Thousands of candles surrounding the room flickered against Magda's red hair and Azakor caught a glimpse of the mother he once knew. Caring, gentle, with a warm embrace that could be cast across a room with only a glance and a smile. He wondered if that woman had actually ever existed, or if his childlike innocence had just been too naive to see through it.
“But he displayed truer heroism,” she continued, “during this world's second war. When the tyranny and evil dictatorship of King Krieg rose up out of Germany, threatening to spread across our lands. The government of Russia was ready to bow down, they were ready to join his ranks, but one man rose up. One man refused the government's call to kneel down in front of that madman. He refused to raise his newborn son in a world ruled by a fascist totalitarian bent on genocide. And within one year, October Guard and his wife, Mega-Dame, destroyed a man and his army that could have been the end of the world as we know it.”
There was applause. Azakor couldn't deny the sense of pride he felt for his grandfather, for his rejection of his government and the sacrifices he made during the war. It was a time he could not imagine. Konstantin raced onto the battlefield with his invincibility, denying death from any bullet, any tank, any bomb. It made him fearless. Wrapped in the colors of the Soviet Union, he defied the oppression of King Krieg and won the war with his wife by his side. Azakor's hands clapped together, creating thunder in the throne room.
“It was this very act, and the fear of another SPMD bringing the world to its knees, that inspired my late husband to fight for his father. To rally the various countries of the world, to break down the borders that separated us, to disintegrate the governments that failed us, and to unite us under one banner. One empire!”
Another round of applause erupted as everyone stood up from their chairs. Some wiped tears from their eyes, moved by Magda's words. Azakor was amazed at the power his mother held over them. Her super power was flight, but that wasn't her only talent.
“But Imperator Konstantin Zharkov, the October Guard, wasn't only a hero.” His mother nodded along with everyone as she spoke. “He treated all with a loving respect and admiration that was reflected back upon him. He held something special, something indescribable, that captured the imagination of everyone who saw him. He was an imperator. He was a legend. And above all else, he was a good man. As we mourn his loss, remember that he loved all of you. His subjects, his domini, his friends.”
She stepped down from the landing where the throne hovered and placed her hand on the giant golden sarcophagus that held Konstantin's body. When the applause and cheers faded away, Magda picked up the crown from on top of the sarcophagus and marched back up the stairs. The room fell silent when she turned around and raised the crown into the air, as if asking the sun itself to bless it.
“I ask all of you who have gathered here today, do not fear for our empire, for as strong as Konstantin Zharkov was, our empire is stronger! The Zharkov bloodline grows more powerful with every generation! And so we move on. We move forward. Into a new age.”
Padamir glanced around, unsure if this was the moment he should approach her. Azakor sighed and nudged him forward. He stumbled, his feet getting tangled in his cape before catching himself and walking up the stairs. Azakor could hear a slight murmur among the crowd, but it was minimal. Perhaps royalty were more experienced with tempering their reactions. Perhaps fear of retribution kept them all in line. It certainly wasn't respect for Padamir. Azakor knew that much.
His uncle started to take a knee in front of Magda, but she hissed a stern warning at him. He stopped himself and returned to a standing position. With a whisper she gave him another command and he turned around to face the audience.
“I place this crown upon your head only as a symbol of your ascension, for the moment the imperator died, this crown and this throne belonged to you. This empire is never without an imperator, as long as Konstantin Zharkov's blood pumps through the veins of this family.”
Magda looked out over the crowd and cried out, “I ask all of you as witnesses to this coronation, to kneel before your imperator, Padamir Zharkov the Zenith!”
Magda lowered the crown onto her husband's head, and as the candles roared with energy, becoming burning torches of fire, the entire room fell to their knees in silence. Padamir smiled.
“I am honored to accept this crown, this throne, and this empire,” Padamir said, holding out his hands as if to welcome them. “You may rise.”
Azakor rubbed his forehead as he stood up. Padamir did not look like an imperator. He did not think like an imperator. And now, that buffoon couldn't even manage to sound like an imperator. An imperator doesn't offer people suggestions. He commands them.
