massive bridge.

  Raegan started and sat bolt upright from her dozing off before wiping the sweat from her brow. As she ran both hands through her long blond hair, a flash of pain bolted from the back of her neck, all the way up to her skull.

  There was always a great sacrifice when all hope was at stake, but this latest vision shook her to the core. If the Y-Corporation ever found out their new location, everyone in their region would be in grave jeopardy.

  She got herself together and went to train with Mahira. She needed a good workout.

  Chapter Two

  The sisterhood compound was a large ranch with many other surrounding buildings. The living quarters were located in the main larger building, a place where the entire inner circle stayed, and a few other large barns served as working areas as well as bunks and housing for new recruits and family members.

  Today, the compound was home to nearly two-hundred residents.

  IHF, or "Instant Healing Formula," as well as Starigen 6280 and a few other new drugs, were all kept securely in more private buildings to the rear of the main one.

  A gazebo-like building had been added recently too, which acted as a chapel.

  Jansa and Sun returned from Sun's encounter with the lioness and walked inside the kitchen to the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls. Both were greeted by Zaey, a reddish brown-haired woman originally from Australia. "There you two are. Are you hungry? I hope so." Both Sun and Jansa nodded their heads, seemingly glad to be back indoors with some food.

  Another of the sisters rounded the corner in her baby blue cotton pajamas. With her brown hair tossed about in a messy display, she yawned and stretched as she approached the others. "Good morning," she proclaimed, jumping on a nearby couch.

  Chaya was easily recognized by her diamond studs that highlighted her eyes and cheek area. She peered over the bar and squealed, "Coffee! I need coffee!"


  All of them missed Sinaye, but that was a story for another day.

  The other sisters were down below in their cellar. But this was not a simple cellar for storage. No, the girls had created a dojo, a special training hall where they could spar and continue to train in the various forms of the martial arts.

  Mahira and Raegan were already at it down in the dojo at this very moment.

  "You can't disarm a gun or a rifle unless you're close enough to snatch it," explained Raegan, a straight-haired blond with cat-like eyes. "It's going to be pointed at your face or your chest, so place your hands up and fake surrender." She waved at her fighting partner to play the part.

  Mahira, who was a tad shorter than her sister, lifted a rifle up at Raegan. The Mystical Slayer leader then snatched the gun with incredibly quick reflexes and placed it in front of Mahira's neck. She then reached around Mahira's neck to grab the other end of the rifle. This allowed Raegan to execute a nice choke, using the gun as a helpful weapon on her friend's throat. Mahira was impressed.

  "I like that, Rae. You got it away from me, and now this!" She was going to say more, but her sister squeezed harder. "Ahhhh! You can…let…go…now."

  Smiling, Raegan released her grasp and handed the laser rifle back to her sister. Mahira wanted her turn now, so she handed it back to Raegan and asked her to act as aggressor and point the laser. The muscular gladiator winked at her sister.

  Mahira began to lift her hands up, apparently giving in, but then she kicked the gun from Raegan's hands and spun about with another back kick, sending her sister flying in the opposite direction. Raegan recovered and pointed to her friend, saying, "Or you can try it your own crazy way." Raegan picked up the weapon and both women turned to see the additional sets of eyes watching them.

  A young girl with long black hair sat on a punching bag on the floor. She had a streak of white in her tresses and looked as if she was of Asian descent, perhaps mixed with American. Raegan asked, "So, Karma, which way do you prefer?"

  The girl hopped up from the bag and walked over to Raegan with her hands raised before her. "Go ahead and point it at me," she insisted.

  Raegan aimed the gun at the young girl's forehead, saying, "Don't you move, little girly, or I will shoot," she announced.

  Karma acted complacent and replied, "Oh, please don't hurt me. I'm just a kid. Spare me, oh please spare me." Mahira and Rae looked at one another and laughed. The kid was a natural actor.

  Then, Karma showed them another part of her natural ability. The little one, who was originally from a Wyoming mining community, knocked the weapon to the side and snapped it low before twisting it loose and taking it for herself. She then roundhouse kicked Raegan in the back of the leg, followed by a turning elbow to the back of her trainer's head. Raegan fell forward and down to one knee. To finish, Karma turned and put the gun up before her kneeling adversary. "Your turn not to move, Corporation scum. Who's the boss now, sucker?" she said with a wide smirk on her face.

  Mahira came at her from the right. "Oh yeah, what about her friend? What you gonna do about me?" She then got behind young Karma and bear hugged her, trapping the rifle to Karma's belly. Karma's arms were useless as she struggled in vain to get free.

  Raegan looked to the tough little girl and explained, "When your arms are not available, use your other tools." The girl immediately tried to snap her head back so as to head butt Mahira, but the gladiator knew it was coming so she failed miserably. She then tried to foot-stomp Mahira by slamming her own foot down onto the instep of the woman holding on to her, but again, Mahira whipped her foot away and left Karma with another failed attempt.

  Mahira egged her on. "You're making your attacker mad now. You better make something happen or they will slam you on your head, kiddo!"

