Vanguard Prime Book 1

by Steven Lochran

  ‘I’m protecting my secret identity,’ I say.

  ‘You were walking around the ship for half the day before you’d even gotten your stupid visor. What difference do you think it’s going to make now?’

  I can’t think of a comeback to that, so we spend the rest of the elevator ride in silence, except for one point when I’m sure I hear her mutter ‘idiot’ under her breath. It’s enough to keep me from removing the visor, if only to spite her, but I do switch the informational read-outs off – I don’t really want to know how much talking with me raises her blood pressure.

  When the doors open again, we’re in an area of the ship that I’m not entirely convinced we’re supposed to be in. Unlike the pristine white corridors on the higher decks, this hallway is dark and wet. There are pipes and valves running the length of the ceiling and the only light comes from the occasional bunker-style light fixture.

  ‘Come on,’ Machina says, all but pushing me out of the elevator. Our footsteps echo forebodingly down the corridor, but Machina stalks ahead with single-minded determination until finally we’re standing in front of a steel door that has ‘AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’ stamped on it in the same bold red as on the cover of the black book waiting for me back in my room.

  ‘Um, is this right? I mean, are we … uh …?’ I stammer, before noticing that Machina’s eyes are once again glowing.

  The door sweeps open.

  I don’t know what I’m expecting to find on the other side. Perhaps some hideous, gargantuan elder beast or a horrible castle laboratory where a mad doctor is splicing werewolf genes with Hitler DNA.

  Instead, I’m met with the sight of just another lab, though this one, with its stainless steel surfaces and low blue lighting, feels much colder than the one I was in earlier today. It’s also a lot bigger. As we step into it, I realise that we’re on the ground floor of a large atrium. There are about three or four floors above us, and on each of the floors are cells made of thick glass.

  ‘Where are we?’ I ask Machina.

  ‘The Gallery,’ she replies. ‘The place where all of Vanguard Prime’s deadliest enemies are kept.’

  ‘What?!’ My voice echoes through the huge chamber and I quickly lower it to a hush. ‘What?’

  ‘You think I’m just the clean-up crew? You haven’t even seen a supervillain in the flesh yet, have you?’ she asks, poking me in the chest. ‘Have you?’

  ‘No,’ I say, looking away.

  ‘Well, you’re about to,’ she says before walking away.

  ‘Samantha! Machina! Wait! Wait!’

  And like a fool I go chasing after her.

  By the time I catch up to her, she’s standing in front of one of the cells.

  ‘This is Persona,’ she says, pointing at a figure curled up on an uncomfortable-looking bed. The only part of him that’s not hidden by a blanket is his face. At least, I’m guessing it’s his face, obscured as it is by the papier-mâché mask he’s wearing.

  ‘He’s a shapeshifter, and harmless when he’s himself. The problem is he has multiple personality disorder. He was operating for years as the superhero Metatron before discovering that he was also his own archenemy, the Dragon. He’d been responsible for saving thousands of lives, as well as causing the deaths of countless others. He kind of snapped after that.’

  ‘Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be in a psych facility?’

  ‘He was. But he got into a fight with another patient, transformed into the Dragon, broke free and spent the next few months on a homicidal rampage. When we finally brought him in, he had managed to revert back to his real identity. He begged us to take him in and keep him here.’

  ‘Why’s he called Persona? What’s his real name? And why’s he wearing that mask?’

  ‘When they tried taking the mask from him he freaked out until they gave it back,’ Machina replies. ‘He calls himself Persona. Nobody knows his real name. Not even him.’

  Machina walks on to the next cell. I stare at Persona for a moment longer. His breath is slow and steady and I have no idea if he’s asleep or watching me from behind that mask. I shiver and move on.

  Machina doesn’t have to identify the next prisoner for me. I already know who it is.

  ‘If it isn’t the young lass Machina! And who is the lad who’s squiring her? Look at his fancy new suit – what a sight it is! And who might you be, boy?’ the prisoner asks in a cockney accent that seesaws between lyrically gleeful and gruffly malevolent.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I whisper to Machina. ‘There’s no way in hell the Major would want us talking to Spring-Heeled Jack.’

