Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  Above, Zenith struggled with keeping the wheel stationary, his servos fighting against the weight of the ride. He saw Exemplar flying at him, and his scanners picked up something else. “Gunsmith, Exemplar is approaching and I have no defense while Paragon continues her rescue efforts. It appears he has recovered from Wraith’s attack, as I am reading an increased heat signature from his hands.”

  “Help’s on the way, Zenith.”

  Exemplar hovered closer, his hands now beginning to glow brightly. He grinned as he saw the robot’s exertion. Once he got within range, Exemplar clamped both hands on Zenith’s forearms, the energy generated beginning to heat the robot’s outer shell.

  “Where are your little cannons now, you inhuman piece of garbage?” His voice was a hiss. “Not so tough when you can’t sucker-punch a guy, are you?”

  “Exemplar!”

  The superhuman looked up and saw someone streaking down from the sky. A man in red armor who broke his fall by grabbing hold of Exemplar’s cape, the momentum pulling him away from Zenith and the Ferris wheel.

  Gunsmith pulled himself up, wrapping one arm around Exemplar’s neck. His free hand brought a blaster to his foe’s head. “You talk too damn much.” He pulled the trigger a few times, firing at point-blank range.

  Exemplar was shaken, but then quickly recovered and took the gun in hand, crushing it in his grip. He halted their descent and reached for Gunsmith.

  “Was that it?” He laughed. “Those things didn’t slow me down before, what did you think they’d do now?”

  Gunsmith smiled. “The gun was just a distraction. Look down.”

  Exemplar did and saw a round device affixed there, with three flashing red lights. The surprise made him loosen his grip just enough for Gunsmith to push off him. As Vanguard’s leader went into free-fall, he activated a switch on his gauntlet. The red lights on the device increased the frequency of their flashing until the bomb exploded, hurling Exemplar off into the lake.

  “Coming your way, Sharkskin,” said Gunsmith. “And if it’s not too much trouble, can somebody grab me before I hit the ground? That’s one durability test this suit can do without.”

  He kept on falling, until suddenly he hit the ground. A little bit of pain, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Quickly, the realization came that he shouldn’t have hit the ground that fast. As he began to get up, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Wraith standing over him.

  “What kind of idiot jumps out of a plane without a parachute?”

  Gunsmith brushed himself off and offered a smirk. “Never expected you to save me.”

  Wraith shrugged and turned his back. “Don’t get cute. I just didn’t want to clean up the mess.”

  ***

  Exemplar crashed into the lake water. He poked his head above the surface, looking around. Just as he was about to fly back into action, he heard a voice humming the theme music from Jaws. When Exemplar spun, he saw the toothy grin and black eyes of Sharkskin.

  “Hi, remember me?”

  Sharkskin dove, pulling Exemplar down with him. He thrashed, but it was no use, Sharkskin’s grip was strong and he kept pushing deeper and further out into the lake. Sharkskin wrapped his arms around Exemplar and held him firmly in place, and Exemplar’s thrashings grew weaker and weaker.

  It doesn’t matter how strong a body is, or how durable—when all is said and done, it still needs oxygen to survive. And that was one thing Sharkskin deprived Exemplar of, holding him as long as possible until he passed out.

  CHAPTER 6

  He could hear the sound of electronic locks being opened. In the darkness, there was a rectangle of light, and a silhouette stood against it, walking inside the room. Slowly, the lights in the cell came on as well, but he could only see through the tiny slot for his eyes.

  The man who entered the room had silver hair slicked back and a thin mustache. He wore a black turtleneck under a white blazer, but what Callum found most interesting when the man approached him and stared through the eye slot were his metallic-colored eyes.

  “Good morning, Mr. King. I would ask you if you’re feeling comfortable, but my understanding is that you are being fed a steady supply of drugs that keep you more or less paralyzed, correct?”

