Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  Erin pulled away from Koji and shot an angry glare. “Shut up!” Spittle flew from her mouth, striking Jim on his face, which he wiped away with a hand. “He was more than just a robot! He was our…our friend…” She turned her back to Jim, hugging herself.

  Jim’s eyes fell to his feet. “I know…I didn’t mean—”

  “We know,” said Thorne, rubbing his silver mustache with thumb and index finger. “

  “He’s got a point, though,” said Dom. “If Lucent drained his power source, then we just give him a new one. Fix him up, right?”

  Thorne sighed with a shake of his head. “Not that simple, I’m afraid. Even now, decades after he first awoke, no one really knows how Zenith was created in the first place.”

  “Seems there’s a lot we don’t know,” said Dom. “Maybe too much.”

  Thorne’s eyes narrowed at the former thief. “Is that directed at me, Mr. Vaughn?”

  Dom met his gaze without hesitation. “You bet. How’d you find out about Proximo so fast?”

  Thorne huffed. “I told you already. Proximo had connections with the Defense Department. We were notified by the Secretary as soon as word reached him of the attack.”

  Dom defiantly folded his arms across his chest. “Not. Good. Enough.” He pointed a finger at Zenith’s body. “We lost one of our own today!”

  “You think I wanted this?” spat Thorne. “I worked with Zenith for years, knew him better than you! Better than any of you! So spare me your self-righteous bullshit, because I am definitely not in the mood!”

  “Okay!” The voice belonged to McCabe, and held a more commanding tone than anyone in the infirmary had ever heard from the geneticist. “I understand we’re all very upset. What happened to Zenith, it was…senseless. But we’re not use to anyone squabbling like this.”

  Dom shook his head, his steel-gaze on Thorne never faltering. “To hell with this, to hell with all of this. I’m sick of your shit, Thorne.”

  “Then go.” Jim’s voice was measured and calm in his declaration. “McCabe’s right, we have more important things to worry about than fighting amongst ourselves. And if you don’t want to be a part of this, Vaughn—if you’re not willing to be a team player—then just get the hell out of here.”

  Dom met Jim’s stare, then followed with a look at each of his teammates before ending where he began—on Thorne. “Fine by me. Never wanted to be here in the first place. Go ahead and sic your dogs on me, Thorne. Won’t be able to find me again.”

  He pivoted in a huff and marched out of the infirmary. Erin moved to the door, but Koji laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, let him go. He just needs some time.” He looked down at Zenith’s body. “Maybe we all do…”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” said McCabe, looking at Thorne sympathetically as he spoke. “It’d probably be best for everyone to take some time off.”

  Thorne was hesitant to respond, but then finally acknowledged it was the right thing with a simple nod. “He’s right.”

  Jim and McCabe were the first to leave the room, followed by Koji. Erin, Anita, and Thorne remained, still staring at the body.

  “Do you…do you think he was scared?” asked Erin.

  Anita’s concerned eyes fell on the younger girl. She’d seen death while serving in Afghanistan, watched the life of people she was trying to save slip away. But for Erin, this was likely her first encounter with death. At least on such a personal level. She circled around and wrapped her arms around her teammate.

  “He was trying to save lives. Doing what we all came here to do.” Anita placed her finger beneath Erin’s chin and softly turned the girl’s head up so they could make eye contact. “He died a hero. Don’t ever forget that, or how much we all meant to him.”

  Erin’s lower lip quivered. She turned away, trying to hide her eyes. “I’m sorry, I think I just need to be alone…”

  “Go on.” Thorne’s tone had softened considerably from earlier. When Erin left, it was only Anita and himself who remained behind. He looked to her. “That was nice, what you said.”

  She leaned over the body, resting her hands on the gurney. “You know, earlier today, Zen said he wondered how we’d get along without him.” She lowered her head, her voice wavering. “I guess now we’ll have to find out…”

  “We’ll manage. We always do.” Thorne patted her shoulder and turned for the door. Anita’s voice stopped him from walking out, though.