Magda leaned over and whispered into Padamir's ear. Padamir nodded and his crown nearly fell from his head.
“Guardians of the empire, please step forward.”
The moment had come. Azakor took a deep breath as his wife, Simone, squeezed his arm, trying to send some of her own strength into him. He let the air release from his lungs, and took his place alongside his brother, his son, and his daughter. Padamir stepped down from the landing that held the floating throne and placed his hand on Niko's crest, emblazoned upon his armored chest plate. It was the shape of four angel wings wrapped in an infinity symbol. When Padamir's palm covered the symbol, Azakor's son knelt down on one knee and bowed his head.
Padamir looked down upon Niko and said, “Do you vow to defend the empire for all eternity, beyond your life, and... and...”
Magda rushed to his side and whispered into his ear.
“And into your death, as a martyr of power and loyalty?”
“I swear this upon my life and my honor,” Niko said perfectly.
Azakor smiled.
“Then I accept you, Niko Zharkov, the Cherubim, as my Guardian of the North.”
Padamir moved to Zana and placed his hand over the crest on her chest plate, the symbol of a snake wrapped in an infinity symbol. Azakor's daughter knelt on one knee and bowed her head.
“Do you vow to provide the empire with grace, cunning, wisdom, strength, and justice, in daylight and darkness, in sickness and health, in times of war and times of peace?”
“I swear this upon my life and my honor,” Zana said in a monotone voice that held no passion.
Azakor smiled.
“Then I accept you, Zana Zharkov, the Seraphim, as my Guardian of the East.”
Padamir moved to Maksim and placed his hand over the crest on his chest plate, a hammer with a blunt head on one side and a spike on the other, surrounded by a shield. Azakor's brother knelt on one knee and bowed his head.
“Do you vow to be the shield and sword of the empire, defend its borders from all enemies who threaten the safety of its citizens, and strike down any who oppose its kind and just rule?”
“I swear this upon my life and my honor,” Maksim said with a look of blind devotion.
Azakor cringed.
“Then I accept you, Maksim Zharkov, the Warhammer, as my Guardian of the East.”
Padamir stepped in front of Azakor and Azakor felt the weight of the empire pressing down upon his shoulders. The imperator pressed the palm of his hand against Azakor's chest plate, covering his crest, a star with eighteen points. His knee threatened to lock, but with a quick glance into his mother's eyes, he knew what was right. He knew what he needed to do.
His knee bent and his head bowed.
“Do you vow allegiance, fealty, and subservience to your imperator, to hear my words as if they were your own, to carry out my will as if it were your own, and to protect my life as if it were your own?”
Azakor clenched his jaw and spoke with a booming voice for all to hear, “I swear this upon my life and my honor.”
“Then I accept you, Azakor Zharkov, the Morningstar, as my Guardian of the South.”
The room of domini and servants applauded as Padamir held out his hands to present his Guardians. The four stood up and turned toward the crowd, bowin
g their heads in respect.
Azakor's mother whispered in Padamir's ear as the applause died down, and he nodded.
“I'd like to ask the Guardians of the empire to take their places around Konstantin's sarcophagus.”
Azakor, Maksim, Zana, and Niko approached the sarcophagus and stood at each corner with their capes draped over their shoulders.
“And now, we say a final goodbye to Konstantin Zharkov, the October Guard, before we send him into the heavens.”
There was silence in the throne room as the dome of stained glass split down the middle, opening the room to the bare, exposed sky. When it was completely open, the four Guardians gripped the handles on the golden sarcophagus and lifted themselves into the air. When they were flying high enough over the Citadel, they thrust the sarcophagus with one heave of their arms, and it went spinning toward the setting sun, exiting the atmosphere and disappearing into the cosmos.
Padamir leaned into another of Magda's whispers and then said, “May he finally rest among the stars he was born from.”
As Azakor and the rest of the Guardians floated over the Citadel, a beeping sound emitted from Maksim's belt. He twisted a cap from the buckle and looked down at the screen hidden inside, yet another gift from the Oshiro's technical minds.
