The Xtra- Volume One

by Oliver Willis

  I came to win.

  My fingers are cold now. We're very high up. Just a little bit more and we'll be in orbit.

  I've got people out there, I think as I look to the stars.

  Then I stop. We come to a sudden halt and we're both floating there. I look into Blanc's eyes and I can see he's furiously trying to make something, anything happen. But from the sparks and lights on the outside of the machine it's clear that it's a long way from hurting me the way it did before.

  Thank God, I don't think I could take another hit like that.

  So I pull at his suit, from the shoulders. There's some resistance at first because it seems to be clamped around his skin. But then it gives way.

  There's a loud, metallic, grinding sound. Like opening a tin can.

  I want to laugh because for it to come to this, after all his threats and theatrics, hurting people, hurting me – it's just humiliating.

  The suit rips in half, leaving him wearing simply a black bodysuit and the helmet.

  I give in to the smile and I can see his forlorn face staring back at me. There's been a power exchange and he knows it. I savor the seconds.

  This is my moment. I was supposed to get these powers. I'm here to do what I am doing right now. I'm worthy of these blessings and abilities. I don't have to apologize for it or beg forgiveness.

  I give the armor a final tug and it completely rips away from Blanc, now absolutely useless.

  He spills out from the middle of the rip, like a nut extracted from its shell, and falls toward Earth.

  I watch as his body tumbles down, as limp as a rag doll. There's no more flying around with ease, booming amplified voice, or electrical powers to burn and threaten.

  There's just a scared, frightened, terrified man, falling hundreds of feet. Helpless.

  I hover in place, floating on my own accord, under my own power.

  What must be going through his head. The end. Darkness. Death. The same fate he handed out to others without a second thought.

  A man like that doesn't come to that kind of mindset overnight. There must have been others over the years, people he trampled on to get to his elevated perch.

  I ponder letting him slam into the surface, a broken heap of bones and flesh, a red cloud of mist and blood as a warning to others who might consider going down his same ruinous path.

  He would be a lesson.

  Chapter 93

  I fly after him.

  It takes just a few seconds to catch up to his fall. I shoot slightly past him and reach out. I grab his collar and pull him out of his freefall.

  He hangs from my hand, his body slumped over, limp, and deflated. The helmet looks sad where it was intimidating just moments ago.

  "You're not getting off that easily," I tell him.

  Blanc doesn't reply. I just feel him shudder as he makes a long sigh.

  This will be fun, I think, as I descend to the surface with the billionaire in my hand as a trophy.

  Chapter 94

  The Overseers huddle in their meeting room, deep within the catacombs of their planet, Tevrem. The room is surrounded by large video screens, relaying the news developments on Earth that have unfurled over the last few days.

  They show Madden Blanc, their Earth-bound emissary, in the depths of humiliation. He is shackled, surrounded by police officers and television camera crews demanding comment from him for his crimes.

  Reporters and pundits endlessly, breathlessly, describe the "serious allegations" and "long-reaching repercussions" surrounding his arrest and the legal proceedings to follow. The Overseers watch as Danmoc, their creation, is linked to Blanc and the "pattern of illegal and immoral behavior" that the press has suddenly discovered within his corporation.

  There is a constant parade of elected officials, who just a few days prior were more than happy to hobnob with Blanc and cash his checks, now calling for congressional hearings and investigations. They insist they will unravel his empire's entanglement with the government. They make sure to make their statements directly to camera, so the message reaches the intended audience: voters.

  There are other images of executives and high-ranking officials leaving office buildings with their belongings in humble brown boxes, casualties of the avalanche of court cases following Blanc's arrest.

  The fate of The Overseers' ally does not concern them. Their relationship with Blanc was transactional, at best. He was a logical outlet for their efforts on the planet, but there was no emotional attachment. His exposure and failure, while a setback for their long-term goal, does not provoke emotion. He isn't worthy.

  The images on their screens also prominently feature Carla Logan, The Xtra. They show her being hailed as a conquering hero, praised by elites and men and women on the streets as the deciding factor in halting Blanc's bloody attack.

  Trained to be dispassionate and to execute logical planning, the Xtra has an effect on The Overseers.

  Fear. Anger. Emotion. They do not openly acknowledge it as they stand in their shrouds, but they all know it. The feeling is universal.

  "We continue to calculate a logical response to Logan's emergence," one says, breaking the silence.

  "Blanc's failure shows the utter futility of blind rage, emotion," says another, his own feelings simmering just beneath the surface.

  For one of the Overseers to be close to an emotional display is unprecedented. The collective can feel this and is embarrassed by it. Without acknowledging it they continue to speak, as if the words can merely cover up their frailties.

