“The ship talks, Hyperman,” Mors replied. “It communicates. It will tell you everything.”
***
The tip of a knobby crystal twisted open, and a handful of thin, dripping, icy-white tentacles swiveled out. They formed together into a mucus-green mask that squirmed in the air, waiting for Hyperman to put it on. Slowly and carefully, Hyperman took the mask into his hands and felt its cold, wet, slippery skin. Mors nodded for him to put it on, looking eager, but also a little scared.
Hyperman gulped. His hands trembled as he set the mask down onto his face. The tentacles connecting it back to the ship stiffened and straightened with a sudden snap. An electric charge shuddered through the length of them and shook Hyperman so badly he screamed.
Infinities of images and information lit up inside his mind. He saw a multitude of other universes, and one bolt of realization after another struck him as he came to understand what he and everything else was.
Each universe birthed a ship with its own Hyperman, able to save the souls of that reality and use them as building blocks to help birth a newer and better universe. That universe would also form its own ship and Hyperman to carry everyone into an even better heaven after that one had ended. On and on, the multi-universal cycle of life went, constantly creating a better and better paradise with no end in sight.
Hyperman peered into some of the higher realities his counterparts had created. He glimpsed star-spanning utopias and god-men playing like children across the cosmos with no fear of disease, war, or loneliness. Their poems, songs, and stories staggered the mind. They wrapped suns and comets up in space-age metals to create sculptures. Laughing, they easily beat back and burned away any hint of chaos or death trying to invade their universes. Such things had no place there.
Seeing all that utterly shamed Hyperman. It proved that he COULD and SHOULD have been doing more for this universe, far, far more. The power and potential lurked inside of him, waiting to be unleashed. He could do away with all evil, disease, war, famine, and the negativity that dragged mankind down.
In fact, with all his strength and power, he didn’t need to wait for the next universe to create a heaven. He could turn this universe into a paradise in short order and then make the next one even better! Yet, he’d instead spent all his time punching out bad guys and reinforcing the status quo!
How small-minded he’d been!
The immensity of his failure weighed him down. The anguish cut deeply into him. His face burned, and at first, he thought it was only with shame. Then he realized his eye-beams were leaking out all across his face and against the mask. Yelping, he tore it off and flung it away. His face smoked and flared, but already, he felt it healing and knitting itself back together.
“What…what happened?” Mors asked, having backed safely away but was still quivering.
“I saw too much,” Hyperman murmured, tensing tightly and shaking. He wanted to rip his own heart out to stop the feelings of guilt and humiliation coursing through him. He couldn’t bear to face his own mistakes and make another. He felt ready to simply explode.
The ship glowed a lush silvery-blue and hummed. The strange, tuneless song somehow transfixed Hyperman, and he began calming down, feeling as if his limbs were filled with heavy water. He closed his eyes and let the ship lull him into a hypnotic half-sleep.
Still, he imagined one gleaming, golden universe after another and shuddered. He couldn’t help it, despite the ship’s best efforts. Like any good, sweet parent, it was only trying to soothe its child and let him know he was still good and worthy. However, Hyperman needed to prove that to himself.
With all his might, he tore himself away from the ship at super-speed and jetted back through the gateway, not stopping until he’d busted back up above ground on Earth and had taken to the sky. He looped around and around the galaxies, bashing asteroids and screaming out across dead, barren alien wastelands, trying to work out all his rage and frustration. On a boiling, lava-erupting planet shrouded by clouds of toxic, super-hot gas, he finally broke down and wept.
***
Somehow, he found himself back at Lindsey’s, having remembered to grab a tub of rainbow sherbet ice cream from the store on the way home. He thought he’d try just being Cal for a while and set aside all Hyperman’s worries and responsibilities. It would only be for a little bit though, just long enough for him to clear his head.
He found Lindsey curled up asleep on her couch and gazed down at her in appreciation for how wonderful she truly was. When he dropped her spare key down onto her coffee table, she snorted awake.
