“Me first,” Hyperman replied.
At hyper-speed, he lanced into the devil with trillions of hard, universe-cracking punches. His eyes exploded with enough blue supernova fire to consume an entire solar system. In mere minutes, he struck and eye-blasted Lucifer trillions of times, hitting him with enough firepower to destroy entire galaxies.
The world around them trembled and quaked. The Keep’s walls cracked and collapsed. The roof blew off. Dust, fire, smoke, and wreckage twisted and twirled all around them in a vast, monolithic maelstrom.
Finally, a hand firmly clasped Hyperman’s shoulder.
“CAL!” Areva yelled. “IT’S OVER! STOP!”
“NO!” Without thinking, Hyperman flung her off.
She went darting off into the smoke-gritty sky, but looped around and flew back down on her crystal wings. She brandished her sword, which fiercely flared blue, and brought the flaming-hot blade down against Hyperman’s back. It broke and exploded, the force of which hurled her wildly back off into the distance. However, the sword-blow stung and woke Hyperman up.
“Areva?” he asked and looked at his hands. Gauzy, grayish-white blood thickly coated them. A mess of shredded black-and-white guts lay before him.
“I killed him?” he mumbled. “I killed the devil?”
He stumbled about, finding that the Sacrosanct Keep lay in fiery ruins around him. Ash heaped up and broken bones poked out. The fields for miles and miles out had been blackened and scorched. Smoky dust and dirt gutted across the sky. He’d done this in his battle fury. He’d destroyed the heart of heaven. He’d left it looking like a holocaust. He was even more powerful than he had ever dreamed.
“We won, Cal,” Areva said, limping toward him. “We beat them all back. The devil is dead, and the Blood Seraphs don’t have the life to sustain themselves without him.”
“What about Earth?” he asked. “And Phoenix Bright? How do we get back there and stop him?”
“We’ve gotten word that the other Invincibles took care of him. That might be the last message for a while though. The wormhole network’s down, and the vast distance makes communications hard. Not even you would be able to fly home, not when you’re this far away. Even at light speeds, it’d take decades.”
“If you say so,” Hyperman muttered, still in shock over what he’d done. “I’m sorry for your losses, Areva, especially the Celestials.”
“We have a lot of healing and repairing to do,” Areva replied, “and we don’t have an infinity of power to draw upon anymore either.”
“Prism won’t be able to heal itself?” Hyperman asked.
“No, not without the Celestials.”
“What about the Silver Seraphs? Will you begin losing your powers?”
“Not tomorrow or any time soon, but eventually.”
Solemnly, Areva bowed her head. “However, we’re still Silver Seraphs and we have our duties. We’ll find a way to go on.”
Hyperman nodded and again gazed over the destruction he’d wrought, feeling awed by his own power. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Chapter 12: THE DEAL
In his self-designed, spartan little quarters at the Sky Citadel, Nightshadow sat on the cold bare floor and meditated with his hands outstretched upon his thighs. The past two days, he’d been seeing to his burns and wounds personally, using S.I.L.E.N.T.’s medical equipment. He liked sealing his wounds with lasers rather than stitches. They healed faster, and it was less messy. Still, he felt ragged and sore. Therefore, he’d changed into a light, airy white karate gi and tried to sooth his pains with ancient meditative techniques only he knew, given his former yogi mentors had passed away decades ago.
However, whenever he closed his eyes and tried drifting off into a meditative fog, he saw Phoenix Bright and the Death Reaper taunting him as they roasted small children alive in a pit. In his hallucination, he tried fighting them only for Danny to snag him with webs and the reaper children to pull him down into the pit with them.
He awoke each time, a sweaty mess with his bruises and burns aching worse than ever. Still, he remained hardheaded and tried a different meditation technique than before, visualizing a different landscape and dozens of metaphorical images of him beating back the pain. That held it at bay, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.