“It's a Guardian alert.”
“From the west coast?” Azakor asked, worried that the announcement of the imperator's death was already causing problems for the people of the empire.
Maksim shook his head. “The alert is from Patriot City.”
Azakor sighed with relief. “Technically they fall within your jurisdiction, but we have family matters to deal with. The Americans wanted to be autonomous. So let them be.”
“If you traveled far enough east, it'd be within my jurisdiction as well,” Zana said, smiling at Azakor.
“Don't be foolish, Zana.”
Zana scowled at her father, but remained silent.
Maksim kept staring down at the screen as he said, “It is my duty to-”
“Let the Alliance handle it. That is their job.” He glanced down at the imperator who was just then sitting on his throne for the first time. “Besides, today is a day of mourning.”
“And celebrating!” Niko added.
“Yes,” Azakor said as he dropped out of the sky and descended toward the Citadel. “That too.”
He landed among the revelers and after receiving a kiss on each cheek from his wife, he approached the Oshiro dynasty. He nodded at his sister Sasha, but walked straight up to Dominus Takahiro.
“I wanted to thank you for joining my family here today. I know my grandfather would be happy you were here. You were always like a brother to him.”
“Yes,” Dominus Takahiro said, the S sizzling in his voice box. “And now that man who was like a brother to me is dead.”
Azakor cleared his throat, shaken by the strange response. “He meant a great deal to us all.”
The vacant eyes of the corpse-like figure moved for the first time, staring right into Azakor's soul. “I doubt that very much.”
“I'm sorry, m'dom, are you implying-”
“His death does not sit well with me,” Dominus Takahiro said, the voice box turning down low so that only Azakor could hear it. “And neither does this boy you've trotted out for us to bow down before.”
Azakor stood up straight, finding himself taking offense to Dominus Takahiro's words. He may have looked the other way if it was only Padamir that the dominus was insulting, but this was about his entire family. He puffed up his chest, ready to defend them.
“I can assure you-”
The machine hovered closer to Azakor and the voice box buzzed with anger. “You can assure me that you will get your empire in line, young man. Because if these domini find themselves struggling to bow before the Zharkovs, I know there's another family they will bow to.”
Azakor reeled backward as if the dominus had slapped him in the face. “Was that a threat, Dominus Takahiro? Did you just threaten the imperial family?”
“Of course not.” The machine turned to leave. “There's a Zharkov growing inside of my daughter-in-law.”
The Oshiro dynasty turned to follow the patriarch out of the throne room and Sasha gave Azakor a quick glance as she followed them. He saw a look of fear in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure what she was afraid of.
The Oshiros were important. Their technology ran the empire, if not the world. But Azakor didn't care about technology. He didn't care about flashing screens and chirping gadgets. He wasn't going to let some robotic corpse flex his power unchecked. The Oshiros took their islands after the Super Power War. They took Sasha after the imperator forced his mother to remarry. Now that the imperator was dead, they thought they could take the Zharkov's pride.
But he'd die before he'd let anyone take that.
14
ANDRE
He banged on the metal gate over Victor's front door for the fourth time, ignoring the curse words the neighbors were hurling at him.
“Vic! Open the damn door, man!”
He heard one of the bolts unlock, then another, then another, all the way down the door until he unlocked all seven. The door swung open and Victor pushed the hair out of his eyes to peer up at Andre.
“Wot the hell you bangin' on the door like that for? I figgered you were some kinda collector, lookin' for money.” His face went white and he stopped himself from unlocking the metal gate. “Wait. You ain't workin' fer Nicky Neutrino now, are ya?”
“No, man. Now would you open the door before one of your neighbors shoots me, please?”
Victor was the only other member of the group with his own place. Andre rented a rundown apartment in a bad neighborhood, but it was downright fancy next to Victor's. Victor's apartment was one tiny room. There wasn't even a separate bathroom. The toilet sat next to the fridge. There was no room for a bed and a couch, so there was a futon in front of his TV, which he had turned up loud.
