Preternaturals: A Superhero Thriller

by Allen Kensington

  Billy hesitated as the Aegis stopped nearby, listening to the rustling of the leaves.

  “You might as well show yourself, Nightgaunt,” he said. “I know you’re here.”

  Billy did his best to throw his voice, pondering his getaway. “What do you want, Aegis?”

  “I need your help.”

  To Billy’s surprise, he believed the man. The desperation in his voice was telling. He no longer seemed to hold that same sense of imperviousness that had once defined him. Something had changed.

  Shadows fluttered. “Why?”

  The Aegis did not move, standing in the wavy grass. “Our employer has turned against us. He’s looking to harvest our powers.”

  Billy considered the response. He didn’t like the idea of being hunted, but had enough money now to live his dream. Let Malorius look. He would disappear, something he was good at. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

  “You must. If you don’t help me now, I cannot guarantee your safety, or the safety of your friends.”

  A scream echoed from over the hillside, in much the same direction that Meredith had run.

  The Aegis beamed a deadpan eye toward Billy. “I have friends, too.”

  Halfway up a tree, Billy became visible. As the shadows released him, he was looking not at the armored man, but back toward the distant car. He sighed.

  “What must I do?”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  The next morning, sunlight squeezed into the Cunningham household, finding the spaces between the closed blinds. Red opened his eyes. His bedroom held a welcomed serenity, and he hated to break it with unneeded motion. All seemed peaceful and right, but as he revived, sounds started to fade into his perception, and his memories returned.

  Muffled voices drifted from the kitchen, infiltrating his first shreds of consciousness, and he realized Cynthia was well. The previous day had been difficult for her, forced to rest and recover with little to do. The doctor had given them strict orders, and Red knew that she deserved a break, so he had enforced a day of bed rest. Rather than help her however, it seemed to dampen her mood.

  He smiled at the thought of her up and about. It was just like her to make breakfast after her previous suffering, and the activity might be just what she needed. Cynthia had never been one for idleness, and while she did get sick from time to time, you’d never know it from her work schedule. Missing the day had bothered her, but it was needed. If nothing else, Red had gotten an opportunity to care for her and apologize for his long absence.

  Rousing, he ordered his muscles to move, some responding with less willingness than others. He made his way toward the kitchen, nursing the stiffness. Cups clattered, toast leapt from the toaster, and coffee gurgled into the pot. The aromas enlightened him, a cup of hot java sounding too good to resist. With a gulp of satisfaction, he stepped down the hallway and into the room.

  In the doorway, Sibyl met his searching gaze, holding a carafe at the ready. The girl had been staying with them since their meeting in the hospital, keeping Red’s ability in check as he slept. Despite an awkward introduction, Cynthia had taken to her with quick ease. Sybil had proven herself quite helpful, lending a hand where she could. The two became fast friends, making the imposed recuperation time easier to bear.

  She filled a mug and handed it to him, pointing toward the pantry. A wiggling caboose poked from behind the opened door. Cynthia was rummaging for something, pieces of her self-directing monologue audible over the rustle. He took a sip from the hot brew and positioned himself to accept his wife’s escape from the disorganized cupboard.

  “Whatcha lookin’ for?” he asked, poking his head over her shoulder. “Decaf?”

  She peeked out. “Good morning to you, too.”

  Both smiled, and the world seemed right.

  “Actually, you’ve been drinking decaf for a few months now.” She flashed back a bigger, knowing smile. He looked at his cup and shrugged.

  “I thought we had some of that powdered juice mix. You know, the stuff the astronauts used to drink?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, spinning to face the cabinets and almost spilling his coffee. “But that’s not in there, it’s over here.” He stopped in his tracks.

  Struck by the silence, Cynthia ended her search as well, and looked out from the cupboard.

