It was Atlas.
“Oh, I knew you had this, Raven. I told you not to keep secrets,” he said, standing in front of the destroyed vehicle he’d thrown Raven into. Holding asthenés plásma in his hands, he examined its glowing white contents.
Any power I had once had was now gone; not even a fraction remained.
Atlas took the crystal cork off the bottle and placed it inside the pocket of his black trench coat. Then he reached up into his shirt and pulled out some sort of amulet. Its had a blue crystalline center surrounded by a silver circle, and was attached to a black strip of leather.
As I made eye contact with the necklace, I felt a buzz rush through me. I looked down at my feet to find that the rocks around them were floating in the air, just like they had before I flew for the first time.
I looked back up at Atlas and watched as he lifted the amulet from his neck and clutched it in his hands. He slowly dropped the amulet down inside the bottle of asthenés plásma.
An intense white glow exploded from the bottle, blinding me for a couple of seconds. I felt all my powers return at a level I had never experienced before. It was as if the flash of light was the fuel to the engine that was my powers. But a moment after I felt the surge, it was gone, along with all of my powers.
The light dimmed, and I was able to look at Atlas again. He was holding the asthenés plásma in one hand and the necklace in the other. The amulet was now glowing a bright blue, just as our eyes did.
Atlas grinned as he placed the necklace back on and corked the asthenés plásma.
His skin began to turn a sickly pale, and it seemed to crack. Atlas gasped for air, stumbling backwards against the Humvee he’d destroyed with Raven’s body. I took a step forward, my fear leaving me. Even though I had no powers, I wasn’t about to let a moment of weakness from Atlas go unexploited.
But then he opened his eyes, and they glowed as bright as ever. His cracked, sickly-looking skin receded, and he once again looked normal.
His gaze met mine and he smiled, finally acknowledging my presence. “You’re falling behind, Kane Andrews,” he said as he floated into the air, laughing.
His ascent wavered for a split second, but he recovered. Our eyes stayed locked for a few moments longer before he turned to the sky. He blasted off, and a sonic boom slammed into me.
The asthenés plásma had barely affected his powers.
Samantha
Leopold Renner stretched out his hand, and I shook it without hesitation. “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t know about the asthenés plásma.”
I nodded. “Except now it’s in the hands of Atlas.”
Leopold waved that off. “Which means he’s even weaker than normal. Besides, now we’ve got a lead to go on.” Leopold paused, then smiled. “It sounds sappy, but you’ve given us hope, Kane. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
I returned the smile, but it was fake. I had never told them about my experience with the asthenés plásma—with Athena. I’d never even told them about what had happened with Doug. If I had done so, there was no telling what their superiors would have them do to make sure the asthenés plásma belonged to them. “These next couple of months are going to be interesting ones, that’s for sure.”
Leopold chuckled as he turned and walked towards his team. “You’re right about that. If you need anything, you know where to find us.”
“Same goes for you,” I said.
“I’ll be seeing you, Kane Andrews.” Avery locked her arm through Leopold’s, and a few moments later, after having spent a week in Texas helping us get back on our feet, Leopold and his team were gone.
I turned to my own team: Selena, Drew, and Doug, with the big-box store we’d escaped to after Dallas standing tall behind them. Eddie had already run off and found something else to tinker with.
I walked towards them, their warm smiles greeting me. All except for Doug, whose gaze was cold, and his skin still a bit pale, even though it’d been a week since I’d used the asthenés plásma on him, bringing him back to life.
“So, what do we do now?” Selena asked.
I stopped and took a deep breath. I reached out and laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder. His eyes met mine, and he did his best to seem happy. “We’re going to find out what happened to your sister.” I gripped his shoulder, doing my best to comfort him, even though I needed comforting as well. “We’re going to find her and bring her home.”
Doug nodded. “I’m sure she couldn’t have run far. She has short legs,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.
“There’s the Doug we know,” Selena said, patting him on the back.
I forced a smile. I wished I could laugh along, but the situation weighed heavily on me. Instead, I walked far enough away from the group that they couldn’t hear me.
“Samantha,” I whispered. “If you can hear me, please say something.”
I stood there for a few moments, but—like every other time the past week—I got nothing in response. Still, I closed my eyes, tensing my body in anticipation. I just knew this would be the time she answered.
“Hey, Kane,” Drew said from behind me, bringing me back to reality. “We’re going to go out to the woods and see if there’s anything we missed. You coming?”
I sighed. “We’ve searched a million times.”
Drew shrugged. “You never know. We could’ve missed something.”
I looked past him at Doug, who was standing next to Selena. I could tell he was fighting to keep the smile on his face. “Okay,” I said, turning my gaze back to Drew. “Let’s find Samantha.”
V.M.I.
Director Loren sat up in her chair as the door to her office opened and Dr. O’Donnell walked in, his red hair a mess. Agent Cassidy jumped up from her seat in the corner of the office and stood at attention.
