The Invincibles

by Michael McNichols

  He missed Lindsey and had often strained to hear her voice across the universe on Prism. However, not even his hyper-hearing was that strong. He chuckled, wondering how he’d explain this lengthy absence to her, but he’d figure something out. He always did. He didn’t care about the work clients he’d likely lost due to him no being there to finish their web design projects or return their calls and emails. His old work seemed so small and insignificant to what he was achieving now. In fact, he doubted he’d go back to his web designer job at all once he returned to Earth.

  He had too much else to accomplish and wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way. It would be on their heads if they tried, and many would. S.I.L.E.N.T. would probably be coming after him and whatever power players from the superhero set they could convince to join them because of what he had done to El Dorado. Many of them wouldn’t even bother to hear him out on how he’d taken a weapon away from S.I.L.E.N.T. for the good of everyone. Wrath was an adept manipulator, and it’d be easy to get even super-powered beings riled up and scared over Hyperman taking the law into his own hands. He only wanted to do what he had always done and save the world, but not just from criminals, terrorists, and monstrosities. No, that wasn’t going far enough. He had to save it from hunger, sickness, ignorance, and death as well.

  He finally knew how he could. The idea had coalesced together recently for him, seeing the beautiful world the Celestials and Silver Seraphs had built in Prism. Hyperman thought he knew how to improve upon what they had made. His design would make Earth more lasting and powerful though. It would never be ravaged like Prism had. How could it with Hyperman watching over it?

  With what he had learned on Prism, he intended to return home to Earth and transform everyone into supermen. Every human being would be as powerful as a Silver Seraph, if not more. He then could guide them all in the proper use of their powers. Hyperman knew exactly how to evolve everyone, too. It was so obvious he felt ashamed he’d never thought of it before.

  First, though, he had to save Prism. He had pledged to help out here and leave this world better off than he had found it. Besides, the universe needed Prism as a storehouse for wisdom and the Silver Seraphs needed a home base when they weren’t out patrolling the stars. They also needed power, enough of it to sustain their space policing activities forever. Luckily, Hyperman had infinite amounts of power to spare.

  He hadn’t told Areva or any of the Seraphs what he planned to do. They might debate or argue with him about it. However, they needed his power and had no other sources to draw upon. It would be a waste of time to bicker over what had to be done. So Hyperman was going to just do what he needed and take off back for Earth to begin his work there. The Seraphs could then revel in their newfound might here, and hopefully they’d realize how much better off they were now.

  The energy-mesh net evaporated once Hyperman set the last generator into place in Mars’s orbit. He then punched in a code to open a small, willowing white wormhole that he dove into headfirst. Chaotic, staticky white flamed and flowed all throughout the twisting, winnowing tunnel out to the other side where Prism loomed, shining faint blue and orange. He boomed down to the planet, faster than even a Silver Seraph could see. Corkscrewing, he drilled down into the ground straight through to the engine at Prism’s core.

  After busting down through the thick, radioactive metal barrier that was the size of a city, he came to the engine’s dust-coated, rust-smeared control panel. It was made from scratchy-white crystal that still gleamed after all the centuries it’d been down here. Wild rainbow-colored dials, buttons, and levers jutted out from the control panel.

  He accessed its controls by solving a multitude of ever-changing, esoteric math problems with calculations and numbers that went beyond the human mind. He punched in the buttons, turned the dials, and jerked the levers all in a certain, precise sequence that required super-speed and absolutely perfect timing.

  The engine rumbled and coughed. A deep, star-screaming red fire lit up from within. Hyperman felt an odd tingling sensation spread across his invulnerable skin. Then a needle-stabbing sensation splintered into his eyes and his very spine shuddered. From down in his bowels, a clenching pain erupted up through his throat in a wailing scream.

  His vision blurred and blackened. Dizziness struck him and he fell down onto his hands and knees. He ground his teeth so hard they gave off sparks. His skin flared brighter than a supernova and he burned inside and out. The agony built and built with no end in sight.

  With a great deal of focus, he tried blocking out the pain, but it lashed back harder and hotter. He nearly toppled over, but instead tensed up every single one of his muscles and concentrated. Rather than fight against the pain, he simply accepted it. He knew it’d never leave him, not with the engine always running; and it couldn’t be shut off now anyway, not ever—but he had known that going into this. He’d always feel this pain in some form, no matter how small. It’d at the very least nag at him, but he didn’t have to let it dominate him. The pain could join the chorus of all the sensations, sights, sounds, and feelings his hyper-senses accumulated and get lost amongst them.

  Bearing that in mind, he let the pain fade into the background of his senses. He breathed out a sigh of relief and took a moment to reorient himself. He smiled and laughed. That had been far more painful and difficult than he had imagined, but he’d done it. He’d connected himself to the engine and was now feeding it his power as the Celestials had once done. Prism and the Silver Seraphs would now never run out of power.

  With his work done here, he exploded back up through the planet out into space and through the wormhole toward home. He had saved Prism’s future, and now he had to transform Earth’s.