To try and think about something else, he pondered recent events. S.I.L.E.N.T. had temporarily taken over Danikabla. Even now, they were cleaning up, rebuilding the island, and setting the nation up for free democratic elections. Despite the heat he was getting from world governments and the media, Wrath was moving things along steadily and had at least calmed the Danikablan populace down. His troops still had to deal with trouble every now and then, but most of the island had come to accept their presence. With their beloved ruler gone, the fight had gone out of most people.
The Invincibles were licking their wounds and pitching in where they could, but most had returned to their regular lives. Liandra had tried calling and knocking on Nightshadow’s door a few times, but he’d ignored her until she’d finally had to leave to see about a demonic possession. Normally, he enjoyed her biting wit and caustic charm, but he didn’t want to talk about what she’d seen in his head. There was nothing to discuss concerning that poor lost boy. It was a lifetime ago, and Nightshadow only vaguely remembered being him. Besides, he only wanted to heal and get home to Piper.
On impulse, he crawled over to the desk, climbed up into the chair, and grabbed the satellite phone near the computer to dial her up.
“Hello?” she sleepily asked. The time zone difference meant that it was painfully early in the morning for her, which hadn’t even occurred to him.
“It’s me,” he replied. “Sorry to wake you, but I just…I wanted to hear your voice. I’m sorry I got hung up here. I should be coming home today.”
She chuckled. “It’s all right. I know there was an emergency business meeting and you had to put your house in order overseas. You’re on a plane now, right? How was South Africa? Sky Town sounds exciting.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been trapped inside the whole time in one meeting after another.”
“Poor baby trying to make his millions of dollars. So I should be seeing you tomorrow or the day after?”
“Maybe sooner. I chartered my private plane, and trust me, it’s much faster than a commercial flight. I’ll tell you what. To make up for the vanishing act, we’ll go on a trip after I get back and find my footing again at home. Skiing, hiking, whatever you like. In fact, you name the country.”
“Ireland?”
“Galway Bay is beautiful this time of year. We’ll plan everything out when I get back.”
She squealed. “I love you so much, you know that?”
“I do.”
***
Danny lounged back on his bed, humming quietly and reading the novel Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. He wore black and gray S.I.L.E.N.T. sweats. His hair was dry and uncombed. The stark green glare of the force field cage around him washed down over the whole cell with its small bathroom, desk, and computer.
Suited up and masked, Nightshadow marched down the elevated platform sliding out before him toward Danny’s platform. His isolated little cell sat suspended above a pit and far outside of leaping distance to the specially coated, non-stick surface metal walls. Cameras and guards in windows also kept constant watch.
Nightshadow paused before the force field, let its glow haze over him, and folded his hands together in front of him. Seeing him, Danny sneered and tossed his book aside. He jumped up and stomped over to the force field. Dark, sweaty circles showed under his eyes, and he looked pale and worn.
“You’re a bastard, Night!” he said. “You hit me with enough voltage to kill someone!”
“Someone else,” Nightshadow replied.
“Yeah, so what? When I woke up, I had fits and seizures for hours!”
“I’m sorry about that, but I couldn’t let you escape.”
“No, of cours
e, you couldn’t! Not after I saved your ass and helped you all stop Armageddon. You couldn’t bend the rules just once! Not even for a friend!”
“You committed murder, Danny. I couldn’t just let you go.”
Danny shook his head. “You’re insane,” he said. “You and your damn rules! I know you’ve never killed anyone, Night, but you have to have wanted to! The Death Reaper! The Holy Terror! The Bride! They deserve it and the whole world would be better off without them! And I only went after the scum that destroyed my life! There’s no justice for them but death!”
“That’s not for us to decide.”
“So you say. Anyway, what now? Are you and Wrath just going to keep me locked up forever? Am I going to stand trial?”
“A public trial would be a fiasco,” Nightshadow sternly said, “and likely make you more of a target than you already are, especially once the media gets wind of it.”
Danny scoffed. “Like I have anything left to lose!”
“You still have your life, Danny. You can do something with it. Therefore, Paul and I have decided that you’ll pay your debt to society by working for us. For S.I.L.E.N.T. and me, I mean. You’ll be our agent on selected missions, though you will be monitored and tracked the whole time. We’ll put your abilities to good use, and together we’ll work at building you a new life.”
