“Yeah,” said Anita.
McCabe stood from the couch and stretched his arms with a loud yawn. “You coming?”
“In a bit,” she said with a smile. “I think I’d like to sit here for a few minutes before going back downstairs.”
McCabe gave a nod and walked for the elevator. Once Anita heard the doors close, she stared at the blank TV screen. What was she missing? Why couldn’t she remember anything clearly? Could her powers actually be driving her mad?
“Keep yourself together, girl,” she said to herself, and then let out a chuckle when she realized what she was doing. “Great, talking to myself now. Nothing crazy about that…”
CHAPTER 3
The Olympus Space Station was launched a few months ago as a joint project between several world powers, among them the United States, Japan, Russia, China and the European Union. The intention was to further interstellar research and exploration while also fostering cooperation between the member countries.
Shuttles traveled to the station once a month to provide supplies and also rotate out crew members as needed. But the crew housed on this shuttle was a very different kind.
With the airlock in place and the docking procedure complete, the shuttle’s crew stepped onto the floor of the Olympus, clad in their space suits. Members of the Olympus’ crew helped the newcomers out of their suits, but were shocked when they saw who was under them.
The crimson armor worn by four of the crew members was extremely mysterious, but before any questions could be asked, the agents of the Red Fist drew their weapons and held them on the crew, who raised their hands in surrender.
A fifth was Lee Parker, who wore no armor and held no weapons. The Khagan was the sixth, but he didn’t possess the same armor as his followers. He did have a gun very similar to the ones they wielded, albeit smaller, which he drew but did not brandish at anyone.
“My friends, this station is now under the command of the Red Fist. Those who cooperate will be spared their lives.”
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” asked one of the Olympus crew. The Khagan responded to his question by firing a teleforce blast directly into his forehead, his lifeless body dropping to the ground. The rest of the crew gasped and screamed in horror at the senseless murder.
“As I was saying…” continued the Khagan, “…those who don’t will be eliminated. All of you can be replaced. We are not important in the grand scheme. What is important is what we will accomplish.”
Another of the crew members cleared his throat and the Red Fist agents turned their weapons on him. “No, wait! I just—”
The Khagan held up his free hand, palm open, and his men restrained themselves. “Speak.”
“I just want to know…what will you accomplish?”
The Khagan smirked and approached the crewman, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll see, very soon. Bring in the cargo.”
The Red Fist agents kept their weapons brandished for a few more tense seconds before holstering them and carrying in the crates they brought. The Khagan cast urging looks to the Olympus crew.
“What are you waiting for? They could use some help.”
The crew scrambled in response, fearful of suffering the same fate as the man who lay dead at the Khagan’s feet. One of the crates was smaller than the others, but still extremely heavy. A blue glow appeared through the gaps in its construction. “What’s in this one?”
The Khagan shot a concerned look. “Careful with that one. It’s perhaps the most valuable piece of equipment. And whatever you do, do not open it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Something that will change the very course of human history. Ladies and gentlemen, you have front-row seats to witness the beginning of the revolution.”
***
Broadcasts all over the world were suddenly hijacked, pre-empting television shows, news broadcasts, sporting events, and more. The images were streamed live on video-sharing sites. And what those people saw was an image of a white man in a crimson and gold-trimmed robe with a bald head and a Fu Manchu mustache, standing before the camera with his hands clasped behind his back. After a few seconds of maintaining this posture, he looked at the camera, staring directly into the faces of the people to whom he spoke.
“My name is unimportant. It was part of an identity I discarded long ago, in concert with my citizenship and the imperial practices of which I willingly—and ignorantly—took part in. I have no name, only a title—the Khagan.
“Defenders of the United States have long-claimed that the actions of this particular nation are simply the black-and-white situation of good versus evil. America’s wars in the Middle East are said to be conflicts for peace—the spread of democracy all over the globe. Critics have used another word for it, however—imperialism.
“In truth, America has not become an imperialist nation—but it has been one since before its inception. The idea of Manifest Destiny was one in which Americans believed it was their right to take the land from the people who inhabited it. The American government granted itself the right to intervene in certain territories if the governments of said territories were deemed ‘unfit’ to rule themselves. One high-ranking US official said several years ago—and fairly ironically—that, “we do not seek empires, we’re not imperialistic. We never have been.’”
The Khagan gave a pause to allow those words to sink in. Then he continued. “Any student of history can see how nonsensical that statement is. America has sought empires for centuries. Manifest Destiny, the white man’s burden, nation-building, all of these are just pleasant-sounding phrases for one word and one word alone: imperialism.
“The men in smoke-filled rooms keep us chained in prisons—both physical and psychological. They stupefy us with mindless entertainment and turn us against each other in senseless conflict on the basis of race, class, religion, sexuality, and gender. All of this serves as nothing more than an elaborate distraction as they take what little we have to gluttonously increase their immense wealth, raping our planet of its natural resources in the process.
“I served America. Loyally. Faithfully. Until I heard the screams of innocents as they were taken down by American bullets. Until I saw the bodies of children dismembered by American bombs. I have witnessed true evil, my friends, and it is in these outdated concepts that those in power still desperately cling to.