  Sybil had closed her eyes, her forehead wrinkled and face contorted as she seemed caught in some extrasensory vision. Another pulse seemed to strike her, rippling her body with a jerky spasm. “Oh, no,” she said, a little panic in her voice. “Something is happening.”

  Cynthia pushed past Red, extending her arms to stabilize the shaking girl. She guided Sybil into a chair and held her until the convulsions passed. A gentle hand caressed her bald head.

  Sybil’s eyes opened again. She looked up, color brushing across her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No,” Cynthia said. “It’s fine.”

  Sibyl continued her apology in short, uneasy words. “I cannot help it sometimes. Please, do not let me spoil your moods.”

  Red joined his wife, sharing the concern. “What was that?”

  “It is David. Lieutenant Mead. He is going to face them alone.” She looked up, violet eyes wide. “I am afraid for him.”

  Cynthia patted her on the knee, glancing to Red. They shared brief eye contact, then returned their attentions to Sybil.

  He wasted no time. “Where is he?”

  The girl shook her head. “I do not know exactly.” She stared into empty space, tapping into something deep inside her. “But I can lead you there.”

  Red nodded. “I’ll get my armor.” He ran back to the bedroom, grabbing the government-funded costume. He had hoped not to need it again so soon, but the Lieutenant was in trouble.

  When he returned to the kitchen, both women were sitting, speaking in quiet tones. Cynthia rose and opened a nearby cabinet, removing a small jar. She spooned some of the carrot-colored dust into a glass and added water from the tap. The clear liquid hit the powder and turned into swirling orange. Slipping in a spoon, she stirred the mixture.

  Leaning against the archway between the rooms, he could see a bit of motherhood blossoming within his wife. Months to go before the birth, and she was already a parent. As the faux juice settled in the glass, Cynthia handed it to Sybil, who drank with small, tentative sips. He didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but the situation called for no less. He entered the room with overt noisiness, letting both know that he had returned. “Ready?”

  The girl took a final swig of her beverage, and stood. “Thank you,” she said, hugging Cynthia. The two shared a sweet embrace before she nodded to Red, and stepped outside ahead of him.

  He could see her as the screen door closed, waiting on the short sidewalk to the garage. Even in this moment of panic, as they rushed to aid the Lieutenant in his fight, Sybil had given him time alone with his wife. It was a little thing, almost invisible in its simplicity, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

  He took Cynthia’s hands in his. “I’m sorry I have to go again,” he said, kissing her knuckles. “I know we still have a lot to talk about, but the Lieutenant needs my help. I let him leave the other night, and I shouldn’t have.”

  She gave a small quiet nod. “Come back to me, okay?”

  He looked into her hazel eyes. “I promise.”

  Cupping her cheek in his hand, he kissed her. The meeting of their lips was both passionate and familiar, an enchanting reminder of their spousal connection. “I love you, C.”

  She smiled. “I love you, too.”

  He closed the door between them and left, pledging to himself that this would be the last time he would abandon her to face an unknown threat. His life as Faction no longer involved just the two of them. The stakes were higher now, and any potential dangers had to be weighed for three. Running to his truck, he knew the decision he had to make.

  If only he lived long enough to make it.

  __________

  A
cool mist hung around the observation deck of Cronus Tower, a monument of concrete and steel at the city’s center. The building reigned beyond all other skyscrapers, allowing visitors a one-of-a-kind view from its uppermost observation deck. Most considered it the best panorama in the city, but Billy, dressed as Nightgaunt, had found something better. He surveyed the surroundings from atop the antenna capping the impressive structure.

  A chill breeze came and went, sending aloft his cape and misting him with a stray cloud. He climbed lower and huddled against the stone, trying to find refuge from the warmth-robbing air. He would have gladly traded his view for that of the tourists a few feet below, but he waited as instructed. His stomach gave another ill lurch and growled.

  He checked his phone for the time. Although he knew nothing was to happen this early, he had been waiting up here for over an hour. The predawn darkness had concealed him in climbing up, but now the sun had risen over the city’s jagged horizon. He had to hide the old-fashioned way.