  “He said he was going to help me.”

  “How so?” asked Thorne, his back still to her.

  She stood upright and stared at Thorne. He could feel her eyes burrowing into his back. “Said he was going to help me find out just what the Red Fist is.”

  Thorne gave a sigh. “I already told you, I haven’t been able to find any information about them.”

  “I know they’re out there. Now more than ever.”

  That caused Thorne to turn towards her. “What do you mean?”

  “I-I can’t explain it,” said Anita. “I feel like I know something about them, like something happened today. But it’s like a dream you forget the instant you wake up.”

  “Get some rest, Anita. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

  He left her alone in the infirmary, still staring at Zenith’s vacant face. “I wish I could believe that…”

  ***

  Terry Gibson’s eyes fluttered open. He was still locked in the chamber, but it was in a different place. A room he’d never seen before, with monitors displaying his vitals and energy output. He tried to activate his powers, but found nothing happened. The lone door opened and in walked the man with silver hair and a thin mustache.

  “You,” said Gibson, narrowing his eyes. “You were at Proximo. Who are you?”

  “You may call me the Analyst,” he said. “And I have someone who very much would like to meet you.”

  The Analyst turned towards the door and in the light from the outside hall, a silhouette appeared in the frame. He was tall and well-built, with a freshly-shaved head. When he entered, Gibson studied the man’s form intently.

  He was clothed in red robes with gold trim, hands clasped behind his back. There was a strange presence to this man. What Gibson found odd was the man’s Fu Manchu mustache. Combined with the clothing he wore, it made the man’s white skin and western features stand out starkly.

  The Analyst lowered, bowing on one knee and holding his hand out, palm up. As the mystery man stepped closer, he brushed the Analyst’s open palm and the thin man stood behind his master. Gibson watched the man with curiosity as he approached the tube, studying the special with ice-blue eyes.

  “We have it now, my lord,” said the Analyst. “The means for which to finally execute our plan.”

  “And what of the woman?” The man’s voice was a deep baritone.

  “She’s exactly where we need her to be,” said the Analyst.

  “Excellent.”

  “What’s going on here?” asked Gibson. “Who are you people?”

  “You are in the domain of the Red Fist,” said the man, a sly grin spreading over his face. “And you may call me the Khagan.”

  #5 - RISE OF THE RED FIST

  CHAPTER 1

  The team leader stood on a ridge overlooking the government facility, covered in a red and black suit of armor. The translucent device over his right eye transmitted all known information about the compound—the location of the guards stationed outside, the distance it would take before they would trip any alarms, and how close he would need to get to land an accurate shot on any of them.

  “There it is,” he said to the rest of the team, keeping his voice low. He looked at the latest addition to his organization, a young man with dark skin and a thin layer of black hair with matching beard. “How close do you need to get to do your thing?”

  “A lot closer, I need to make physical contact to communicate with the base’s systems,” said Lee Parker.

  “Don’t worry, we can take care of the def
enses,” said another member of the team. She was dressed from head to toe in white with a matching leather overcoat and an ivory helmet concealing her face. “That’s why you brought us, isn’t it?”

  “You sure we can take them, Zephyr?” This voice belonged to the youngest member of the squad, a teenage girl of nineteen dressed in a dark green uniform that clung to her body.

  A yellow-gloved hand rested on her shoulder. “Relax, Fuerte.” The rest of his form-fitting outfit was crimson and his head was completely devoid of a single strand of hair, not even an eyelash. “This is what we’ve been training for, we can take ‘em.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Pyre,” said the team leader. “Keep them distracted so my team can get Parker in close enough to shut down the defenses. Even with these suits, that’s a lot of guns down there.”

  “We can do our job, Mills,” said Zephyr. “Just make sure you do yours.”