  "The Xtra's genetic makeup, of Earth and Tevrem blood, is a combination that defies logical analysis. Her possession of the weapon cannot be ignored. But obtaining it will require overwhelming force," says a third.

  "Yet our resources are limited as the struggle enters yet another cycle," the first Overseer replies.

  The screens shimmy and footage from across Tevrem appears. Burnt out husks of cities, bodies piled up, weapons firing and exploding. A world in total war.

  "Carla Logan. The Xtra. We must possess her. Millions have died over the last twenty-plus cycle as the weapon has been outside of our grasp. She is the key to ending it all. It is the only logical solution," the second Overseer replies.

  "Acknowledged."

  "Acknowledged."

  "Acknowledged."

  The hive mind is in agreement. They will find a way to achieve their goal.

  No matter what.

  Chapter 95

  Here I am, up in the sky again. I've become so used to seeing the world from this perspective that sometimes – just sometimes – I kind of take it for granted.

  Whoever thought such a thing was possible?

  Flying around in the air with the same sort of everyday banality that you'd make a trip to the supermarket with would have sounded like the ravings of a lunatic just a few weeks ago.

  But the world can change in an instant. I've seen that a few times now and I know I'm pretty likely to see it in the weeks and years to come.

  I'm ready for it.

  Some of the hype has finally died down now. I told Taylor. I told her! There was a lot of noise and hype after the fight with Blanc, I have to concede. Almost as much as when I first emerged.

  For a few days I was sick of seeing my face everywhere. At Taylor's insistence I did a few interviews. I'm still shocked at how many people saw me on the morning news show, to be honest.

  One of the weirder side effects of all this is how many people know my name.

  "Carla! Xtra!"

  I hear my name a lot when I'm out on the streets now, or above them. I often turn around because in normal life you just assume that if somebody's calling you by name, they know who you are.

  But nowadays for me, most of the time the people calling my name are total strangers. They see me often enough where some of them talk like we're old friends. Some of them are creeps to. That's to be expected and it comes with the territory.

  But I love the kids. They don't mess aro
und and get right to the point.

  "Do you have super farts?" "Would you live if someone dropped a building on you?" "Can you fly to space?"

  They have good questions and I don't know the answers to most of them. I'll have to take my time and figure them out. They deserve an honest response.

  I hear a slight click in my ear and I quickly swipe my finger against the little device wedged in there, smaller than a hearing aid.

  "Hey," I greet Taylor on the other end.

  "I feel like such a nerd," she answers.

  "Well get used to it. You're one of us now."

  "Never. Never." She pauses to laugh, then continues. "It's going to take me some time to learn all this equipment, you know."

  "I know. You'll get it."

  "Such blind faith."

  "You're a smart girl, even though you don't always act like it."

  "Ouch."

  It's the truth. There's nobody I would rather have as my wingwoman. This setup was mostly her idea anyway. After the Blanc thing, she went to her dad with a full proposal all written out with slideshows and all. She warned me that he wouldn't be a pushover for her and would be a tougher sell for her admittedly grandiose plans than an average business man. But she wanted to give him first dibs, as a nod to family.

  She closed the deal. He's bankrolling our little operation and has given us a budget for office space, salaries and everything. It helps that he gets to associate his business interests with our "charity" work.

  News stories lauding him for humanitarian work certainly help the bottom line.

  I'm out here in the field, or the air as it were, and Taylor's constantly monitoring for trouble. Online. Police and fire scanners. All of it.

  "Your dad's a little—" she says in a hushed tone.

  "Much?"

  "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a hell of an asset but he's almost as anal about things as you are."

  "I heard that," Dad says, breaking in to the channel.

  My fingers are crossed that he and Taylor can work together. It was her idea to bring him on board and it didn't take me long to agree to it. He was mostly just sitting at home, if you can get a combat veteran in your ear as to be a coach, why wouldn't you?

  Especially in this line of work.

  "She was just complimenting you," I lie.

  "Uh huh. What's the threat outlook?"

  I look down below. There are couples walking in the street. Off in the distance is the Capitol. Behind me is the Monument and the African-American museum – still under repair.

  "All quiet."

  "Yeah, well the situation can change at any time."

  I know he's right. At any given moment your life can turn completely upside down. The life you knew one second could turn out to be a lie. What you thought about yourself could be totally wrong.

  That's okay.

  At my core, I'm still the person my Mom and Dad raised. I'm still Taylor's best friend. I'm still Carla Logan, and she has the goods to deal with the threats that emerge – big or small.

  Because I am The Xtra.

  THE END

  Note to Reader

  Thank you for reading The Xtra.

  There are much more adventure of Carla Logan and her new, exciting world to come! If you'd like to be among the first to know about the next Xtra novel, please sign up for my mailing list today.

  Thanks,

  Oliver Willis

  oliverwilliswrites.com