The Super Power Saga (Book 2): Rise of the Supervillains

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Also by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Copyright

  Map

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  About the Author

  RISE OF THE

  SUPERVILLAINS

  The Super Power Saga

  Book Two

  by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Also by Jaron Lee Knuth

  After Life

  Fixing Sam

  Demigod

  The Infinite Life of Emily Crane

  Nottingham

  The NextWorld Series

  Level Zero

  Spawn Point

  End Code

  The Super Power Saga

  Super Powers of Mass Destruction

  Rise of the Supervillains

  Fear the Empire (coming soon!)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © by Jaron Lee Knuth

  First Edition 2017

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons

  Attribution - NonCommercial - ShareAlike

  3.0 Unported License

  1

  REPLICA

  The entire eastern border of the Empire burned with the flames of war. The sky choked with thick clouds of black soot, speckled with the lights of dying embers. Energy beams flashed within the darkness as the robotic army of Neo-Nippon marched across the countryside, devastating all that stood in its way. They trampled the corpses of Zharkovian soldiers underfoot, crushing them into the ground they had sworn to protect.

  The Guardians did all they could to slow the progress of the army. Like flying battering rams, they swooped down from the skies to tear great swaths of destruction through the lines of robotic warriors. They lifted tanks above their heads, hurling them back at the Neo-Nipponese. They countered rockets, snatching them from the air and directing them back at the devices that had launched them. They slammed their fists into the ground, cracking the earth to create massive trenches to stop the ground-based robots. But none of this was enough.

  Neo-Nippon already controlled more of the eastern border than the Zharkovs had expected them to take in such a short amount of time. For every robot they destroyed, the Neo-Nipponese factories would build five more. It was a technological hydra that seemed impossible to beat. And an impenetrable force field surrounded the islands of Neo-Nippon that the Empire wasn't aware even existed, until it was turned on. The protective barrier made it impossible to strike at the heart of the beast. The best efforts of the Empire were only delaying the inevitable.

  Replica was stretching herself thin. She had over two hundred selves spread out through the city of Xi'an, commanding soldiers from the single-minded domain named the Hive. Mermaid told her that the city held a strategic importance to the Empire, but she still wasn't sure why. She had lost hundreds of men that morning in small skirmishes throughout the urban labyrinth. Snipers and embedded pockets of robotic soldiers kept picking off her infantry from hidden spots, then moving before she could locate their position. She had seen more blood in the last month than she had seen in her life.

  The death that surrounded her was not what she had signed up for. The Alliance of Heroes was very straightforward with her when they formed. They asked her to be the face of the group, the public representative for their actions. When the smoke cleared and the cameras were allowed in, she would step in front of them, smiling and winking and posing. She was good at that. People liked her when she did that. Hell, pictures of her were the most searched for images during the past decade, hands down. She knew she was beautiful because everyone kept telling her she was. But with mud and blood and the brains of her fellow soldiers covering most of her replicas, she didn't feel beautiful. She barely felt human. She was feeling more like an animal, more like the animal hybrids that lived in the domain of Therian, backed into a corner and trying to escape.

  “We need back-up!” she screamed in her thoughts. “We're pinned down by Daming Palace!”

  “Rerouting Behemoth to your location,” Link said back into her thoughts.

  The psychic was worn out. Replica could hear it in her mind. She was connecting so many people, feeling so much pain and terror. It was inconceivable what that woman was going through. How does someone sleep at night after seeing the horror of war through a thousand eyes?

  “Incoming!”

  Behemoth's voice echoed in Replica's mind a split second before his gigantic body landed in the middle of the robotic battalion on the other side of the courtyard. The earth shook and the impact set off a series of explosions, flinging metallic body parts in every direction. The shrapnel rained down on Replica's squad, but when it stopped, she raised her head up above the wall they were hiding behind and saw Behemoth tearing through the Neo-Nipponese forces.

  He kicked a tank and it went spinning through the air. He backhanded another group of robots, flinging them toward the downtown area of the city. Blasts from the enemy's energy weapons struck him, but they were like tiny burns on his twenty story tall body. He continued thrashing at the tiny robots below him, causing epic levels of ruin within minutes. The men and women she commanded held their weapons in the sky and cheered as the purple-costumed man destroyed the entire battalion that had threatened to end their lives. When he finished, he gave Replica a salute of acknowledgment.

  “Thanks for the assist.”

  “No problem,” he replied mentally, covering his eyes as he peered to the north. “Looks like the Seraphim could use some help. I better keep moving.”

  Replica glanced in the direction he was looking and saw Zana Zharkov the Seraphim, Guardian of the East, tearing through a squadron of flying robots. The explosions in the sky looked like fireworks, and for a moment, it felt like a celebration. It felt like they were winning.

