The Powerless Series: Complete 5-Book Set

by Jason Letts

  Stalking along the line, their enemies behind her, she smacked her lips together. Ascending into the air, she spat at them. Though the fluid vanished into nothing soon after it left her mouth, its effect lost none of its potency.

  “What an ugly bunch of creepers! Y’all are filthy, living like animals, nothing to do but wait for the day you die. Y’all ain’t worth the air you breathe or the slop you swallow. And whose fault is it you’re living like this? Is it yours? Did you want to not have a nickel to your name or a home of your own? I don’t reckon so.

  “I’ll tell you whose fault it is. We’re like this because of them. They shut us out, forgot about us, and left us for dead. Is that right? I don’t reckon so neither.

  “But we gots something they doesn’t. We got to believe in the one who saved us, brought us together so we could have our day in the sun. He’s coming to take us from this here squalor. He needs you to believe, he needs you to fight, and he needs you to know this one truth. If somebody takes something from you, you gots to pay it back in spades!”

  The cheers of the putrid horde ripped through the sky and surged into the atmosphere like electricity. The wall of sound penetrated the Shade soldiers and sent shudders to their cores. Most of them hadn’t even heard their commander’s words, but Pyrenee’s rang loud and clear. Those on the Sun front line itched for the signal to start their attack.

  Vern and his friends twitched and shook in the middle of a cluster of soldiers. Teeth chattering from the nerves, they started to sweat. Beyond the fearsome row of fighters, the sun bore down on them.

  “Find it in yourself, boys,” Aoi imparted. “Find the strength to fight. Don’t be blinded by her rage. Don’t be fooled by her lies. Tearing others down is never a way to build yourself up. They’ve talked themselves into believing their troubles are our fault, but we know better. They come here asking for a fight, and we’re gonna give it to them.”

  All at once the pulsing roars gave way to a breach in the line. Pyrenee had settled on the ground in front of her forces and initiated the charge. Before Vern or his friends knew it, the time had come for them to run, and they jumbled and stepped over each other to catch up.

  Arrows flew overhead as the soldiers raced for the rampaging attackers. While those in tan uniforms didn’t have to worry about arrows, they were far from safe. The first lightning bolt touched down somewhere near the center of the Shade’s charge, leaving a few bodies in the dirt and many others tumbling over. In a cloudless sky, the lightning and its blinding light seemed to strike down from the sunlight itself.

  Streaks of lightning ripped through different pockets of one army, and arrows that caught fire spontaneously in the air pelted the other. No one knew how to react to the lightning, and many just dove to the ground each time they heard a loud crack. All of the sound took on a strange echo, like everything was much further away than it seemed. The color drained out of their vision, making everything appear black, white, and shades of gray.

  On the ledge near the camp, Roselyn and Mary huddled next to Mira as they watched the two charging armies. Mary tried to stifle a scream as another lightning bolt touched down. They kept their eyes on Rowland’s shiny metal helmet, but it was impossible to know if they were OK. They wrapped themselves against Mira, a heart-rending agony washing over them.

  “Don’t worry, Mira. We’re going to keep you safe. No one’s going to touch you, Mira. We’re all going to be safe,” Roselyn prayed.

  When the two armies were just moments away from crashing together, the last lightning bolt struck down. Those with weapons lowered them and all the rest braced for impact. Pyrenee, leading her army, scanned those rushing at her like as many delicious looking sweets.

  “Who’s gonna be first? Who, who?”

  A strange reflection in the onrushing mass caught her eye, and she squinted to make it out. A bit of awe on her face, she flipped into the air and let the armies smash together underneath. As the two forces met with sparks, explosions, screams, and glowing orbs, Pyrenee drifted above it all. Passing overhead, a thrown stone passed right through her. An acidic liquid splashed into the air, but it also posed no threat.

  She kept her eye on the strange reflection, the familiar looking helmet, as its wearer struggled against the warriors assaulting him. The color gone from the world, they looked nearly identical. Finally settling somewhere behind Rowland, she approached him from behind, letting others charge through her in his defense.