  ‘Hey!’ Jack suddenly shouts, slamming himself up against the glass of his cell. His eyes are a violent shade of red, his skin rough and mottled like that of a burn victim’s. His outstretched hands are pressed against the glass, and I see with horror that his fingers are thin and clawed and stretch far longer than normal. He gives a sickly sweet grin. ‘It’s not polite to whisper.’

  Machina’s eyes glow, and the glass that stands between Jack and us darkens.

  ‘Oy!’ he snaps. ‘Where’d you go?’

  Another spark from Machina’s eyes and the super-villain is still ranting, his mouth opening and closing, but there’s no noise.

  ‘I’ve manipulated the security controls to make his glass one-way,’ she says. ‘We can see him, but all he can see is a mirror. I’ve also switched off his intercom. It took the Knight of Wands ten years to capture Spring-Heeled Jack. Who knows if he’d been able to do it without Vanguard Prime’s help?’

  ‘They let him keep his mask too?’ I ask, still staring at the horror show on the other side.

  ‘He’s not wearing a mask,’ Machina says, moving on. I shudder and quickly follow.

  ‘Look, we really should be going. We’re not allowed down here. We’re going to get caught –’

  ‘This guy, he’s the worst of all of them,’ Machina says, ignoring me.

  And I have to admit, with an introduction like that she manages to capture my curiosity. I look into the cell she’s standing in front of.

  There’s no one there. Just a gleaming, white, human-shaped column, like a 21st-century sarcophagus.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘It’s the Overman.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I say, whispering even lower than I was before. ‘He used to be Agent Alpha’s partner, right? Back in the day?’

  ‘Yeah. Back then he was called Agent Omega, but his real name is Adam Drexler. He and Agent Alpha were good friends. They were good partners, too. Before Vanguard Prime, they were the guys that got called when the world needed saving. No one’s really sure how it started, but Drexler started becoming more and more unhinged until he finally lashed out at Agent Alpha. They were stationed at Fort Ditko in Washington DC at the time. Half the base was destroyed by the end of it. Even worse, after beating Agent Alpha unconscious, Drexler fled the base and went rogue. The next time he showed up, he was calling himself the Overman and threatening to level Brussels if Agent Alpha didn’t come and face him.’

  As Machina recites all this information, I remember the classes in Modern History that revolved around that encounter. They called it the Battle of Belgium. It ended with the Overman escaping as Agent Alpha held up a falling building with his bare hands.

  ‘What do you think drove him to it?’ I ask, staring through the glass at the featureless white box on the other side.

  ‘If you read his file, he was always unstable. It’s amazing he was even let into the military, back before he got his powers. He should have outright flunked the psych test, but he was smart enough to navigate his way through it.’

  ‘Do you think his powers helped him to do it?’

  ‘No. He’s telekinetic, not telepathic. He can move things with his mind, but he can’t project his thoughts or read the thoughts of others. I think the thing that got him through the test is the same thing that makes him such a dangerous bad guy.’

  ‘What’s that?’

&nb
sp; ‘He’s cunning,’ Machina says. ‘Seriously, scarily cunning.’

  ‘I still remember the day they captured him,’ I reply, after a moment’s pause. ‘Dad said it was like when the Berlin Wall came down. Everyone had lived every day wondering when the Overman would start World War III. And then suddenly they didn’t have to worry anymore.’ I continue to stare, unblinking, through the glass. ‘Still, seems a bit inhumane, keeping him in a box like that. How does he breathe?’

  ‘He’s hooked up to an oxygen mask inside, as well as an IV and a feeding tube. It’s not so bad, really. We have Virtual Reality technology that keeps his mind occupied, and that also allows his psychoanalyst to safely interact with him.’

  ‘I don’t know, it still seems … disturbing,’ I say.

  For the first time I notice an ominous hum emanating from the room. I look around for its source but can only see the Overman’s acrylic tomb. Suddenly the sound stops. The moment passes. There’s just a big, white, weirdly shaped box sitting in the middle of a still, silent room.

