Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  “What about this man who came to you? Did he give you a name?” asked Jim.

  King shook his head. “No. Just referred to himself as the Analyst.”

  “The Analyst? You’re certain of that?” asked Jim.

  Erin looked back and forth between Jim and King. “Wait, I’m confused. Who’s the Analyst?”

  “A myth,” said Jim. “You’ve heard of MKULTRA?”

  “The mind control thing?” asked Koji.

  “That’s right,” said Jim.

  “What’s MKULTRA?” asked Erin.

  Jim ran his hands through his hair before beginning his explanation. “In the fifties, the CIA began experimenting with various types of drugs and procedures for use in interrogations to try and weaken the subject’s resolve through a form of mind control. It was brought to an end in 1973 and exposed a few years later by the Church Committee. But there’s rumors that they were trying to produce operatives who possessed psychic abilities. According to the legend, they had only one success—a subject who was known only as the Analyst.”

  Koji moved to one of the cots and sat down, resting his hands on his knees. “So you’re saying the CIA created a special before specials existed?”

  “Like I said, it’s just a myth.”

  “So was the Cold War Frankenstein and then turns out he was real,” said Koji.

  Jim’s brow cocked for a second. “Point taken.”

  “The Analyst is real,” said King. “Most of the specials you fought? They’re under his control. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

  “Why not you?” asked Erin. “You’re one of the most powerful specials we’ve seen. Why wouldn’t the Analyst brainwash you?”

  “They had other plans for me,” said the Exemplar. “From all the experiments and scans, seems like Azarov was trying to find out something about me. Could never learn what, though.”

  “And our new jewelry?” asked Koji, pointing to his collar.

  “They suppress our powers. Courtesy of a special they brought in, some guy named Parker,” said King. “Seems he has a way with technology.”

  Jim stepped closer to the Exemplar. “King, the guy who called himself the Analyst…what did he look like?”

  “Thin, white. Had silver hair and a mustache.”

  Jim looked down while searching his memory. The description seemed familiar and now he had flashes to the team’s last mission. “There was a guy at Proximo who fit that description…but I’m having trouble remembering him.”

  “I saw him, too,” said Erin. “He was one of the people in the lab when Lucent went nuts.”

  Koji pointed at King. “He said that most of the specials are being controlled by the Analyst. Think that happened to Anita?”

  “Possibly, but even if Anita found the specs for my armor and leaked it to the Red Fist, it would have taken them a lot longer to mass-produce it,” said Jim.

  “They’ve had those suits for a while,” said King. “But you said she was held prisoner by these guys? Maybe the Analyst got to her then.”

  Jim, Koji, and Erin all exchanged glances. “She was having trouble sleeping,” said Erin. “I know that much. Think it could be related?”

  “Possibly.” Jim looked at King once more. “Did Azarov give any indication about the purpose of his experiments on you?”

  “Wasn’t exactly chatty,” said King. “Overheard him say something about finding out what makes me tick, though.”

  “Azarov was obsessed with the idea of evolving humanity. That’s why he created the Dreks,” said Jim.

  “So the big question is what do we do now?” asked Koji. “There are only three of us left standing and we’re all powerless.”

  One corner of Jim’s lips rose slightly. “Maybe not.”

  ***

  On the Olympus, Lee Parker looked over the readings on the computer connected to Lucent’s prison. The energy readings maintained their current position and showed everything working as it should. Lee took a moment to turn from the monitor and rubbed his eyes. He felt extremely ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his exhaustion, he had a compulsion to push through it and continue his work.

  “It seems you could use some sleep.”

  The statement brought Lee to attention and he stood from the laptop. He cast glances all around the chamber but found no one else was present except for him. Well, him and Lucent. Lee looked back at the computer—according to the readings, Lucent should have still been under. Lee next stared at the portable chamber that housed the powerful special. He stepped closer to it, trying to focus his eyes past the bright light given off by the prisoner and make out the facial features.