“Did you see anything?” she sleepily asked and sat up, swiping hair out of her face. “I left my body! I know it! I felt it! I was flying!”
He smiled. “I’m sure you went places, but I had to meet a client real quick. I didn’t realize I was gone so long.”
“Not that long. Well, not that I noticed, but I was gone pretty deep. I see you brought back ice cream?”
“It’s what any wise man would have done.”
With pink plastic spoons, they scooped the ice cream up into their mouths. He liked the sweet, rainbow taste, but only scraped a little bit up from the tub at a time, while Lindsey shoveled chunk after chunk down.
She licked her lips and frowned. “I shouldn’t be cheating on my diet like this.”
“A little ice cream won’t kill you,” he said.
“And guys like a girl with a big ass, right?”
“Yeah, an ass big enough to set their beer down on.”
She laughed and kissed him with her sloppy, ice cream-covered lips. He kissed her back, but too many distractions filled his thoughts.
Right now, S.I.L.E.N.T. and Mors were probably looking for him. Super-villains were scheming and plotting. People were being robbed and murdered. They were suffering and in pain. They all grew older, sicker, and feebler. They worked themselves to the bone and went hungry without much reward. If Hyperman allowed himself, he could even watch their auras blacken and fade with time.
He’d even noticed Lindsey’s aura dimming by a few microscopic degrees since meeting her. A hyper-scan showed her bones wearing down and her brain starting to shrink after she’d only turned 30 a few months ago. Patches of white showed in her hair. Wrinkles cropped up on her face. A little flab even hung from her thighs and hips.
He had to save her and everyone else, but not from aliens, Atlanteans, muggers, thieves, or super-terrorists. No, he had to save them from mortality and themselves. He had to make them like him, hyper-powerful and eternally young.
***
Lindsey tried seducing him with one clumsy kiss after another. However, she nuzzled against him and soon started snoring. Smiling, he carried her to bed and tucked her in. After cleaning and locking her place up, he flew off into a cloudless, syrupy-black sky. Flying around the world, he caught a suicide jumper plunging off a Norwegian building, rescued a little Brazilian girl’s dog from a fire, and stopped a golem rampaging across Jerusalem.
Yet, it all felt hollow and unrewarding. The work needed to be done, but it wasn’t enough to truly make a difference. It saved some people’s lives but only for the time being. They’d still get sick, and they’d still eventually die.
Watching the penguins play in Antarctica, he let his mind drift, pondering just how to make everyone a Hyperman or Hyperwoman. Could he give them all powers? Every maniac and MorsWorld-produced monster he’d ever fought had somehow stumbled onto super-powers of some kind. There must be a way to mass-produce them for everyone. Then he could guide them on understanding and using their new powers to their best benefit.
He perked up his ears. All the way back in his New Daedalus apartment, his Invincibles communicator was buzzing. Immediately, he whisked off toward the Sky Citadel. His moping and soul-searching would have to wait.
Chapter 8: THE SKY CITADEL
A tunnel led up from the Triangle Park lair to one of Mark Risen’s small private offices. Nightshadow emerged up there, wearing a lanky b
lack suit pinstriped with gray. He hid his black-ringed bloodshot eyes behind a pair of chic sunglasses. A little makeup also helped mask his black eyes and the bruising he’d gotten from his late night escapades. Wally pulled the limo up outside. Nightshadow stumbled toward it, still feeling sore from the fight with Killjoy and Danny. He swung open the limo’s door and dumped himself down onto the backseat.
“The penthouse,” he said hoarsely.
“Certainly, sir,” Wally replied, tipping his cap and knowing never to ask any questions about what exactly his employer had been up to when he showed up looking worse for wear.
A shelf on the back of the front seat had been flipped down and a hot breakfast tray sat on top. Nightshadow inhaled the hearty scent of scrambled tofu with green peppers. It pleased him to see Wally had also gotten him a fruit salad, wheat toast, and a muddy-green vegetable smoothie. The man deserved yet another raise.