  ‘He does look kinda like a case that someone would keep an oboe in,’ I say.

  Machina chuckles, and I can almost hear her mentally kicking herself for having done so.

  ‘Can you explain to me what the hell you two are doing down here?’

  Machina and I spin around to find Major Blackthorne standing right behind us. Even worse, I see a shadowy cloaked figure standing behind her, his eyes hidden by an opaque visor. Despite how expressionless he is, it’s easy to tell he’s not impressed. Not only have we just been busted by the Major, but by the Knight of Wands as well.

  ‘I was just showing Goldrush what it means to be a part of Vanguard Prime,’ Machina says.

  ‘You didn’t feel that was being covered in his induction, Machina?’ the Major replies in an icy voice. Between her and the Knight, I don’t know who I’m more scared of at the moment. The supervillains directly behind me have fallen to a distant third place.

  ‘Can’t really say – so much information is classified around here,’ Machina says.

  ‘No television privileges. For a week. That’s just the start. I’ll tell you your further punishments later on. Now both of you, back to your quarters. March!’

  There’s absolutely no room for argument. As Machina and I start walking back to the entranceway a thin figure comes creeping out of the shadows. For a moment panic surges through me as I leap to the conclusion that one of the inmates has escaped.

  ‘What is the meaning of this trespass?’ he snaps, his lab coat flapping like batwings, his grey hair a wild mess.

  Without thinking, I recoil behind Machina. She regards me with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Hello, Dr Knock,’ the Major says, stepping between us and the wild-haired man. ‘The Knight of Wands and I came down to discuss the preparations for Cronus’s transfer. We found our young friends here on an unauthorised tour. I apologise for the intrusion; they’re on their way back to the dormitories now.’

  ‘I should hope so. This is no place for children,’ he replies, before looking over at the cells. Years of scowling have left his face permanently creased. ‘They could agitate the patients.’

  ‘Who are you calling “children”?’ Machina snaps.

  Dr Knock eyes her and for a moment it looks like a showdown between two hungry lions in the wild.

  ‘Cut it out, Machina,’ the Major says, and just like that the tension dissolves. ‘Dr Knock, I don’t think you’ve met Goldrush before. Goldrush, this is Dr Friedrich Knock. He’s our resident psychoanalyst. He’s looking after the prisoners kept in the Gallery.’

  ‘Oh, um … hi!’ I say, confused at how I’ve gone from being told off to making introductions. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Hmph,’ he grunts, ignoring my outstretched hand.

  ‘… Dr Knock’s just come back from vacation,’ the Major says, still trying to start some form of conversation with a guy who’s clearly not interested. ‘How was it, Doctor?’

  ‘Uneventful,’ he says, before pushing past us. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the Major says to me via sub-vox, ‘he’s a jerk to everybody.’

  ‘Even me.’ I hear a deep, unfamiliar voice in my head and I realise, from the sly look on his unshaven face, that the Knight of Wands is making a joke. A very, very dry joke, but a joke nevertheless. I can’t help but grin in response. Dr Knock looks at me with annoyed confusion and then glowers menacingly.

  ‘Come on you two,’ the Major says. ‘Back upstairs. Now.’

  We head back up in the lift with very little said between any of us. I feel like I’m in school and I’ve been caught in the staff lounge.

  The Major escorts us back to our rooms. The Knight of Wands has disappeared somewhere on our way through the halls. I didn’t even see him leave. I don’t know if that’s because of how stealthy he is or how tired I am. All I know is that by the time I get to my room all I want to do is sleep.

  I ignore the rumblings of hunger as I pull back the sheets and climb into bed. In the darkness, I try not to think about home, family, friends and all the other things I’ve left behind to come live on a ship that has homicidal supervillains in the hull and psychotic teammates across the hall.

  The sky is red and black and punctuated by a moon so yellow it looks like a rotten tooth. There’s the occasional threatening flash of lightning off in the distance, and the bitumen boils beneath our feet. It’s midnight – or zero hundred hours as I’ve learned to call it – and we’re here to save lives. Millions of them.