  That's when the whistling sound in the distance became a screeching blast that tore overhead. Replica looked upward just in time to see the rocket pierce through the clouds of smoke and strike Behemoth in the chest. When the explosion evaporated, she could see the flesh and bone exposed as he fell backward. He crushed the corner of the palace as he fell, tumbling to the side.

  Without a second thought, Replica lifted herself over the wall she had been cowering behind and ran across the open courtyard, toward Behemoth.

  “I need medical! I need EVAC!” she screamed into her mind. “Behemoth is down! I repeat-”

  “I understand,” Link said. “But we've got no clear doorways for Voyager's portals anywhere in your vicinity. Medics are at least eight minutes out. You're going to have to stabilize him.”

  “Stabilize? What do you expect me to do? He was hit by a damn rocket!”

  When she climbed over the wreckage of the robotic army and reached his gigantic arm,
she tugged on the purple costume in order to climb over his humongous bicep. As she managed to make her way onto his smoldering chest, she could see inside. His ravaged organs looked unreal, like skinned cattle all laying in a sea of blood. His lungs were torn open, and she could hear the deafening wheezes of air escaping them.

  She climbed around the gaping wound, and made her way to his face. His open eyes stared up into the sky as his mouth gasped repeatedly, trying desperately to find the air he needed to breathe. Her hands gripped onto his cheek as tears streamed down her face.

  “Behemoth?” She spoke out loud, shouting over the gunfire and explosions in the distance. “Just... just hang in there. Medics are on their way.”

  His giant eyeballs turned toward her, his eyes never blinking, like he was afraid they might never open again if he were to allow them to close, even for the briefest of moments. His lips curled into a smile as he stared down at her.

  “I... I don't think I'm... I don't...”

  His words were a mumbled mess that he was trying to force out with shallow gasps of air.

  “Don't talk,” Replica said. “Just stay with me, okay? Just... just stay.”

  “I'm not going anywhere...” He chuckled, but the laughter turned into a hacking cough as he choked on the blood in his lungs.

  “You don't die on me!” she screamed, pounding her tiny fist against his cheek. “You can't die. Not here. Not like this.”

  His body suddenly shook, his entire torso seizing with convulsions. She was flung from his cheek, landing hard on a pile of scattered robots. His arms flopped around in the wreckage until he took in one last breath. When that air released from his chest, his body laid still.

  She screamed into the air, hoping the sound of her voice would shatter the world. The war had bent her so much, she finally broke. She had seen enough death, enough destruction. All of it pointless. All of it so two men could decide who would rule the world. She was risking her life for the pride of someone else. Nothing could be more despicable.

  “Fall back!” she shouted to her troops, throwing her hands into the air to motion them back the way they came. Her replicas did the same, all across the city.

  “What are you doing?” Link asked in her mind. “Nobody gave the order to-”

  “I'm giving the order,” Replica thought back to her, trying to wipe Behemoth's blood from her hands, but only managing to smear it across her legs.

  “What about Behemoth. The medics are still-”

  “Behemoth is dead!”

  There was silence in her mind as Link's stunned thoughts froze across their psychic link.

  “We'll all be dead if we stay here. I can hear the metal footsteps marching closer. I can hear the explosions circling around the positions of every one of my bodies. If we wait one more minute, they'll have us surrounded. They'll tighten their grip until they squeeze us dry. We're done here. The city is lost.”

  “You can't make that decision. The Imperator hasn't-”

  “The Imperator isn't here!”

  “The Seraphim. His daughter. The Guardian of the East speaks for him. She commands you. You can't just-”

  “His daughter is a child pretending to be a soldier. Dammit, so am I. We aren't fit for this. Just because I have a super power doesn't mean I'm a warrior. It doesn't mean I'm a weapon.”

  “You have to listen to her. If she says stay-”

  “Zana Zharkov is an invincible royal brat that can fly out of here the second things turn against her favor. I won't let her use us as fodder for her little crusade. I was put in command of the forces that the Hive sent to fight this damn war, and I'm not going to march them to their deaths.”

  “You want to face a court-martial?”

  “Rather than watch these men and women die for something I don't believe in? Absolutely.”

  There was a long pause. Replica knew Link was trying to come up with her next argument, but couldn't.

  “Do you have service?” Link finally asked.

  “What do you mean? My phone?”

  “Yes. Can you upload data?”

  Replica dug in the belt of her costume and retrieved her MajesTech mobile phone. She glanced down at the screen.

  “Barely. I've got one bar. Why?”

  “You have fifteen million followers, Replica. Show them. Show the world what's happening. Show them why you're choosing to fall back. Get them on your side... and maybe, just maybe, you'll have a chance.”