Nightshadow scarfed everything down and was wiping tofu off his chin with a napkin when Wally pulled up to his building complex.
“Thank you, Wally,” he said, throwing open the door and climbing out.
“It’s my pleasure,” Wally responded. “Just try to take care of yourself, eh? I’m not always around to do it.”
He tipped his cap and jerked the wheel sideways to swing the limo back onto the road. His schedule required him to spend the day driving various Risen Real Estate executives to and from meetings. He worked tirelessly and never complained. However, Nightshadow intended to eventually force him into a luxurious, stress-free retirement sometime soon.
Nightshadow strode through the building’s lobby, nodding to the security guards and smiling hello at the maids about to take a smoke break. He paused by the front desk where the receptionist looked bored and fiddled with her hair. Upon seeing him, she immediately perked up.
“Morning, Mister Risen!” she said.
“Hello, Teresa,” he said. “Are you starting your shift or ending it?”
“Starting it, sir,” she replied. “My schedule changed. This is my first day working mornings. Tully, my supervisor, mentioned you putting in a good word for me. Thank you.”
He smirked. “Don’t mention it.”
He bounded over to his private elevator and rode it up to the top. In the penthouse, he found Piper meandering out of the bathroom and clipping on her earrings. Her beloved necklace still hung from around her neck and flickered in the dim afternoon light. To his knowledge, she never took it off. She also had on tight jeans and a shapely black blouse. Before he could greet her, Piper grabbed and kissed him.
“Sorry,” she said, pulling away to slip on her black heels, “but no time for fun. I’ve got to run. I’m auditioning for a movie downtown. It’s a role I was born to play. A secretary who lives a double life as a dominatrix and murderer!”
“Break a leg!” Nightshadow said.
“I’ll break both or maybe someone else’s. You make sure you get some sleep while I’m gone, okay? I hate to say it, but you look terrible and I wish you’d stop pulling all-nighters at the office.”
“I think business is going to calm down for a bit very soon.”
They embraced and Nightshadow sniffed the honeyberry conditioner she’d used on her hair. She scampered off and blew him a kiss from the door. As soon she left, he headed for the spare bedroom.
In the closet, he pulled up the secret compartment, entered the codes, and let the console scan him. The trap door into his lair snapped open. After scurrying down the ladder, he changed into a more heavily armored wing-suit than he normally wore. It restricted his mobility somewhat, but protected him more during battle. He’d also coated it with the pheromone chemical that neutralized Danny’s danger sense.
An elevator took him one floor down. The doors banged open onto a wide hall with a bulky, circular teleporter platform at the center. Thick cables stuck out of the whole set-up and snaked around into the power generators taking up the entire back wall. A small, compact supercomputer sat on a console, and he typed in his destination coordinates there. The teleporter connected to several rendezvous points the Invincibles had set up all over the world. It took a vital emergency for Nightshadow to use the teleport system, given how insanely expensive it was to operate (even for him).
When the Spider-Specter had been an Invincible, he’d often hitched a ride with Nightshadow to missions or used the spare teleporter Nightshadow kept hidden down near the docks. With that in mind, Nightshadow switched the system’s security to go back to the old codes. That way, Danny could make his way to the docks and teleport himself over to whatever crisis was going down, if he was going to bother to help.
Nightshadow stepped up onto the platform and took a few soothing, meditative breaths. He hated to admit it, but this part always freaked him out. The teleporter was going to break him down into energy particles and data, shoot that across the globe in an information stream, and re-build him at the other end. He’d never experienced any problems teleporting, but always feared he might end up deformed or disfigured in some way when he reappeared at the other side. Nonetheless, he had no other way to meet up with the other Invincibles most of the time and the probability that a mishap would occur was actually quite low.
Crackling lights swirled around him. His vision blurred and his eyes burned. A sick, tingly feeling filled his gut, and he swallowed back vomit as the world turned to static.
He blinked.
Abruptly, he stood in the Sky Citadel, Invincibles Headquarters, currently hovering over the South African coast, high above the clouds.