  Swinging her sword, the part she concentrated hard enough on to make real, she took a swipe at the metal plate on his back. It surprised her when it didn’t cut through completely. Rowland collapsed onto the feet of those in front of him, struggling to turn to see who attacked him.

  Rowland looked back, startled to see the suit of armor so much like his own. He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. He should’ve known he had made this encounter inevitable, Pyrenee thought. His friends watched him fall nearby, and they too gawked at the cause. Pyrenee’s confidence and fearlessness made Rowland tremble, but he rallied himself to match her fervor.

  “How do you like my suit?” he strutted.

  “You ain’t the first guy that’s tried to get into my armor,” she snickered.

  “But I’ll be the last! You’re about to finally get what’s coming to you!” Rowland yelled.

  He charged forward, lunging and swinging his cutlass at Pyrenee. The two clashing swords created a sharp ding that repeated over and over. The girl easily deflected his every attack. She looked bored, her attention frequently drifting elsewhere. Thrashing as hard as he could, Rowland tried to cut across her midsection, but she didn’t even bother blocking it.

  Rowland’s sword passed right through her, leaving him defenseless. Pyrenee swung down and knocked him square on the helmet. The impact sent him falling onto his back. A dazzling twinkle in her eye, Mira’s sister stepped over Rowland, who wriggled on the ground. She reached back, the cutlass in her hand, to slice his throat.

  “Say hi to my sister on the other side,” she said.

  She jerked her arms to swing the blade, but it didn’t move. Vern held it in place from a few paces behind. She struggled against him, tugging him forward. Rowland squirmed and shimmied.

  “I can’t get up. I’m stuck!” he yelled.

  “What?” Chucky shouted, trying to take another step but unable to move his feet from the ground.

  All across the battlefield something made the ground so sticky that no one could move an inch. The fighting raged on, explosions and fire everywhere, but no one could break free from the glue holding them firmly to one spot.

  “Who’s doing this to the ground? I can’t move!” Aoi groaned, trying to pull her leg away from the dirt while avoiding someone’s prodding spear from a few paces away.

  Pyrenee fought against Vern to deliver her blow, seething at Rowland just below her. Vern struggled to pull without losing his balance. The ground had taken on a strange sheen from the glue, making Vern grimace as he came closer to it.

  “Mira’s not dead!” Rowland shouted in desperation to prevent the impeding blow. Pyrenee tugged on Vern, forcing him to topple over forward. One hand held him off the ground while reaching out to stall the sword, which, now at knee level, needed only inches before it would cut Rowland open.

  “She ain’t?” her sister asked, losing her intensity for just a moment before continuing. “If she ain’t now, she gonna be soon.”

  Suddenly, all those who couldn’t move their feet felt them give way, making them fall over. But the ground became so slick they slid out of control at even the most cautious step.

  Vern’s hand slipped out from under him, causing him to fall flat on his face. Rowland rolled away just in time to feel the sword slash against his back, but the force of the blow sent him sliding helplessly to the left. He tripped a few who remained standing and crashed into another pile of helpless soldiers. Barring her teeth and growling, Pyrenee watched him glide away. The luster in her form faded, and soon sh
e had vanished completely.

  Everyone thrashed about, struggling to fight while at the mercy of a surface so much slicker than ice. They tried to whack at each other from the ground. Explosions and cries of pain continued as the battle raged all along Shade Base Camp’s eastern edge.

  On the veranda, Commander Carmichael laughed at the battle’s latest twist. Soldiers on both sides crawled around like babies, inept and pathetic. Once the ground became stable, they all began to wander about aimlessly. They bumped into each other, looking lost. A lieutenant jogged over behind Carmichael, disturbing his concentration.

  “Is it time yet, sir, to release the Specials?” he asked.

  Carmichael, tickled by the proposition, laughed it off. The power of having that decision seemed greater than making it.

  “No, no, we’d better wait. We can’t use it yet! We’ve only just begun. It’ll be better, way better, if we wait just a little longer,” he tittered. He gazed upon the crowded battlefield below, where soldiers floundered in surroundings far different from what they knew to be real.