“You been watchin' this crazy shite?”
“The funeral of the imperator? Yeah. Guess he wasn't so invincible after all. Makes you wonder what else they're lying about.”
“No, mate. The news from downtown.” Victor hurried back over to the futon and grabbed his bowl of cereal, pushing a heaping spoonful into his mouth and talking through the corn flakes. “This bloody chap is barmy!”
Andre was curious what could be so important that they'd cut into the imperial coronation, so he plopped down on the couch next to Victor. The special report was shot from a helicopter, zoomed in on a downtown parking lot. A small group of soldiers were surrounding a single man. The man was unarmed, but the soldiers were still keeping their distance. At the bottom of the screen, in bold, red letters it read:
MALIGNUS FOUND!
Victor shoveled another spoonful of corn flakes into his mouth, his eyes wide with excitement. “This wanker's been spoutin' off for the last thirty minutes at least. Keeps sayin' that he can't keep it under control. And the bloody army shows up and I think I'm gonna get a right good show, but they just been standin' there. Like they're afraid of 'im.”
Andre squinted at the TV, trying to make out the guy's face, but the camera work was too shaky. “There's no way that guy is Malignus.”
“Who's Malignus?”
Andre laughed. “Come on, man. You remember Malignus.”
“Ain't ringin' a bell, mate.”
“Malignus? Giant monster thing? He trashed those cities in the Barrens. That Zharkov kid battled him for the better part of a day. He finally tried throwing the thing into space, but Malignus didn't break the atmosphere. It just fell into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared.”
“When the bloody hell was this?” Victor asked, now even more enthralled with what was happening on the screen.
“Seriously, man? You don't remember this happening? It was like... '93? '94 maybe?”
Victor chuckled. “Well that figgers. I don't remember the early '90s real well, mate. Few too many Lucys and Ben
nies.”
“Point is,” Andre continued, pointing at the skinny guy standing in front of the coffee shop on the TV screen, “he ain't Malignus. There's no way that guy has an SPMD like Malignus.”
“The army sure thinks so. He ain't strapped or nothin', yet they're refusin' to get close to 'im.”
Andre leaned forward. Why weren't they shooting him?
“Oh! Oh! Here we go!” Victor said, slapping his knee when he saw one of the soldiers step out from behind the armored vehicle and approach the guy. “You were wrong, mate. That guy is Malignus!”
Andre knew Victor had just seen the future, but he still watched with skepticism as the guy waved his hands in the air, begging the soldier not to come any closer. When he fell to his knees, the guy's skin turned yellow. One arm lashed out, his skin bubbling and bulging in different directions, growing in size. The soldier motioned toward him with one hand and the entire squad of soldiers opened fire. But it was too late. The bullets bounced off the guy's yellow skin like it was hardened steel. His other arm lashed out, growing with contorted angles as his legs snapped and twisted in grotesque attempts to lengthen.
“Bloody disgustin'!”
Andre's hand clenched around the metal bars of the futon. “Does your building have a basement?”
Victor shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me.”
“Vic. We need to-”
It all happened in a flash. The mutating body on the screen erupted in size, swelling like a balloon. The news helicopter rose into the air as the creature filled the street. When the camera was able to spin back around, the creature was still growing, its shoulders crashing into the nearby buildings. It stretched out its arms, digging its claws into the brick walls as it lifted itself to its feet. As it pushed itself up, the office buildings crumbled under its weight, toppling to the side and crushing everyone underneath. A gaping maw full of teeth opened to the air as Malignus screamed into the sky, its roar full of anger and pain.
Victor's apartment shook as the sound echoed throughout the city. Andre stood up and rushed to the window, looking out over the skyline. He could see the cloud of dust billowing into the morning air. Panic seized his chest. He spun around to tell Victor that they needed to move, to run, to get as far away from the epicenter as possible. But when he turned around, Victor was already opening his apartment door.
The Super Power Saga (Book 1): Super Powers of Mass Destruction Page 12