***
The Sky Citadel orbited around the world from trouble spot to trouble spot. Heavy cannons ringed the entire citadel-city and a flickering force field enveloped it. For decades, S.I.L.E.N.T. had used the Sky Citadel as one of their main headquarters. When the Invincibles’ old satellite base had crashed into the sun during the Day-Eater invasion, Paul Wrath ordered the construction of Invincibles Tower and that it be a part of the citadel. S.I.L.E.N.T. and the Invincibles had already been sharing resources for years, so it made sense to have a base-within-a-base together.
Nightshadow scurried through back corridors and secret shafts, avoiding the soldiers manning battle stations, drilling in small scattered gyms, and stocking up on weaponry. He emerged near the command center, and after he was given a full body scan, its wide, sleek metal doors curved open for him. Inside, technicians and strategists pounded furiously away at supercomputers, using holograms to help them sift through data and perform complex math. Paul Wrath nodded to Nightshadow from the main control console at the front of the room.
Before him, a massive, ultra-thick window peered down onto the huge, horizon-spanning deck outside. Squadrons of sky-bikes and jump-jets prepared for launch. Soldiers swarmed, climbing into hover-tanks and checking their laser rifles. Just beyond, an angelic, foamy-white cloudscape loomed. Patches of blue sprinkled through the lush white sky and gave off a disorienting sense of just how high up they were.
“Salutations, Nightshadow,” Gilgamesh said in his regal Iraqi accent. The hulking brute of muscle sat at the head of a wide, round table on a short platform that oversaw the entire command center. His golden scale armor glimmered and gleamed. A lengthy, jeweled spear with a jagged edge hung from his back. Black dreadlocks swept down into his dark-skinned face.
“Your Majesty,” Nightshadow said, marching up the short, spiraling stairs and respectfully bowing his head to him. He then greeted the other Invincibles present.
Liandra Dark spun around in a chair while shuffling and reshuffling a deck of bloodstained tarot cards. Piercings stuck out of her nostrils, pricked through her lips, and weighed down her ears. A pink Mohawk spiked up on her head and went well with her beat up leather shirt and pants. Despite her brash, youthful appearance, this British Indian had recently become the Master of Tears, the universe’s designated sorcerer-protector.
“A glimpse of your future, Night?” she asked in a thick British accent. She held up a card sho
wing the Risen Tower collapsing down in fiery pieces into a giant, grinning skull’s mouth.
“I make my own future,” he replied.
She grinned. “So you think.”
Nearby, Dynamo-Man had sprouted dozens of wires and plugged them into a bank of supercomputers. The supercomputer screens flashed with the megabytes of data the mandroid was downloading into his memory banks. Sleek black-and-gray titanium super-steel made up his bulky armored form. His helmet resembled a samurai’s with horned antennae poking out and a slick chrome faceplate.
Areva, Earth’s Silver Seraph, sat on top of the table Indian-style, striking a meditative pose with her hands splayed open on her knees. A long star-sharpened broadsword lay in the nimble Thai girl’s lap. Two transparent organic-crystal wings grew out of her back. Behind her, the Answer appeared in a psychedelic burst of color. He wore a full white bodysuit covered in swirling, smoky-bright blue, red, and yellow zeroes. He’d inherited the inviso-suit from his father, the S.I.L.E.N.T. scientist who’d created it. Sea Devil hadn’t arrived yet, but he was normally late to meetings anyway, though Nightshadow expected to see Hyperman and the Whorl super-speeding into the room any second now.
“Let’s get started,” Wrath said, gimping up to the table and clawing his shaky, bony hand through the air. A hologram appeared over the table. Even Areva cracked open her silver-speckled eyes to look up at it. Dynamo-Man unhooked himself from the supercomputers and his wires snapped back inside his armor before he turned around.
“Phoenix Bright, ladies and gentlemen,” Wrath gruffly said, indicating the holographic figure floating above everyone. “Our favorite asshole’s trying to end the world. Again.”
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