  Karma dropped to her knee and began to roll. Mahira went with her, but as they landed, the youngster spun about and dove to her side, finally free. Mahira was impressed. Admittedly, she had actually let go a little easier than she may have done in reality, but she was still impressed.

  With the private training done for the morning, the women made their way upstairs for breakfast.

  Raegan, who much preferred tea to coffee, talked to the group as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her cup. "It's been a long road back to this point. I know all of you want to get back out there, so I'm happy to say, I think it's time!"

  Zaey, Jansa, Mahira, and Chaya all looked to one another with raised eyebrows, suddenly feeling a rush of energy spread over them. They had been lying low for way too long. The sisters wanted action, and the population of America was holding out for such inspiration; they needed some hope!

  Raegan then asked the others, including Sun and Karma, to bow their heads before indulging in their morning meal. She motioned to Jansa to say a prayer or a blessing for all to partake in. The doc was happy to oblige and said, "Why shall we value life? It's because we have a conscience, and God has planted this inside us all. Goodness and kindness is a choice for those that believe, and as we prepare to eat, we take our physical bodies as an example. Our bodies were not created by chance. They are miracles, so we thank the Holy Spirit for this meal."

  All the girls in the room nodded and breakfast was served.

  They knew the time had come once again to take on the greedy Y-Wood Corporation, and this time, they wanted to put an end to them.

  The sisterhood had thousands of flyers hidden in their barns and buildings around the California vineyard estate, all kept away from prying eyes. They had groups of men and women constantly working on the production of these flyers, but with no rules set in place by big dog President Purcell, any such trips to distribute them had to be well calculated.

  As the older women enjoyed a morning meal, Karma tossed a piece of buttered toast at Sun. Despite the toast sticking in Sun's hair and Sun sticking her tongue out at a giggling Karma, the rest of the women remained oblivious as they discussed the upcoming events with increasing excitement.

  Chapter Three

  The boy was perhaps around ten or so, maybe younger. He had good looks with curly brown hair and a solid frame. Over the past three years, he had been taught everything and anything he would need to know about today's technologically advanced society. He was called Trevor. Although he used to have a different name, Trevor is now the only name he knows.

  His lessons were given by a few different robots, but most were taught by a super-styled robot by the name of Galax. Galax was a silver and blue bot, a finely crafted billion-dollar machine with the highest level of AI. Primarily, he was made to fight.

  Alongside teaching the boy how to fight, he also instructed on matters of anatomy, health, physics, and technology. Trevor was allowed to witness the Corporation's newest inventions and even partake in their creations. His previous life was somewhat of a lost memory. He could recall very little nowadays. With the help of various implants, his past was fading rapidly, almost to the point of vanishing altogether. However, lingering somewhere deep inside, he still sensed he knew about love. Perhaps somewhere or somehow, he had once felt love.

  Today was all about target practice for Trevor. Galax wanted him to be an elite marksman, a killer, a shot of the highest efficiency. As they looked out at the target across the chamber, Galax positioned the laser gun in the boy's hand and explained, "The secret to the perfect shot, is to block out all of your other thoughts. Take aim and see only that target that lies ahead. Focus, boy. See only the target. Now, aim and fire!"

  The kid was a good shot. The target was a rebel fighter, a woman's upper body. It represented anyone who might resist the Y-Wood Corporation. Trevor was being taught that all humans WILL OBEY OR DIE!

  President Purcell had a host of robots and employees that certainly kept the boy very busy; he was constantly being groomed.

  The world was a wild and savage place to those without structure, discipline, and great leadership. Trevor was taught that those in a higher station had to control t
he populace. Otherwise, the entire nation would become even more of a mess than it already was. He came to realize he worked for the good guys, the company trying to make the land safer.

  Late at night was the only part of the day that he had time to himself and space to think for himself.

  As he rested his weary head on a soft pillow, Trevor tried desperately to reach back into his mind to draw out a memory, any memory. He knew there must be something still in there, but it wasn't easy. He tried so hard, he really did, but all he could feel was a sense of comfort. It was something he so dearly missed, something that made him feel safer. Before he had chance to burrow deeper into his brain to identify what the weird comforting sensation was or where it had come from, his tired body fell fast asleep.

  ***

  In the morning, the time had come for a new Y-Wood leadership and a new military to teach some lessons of their own. They needed to deliver harsh teachings to those who did not obey. Squadrons of soldiers, some clones or cyborgs, others fully robotic, boarded company space vessels and took off on route to places that needed a little reminder of who was in charge.

  The New York based Corporation flew to several major cities to set such examples. Texas would be the main landing place to begin with. Outlaws ran rampant in the giant state and took the law into their own hands whenever possible.

  The area was too vast to control, yet Y-Wood held the major cities under their laws, so when trouble came about, the big dogs were sent in—just like today! As soon as the ships landed, Ruthys led the way outside. The specially designed soldiers were kitted out in all-black armor with bright green slots for eyes. Their newest look was to have the word "Police" written on their metal bodies.