“Great. I’m going to be your little slave.”
“No, you’ll have your own quarters and leisure time. You simply won’t have your freedom. You have to earn that back. We’re doing you a favor, Danny. Nobody else would be giving you the benefit of the doubt like this. We’re even going to take down the Glow for you.”
“Can I be there when you catch him?”
“We’ll see.”
Nightshadow glanced around and flicked a switch on his utility belt. The small, box-like gadget vibrated and buzzed, throwing off sound waves that created a wavy shield that stretched through the force field to cocoon around him and Danny. Now the guards couldn’t overhear their conversation.
“For your first mission,” Nightshadow slowly said, “I’m sending you to MorsWorld. We need their Diatomite-x and whatever tools, weapons, and equipment they have that relate to the Diatomite-x synthesis process.”
“You don’t have your own Diatomite-x weapons?” Danny asked.
“Of course I do. I simply want more and have decided that Alexander Mors shouldn’t have any. Diatomite-x is too powerful and dangerous to be in the wrong hands.”
“Cal would agree.”
“We don’t want Cal knowing.”
Danny arched up his eyebrows. “We don’t?”
“We’re designing a cell for him too, Danny,” Nightshadow said. “We need enough Diatomite-x to contain him and take him down beforehand.”
“Wait! What are you talking about? Are you saying we need to arrest Hyperman?”
“Yes, Danny. He crossed a line.”
“Did he…kill someone?”
“He lobotomized the new El Dorado, which was almost as bad. What makes it worse is that it was Hyperman. He’s too powerful for us to just let bygones be bygones, even if it was someone as low as El Dorado. He has to be held accountable, and the world has to know what he’s done. People deserve to know if they’ve been let down by their biggest hero and that they’re still safe even if he has been acting up. They need to know that we’ll be there for them too if something like this happens.”
“You don’t want to keep this all quiet?”
“I don’t know if we can, not something this big. Word will get out one way or another.”
“Do you think Hyperman will maybe…just turn himself in?”
Nightshadow sighed. “I want to try talking sense into him, but we need to be prepared for the worst.”
Danny gulped. “You mean we might all have to go after Hyperman?”
“Maybe. I don’t know what frame of mind he’s in anymore, but between all the other Invincibles, we can do pretty much anything, hopefully even neutralize Hyperman.”
“Cal can do pretty much anything by himself.”
“I know. That’s the problem, but don’t worry. I have a plan.”
PART THREE: CRISIS
Chapter 13: KINGDOM COME
Hyperman stood with the surviving Silver Seraphs amongst the Sacrosanct Keep’s dusty, ash-caked ruins on what remained of the plateau. The place still smelled of fire. Flat, hazy-orange light filled the sky, and dirty, sick-looking clouds floated above. Prism itself seemed drab and dull, having lost much of its color and vibrancy. In the distance, broken cities still smoked and many fires still burned. Ruins and ashes piled up everywhere, dirtying and sifting through the air. Blood stained all the roads. Mountains lay in pieces and forests were toppled. Black, blasted fields stretched on for miles on end.
Thousands of funeral pyres circled out from below the plateau all across the world with the bodies of fallen Seraphs and Celestials buried under shards of sacred Plexiglas wood. Many Seraphs bawled or fought to hide their anguish. A few wept so hard they shook or needed help to stand. Hyperman winced at seeing their chipped, cracked, burned, and bloodied crystal armor. Some had even lost limbs or had their wings torn right off.
Areva took her place at the center. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she looked more hardened and weathered than any young girl should. Still, she was strong and firm in her bearing. While she hadn’t officially been the leader of the Silver Seraphs, she had taken command with a sharp efficiency that had been sorely needed. She led the Silver Seraphs in a series of prayers, chanting and humming using a variety of wild, indecipherable singsong languages. Seraphs flew about, anointing the bodies with sacred incense and flaring up the waxy-blue candles in tall holders jabbed into the ground alongside the pyres. The little eye-like flames on top the candles quivered and burned orange-black.