“But no more. No more will I allow this plague of violence to persist. All empires will end. Just as Rome and Britain and countless others throughout history, America too will fall.
“In recent years, we have witnessed a profound change in this planet. And now, those of us without power have been given the means to take back what has been stolen from us.”
On the wall behind the Khagan, a black banner dropped, hanging from the ceiling down to the floor. Emblazoned on the raven-colored cloth was a giant, crimson fist rising up.
“We are the Red Fist and this is our call for revolution. We have taken control of the Olympus space station and issue the following ultimatum to President Curtis Hayworth: resign immediately. You will transfer power and control over the United States to us, and we will see to it that we give this nation back to the people you have so callously dismissed in pursuit of your own vested interests.”
The camera zoomed in on the Khagan’s face, his ice-cold eyes a haunting fixture on millions of screens across the globe.
“This is your one chance to avoid bloodshed and save your own life—surrender or face the consequences.
“The Khagan has spoken.”
Just like that, the broadcast ended, an image of the Red Fist logo left still on the various monitors for several seconds before regular transmissions resumed.
***
“That was him!” said Anita, pointing a finger at the frozen image of the Khagan.
The team of specials called Vanguard were gathered in Atlas’ monitor room, seated around the circular table, with Anita standing at attention, an angry gaze fixe
d on the monitor.
“Sonnuva bitch…” muttered Thorne. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Anita. I just…I had no way of knowing.”
“Seems like a pretty hard thing to forget,” said Jim.
“I wish I knew what it was,” said Anita. “But for some reason, until recently I’ve had a lot of trouble remembering what happened to me when I first discovered my powers. It’s all been very vague.”
“Since Anita’s abilities are fueled by her mind, at first we assumed it might be a side-effect. But this changes everything,” said Thorne.
“He said those of us without power have been given the means to take back what’s ours,” said McCabe. “Suggests he has specials working for him. Perhaps he always did. It stands to reason someone with a form of telepathic ability is working with the Red Fist.”
“That whole thing about taking back power also sounded a lot like Zephyr,” said Erin. “Could she have been working with the Red Fist?”
“Yeah, but she’s locked away,” said Koji.
Thorne stood and leaned over the table, resting his palms on its metal surface. “There are a lot of questions here, so let’s focus on what we do know. The Khagan has taken control of the Olympus and he’s threatened action if the President doesn’t meet his demands.”
“He was pretty vague about what these consequences would be,” said Jim. “If the Red Fist is large enough, he could be talking about a military coup.”
“Or worse, a small army of specials,” said Anita. “We’ve faced more than a few who felt powerless before they were changed. Someone like the Khagan could galvanize them, give them a cause.”
“But why the Olympus?” asked McCabe. “Are there any weapons he can use?”
Thorne shook his head. “No. It’s a project to pursue international cooperation. No military applications permitted. But if he’s trying to usurp the old guard, taking control of the Olympus would be a good symbol for his cause.”
“That can’t be all there is to it,” said Jim.
Thorne gave a tiny nod. “Agreed. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“So why don’t we just go up there?” asked Koji.
“Working on it,” said Thorne. “Trying to get clearance to get you all up there, but it’s been difficult. Ramsey’s been ignoring my calls—probably has briefings up the ass. It’s made it harder to get what we need.”
“If we need more intel, maybe we should go to Tora Bora,” said Anita. She felt Thorne’s eyes on her and held up a hand. “Look, I know my memories can’t really be trusted, but it’s the closest thing to a lead we’ve got. I say we look into it.”
“We could be facing an ambush,” said Jim. “But at the moment, it’s really our only option.”
“Fine, but I want you to watch your backs,” said Thorne. “After Vaughn’s angry departure, I haven’t been able to get ahold of him. And then with Zenith…” The colonel’s voice trailed off, still struggling with the memory of their first soldier down. He cleared his throat and continued. “Basically, it’s just the four of you.”
“No sweat, we got each other covered,” said Koji.
“Erin, get the Icarus prepped for departure and the rest of you suit up,” said Thorne.
“I’ll give you a hand with the plane,” said McCabe, striding alongside Erin and Koji. Anita joined the trio as they exited the monitor room, leaving Jim alone with Thorne. The former CIA operative stood and approached his commanding officer.
“Doesn’t take a genius to see you’re worried.”
“Barely a year into this little experiment and it’s already falling apart,” said Thorne.
Jim managed a bit of a smile. “To be honest, I didn’t expect it to last longer than a month.”
Thorne chortled. “Yeah, good point.” He stood upright and faced Jim. “Be careful out there. I need you to bring them back.”
“It’s just like Koji said—we’ve got it covered.”
“I hope you’re right…”
CHAPTER 4
The Icarus flew over Afghanistan airspace, the White Mountain range visible beneath the hi-tech aircraft. Shift sat at the controls, deftly maneuvering the craft over the terrain as she circled. Paragon stared out the Icarus’ front windshield, looking down as best she could at the mountains below.