  Chapter 14: DANCING A BLOODY WALTZ

  “Just a couple of hours and I’ll be home!” Nightshadow told Piper over the phone. He was pretending to call from a plane. The Sky Citadel’s satellite phone actually came equipped with the hum of plane engines, taped background conversations, and the sounds of stewardesses serving meals to help fake such a call.

  “Awesome!” she said. “I’ve missed you!”

  “Have you been keeping busy?”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  “Any auditions?”

  “Here and there. I’m waiting to hear back on the murderess one.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get it. In the meantime, clear off your schedule because you’re mine for the next few nights.”

  “Correction. You’re mine.”

  She playfully growled.

  Smiling under his mask, Nightshadow set the phone back down on the cradle and tidied up his desk, turning off the computer and stacking a few coded folders. Then, before stepping out the door, he adopted a grimmer, sterner demeanor in his body language. His quarters locked themselves up behind him, needing his passcodes and retina scan to reopen.

  Though he’d keep in contact with Paul Wrath about the continuing search for any reaper children, he’d done all he could at the Sky Citadel for now. If they had anything new to report, they’d reach him back in Salome City. He hoped they had some information on Hyperman soon, though Wrath’s telepaths and mystics were still trying to re-establish communications with Prism to find out what had happened there.

  Time moved differently in Prism’s part of space, but nobody knew when exactly Hyperman would return to Earth. Nightshadow felt certain he would, as Cal could survive almost anything. However, he wondered what Hyperman’s frame of mind would be like, especially after dealing with horrifying adversaries like Lucifer and the Blood Seraphs. When he came back to Earth, he had to answer for what he had done to El Dorado, but he might not be willing to go along with what the law required. He might think he was above any law. Therefore, Nightshadow and Wrath had put their heads together and crafted the Hyperman Protocols, a series of actions they could immediately take upon Hyperman’s return home. If he acted up in any way, they could strike against him right away and try to contain him.

  In the meantime, ho
wever, with Phoenix Bright defeated, S.I.L.E.N.T. and the superheroes they worked with all had other cases to turn to. The world couldn’t wait upon pins and needles for even Hyperman. There were other dangers to face. S.I.L.E.N.T. and the other Invincibles would handle him when they had to and hope for the best, same as with any other crisis.

  As per usual, Nightshadow took the least-used corridors and secret shafts to the teleport room, traveling through the Sky Citadel as quietly as a phantom. After being scanned and entering his code, the doors to the teleport room spiraled open and he stepped up to the control console to key in the coordinates for Risen Tower. The screen filled with numbers, but then blanked. A message flashed, claiming that the teleport network couldn’t find Risen Tower’s location. Thinking it might be a glitch, he typed in the coordinates again. However, the same error message blinked across the console.

  He checked the controls and circuitry, and saw that everything seemed to be working. The problem had to be at the other end. Maybe some of the wires or equipment had gone bad. He’d have to check as soon as he got back there. So he punched in the coordinates for his spare teleporter at the Salome City docks.

  He bounded up onto the platform and braced himself for teleportation. The world lit up and turned into static around him. His stomach twisted in on itself and his eyes hurt from the blazing flash.

  ***

  Moments later, he stumbled down off of the platform in his lair and swallowed back a mouthful of vomit. This lair resembled most of the others, though the teleport chamber took up a good chunk of its space. The rest of the lair’s tight quarters sat under the docks with the water thumping up against its walls. The smell of the lake and fresh fish wafted everywhere.

  The teleport chamber’s bulky door bolted itself shut behind him as Nightshadow took a seat at the thin supercomputer with a circular screen. Before heading home, he needed to quickly check the news. He scoured through dozens of reports on a variety of networks from across the world, studying up on crimes and current events, and noticing certain patterns. One in particular stood out. More and more reports were trickling in, one after the other from the smaller news services and networks about miracles, large and small, occurring.

  People were coming home to find their houses repainted and redecorated. Farmers woke up to discover their crops planted and their chores done. Cars had oil changes and their tires rotated without even leaving the driveway. Homes, roads, and bridges were rebuilt after earthquakes and hurricanes to be stronger than ever before. Food magically appeared in the hands of the homeless. Lost pets and runaways returned home without anyone knowing how they got there. Much-needed medicines appeared in third-world countries and in the cabinets of people who couldn’t afford them.

  Some people were getting nervous. They blabbered on about not being able to trust good luck when they saw it. People blamed God, demons, superheroes, villains, and ghosts. However, while there was some panic, Nightshadow saw no reason to worry—not yet anyway. These were all good things happening, and Nightshadow wasn’t about to stop a Good Samaritan from pulling puppies out of traffic and giving sick children penicillin. In fact, he applauded their efforts.

  It looked like some super-speedster had been making good use of their powers. Hyperman and the Whorl had done something similar a few weeks ago, but everyone had known it had been them. Not seeing whoever was doing so much good now was making everybody uneasy. They worried that there’d be a price to pay later, and a lot of governments and corporations probably weren’t happy with getting shown up and having people wonder why they weren’t contributing to the world with so many good works.