  It was smart. She tapped her camera app and started recording the devastation. She showed the faces of her troops, bloodied and bruised, covered in the mud of war. She showed the city, crumbling around her. She showed Behemoth, his body torn open and exposed. Then she turned the camera toward herself. Her supermodel good looks hidden behind a layer of dirt and debris. Her lips split open and swollen. Her eyes bloodshot and weak.

  “This is war,” she said. “But it is not our war. We fight on land that does not belong to us. We fight against forces that do not bleed. Neo-Nippon does not suffer the death of their citizens. They do not face the horror of war. If they don't have to sacrifice anything, it's only a matter of time before they win. How long will we wait before we finally concede our inevitable fate? This war can only end one way. But we have to ask ourselves... will it end before or after we're all dead?”

  She tapped the screen again and ended the recording. Then she uploaded the video to her social media website. She knew it wouldn't stay up for long. The Empire had too much control over content to let something so inflammatory remain visible. But hopefully, by that point, it would be too late.

  Every one of her bodies across the city joined her separate forces. They turned back toward the Fatherlands, and began the slow march. They would all be reprimanded. Some would be imprisoned. But unlike Behemoth, they would be alive. And for that, she knew that whatever faced her, whatever price she would have to pay, was worth it. And after all the years of being called a superhero, it was in that moment that she finally understood what the word meant.

  2

  WESLEY

  The dock scraped against the side of the ship, causing many of the sailors to shout curse words and panicked commands at each other. The metal walls groaned as the vessel settled into place. Wesley crawled out of his bunk, grabbed his pack, and made his way up the metal stairs. The sunlight blinded him for a moment as he stepped outside. He had been below deck for days. He found it easiest to stay out of everyone's way. Most of the men made it pretty clear they didn't appreciate having a passenger with them, so he tried his best to remain hidden, but the trip had taken much longer than he expected. The captain explained, without much consolation, that his zigzag trajectory was intentional, and meant to slip between the authorities. There wasn't much Wesley could do but accept him at his word.

  When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the palm trees and sandy beaches of the Fatherlands' coastline. The clear, blue water lapped against the side of the ship, rocking it ever so gently. Everything looked lush and untouched by the war. The captain had chosen a perfect place to dock, far away from the iron grip of the Zharkovs.

  “You got a problem.”

  Wesley was rocked from his scenic delight by a large hand clamping down on his shoulder. He turned to see the captain digging a clump of tobacco out of his bottom lip and tossing it over the side of the ship. The captain was looking off into the distance and Wesley followed his gaze as he pointed down toward the beach.

  “Wasn't supposed to be any soldiers today.”

  Wesley saw a small formation of men walking down the beach, toward the ship. There were only five of them, but they dressed in the black and gold uniforms of the Empire. Each one had a rifle slung over his right shoulder.

  “What do I do?”

  The captain shrugged his shoulders. “They ain't gonna let you in.”

  “What do you mean? This is what I paid you for.”

  The captain tilted his head. “Did my best.”

  And then he walked away, di
stracted by a young sailor who was tying a rope wrong. Wesley opened his mouth to argue, but had learned that it was pointless to argue with the man.

  Wesley's eyes darted around the beach, looking for an answer to his problem, but he saw none. The sailors were beginning to unload the ship, and he considered for a moment trying to hide in one of the crates, but all of them were sealed tight, and he had no idea where they were headed. He could end up in any one of the thousands of work camps. He looked over the side of the ship and considered jumping into the water. He could swim down the coast a bit, try to sneak into the cluster of trees and hide out until the soldiers left, but he had never been able to afford swimming lessons when he was young. He wasn't about to dive in and hope for the best.

  He decided to try to blend in with the other sailors, to at least try to get down to the beach. He picked up a smaller crate and lugged it down the plank that led to the dock. A couple sailors gave him dirty looks through squinted eyes as he passed them, but they refrained from complaining about the help.

  When he set the crate down among the other cargo, he saw the soldiers standing next to the first mate, going over their manifest. He adjusted his glasses and glanced around until he spotted a small grouping of shacks selling food and water to the dock workers. He knew if he could reach them, perhaps he could slip away into the forest and begin his journey. They were only fifty yards from where he stood.

  He was about to make the dash when he glanced back at the guards to make sure they were still busy. That's when one of the men looked over at him. Wesley knew he stood out. From his clothes, to his skin color, to the backpack he was wearing. And none of these differences were missed by that one guard. The uniformed man stepped away from the group and started toward Wesley.

  Fear filled Wesley's veins. His fate flashed in front of him. What was he doing here? What was he thinking? He had barely made it three steps into the Fatherlands and he was about to be arrested as an illegal immigrant. Thrown in some imperial dungeon and left to rot. Just like Andre. Or maybe he'd end up like Victor. No. He was smarter than them. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He searched his surroundings with a frantic need for a way out.