  Callum wanted to nod, but he couldn’t. The man was right—that was what the tubes stuck up his nose were for. And as an added precautionary measure, he was kept locked inside this chamber, standing upright, unable to interact at all with the outside world. His only connection was this slot.

  “I believe we can do something about all this, perhaps even open that coffin of yours, give you a chance to stretch your legs. I imagine you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  If he could speak, he would say yes.

  The man with the metallic eyes smiled. “Of course you would. If you cooperate with me, then I will see to it you are treated humanely. Do we have an understanding?”

  Those metallic eyes peered into Callum’s own blue ones. Callum couldn’t verbalize his response, but the man’s smile showed that he somehow understood it nonetheless.

  “Very good, Mr. King. Very good indeed.”

  Who are you?

  “My name is unimportant, Mr. King.” An answer to an unspoken question. “But you may call me the Analyst.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath.

  “Now, I would like you to tell me everything you know about this…team that brought you down. The ones who call themselves Vanguard.”

  #2 - COLD WAR FRANKENSTEIN

  CHAPTER 1

  Iskander was far from famous. The small Russian village was located in one of the more remote regions of the nation, lying in the foothills of the mountain ranges and served by a single train line.

  For Kirill and Galina, Iskander was all they had ever known and all they were likely to know. Both had dreams of moving on to bigger and better things, but without the funds, their prospects were not great. They put aside thoughts of the future by focusing on the present.

  The trees of the surrounding forest provided some cover for them as they explored each other’s bodies on the grass. Kirill kissed down Galina’s neck, taking in her scent as he moved lower. With her eyes closed, Galina’s soft moans lingered in the warm summer air. She tangled her fingers in his brown hair, pushing her head into the soft ground as his lips moved further down her body.

  Galina’s entire body stiffened and Kirill smiled to himself, convinced he was doing things properly as he pulled up her shirt. But then her scream told him otherwise. Kirill looked up to see what caused Galina to cry out.

  And then he screamed as well.

  ***

  Nestled within the Adirondack Mountains in the United States was a small airstrip, beneath which were the remnants of an ICBM silo. As the Cold War ended, the silo was abandoned and had since been converted, upgraded with the latest technology. Christened the Atlas, it now served as the base of operations for a team of specials called Vanguard.

  Dominic Vaughn was one such special, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he entered the kitchen area, where he found his teammate standing by a coffee dispenser. Anita Jordan removed her mug from the dispenser and sipped the warm liquid, nodding to him.

  “Good morning, Dom.”

  Dom grunted in response, taking a mug from one of the cupboards and placing it in the slot under the dispenser. He pressed the buttons for black coffee and leaned against the counter.

  “What time is it?”

  “Quarter past six,” said Anita.

  “Goddammit.” The machine beeped and Dom took his cup. The two walked from the kitchen into the dining area. Around the long table were the other four field operatives that made up Vanguard. Jim Ellis, the team’s human field leader, was dressed in sweats, as was Anita. The pair seemed to have completed a morning work-out. Koji Asano and Erin Hastings, the two younger members of the team, were still wearing what amounted to sleepwear, as was Dom. Erin rubbed her pale, yellow eyes with her green hand
. Zenith was the final member of the team, and as a robot, had no need for clothing, sleep, or sustenance.

  The two elder men were the only sort of support structure the team had. One was Colonel Leonard Thorne, the team’s overseer and liaison with the President of the United States. The other was Dr. Howard McCabe, an expert in the field of genetics and the team’s science advisor. Thorne was in his uniform and McCabe wore slacks and a polo shirt.

  “Why am I awake so damn early, Thorne?” asked Dom. “Thought you were giving us the week off after the Exemplar caper.”

  “That was the plan,” said Thorne. “But things don’t always work out the way we expect.”

  “Something happen with King?” asked Jim, referring to the Exemplar by his surname.

  Thorne shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything from our people, so it seems he’s still safely in custody. But we might have another special-related incident. This time, in Russia.”