  Suddenly a battlefield containing thousands appeared to diminish until they could only see one other person. That warrior then could see someone else, forcing them to chase after each other while blind to their hunter. They squinted and rubbed their eyes, desperate to restore everything that was hidden.

  Soldiers chased after their individual targets, accidentally striking or stabbing others who they couldn’t see. They fought on, trying to avoid blows they could only hear and hoping everyone would reappear.

  Will stared down a young woman in a black Sunfighter uniform, the dusty, dirty knife in his hand. A beautiful, gray-haired girl, she slunk along, completely unaware that he followed her. She leapt on something invisible, creating loud screams that echoed above strange noises. A strange flash of light killed her victim, making Will wonder what color it would’ve been if they weren’t all still color-blind.

  “It’s you or me, girl. One of us is going to die. I can’t let it be me, right?” he whispered as he crept toward her. She returned to her feet after dispatching her victim, and her head swiveled as she recognized a new target. Will worried for a second she could see him, but she looked off to the right a bit. She crept at him, allowing him to savor the sight of her soft, grayish hair and the twin moles on her cheek. The girl looked young enough to be one of his classmates. Why was she fighting on the other side?

  But Will caught himself, rejecting his line of thinking. He chided himself for believing she was good just for being pretty. She had as much right to be evil and villainous as anyone else. As she continued to stalk toward him, he readied his knife, making sure not to prove himself a fool and show her leniency.

  He swung the blade at her, but a crashing noise caused her to jerk enough so that the blade only nicked her arm. He glimpsed the cut before she threw her hand over it and dropped to the ground. She kicked spastically, tearful worry building on her face.

  “Please don’t hurt me. Where are you? Please stop!” she begged her invisible specter.

  “Don’t pretend you deserve mercy. You’re no better than the rest of these ghouls,” Will snapped back.

  “Yes, I am,” she pleaded, her eyes searching for the source of his voice. “I’m a good person. I don’t want to do this.”

  Will stepped closer to her as she crawled back and pulled her legs under her.

  “Why should I—”

  Will started to speak, but the terror on her face turned to rage and she leapt at him. The beginning of the bright flash emanated from her, but she had impaled herself on the knife he reflexively held out. The light stopped and a brilliant wonder came to her face just before the life slipped out of it.

  “I didn’t want to do this,” he cringed, staring into her lovely eyes.

  “But you did,” she gasped, falling back to the ground.

  The moment her life left her, she disappeared from sight, meaning he could now see someone somewhere else. Dark blood dripped from his knife. Though he could no longer see her face, that feeling of a rushing epiphany she wore dug a new void in his mind. No matter that she had been just as bad as he suspected, he still suffocated over what he had done.

  Elsewhere on the battlefield, though much closer than it seemed, Aoi tumbled back after being knocked by an invisible mass. She tripped over something and fell, and then someone toppled onto her. She strained to get up, feeling the brunt of more inadvertent collisions. Arms covering her head, she took a strong kick to the stomach, causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Aoi, is that you?” called a voice, one she recognized instantly.

  “Yes, it’s me! Vern, where are you?”

  Daring to peek around, she tried to find the source of his voice. She regained her footing after shoving away an invisible body. The only other person she could see on this wide-open field was an injured ally in the distance.

  “I’m over here!” he said, but she could barely hear it for all the noise. She lurched around, crouching and ready to push back against anything that hit her.

  “Where?” she called back.

  “I’m—umph!”

  She jerked her head as he expelled a guttural yelp. Louder than that, she heard him smack into the ground, suffering from a blow he had never seen coming. She raced toward him, desperately worried she had lost him.

  “Vern, say something!” she hollered.

  But no sound or sign of him came. She stumbled forward, hoping she would find her way to him.

  “Help,” he said weakly, only a few steps away. Just at that moment, the distant ally died, and a gargantuan assailant appeared right in front of her. He carried a jagged blade, which he drew over his shoulder. Bending down, he prepared to swipe at a bare stretch of earth.