  Below him, visitors were starting to leave the glassed inner room to walk out on the building’s fenced ledges for a better look. A family of three made their way to the edge, feeding quarters into one of the mounted View-O-Matic binoculars. A father bent his head to the eyeholes.

  “Let me see, Daddy,” a preschool voice chimed. The man hefted the little girl, fitting her eyes to the viewfinder. A few sounds of enjoyment escaped the youngster, while the mother, leaning in to give her daughter a better audience, joined the exchange.

  “What do you see out there, honey?”

  An instant response came, though her eyes didn’t leave the viewfinder. “Boats!”

  Billy grinned at her exuberance, following her line of sight. She was right. Tugboats and freighters chugged away in the harbor beyond the city’s edge. He had not noticed them earlier, focused as he was on the morning’s plan.

  “Daddy,” said the little girl, mulling something over in her kindergarten mind.

  Her father let her down and knelt, face to face with the youngster.

  “If I drove around in a boat like that, I would want you and Mom to come with me. Even if I was growed up, I’d want you guys to be there. I won’t ever want to leave.”

  The man smiled and hugged his daughter. “How much do I love you?”

  She responded with a well-practiced answer, “A million dollars’ worth,” and returned the hug.

  Billy listened to the exchange in an absentminded sort of way. The girl’s words had struck him, and he wondered if that was the same needless sentiment to which Meredith would always cling. Her father’s death had brought them closer, but it had also ensured that she would not abandon the rest of her family. She was trapped here, and not just by the Aegis’ kidnappers. Even if he was able to save her, the same interrupted argument waited for them both.

  He watched the family hug, peering from the overhang’s edge. The little girl’s comfortable embrace turned into a fearful grapple, and her eyes widened. Sensing something, the family’s attentions focused on the inner chamber. A new arrival had rooted them where they stood, panic contorting their faces. Daddy rose, and the little girl hugged the backside of her Mommy’s leg.

  Billy watched as the few straggling heads turned, noticing their peers and followed their shared stare. They, too, froze at the sight, making the man crouched above them even more curious. He checked his phone again, seeing that the appointed time had come.

  Somewhere below him, within the four walls of reinforced window, a lone figure of polished brass made himself known. A thousand crystals cried in unison as the Aegis announcing himself, shattering the room’s glass. Prismatic bits showered those outside the entry area, chiming to a rest along the deck’s boundaries. A few pieces struck the onlookers, drawing blood, and for a few seconds, the violent noise seemed to echo. Gasps of pain popped up here and there, and children buried their heads into hopeful parental safety, whimpering.

  The Aegis had their attention, and he seized his opportunity to speak. It was the loudest that Billy had ever heard him.

  “Listen closely, and no one will be killed.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Frightening the groups of tourists into his pre-planned areas, the Aegis reviewed his scheme. He would use the hostages as pawns, capturing the public’s attention and drawing the other preternaturals out of hiding. If he could bring them together, even under these circumstances, they may stand a chance against the transformed Detch. Otherwise, the power-mad programmer would pick them off, one by one.

  The elevator door binged another arrival, and his cyclopean eye pointed toward the tone’s source. He expected no one, not so soon. The media would not yet have heard about his presence here, and it was too soon for the police to have mustered the required force. Unless his intended guests were very good, which he doubted, there was no way it was them. Someone else was interrupting his plans.

  The door slid open, revealing an empty elevator car. The Aegis started toward it, checking the hidden corners. No one was inside.

  A figure streaked at him from behind, the red and grey blur coming from the open sky. The mercenary hadn’t expected the attack, and even though he shifted his left shoulder at the last moment to avoid the blow, he reacted too late. A powerful punch bashed against his shield, sending him skidding toward the elevator’s car.