  “What incident?” asked Jim.

  “I’m sure you’re all aware that relations between us and Russia aren’t exactly at their warmest level.” Thorne paused to sip his coffee and once he set it down, he picked up his tablet from the table. The Colonel navigated to the documents he received this morning. “The CIA has been monitoring them closer than ever and we picked up some interesting police reports in a small town called Iskander.”

  “How would the CIA even think to check out a small town’s police reports?” asked Anita.

  “They wouldn’t.” Jim glanced at Thorne. “But if those reports quickly shot up through the government…”

  Thorne nodded. “And that’s exactly what happened.” With a few commands from the tablet, Thorne turned on the monitor screen on the wall of the dining area, then mirrored the contents of his screen on it.

  What appeared on the screen were the bodies of two teenagers, a boy and a girl. Their eyes and mouths were frozen in fear and their skin was drained of all color. Erin gasped when she saw it, immediately looking away. “My god…”

  Thorne continued: “These two were found in the woods outside of Iskander earlier this week. Parents sought out police after the kids were missing for two days and a search party discovered them not far from the village.”

  “When were these photos taken?” asked Anita.

  “When the bodies were discovered.”

  “But…the state of decomposition…” Anita looked for confirmation from McCabe. “Am I wrong?”

  McCabe shook his head. “Not at all. The Colonel brought this to my attention before we woke the rest of you. But there’s more.” He turned to Thorne and the Colonel gestured for him to continue. McCabe turned a glance to each of the team members. “The bodies were drained of all blood. There were claw marks found on them, but the size and shape of them are not consistent with any of the local fauna. And the autopsy reports show traces of some unknown toxin.”

  “They were poisoned?” asked Koji.

  “It appeared to be some kind of paralytic agent,” said McCabe.

  “And this was in Russia?” asked Jim.

  Dom scoffed. “You deaf? That’s what he said.”

  “Just wanted to confirm,” said Jim, trying hard to ignore Dom’s barb.

  “Whatever.” Dom took another sip of his coffee.

  “You really think another special did this?” asked Erin.

  “Would appear to be impossible for a non-powered human to accomplish such a feat, and animal attacks have already been ruled out,” said Zenith. “This would suggest only one possible alternative.”

  “So some Ruskie gets turned into a vampire by the special gene and starts snacking on teenagers. Is that the theory?” asked Dom.

  McCabe sucked in his breath a little in thought, then gave a nod. “That’s…not how I would put it. But in essence, yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  “Fantastic.” Dom turned to Erin. “Just so you know, we’re talking real vampires. Not those sparkly abominations.”

  Erin huffed and folded her arms. “Please, I couldn’t even finish the first book.”

  “Yeah…right?” said Koji, his eyes shifting from side to side. “They were so…so lame… I mean, who’d read stupid books about sparkly vampires and werewolves…so stupid, am I right…?”

  Silence hung over Koji’s comments for a few moments. Dom broke it, looking away from Koji as he did. “Anyway…what’s our plan?”

  “Aside from this initial police report, any other information about the case seems to be sealed up tight,” said Thorne. “The Russian government doesn’t want the world to know about this. Best thing to do would be to get into Russia, but getting clearance won’t be easy.”

  “Then we don’t get it,” said Anita. “The entire world just saw us defending Chicago from a rogue special. That should give us enough clout to get into Russia and help them with this problem.”

  “I don’t know about that. Russia’s President is pretty suspicious by nature, especially of people from the west. Doesn’t matter what stance the White House takes on us, Vorobiev will still think of us as CIA spooks.”

  “What’s our alternative, make up some fake passports?” asked Anita.

  “I do know a guy…” said Dom.

  “Of course not.” Jim turned to Thorne. “We have to be smart about this, Colonel. If Russia wants to keep a lid on this, they’ll have people all over that town.”