  The glowing head looked at him and his lips began to move. “The Khagan must be working you quite hard.”

  “How…?” Lee tossed another glance to the computer monitor, then looked at Lucent. “This isn’t possible, you shouldn’t even be awake.”

  “Things are not always what they seem,” said Lucent. “Not too long ago, men like you who possess a gift to communicate with machinery would have been seen as impossible. And yet, here you are. Forced to serve at the whims of a madman. What is your name, my friend?”

  “Lee, Lee Parker,” he said.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you call yourself Lucent, right?” asked Lee.

  “The man who once commanded this body did. But now, I am in control. And you may call me Zenith.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Within the fortress constructed inside Tora Bora, the Red Fist guards patrolled the corridors, clad in the crimson armor given to them by the Khagan. They had of course seen the footage of the White House being destroyed and knew their organization’s ascension was finally at hand. Some had waited years for this day and with Vanguard now held captive, they knew there was no one who could truly stand in their way. Naturally, America would attempt to resist, but it was only a matter of time before their forces fell before the might of the Red Fist.

  One of the guards glanced around his patrol route and took a small detour into an alcove. He produced a pack of cigarettes and a cheap lighter from the compartments around his waist. After wrapping his lips around the filter, he hit the flint wheel and the switch on the lighter and held the tip of the cigarette over the open flame. Just as the tobacco leaves and paper tube sparked, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him into the shadows. The infiltrator stripped the soldier of the armor and donned it himself, stepping back into the corridor and walking back down along the route. He made it a point to check every cell along the path, finding them to be mostly empty. The Red Fist rarely kept prisoners for any length of time, it seemed. All who were taken captive were given the option of either joining the cause or being killed immediately.

  All, of course, save for the one occupied cell the infiltrator found. He stepped away and walked towards another darkened alcove, vanishing inside once he stepped into the shadow. He stepped out again, but now was inside the cell, much to the sudden surprise of the occupants. After their initial shock, they realized who the invader was.

  A wide grin spread over Erin’s face and she nearly jumped on the new arrival, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Dom!”

  Dominic Vaughn smiled and returned her embrace before releasing her. “Easy, kid. Gonna ruin my reputation as a gruff badass.”

  Koji stepped up next. Dom offered his hand to his teammate, but Koji embraced him as well. Dom was taken aback, but returned the hug with a hesitant hand-slap on Koji’s back.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Koji. “Thorne get in touch with you or something?”

  “You can thank the boy scout,” said Dom, giving a head-nod in Jim’s direction. Vanguard’s leader returned the gesture.

  “What do you mean?” asked Erin, looking at Jim.

  “Proximo is when I first realized we might have a mole,” he said. “The only one I was sure was innocent was Vaughn.”

  Koji scrunched his brow. “Wait…you thought the ex-co
n was the least likely to be the mole?”

  “Can’t be an ex-con if you were never convicted,” said Dom.

  “Wraith was forced to work with Vanguard to expunge his criminal record. It’d be far too obvious of a play, that’s how I ruled him out,” said Jim, referring to Dom by his code-name. “When we were en route back to Atlas, I pulled him aside and told him my plan.”

  “Wanted to make Zenith’s death mean something,” said Dom, pulling off the armor he had stolen and revealing the black costume with the leather straps hanging from his shoulders to act as a kind of cape. “Plan was I’d leave in a huff and Ellis would keep me appraised of what was going on. Make the mole think the team was splintering.” For the first time, Dom noticed the cell’s fourth occupant. He kept his gaze on him as he asked, “What about him?”

  The Exemplar scoffed. “Do I look like I’m a threat to you?”

  Jim took the armor Dom had discarded, donning it himself.

  “Hope it fits, you’re a bitch to shop for,” said Dom, pulling on the mask that covered the lower portion of his jaw.

  “It’ll have to do,” said Jim, affixing the headpiece. He checked the compartments on the belt and found what he was looking for, a small key. “Koji, come here.”