  He came to a stop near the door, almost inside the compartment. He turned to face his attacker, getting a better look. The man wore a grey flight suit, red straps crisscrossing it at key points. The Aegis recognized the threat immediately. It was SkyRise.

  Recovering, he could say little more than a quick “No!” before another attack struck.

  Covering the distance between them in so little time that he seemed to grow in the Aegis’ vision, SkyRise punched again. He’d apparently changed his strategy since their previous encounters. Rather than attempting to strike the mercenary himself, he directed his blows against the shield. Treating the entire object as a whole, he set to moving the man into the elevator’s car, forcing the protective bubble to push against its master. The flier’s feet never touching the floor, each rocket-powered thump forced the Aegis’ clawed boots to squeal in resistance.

  Despite his best efforts, the armored man moved closer and closer to the confinement. “I’m not here to fight you,” he said, taking no other action. “We need to talk.”

  The words had little effect. SkyRise continued to fight.

  The Aegis extended his shield into a bell shape, creating a wider base for added stability. The action helped to offset the force of SkyRise’s repeated punches, channeling them back into the decking and keeping the Aegis stationary. He was already near the shaft’s edge, keeping his shield wide to avoid being pushed inside. “I’m not your enemy,” he said, trying to mitigate the worsening conditions.

  More punches followed.

  Looking around, the Aegis sized up his circumstances. Another few punches, and he would be forced into the elevator and trapped inside. He looked back to the level’s stairway doors, noticing that the building’s security guards were rushing out as the soldier kept him busy. They helped the hostages back toward the exits and down the stairs to freedom.

  He’d lost control of the situation, his plan falling to pieces. It was time to act.

  “Enough,” he yelled, the word coinciding with a massive blast of shield energy, expanding the dome around him and pushing SkyRise away.

  The soldier was sent reeling against a support beam, his impact shaking the building’s upper floor. It crumpled, yielding and flinging him further away. Another solid thud followed as he hit the deck’s fencing.

  The armored preternatural returned to the level’s outer area, putting more distance between himself and the elevator. The security guards retreated as he approached, leaving behind a group of unlucky hostages. Reasserting his dominance over them, the Aegis wasted no time in salvaging his plan.

  He had expected more of the white-hats to respond, not just one man, but time
was limited. The story would soon hit the newsfeeds, and Detch couldn’t be far behind. Without the assembled abilities of a group of preternaturals, the Aegis had little hope of defeating the empowered creature, but no others had yet come, and SkyRise was growing increasingly annoying. He needed to neutralize the man, at least for the moment. That could buy the time required for others to show.

  As the soldier stepped from his point of impact, he carried a steel support bar taken from the fencing, a large lump of concrete clinging to its base. The Aegis looked at him and sighed. “Why do you bother with weapons? You know they can’t hurt me.”

  Without missing a beat, SkyRise shot into the air, disappearing against the morning sun. The mercenary watched him go, but lost him in the blinding light.

  Perhaps the warrior had realized the futility of his efforts, and retreated? The Aegis keyed his microphone, hoping to get more information from his accomplice on the rooftop.

  “Nightgaunt?” he started.

  With blinding speed, the hero dropped from an unknown altitude, bringing the bulk of his weapon down upon the deck’s battered flooring. Tiles shattered and buckled inward, forming a crater fifteen feet wide. A dark rift opened and spread.

  The floor disappearing below him, the Aegis could do nothing but yield to the force of gravity. He plummeted through the widening hole, falling into the level below. A cloud of dust rising, he landed atop a pile of debris among a darkened collection of desks and cubicles.

  It appeared that the hero was not done yet.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Red’s truck took another corner at speed, tires straining to grip against the opposing momentum. They were rushing to help Lieutenant Mead, Sibyl giving directions as they went, spitting out bits of information like a malfunctioning GPS. Neither in the vehicle knew where they were headed, but wherever the destination, they approached it with haste. One fact stood clear in the albino guide’s mind; something very bad was happening.