  Maybe the Whorl knew this other speedster and could talk to him if people started overreacting and things went bad. However, the Whorl needed to show back up first. Phoenix Bright had hit him with a hell of a spell, but Nightshadow knew he’d beat it eventually. Nonetheless, S.I.L.E.N.T. had teams out looking for him and Nightshadow had his agents searching, but that was all he could do for the Whorl at the moment.

  Nightshadow stood up and stretched, hearing his spine crack. He grabbed a nearby phone and tried calling Wally for his limo to come pick him up from the wharf-side Risen Real Estate office just above. The call didn’t go through, and the phone crackled with static before going dead. When Nightshadow dialed again, he got more static. He tried all the alternate numbers for Wally, his garage, and his fellow drivers, but a recording claimed that each number was out of order.

  That was both odd and alarming, and Nightshadow had to investigate. He rushed to get changed. Out during the day and moving amongst his business interests, Mark Risen would have much more maneuverability than Nightshadow.

  ***

  Wearing a muggy-green suit and having combed his hair back, he waited for his cab on the street above the lair. Even after he’d been picked up, he continued dialing all his Salome City offices on his cell phone, just to make sure someone was there. A receptionist picked up each time, so he hung up and moved on to the next number.

  He thought to call his residences throughout the city. He spoke to a maid, butler, or doorman, but then worried about Piper. Could she have been targeted too? There was no telling what could have been done to Piper if someone had made some sort of move against Nightshadow. He couldn’t have stopped it. He had been half a world away.

  Damn it, he should have called Piper first!

  Nobody answered when he tried the penthouse, reception, or her cell. He dumped a pile of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills down onto the passenger seat next to the cab driver and gave him his penthouse’s address.

  “Gun it!” he said.

  “Yes, sir!” the driver replied and hit the gas.

  After blowing three red lights and knifing through a whole street of cars blaring their horns, the cab pulled up to Nightshadow’s high-rise. He jumped out before the cab even had a chance to stop.

  Out front, all the building’s curtains had been drawn and the glass doors and windows had been blackened, so no one could see inside. Nobody was rushing in or out on errands or off to do business either. There weren’t even any running cars waiting outside to pick someone up or for a valet to find them parking. The place looked dead.

  Nightshadow tried shouldering through the revolving door. It refused to budge. It was locked in the middle of the day? Why? What was going on here? Gritting his teeth, he forced the lock and pushed the door in.

  ***

  At first, he noticed the odd, overwhelming silence. At this time of day, business executives and salespeople should be hurrying across the lobby and to meetings. Staff should be cleaning, taking calls, and manning the front desk. Yet, nobody at all was around in the middle of a workday.

  Next, the rank stench of death hit him like a jab to the gut. He almost doubled over from the power of it. Sadly, he’d grown so used to that smell over the years that he managed to hold in his vomit.

  His eyes quickly scanned the dim, empty lobby. Plants lay overturned with dirt spilled everywhere. A mess of papers cluttered up all over the front desk. The couches and chairs were broken and their stuffing hung out of their gutted cushions. Deep scratches and burn marks streaked across the floor and walls. The chandeliers had fallen and smashed down against the floor. Dried, black blood splattered and spotted everything.

  Following his nose, Nightshadow trod cautiously over to the janitor’s closet and jerked the door open. A pile of rotting bodies thumped down to the floor in front of him. Nightshadow staggered back in shock. He recognized those bodies as belonging to cleaning women and security guards, even with their throats slashed and entrails hanging out. He moved on from there, hoping this couldn’t get worse.

  However, in every nook, cranny, and closet on the first floor, he found even more slashed and hacked up bodies. Under the front desk, Teresa, the bright, young receptionist, lay face-first in a pool of her own sticky blood. Seeing her made Nightshadow fall down to one knee and choke up.

  In the security guards’ room, guards with broken necks s
at propped up in their chairs. All the monitors except one were busted. The only one that still worked played the same footage over and over again. A lithe figure in a bulky, oversized Nightshadow wing-suit danced a waltz, swinging and twisting a headless body around the bloodied, ruined lobby.

  Watching that caused Nightshadow’s heart to clench and seize up in his chest. Had he been found out? What did they know? How did they know it? And where was Piper? Lying amongst all these bodies somewhere?

  He raced over to the elevators. The words “Out of order!” were scrawled across the doors in chunky, scratchy blood. Nonetheless, he tried the buttons but got nothing. So he shouldered through into the stairwell and rushed upstairs.

  ***

  The stench fouled up the air in the stairwell even worse than out in the lobby. Crusty, days-old blood and mutilated bodies filled the stairways. Flies swarmed everywhere, eager for a bountiful feast. Nightshadow shuddered to see that many bodies, but nevertheless struggled on up the stairs, floor after floor, hopping over bodies, slipping in blood, and never stopping. He had to get to the penthouse. He had to see if Piper was there.

  He trudged on up the stairs, not caring how many there were. He gasped and coughed from the exertion, feeling like he was going to get sick. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to split open. His legs and lungs burned as he climbed more and more stairs. They seemed to never end and the horrid smells and death only made everything worse.