O’Donnell’s eyes darted around the room. He looked much more tired than usual. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.
“Yes,” Director Loren said smoothly, and gestured at the chairs in front of her. “Have a seat.”
Agent Cassidy sat back down and picked up her pen, ready to start taking notes. Director Loren had had to give her some sort of job in order to keep her around.
“May I ask what this is about? I’d like to get back to my work,” O’Donnell said.
“Are you feeling sick?” Loren asked, leaning forward in her chair. “Your voice sounds a bit off.”
O’Donnell cleared his throat. “I am feeling a bit under the weather, yes. Is that what this is about? My health?”
“I’m always concerned about the health of my colleagues, but, no, that’s not what this is about. How is the V.M.I. coming along?”
O’Donnell hesitated for a moment before responding, his bloodshot eyes darting around the room. “It’s coming along well. We’ve done our first full tests and learned some valuable information from them. I’ll be implementing what I’ve learned and conducting more tests soon.”
Loren wanted to pull more information out of him; he was being a bit too vague for her liking, but she wasn’t sure how much she’d get if he was really feeling sick. “Alright, Doctor. Thank you for the update. That’s all I wanted. Keep me updated. I’d like to stand in at your next test run.”
“Yes, of course,” O’Donnell said, standing from his seat. “Have a nice day.” He shut the door behind him, and Loren turned to Agent Cassidy. “I want you to keep an eye on him.”
“Me?”
Loren nodded. “Yes. I trust you to be discrete.”
Cassidy nodded. She set her pen down and closed her notebook. “Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you.”
Director Loren smiled. “I’ll hold you to that. You can go.”
Cassidy got up and left the room, a little too eager for Loren’s tastes.
Then Director Loren sat alone in her office for the first time in a while. She leaned back in her chair, wincing as the Eximus dev
ice attached to her arm gave her a jolt. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to pass.
It did, just like always.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She had a few more precious minutes before her body tried to shift into a hideous monster, like it had once before. Then the Eximus would trigger, jolting her back to her normal human self.
Richter: A First Superhero Story
Richter © 2016 by Logan Rutherford
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by Damonza
Copyedited and Proofread by Carol Davis
Fragments & Fictions
Authors Note
The following is a standalone story set in The First Superhero universe. It takes place before the events of The Second Super.
Awakening
Ignorant Strides
The silver knife blade gleamed in the setting sun. The person who brandished it, a pale man whose skin looked like it’d been vacuum-sealed onto his bones, took a step toward Patrick Henry.
Patrick took a step back and bumped into another man. He whipped his head around and looked into the empty dark eyes of an even taller man. The only difference was that this man was big and bulky, muscles bulging from his dark t-shirt.
“Look, just empty your pockets, kid,” the small man with the knife said.
Patrick’s heart beat faster, and he looked around for somewhere to run. There was none, and either way, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to run fast enough. He only had three options: fight, give up, or beg. He knew he didn’t stand a chance in a fight, and he wasn’t going to just give up easily. He’d worked hard all summer for the money in his wallet. The cell phone in his pocket he’d just bought himself, and after years of using his dad’s hand-me-downs, he’d made sure it was a nice one. It had cost almost five hundred bucks, and he was so proud of it. And now these two punks were just going to take it from him? He wasn’t going to give in that easily.
Patrick reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took all the money from it, then handed it to the man. The man snatched it from his hand like it was bread and he’d hadn’t eaten for months.
“I like the wallet,” the man behind him said in a big, booming voice.
“Yeah, you do, Tovin?” the skinny man asked. He looked at Patrick. “You heard the man. Hand him the wallet.”
Patrick shook his head. “Look—I already gave you the money. You don’t need my wallet.”
The big man named Tovin snatched the wallet from Patrick’s hand. Patrick spun around and found himself face-to-face with Tovin’s hulking mass. Tovin flipped through the wallet, smiling. “Yeah, this is a nice wallet.”
“That wallet I made with my grandfather. You can’t take it!” Patrick said. He raised his voice, trying to sound confident and strong, but it came out as whiny and pleading. He cursed himself in his head. Why couldn’t he stand up for himself? He didn’t have Tovin’s mass, and he didn’t have a sharp knife. There was nothing intimidating about Patrick at all, especially not his words.
“Oh, yeah? Handmade, huh? I love that artisanal shit,” Tovin said with a grunt.
“You learn one new word and you’ve just gotta beat it like a dead horse, don’t you?” the skinny guy said from behind Patrick.
“Shut up, Harvey,” Tovin said as he put Patrick’s wallet into his back pocket.
“Alright, you have what you want, now let me go,” Patrick said, turning to look at Harvey.
Harvey shook his head. “I don’t think so, kid. You’re not getting away that easily.” Harvey reached out his hand and motioned with his fingers for Patrick to hand something over. “Phone.”
Patrick’s face flushed with fear. He swallowed hard. “I left it in my car,” he said.