  “We gonna sit here all night talking or are we gonna get down to action?” asked Pyre, anxious to release the flames he felt burning inside his body.

  Zephyr smiled beneath her helmet. “Light ‘em up.”

  Pyre grinned, climbing over the ridge and sliding down the side. Fuerte stayed close behind him and Zephyr’s winds raised her just above the ground, hovering gracefully in the rear.

  Mills gave a look to the rest of his team—four men who wore the same armor as him, each of them armed with teleforce blasters. They all felt uncomfortable going into battle alongside these specials, people powerful enough to destroy them with a thought. But it was the decree of their master and so they would follow, even if it was with hesitation in their hearts.

  As Pyre approached the front gates of the facility, the guards on duty brought their weapons to the ready. “Hold it right there!”

  Pyre held his arms above his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any weapons.”

  “You’re trespassing, turn back now or we are authorized to use lethal force!”

  Much to the astonished gazes of the soldiers, Pyre’s skin turned bright red, nearly matching the color of his suit. His eyes took on an orange glow, burning like hot coals. Sparks appeared on his body, turning into snakes of fire that coiled their way up his arms and forming into bright, flaming orbs in the palms of his hands. Pyre brought his arms around in a slow arc, holding them in front of him. He gave a little blow and the fireballs shot forth from his hands, striking the two soldiers closest to him and catching fire to their uniforms. They screamed and writhed in agony as the flames consumed their bodies.

  “We’re under attack!” shouted another guard. He pulled the trigger on his assault rifle, but a powerful gust of wind threw off his aim, sending his bullets flying in random directions. Zephyr hovered above the battlefield, and as Pyre’s flames lit up the dry grass, Zephyr’s winds pushed them further inward.

  Fuerte charged forward, moving as fast as she could. Bullets fired at her simply ricocheted off her skin, and she barreled into the fence, rending the chain-links to tiny bits of steel with her bare hands, possessing strength that certainly belied her slender form.

  Back above the ridge, Mills watched with appreciation. “They’re in, let’s go.”

  His team circled around the edge of the battle, watching as the guards rushed to engage the specials. With no one guarding one end of the complex, Mills was able to blast a hole into the fence. The six men entered, staying low as they moved towards one of the entrances to the facility.

  “Parker!” Mills waved Lee towards the door.

  Lee stepped closer and examined the security. A keycard was required for entrance. He placed his hand on the slot and shut his eyes, whispering under his breath. The indicator flashed from red to green and the door unlocked with a buzz. Lee pulled it open and entered inside, the group following him into a well-lit corridor.

  Mills took point, inching down the hall towards a T-junction. He kept his back flat against the wall, looking down one direction as he came closer. Mills turned the corner, holding his gun as he did and saw both paths were clear. He waved for Lee to come.

  “It’s down this way,” said Lee, pointing to the right path.

  “How do you know?” asked one of the soldiers.

  Lee looked back at him. “Because the door told me so.”

  “The door what?” asked one of the team.

  “Later,” said Mills. “Let’s move!”

  The men walked with a brisk pace down the hall. “Take a left at the next corner,” said Lee and Mills followed his command. A few more turns came in the byzantine complex and down several flights of stairs before they finally came to another locked door. The security on this one was tighter, requiring not only a keycard but also a retinal scan. As before, Lee placed his hand on the keycard slot and, after whispering words that none of the others could hear, the door granted them access.

  A few guards and men and women who worked as research technicians were on the other side of the door. Before they could enquire who the mysterious new arrivals were, Mills and his men opened fire on them, their blasters burning holes right through their bodies.

  Lee went straight to the bank of computer terminals. One of the technicians had slumped over the console when he died, and Lee pulled his body away without giving a thought to the life that was lost. He pulled up a chair and sat at the terminal, placing his hands over the keyboard. But he didn’t type a single command, just closed his eyes and whispered once again.

  “Close the door, make sure it’s locked,” said Mills. One of his men went to the door, but it closed on its own without the need for assistance. The man tested the door just to be sure and found it was sealed.