  A supervillain called the Red Death has wired the tallest building in the city – the corporate headquarters of the international shipping conglomerate Kobeyashi Inc – with enough C-4 explosives to turn the entire surrounding area into nothing more than an ugly, smoking scar. We have less than three minutes to get to the building and deactivate the bomb, and despite the far-off sound of sirens we’re not expecting backup to arrive anytime soon.

  The only thing standing in our way?

  Robots.

  Four. Giant. Robots.

  ‘Machina,’ says Agent Alpha, ‘can you –’

  ‘Their internal processors are surrounded by lead-based shielding,’ Machina cuts him off, anticipating his question. ‘It’s keeping me from syncing with them.’

  The robots lumber towards us, but Agent Alpha doesn’t miss a beat. ‘In that case, here’s the plan,’ he declares. ‘Goldrush and Knight of Wands will advance on the Kobeyashi tower. Gaia, Machina and I will handle these four the old-fashioned way. All clear?’

  None of us have the chance to agree as the robot at the front of the pack blasts us with a barrage from the plasma conductor on its chest. I gasp in shock as the energy beam slams into the Agent, and for a moment I panic that he’s dead or at least badly injured.

  But as the blast washes over him, I realise that there’s nothing to worry about. Agent Alpha’s powers – his increased strength, his flight, his superhuman durability, his force blasts – all of them stem from his ability to absorb and rechannel energy. So when the robot hits him with another blast, all the machine is doing is charging him up, which the Agent uses to immediate effect by taking to the air and going on the attack, his eyes and fists crackling with raw power.

  Everyone springs into action.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Machina’s pupils glow. A wave of liquid metal flows from the compartments on her belt and soon covers her from head to toe. The liquid metal hardens into shape, and before I know it she’s dressed in her nanotech battle armour. It’s the first time I’ve seen her do it and I can’t help staring.

  ‘Don’t just stand there gawping,’ she says to me, her voice filtered through a pair of speakers on her helmet. ‘Get in the game!’

  Rocket boots propel her into the air alongside Agent Alpha, where she blasts at the advancing robots with the electron dischargers that have extended from her gauntlets. She’s joined by Gaia, also airborne and brandishing
Fury, her razor-sharp sword, which she uses to lacerate the faceplate of the nearest robot.

  ‘Come on, kid,’ the Knight of Wands says as he runs past me. ‘It’s down to us.’

  He ducks and weaves as the robots take aim at him, avoiding the stray energy blasts with such skill that it’s like they’re passing right through him. He moves so fast that he’s covered the length of the street while I’ve barely taken more than a few steps.

  I start to run, expecting my powers to kick in and send me hurtling down the street like I’ve got a jetpack strapped to my back. Instead, sweat pours down my face as I struggle to move faster than any normal teenage kid would. And even though the sirens in the distance sound as far off as they were before, the noise of them throbs in my head, cuts into my chest, and brings with it the memory of the first time my powers manifested themselves. The time I lost control.

  I clench my fists, screw my eyes shut and try to think of something else, anything else, but the sirens just grow louder …

  ‘Goldrush?’ The Knight of Wands voice pulls me halfway out of the fog that’s clouded my mind. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I don’t know! My super-speed … I can’t get my super-speed to –’

  My answer is cut short by two black vans that come screeching around the corner. They haven’t even come to a full stop before two platoons of the Red Death’s henchmen come pouring out of them. They’re dressed in crimson body armour, their faces painted with black skulls, and they’re all carrying machine guns.

  They don’t even bother to take aim. They just hit the triggers and spray the entire street with shells. The Knight of Wands tumbles out of the way just in time, the bullets ripping through his cloak as he advances on the henchmen.

  He’s removed his signature weapon, his laser-lance, from its place on his belt. He telescopes it from the size of a baton to a full quarterstaff by hitting a hidden switch in the centre. Red lights spark up and run down the length of it, tracing conduits that flow to both ends to spew scarlet energy that ripples like fire.