  Thorne ran his thumb and forefinger along the edges of his silver mustache. “Jim makes a good point. But on the other hand, I need my team on the ground in Iskander to figure out what’s happened and we aren’t high on options.”

  “Diplomatic channels, perhaps?” asked Zenith. “Inform the Russians that the United States government made contact with us following the defeat of Exemplar and we have been asked to investigate in a non-official capacity.”

  Thorne shook his head. “No, that’d only make Vorobiev even more convinced that we’re working for the President. And if we’re refused entry, it’ll be difficult to explain why we ignored Russia’s wishes.” He set his hands on the armrests of his chair. “My father used to say that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. So you go in under the radar, try to figure out what’s going on, and get out soon as possible. If you’re discovered, you explain that you’re concerned about a rogue special and made this decision completely on your own.”

  Dom snickered, drawing stares from the rest of the group.

  “Something funny, Mr. Vaughn?” asked Thorne.

  “Nah, not at all,” said Dom. “I just love that we’ve got a representative of the United States government encouraging us to ignore procedure and bureaucracy.”

  Thorne cracked a half-smile. “Just do what needs to be done.”

  ***

  The Icarus—a supersonic aircraft designed by Zenith—crossed the distance from the United States to Russia in record time. Zenith sat at the controls with Erin by his side, wearing a headset on her green head. Since their battle with Exemplar in Chicago, Zenith had begun to train Erin how to pilot the craft, and though simulators were helpful, nothing was quite as effective as watching first-hand.

  Jim, now clad in his Gunsmith exo-skeleton, stepped into the cockpit, coming around the partition that separated it from the cabin. “What’s our status?”

  Zenith glanced to his co-pilot. “Erin?”

  “Oh, umm…” Erin checked their position on the GPS. “Looks like…we’re entering Russian airspace?”

  Jim gave a half-smile. “Any contact?”

  Erin paused, and looked to Zenith. He shook his head. “No. We are flying below radar and—” A beeping noise broke off Zenith’s explanation. “Amend that, Gunsmith.” Zenith flipped a toggle switch on the control panel and Russian audio piped in through their communication array.

  “Shift, what are they saying?” asked Gunsmith, glancing down at Erin.

  “It’s…I have no idea. Is that Russian?” Shift’s eyes were fixed on Zenith, who nodded.

  “Yes.” Zenith hit
another switch and the audio came in through the cockpit’s speakers.

  Gunsmith listened for a few moments. “My Russian’s a bit rusty, but that doesn’t sound too good, does it?”

  “They’re informing us that we have entered Russian airspace without the required permission and they are asking—quite forcefully—that we identify ourselves.”

  “‘Quite forcefully’?” asked Shift.

  “Perhaps ‘demanding’ would be more accurate,” said Zenith.

  “So just say that.”

  “I was attempting to soften the language.”

  “How about you don’t do that when we’re in the middle of a situation?” asked Gunsmith.

  “Very well. Should we respond?”

  Gunsmith looked out the window, searching the clouds for any sign of activity, but saw nothing. “Are they forcefully asking us to?”

  “I would characterize that assessment as accurate.”

  “Then yes, respond.”

  Zenith hit a few buttons and delivered a response in perfect Russian. Although he didn’t have a headset, he could easily transmit his voice through the plane’s radio. Once he finished, there was a pause in the communication and then the Russians responded. Shift furrowed her brow as she concentrated on the tone of their speech.

  “I know I don’t speak Russian, but they don’t seem happy. What did you tell them, Zen?”

  “I simply informed them of our team name and that we are investigating a potential situation. They steadfastly asserted we have no clearance and ordered us to turn back.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or they’ll treat us as enemy combatants,” said Gunsmith. “That part I got.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Shift.

  An alarm blared through the cockpit, causing both Gunsmith and Shift to cringe. Zenith just calmly flipped a few toggle switches and a holographic view-screen appeared over the flight controls, one that brought up a radar map and showed two crafts approaching the center. More Russian came through the speakers.