  Aoi shouldered him with such blistering velocity that he spun in the air and crashed headfirst a few yards away. Though she struck him as hard as she possibly could, he quickly climbed to his feet. His pike had been knocked away, but his hairy knuckles looked no less threatening.

  He turned back to Vern’s injured body, which she fiercely protected. Vern dug into the last of his healer hair, still lying helplessly on his side. This behemoth, three times Aoi’s size, charged directly at her. The energy pouring out of her, she mustered all of her strength and lunged forward to slam him, but he still sent her flying backward against the ground.

  Racing to get back up as he towered over Vern, she sprinted at him, leaping high into the air and kicking him squarely in the jaw. He spilled onto his side, blood spouting out of his face, but he started to chuckle as he got up.

  Vern listened as the two invisible fighters had sent each other flying. He still couldn’t get up, and so he nibbled at his supplies. Reaching into the small bag, he found it empty, and he tossed it away. Once it left him, it disappeared, giving him nothing to look at until a middle-aged woman in a black uniform careened into view.

  Her frizzy hair stood on end, much like that of the Warlord’s. She rubbed her hands together constantly as she came closer, and when she pulled them away a sharp blue spark passed between them. Stomping and swerving on her approach, it wasn’t Vern she was aiming for.

  “Aoi, behind you! Static!”

  Heeding his sudden warning, Aoi let her mind assume a more peaceful state. Taking a deep breath, she heard hands rubbing together behind her. Just as the bulldozer in front of her got to his feet and turned for another charge, an intense streak of electricity discharged from the woman’s hands and shot through the air. At the sound of both the snap and the stampede, Vern clenched his eyes shut.

  Watching the hulking figure bear down on her, Aoi felt the electricity wash against her like a splash of warm water. In the next instant, she crouched to lift the man by his legs and toss him over her shoulder. He sailed through the air, colliding with the woman and knocking her down. Aoi looked calmly at her hands, feeling the energy move into and out of them with every breath.

  “You’re incredible!” Vern laughed.

&nb
sp; “You’d better stop, Vern, or I’ll be too busy blushing to save you.”

  Both enemies had gotten up, and neither seemed at all dissuaded from wreaking vengeance on their targets. Charging at Aoi again, the male warrior dodged at the last moment and swerved right for Vern. Aoi grabbed his thick arm to yank him back, but as soon as she did he had a hold of her, his fingers crushing her neck.

  “You smell…‌so bad,” she choked.

  Struggling to get free, and knowing from the sound of rubbing hands another charge would soon come, Aoi couldn’t let herself absorb it, because the man would snap her neck. The rubbing stopped, but before the female warrior could discharge her static electricity, she swayed to the side. Her bolt shot wildly, striking some other invisible fighter. She fell on her face right near Vern, who had dragged her to him.

  Aoi grabbed a hold of the arm around her neck and jumped, curling up and kneeing her attacker in the face. Writhing in pain, he dropped her on her back as he stumbled around. Aoi could see the blood covering his skin.

  Again standing in between the two enemies, the bulky man looked all but finished and the woman seemed similarly beaten. “Duck!” Vern ordered, and Aoi dropped to the ground, allowing another blue bolt to zip over her. It shocked Aoi’s massive pursuer, deflating his bulk before he collapsed and disappeared from view.

  Aoi then raced in the opposite direction, toward the invisible woman charging for another shot. She careened into her, plowing her over and leaving her writhing on the ground.

  Finally getting to Vern, they found each other’s hand, and she helped him to his feet.

  “There. Now we’re even for all those times you saved me,” she said.

  “What? I saved you twice. This is only once,” he said.

  “There were two of them. Don’t get cheap on me now.”

  Even though they couldn’t see each other, they were both smiling.

  Commander Carmichael stood on his chair, bending over and gripping the arms. He watched as the wandering and lonely masses suddenly regained clarity of the battle as a whole. Flanks had scattered, soldiers had strayed far into the wastes, and now they all came tumbling back together. Carmichael, holding his breath within his reddening face, felt his legs buckle and go limp, slipping into the chair.