  The young Asian man did as he was told and Jim inserted the key into a small slot on the collar around Koji’s neck. The light stopped blinking and it came loose, falling to the ground. With the collar gone, Koji could now shift into his shark-form, his body gaining bulk as it turned gray and his teeth sharpening to points.

  “Oh yeah, that’s much better!”

  Jim unlocked Erin’s collar next and she tested her powers, her arms elongating and then snapping back into place.

  “Where’s Anita?” asked Wraith.

  “Who do you think the mole was?” asked Sharkskin.

  “We don’t know that,” said Shift, pointing at the Exemplar. “You heard what he said about the Analyst.”

  “Shift’s right, the Khagan would have needed someone much higher-placed than Paragon to pull this all off,” said Gunsmith.

  “Smart money’s on Thorne,” said Wraith.

  Gunsmith shook his head. “Don’t think so. Only if the Khagan got to Thorne after the team was proposed. Either that or he’s the luckiest son of a bitch ever to get one of his men selected.”

  “Hayworth’s dead, so that’s been ruled out,” said Wraith.

  The captives looked at him in surprise, but it was the Exemplar who finally spoke. “The President’s been killed?”

  Wraith nodded. “Guess they didn’t tell you. They’ve got some weapon on that space station, blew up the goddamn White House.”

  “Damn, I voted for him,” said the Exemplar.

  “Only member of the cabinet who wasn’t taken out was the Secretary of Defense.”

  Gunsmith gripped Wraith’s shoulder and stared him in the eyes. “You’re sure of that?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the news said.”

  “Ramsey’s the mole,” said Gunsmith, stepping away from Wraith. “He’s the only one outside of Hayworth who knew about us.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked the Exemplar.

  “He doesn’t mean shit,” said Wraith, turning angrily at their enemy.

  The Exemplar flashed a smile. “Like I care about your secrets. Just get this collar off me already.”

  “And why the hell would we do something that stupid?” asked Wraith.

  “Because I’m the best chance you have at getting out of here alive, dumbass. Don’t forget your teammate is still under the Analyst’s control.”

  “We can handle her without you,” said Wraith.

  Gunsmith moved away from his teammates and knelt down by the Exemplar. He inserted the key into the slot, but before he turned it, he stared into the special’s eyes. “You wanted to be a hero, right?”

  The Exemplar nodded.

  “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” asked Wraith.

  Gunsmith ignored his teammate’s protests. “This is your one chance to be what you set out to be, Callum. Don’t make me regret this.”

  He turned the key and the collar popped open. The Exemplar took the collar from his neck and held it in his hands. Energy burned through his palms and the collar was quickly melted down.

  “Now we need a plan,” said Gunsmith. “You’ll need to push yourselves beyond the limits you’ve had so far, so listen closely.”

  ***

  The door to the cell was blown off its hinges by virtue of the Exemplar’s incredible strength. The two nearby guards instantly turned and readied their weapons. Shift stretched out her arms, wrapping them several times around the barrels of the teleforce blasters and pulled them from their wielders. Sharkskin leapt over her head and landed on one of the guards. His massive arm swung out, clocking the second guard square in the chest and throwing him back against the stone wall.

  The group moved from the corridor into a large, open area. When a guard across from them spotted the escapees, he instantly took action, shouting out “Escape!” as he activated a klaxon in the fortress remotely from the control panel on his armor’s forearm. More guards—all clad in the same armor as Gunsmith—poured in from the corridors and brought their guns to bear.

  “Sure you’re up to this?” Gunsmith asked Wraith. The dark-haired special gave a simple nod. He shut his eyes and moved to the center of the corridor, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his hands on his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, they were burning with ebon energy and he held his arms out to the side, throwing back his head and staring at the ceiling. His fingers slowly curled into tight fists, the same energy signature from his eyes forming circular auras around his hands.