She closed her eyes as the memory of her escape came back to her. Paragon had flashes of her fists burrowing through stone, darkness all around her until finally, she opened her eyes and found herself high above the mountains and hovering amidst the clouds.
“You okay?”
Shift’s question shook Paragon from her memories and she opened her eyes once more. “Yeah, sorry. Just…bad experience last time I was here.”
Shift gave a nod and with the push of a button, connected her headset’s microphone with the Icarus’ internal PA system, carrying her voice into the ship’s cabin. “We’re flying over Tora Bora now. I’m switching to auto-pilot.”
She activated the necessary controls, bringing the Icarus into a hover mode high above the mountains and turned her chair, unhooking her harness. Paragon followed, the two women walking around the partition and into the cabin. Gunsmith stood in front of the monitor, which displayed a map of the area. With a panel on his armor’s forearm flipped up, Gunsmith entered commands into the miniature keyboard there, controlling the ship’s sensors from his armor.
“Anything?” asked Paragon.
“These sensors aren’t the best. Without Zenith here, we’re more or less flying blind,” said Gunsmith. “The mountains are pretty thick, if anything’s down there, it must be buried in pretty deep.”
“You said this is Tora Bora, right?” asked Sharkskin. “Don’t I remember hearing something about some fortress inside there?”
“It was believed to be a massive stronghold for the Taliban, with advanced facilities hidden inside the mountains,” said Gunsmith. “But after we captured it, we found it was mostly just small bunkers, nothing anywhere near what was speculated.”
“So how’s this massive complex thing work out?” asked Sharkskin. “I mean, if there’s not really much there in the first place.”
“It was there,” said Paragon, shooting him a stare.
Sharkskin raised his arms submissively. “No argument here, Anita. What I’m saying is was this thing built after it was taken by the military, or before?”
“Likely after, but I see where you’re going with this. Would have taken an awful lot of time and manpower to construct the kind of facility Anita described. So that means the Red Fist is either far larger than we initially believed—”
“Or they’ve had help. Maybe with construction, maybe with keeping it hidden, maybe both,” said Paragon.
Gunsmith closed the panel on his armor. “Take us down, Shift. The only way we’re going to find out for sure is if we investigate.”
Shift gave a nod. “Strap in, boys and girls.”
***
Once a clearing was discovered within the valleys, the Icarus’ VTOL thrusters engaged, lowering the craft gently to the ground. The ship powered down and the rear hatch opened, allowing the remaining four members of Vanguard to disembark. Gunsmith issued a command through his armor and the hatch rose and sealed itself shut, protecting the Icarus from any unauthorized access.
Gunsmith entered some commands into his armor, the data being transmitted through his eye-piece. “Keep a close watch. I’m trying to scan for any kind of life signs.”
Sharkskin moved to the front of the group, his normally-slim body now transformed into a tall, burly, gray-skinned beast. In this form, his senses operated at superhuman proficiency and he could detect scents and sounds that remained invisible to his teammates. Paragon’s telekinesis raised her body into the air, and she scouted from above, flying overhead.
The group explored the range for what seemed like a good hour, finding no sign of any activity. They split up to cover more ground, but this proved to be a futile attempt. As Gunsmith climbed one of the
ridges, he looked out over the terrain and activated his comm-link with the rest of the team.
“Anything to report?”
One by one, the voices of his teammates crackled over his comm-link.
“Nothing out of the ordinary as far as I can tell from up here,” said Paragon.
“Same from down here. Feel like I’ve spent the past hour walking through the same valley,” said Shift.
“Me too. My sensors don’t have much range in this area, so I’m not getting much,” said Gunsmith. “Sharkskin, how about you?”
“Can’t really pick up anything,” said Sharkskin. “But I’ve got a bad feeling. Seems like it’s suddenly gotten a lot windier…”
The wind then got far more powerful, strong enough to throw Sharkskin from his feet. A figure rose from just above the range, dressed all in white with a helmet covering her head, a figure that Sharkskin had encountered before.
“Guys, we got trouble!” he shouted over the comm-link. “Zephyr’s here!”
“And not alone,” said Zephyr, seconds before she threw a battering ram of solidified air right against Sharkskin’s chest. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into.”
***
Paragon dove from the sky, and once she spotted Zephyr, she barreled into the young revolutionary. The two of them plummeted together until Paragon slammed her into the side of a rock. Paragon grabbed Zephyr by her throat and threw her off to the side. Just as she was about to pursue, flames engulfed her body. Another figure rose to meet her, his body composed completely of fire.
“Welcome to Tora Bora,” said Pyre, holding out his palm and releasing a jet-stream of fire at Paragon. The telekinetic field that constantly surrounded her body shielded her from any damage, but she could feel the heat through it, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
She pushed through the heat exhaustion, forcing with all her might to shorten the distance between her and Pyre. Once she got close enough, she delivered a haymaker right to his solar plexus, hurling him back. Paragon flew after him, following the fiery trail he left in his wake.
Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure Page 28