Once the Seraphs each had a chance to visit with their loved ones a final time, Areva clanged two battered crystal swords together. The sparks they gave off lit up one pyre after another, and the fires gushed all across Prism.
“What will you do with their ashes?” Hyperman asked Areva during a quiet moment between prayers.
“They go into the ground to make the dirt strong and fertile,” she whispered back. “So Prism can grow again.”
Hyperman nodded and said a silent little prayer, asking the universe to give him the strength to prevent such tragedy from ever happening again. He hoped somehow his mothership heard it.
***
The battle had exhausted the Seraphs both physically and emotionally, but they didn’t have time to let their wounds heal. Instead, they grabbed up their crystal tools and what remained of their computers and machinery to repair and rebuild their cities and planet. However, Hyperman wasn’t about to stand by and watch them overexert themselves and fall down out of the sky.
A whirlwind of motion, he polished and refurbished the mountains and fields, rebuilt tall, striking towers, and replanted fruit crops. After swirling up several much-needed rainstorms with his hyper-speed, he set dozens of cloud song farms afloat, each humming different tunes. He even re-fashioned several computer forests, putting back together and reprogramming what remained of the previous ones.
The Silver Seraphs watched on in astonishment as he easily accomplished in minutes what would have taken them months and even years at the very peak of their powers. He even constructed a new Sacrosanct Keep, one that shone stronger and brighter than its predecessor, on a plateau made from hardened Celestial ash. Inside, crystal statues and stained glass windows boasted of the Celestials’ triumphs across the universe.
Hyperman even went through what scraps of old parchments remained from the library and whatever could be salvaged from the Celestials’ computers to begin rewriting all their precious books. Word by word and line by line, he intended to exactly reproduce as much of the library as possible. More importantly, by going through the Celestials’ knowledge and wisdom, he gained new insights into how their powers had worked and be
en channeled through Prism. He came to understand how the Silver Seraphs had drawn upon the Celestials’ power. In fact, he even suspected he knew where the power source was.
He gazed out over the planet, and soon his hyper-vision showed a gigantic star-shaped engine at the planet’s core. After examining it with his hyper-vision, he believed he saw how the engine had leeched upon the awesome power leaking out of the Celestials’ auras. In turn, the engine shot that energy back up through Prism and also shuttled it in large amounts out to each and every Silver Seraph.
After studying the scrolls and engine, Hyperman thought long and hard about Prism and the power it needed. He believed he could get the engine working again.
***
He soared across Prism’s solar system, past strange worlds with beautiful green water storms, toxic yellow fire-lands, never-ending ice, and haunting purple shadows. All the while, he dragged a crackling energy-mesh net behind him. The net contained the bulky, blocky wormhole generators he was setting into place at certain coordinates across the cosmos.
He’d helped construct them to the Silver Seraphs’ exact specifications. Once set into place, each fired up a watery, whirling-white wormhole, which connected from planet to planet, solar system to solar system, and galaxy to galaxy. The network would once again give the Silver Seraphs the capacity for interstellar travel and also provide Hyperman a way home.
He bolted through the heavens at comet-crashing speeds, going about his task. When he set a generator floating through space, he tapped in a code on its keypad that turned it invisible and tethered it to the nearest planet or moon. Then its passcode and force field protection triggered on automatically. The wormhole swirled open seconds later and Hyperman flew through it.
Wormhole to wormhole, he blasted all across known space, putting all the generators in place and testing them to ensure they worked, moving quicker than any eye or camera could record. On the last leg of his journey, the wormhole spat him out into the Milky Way. Bright and marble-blue, Earth floated in dusty-black space ahead of him. The moon hung about its orbit, pocked with holes and glowing dull, ornamental white. The scene tugged at Hyperman’s heart. He longed for home, knowing that while only a few days had passed on Prism, weeks and maybe even months had gone by back on Earth due to space-time distortions across interstellar distances.
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