  The shadows came alive at Wraith’s commands, expanding and absorbing the Red Fist guards into them. Their screams echoed throughout the fortress and Wraith felt their negative energy surging through his own body. It twisted at his insides, filled him with a cold emptiness he’d never felt in even his darkest moments. After a few minutes of the torment his shadows inflicted on their victims, Wraith fell to his knees, his breathing short and his body drained of its reserves. The effort took a lot out of him, but it also accomplished the goal—significantly reducing the resistance the team had to face in their escape.

  The specials arrived after the deed was done, and thus were unaffected. Zephyr’s winds carried her above the open chamber and she whisked Wraith up to her level with her powers, holding him bobbing in the torrents. Her helmet was gone, destroyed in the battle with Sharkskin, and she fixed her cold eyes on her enemy.

  “And where did you come from?”

  Gunsmith opened fire on Zephyr from the ground, the teleforce guns he wielded letting loose on her and knocking her from the air. Fuerte jumped from her position on one of the catwalks and caught her leader, landing safely in a crouch that shook the ground with a tremor.

  Fuerte barely had an opportunity to set Zephyr down before Sharkskin pounced on her from above. He landed on her back and wrapped his arms around her thin waist. Once he planted his feet on the ground, he bent backwards, carrying her in an arc and slamming her head against the ground.

  Pyre hovered where Zephyr once did, his body blazing with his flames. The temperature in the facility rose by several degrees, and he unleashed a stream of fire from his palms at Shift, Gunsmith, and the Exemplar. The team’s former enemy scooped both Gunsmith and Shift in his arms and jumped into flight to avoid the attack. With one arm, he hurled Shift at the fire-based special. Pyre turned his abilities onto her, but Shift’s arms extended and grabbed leverage on the railing of a catwalk. She swung under his jet-stream and retracted her arms when she reached the apex of the swing and she landed on another platform. Shift’s arms reached out for him and she prayed she could handle her next attempt. Shift’s entire body went from green to black and the texture changed as well. Her hands enlarged to giant-size and clamped down on Pyre’s body. The flame-retardant material she’d transformed in
to protected her from the fire and also kept oxygen from feeding Pyre’s abilities. When she opened her hands, he had gone back to his human form, his body smoking and he fell unconscious from the air.

  Paragon was the last arrival and once she appeared, the Exemplar smiled. He set Gunsmith on solid ground and flew right at her, slamming into her with enough force that the two of them rocketed through the ceiling, bursting through the rocks and out into the cold, Afghan night. Once they reached a sufficient height, the Exemplar released Paragon for just a moment and struck her with a powerful swing that knocked her back even further. He kept after her, but she recovered enough to return his attack and meet his approach with a well-placed uppercut that threw him back against the mountain.

  She tackled him, wrapping a hand around his throat and holding him in place while she coiled her free arm to deliver another blow. The Exemplar grabbed the wrist of the hand around his throat and when her fist came towards his face, he caught it in his other hand. Paragon struggled against his hold while still trying to crush his throat. The Exemplar gave a smile as his hands began to glow, pouring the energy into her body.

  “Believe it or not, I’m doing this for your own good,” he said. “You forget who you are? What your name means? I was supposed to be a hero, but I couldn’t cut it. You, on the other hand. You lived up to your name, didn’t you?”

  Paragon heard his words, but the Analyst’s conditioning told her to ignore them and focus on the mission. And the mission was…was…

  “What is it?” she asked aloud.

  The Exemplar felt her grip weakening on his throat and he tugged on her wrist, her vise-like fingers slipping from his neck. “What’s what?”

  “The mission,” she said. “What am I fighting for?”

  “Right now? You’re fighting for a madman. That what you want your legacy to be?”

  Paragon’s eyes had been glassed over, but now it was like the fog began to lift. The Exemplar had successfully pulled her hands away from him and he kneed her in the stomach. Paragon retracted in pain and the Exemplar fired a powerful blast of energy directly in her face that sent her tumbling down the mountain. He flew after her, prepared to crash down, when he saw her raise her hands up in abdication.