“I’m not stupid,” Harvey said. He pointed toward Patrick’s right-hand pants pocket. “I can see its outline.”
Patrick gritted his teeth. He went over his options one last time in his head. Maybe I could take these assholes, he thought. As soon as he thought it, though, he knew he couldn’t do it. There were no other options. Nowhere to run, nothing to do.
Patrick reluctantly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it toward Harvey, who once again snatched it out of his hand as fast as he could.
“This’ll work nicely,” Harvey said. He looked up and nodded, signaling something behind Patrick.
Before Patrick could turn around on his own to see what he was motioning at, he felt Tovin’s large hand on his shoulder. Tovin spun Patrick around, and as soon as he stopped moving, he felt a hard fist smash into his face, sending him flying to the ground.
Pain shot through Patrick as he tried to get his bearings. Stars danced in his vision and his face throbbed. He looked up to see Tovin and Harvey running down the dark alleyway toward the city as night set in.
He stumbled to his feet, using the brick wall next to him to help himself stand. He took a few steps, feeling the solid ground beneath him. His steps turned to jogging, and his jogging to running. He sprinted after his two attackers, who were approaching the end of the alley. He had no idea what he was going to do when he reached them, of course. He hoped that maybe somebody would be around to help, but he couldn’t be sure. So he ran, ignorant stride after ignorant stride.
Tovin and Harvey exited the alley and ran to their right. Patrick picked up his pace. His blood, now a cocktail of fear and adrenaline, allowed him to push aside the pain that he felt from the beating he’d taken. His only mission was to take back his belongings, and maybe a bit of his pride along the way.
He reached the end of the alley, like a light at the end of the tunnel. He burst out of the alley and turned right, and slammed directly into a woman in her thirties who was looking down at her phone. The two of them tumbled to the ground, the woman shrieking, unaware of Patrick’s intentions.
Patrick found himself stumbling to his feet for the second time in the past minute, but this time the wall was too far away for him to stabilize himself against. He finally got up just in time to see an old rundown car zooming past. He couldn’t tell if it was red from the paint or the rust. Sitting in the front seat was Harvey, concentrating on the road ahead.
Patrick ran after the car, but defeat had already set in. He knew there was no way he’d be able to catch them. The phone he’d worked so hard for, the wallet he’d made with his grandfather, both gone just like that.
He heard shoes clacking on the sidewalk and turned to see the woman he’d knocked over running away, afraid of what he might do to her. If only she knew what had really happened.
“I’m not the bad guy here!” he shouted after her, filled with frustration and anger. A million thoughts and emotions clouded his mind; he couldn’t think or process anything clearly. The only thing he knew to do was begin the drive home.
He walked down the sidewalk all alone, fuming with anger. He felt it well up inside his chest, threatening to burst it at the seams. Like the steam engine of a train, if he didn’t have a release he thought he’d explode. He was walking past a brick building, and without even thinking about it, he punched the wall as hard as he could.
No longer dwelling on the events that had just taken place, Patrick walked to his car with his thoughts only on the pain in his hand.
When he reached his car, he checked the parking meter. It still had forty-three minutes left before it expired. “Great,” he said under his breath as he walked to the driver’s side door and got in. “More money down the drain.”
He started the engine and maneuvered out of the space he’d parallel parked in. The minute he was out, someone drove up and began parking.
/> “You’d better enjoy those free forty minutes,” he said through gritted teeth. He gunned his car, sending it shooting off into the last normal night he’d ever have.
Broken Ornaments
The screeching cries reached Patrick’s ears and woke him from his deep sleep instantly. He threw his covers off and jumped out of bed, burst out his bedroom door and ran down the hall. When he reached the stairs, he ran down them so loudly he sounded like a herd of elephants. He rounded the bannister at the bottom of the stairs and saw his five-year-old sister Ren standing in the midst of shattered glass.
“Don’t move!” Patrick shouted to be heard above her cries.
She looked up at him, her cheeks puffy and red, tears streaking down them. “It broke,” she blubbered. “My ornament broke!”
“Okay, Ren, just hold on and don’t move. You’re going to step on glass.”
She nodded, and did her best to stop crying. She took a deep, shaking breath.
Patrick grabbed a pair of his dad’s flip-flops from the bottom of the stairs, in front of the back door. He slipped them on and then walked carefully over to Ren. She flung her arms up toward him and he picked her up, then carried her to safety.
He set her down in front of the brick fireplace. “You didn’t get cut, did you?”
Ren shook her head, her big brown eyes still filled with tears. Strands of her long brown hair stuck to her face, which was damp from her tears.
“Let me check, just to be safe,” Patrick said, and she lifted her left foot up to show him. He examined her feet, and found no cuts or blood. “This one’s good,” he said.
“See!” she said, her voice still shaky, but with a hint of I-told-you-so.
Patrick chuckled and leaned back, acting as if he was offended. “That was just one foot!”
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