  “We’re good…I guess.”

  One of Mills’ men approached his leader, whispering to him. “So what’s his deal?”

  “The master said he’s a technopath,” said Mills.

  “Technopath?”

  “He can talk to machines, make them do whatever he wants,” said Mills.

  “Over here,” said Lee, standing from the terminal and walking over to another door at the end of the room. It opened on his approach, revealing a large, warehouse-like room with crates stacked high. “We’re looking for TS-571.”

  “What is this place?” asked one of the agents.

  “A storage facility,” said Lee.

  “You’re kidding, right? All this security for storage?”

  “You’d be surprised what the American government keeps locked up,” said Mills. “Let’s find what we’re looking for and move out to the extraction point.”

  ***

  The Icarus—a hi-tech aircraft that served as the mode of transportation for the team of specials called Vanguard—shot through the air like a brilliant, silver blur. Developed by the artificial intelligence called Zenith, it was perhaps the most sophisticated aircraft in existence. And behind the wheel was a sixteen-year-old girl from Madison, Wisconsin with pale-green skin.

  “Slow down…” muttered Jim Ellis, Vanguard’s CIA-trained field leader from the passenger seat. “Slow down, slow down, slow down!”

  Erin Hastings ignored his warnings, just kept the throttle at full-speed, charging towards one of the peaks of the Adirondacks. Jim covered his face, not wanting to witness the fiery explosion he was sure this flight would end in.

  Just moments before she would have struck the mountain, Erin pulled back on the stick and the Icarus made a sharp, ninety-degree turn, flying up towards the sky. She kept the stick back until the plane was upside-down, before spinning it so they were right-side-up.

  “Relax,” she said. “I told you, I’ve been practicing.”

  Jim parted his fingers so he could peek through them. Once he was confident they weren’t about to die, he peeled his hands away from his face. “I guess you have. You seem to have a pretty good handle on the Icarus.”

  “Yeah…I guess I do…” Her voice faded, the memory of her instructor’s death still very fresh in her mind.

  Jim could detect her change in tone. “I’m
sorry. I know he was teaching you how to fly…”

  “Ever since Chicago,” said Erin, referring to Vanguard’s first mission, taking down the special who called himself the Exemplar. “After that, he thought it’d be good to have someone else who can fly this boat.”

  “He ever take you up before?”

  “A few times. He’d always tell Thorne he was taking me along so I could just observe. But every now and then, he’d hand the stick over to me.” A faint smile spread over her face in remembrance. Jim couldn’t help a similar grin tugging at his own lips.

  “I’m sorry. I guess none of us really realized how important he was to you.”

  Although no name was mentioned, both were keenly aware that they referred to Zenith. He located all of the specials who now composed Vanguard, determining the most-suitable candidates for the team. But in their last mission, Zenith was killed, his essence drained by the energy vampire who called himself Lucent. He left Zenith’s robotic body a cold, lifeless husk, without a single remnant of the consciousness that once inhabited it. Although the body could be repaired, the mystery of Zenith’s existence meant that it wasn’t as simple as fixing some ruined circuitry and plugging in a new power source. Zenith had a soul all his own, and that soul was now gone.

  Jim fixed his gaze outside the windshield, so when he turned his head to acknowledge Erin, he nearly jumped when he saw Zenith sitting in the pilot’s seat.

  “Jim? You okay?” The style of speech was Erin’s, but the voice was eerily similar to Zenith’s. She realized what she’d done, and her entire body shifted like clay, changing from Zenith’s robotic form back into the green-skinned girl Jim had become well-acquainted with over the past few months. “I’m sorry…sometimes I change into other people without realizing it…”

  “And you just decided to change into Zenith?” asked Jim.

  “No, it’s just…I was thinking about him a lot. And sometimes if I focus on one person too much, my powers kind of go into auto-pilot and change me into that person.”