Andre shrugged his shoulders. He didn't understand the old man's lack of pride, but he got the logic. Andre would be disappointed not seeing the great caper play out on TV, but he would at least have a good story to tell his fellow prisoners. Maybe some of them wouldn't believe him, but that didn't matter. There were always new prisoners coming in, a new generation of henchmen and flunkies looking for someone to lead them.
The Pit was his domain.
And so far, he was one hell of a Dominus.
10
HECTOR
The city looked beautiful, resilient in its attempt to rebuild after the Malignus attack. Buildings rose up from the streets like brick and mortar plants, filling in the leveled city blocks, leaving no trace of the destruction the creature had left in its wake. And every building that was being constructed was courtesy of MajesTech engineering. Esmeralda stood in front of the window, smiling down at the urban jungle she had created, knowing mortal hands were placing every brick, hammering every nail.
“Would you care to comment on the tragic events that took place at the memorial service your company funded?”
Esmeralda returned her attention to the reporter sitting on the other side of her office.
“Yes. It was tragic, as you said. We are still investigating the occurrence, and I would hate to impair the investigation by revealing any information that may hinder the pursuit of the truth, but I will do everything in my power to hunt down those responsible for this heinous crime.”
The reporter nodded, pleased with the response. Esmeralda sat down in her chair, digging her fingernails into the arm rests. It was an old habit, a way for her to express her anger without anyone knowing. But Hector always noticed. He could see the strain in her forearms. He could see the burn in her stare. The interview was driving her crazy. She had more important things to do, to worry about, but Hector had left her little choice. With such a public murder, she had to clean up the mess. She needed to cover up any connection to MajesTech. She needed to assure the public that it was an isolated incident. And most of all, she needed to make sure their family would be safe. Thankfully, the reporter from the state-run news was doing most of the job for her.
“People have been asking how something like this is possible. How could someone like Everlast be killed? How could an invincible man be mutilated so horrifically? But as we learned with our former Imperator, invincibility has its limits. Isn't that right, Mrs. Majesty?”
“That's right. We still have such little information when it comes to these genetic mutations. The Zharkovs haven't allowed for much in the way of scientific research, so we really can't make any assumptions.”
“Nor should we,” the reporter said, appearing a little uncomfortable with how close Esmeralda was getting to questioning the Zharkovs' decision. “I'm sure the Zharkovs have very good reasons for keeping prying eyes away from their powers.”
Esmeralda corrected herself. “Of course. I'm sure the Zharkovs know what they are doing. We need to put our trust in their wisdom, and this will all work itself out.”
The reporter nodded again, checked her notes, and then asked, “Do you feel any personal responsibility for the death of Everlast?”
Esmeralda's stare shot across the office, directly at Hector, who stood by the door. It was a brief flash, but it said everything to him. She was not pleased.
“I blame the terrorist who committed the act. I blame whomever it was that chose to murder this beloved icon of our culture.”
“Everlast truly was a hero to us all.”
Hector held in his feelings. He kept his disgust buried deep down inside himself. The stoic look on his face never faltered.
“He will be missed, that is for sure.” Esmeralda said, bowing her head for a moment before sitting back up straight. “But I will not bow down to the pressures of this violence. I will not hide, nor show fear in the face of this act. MajesTech will prevail. We will honor the fallen once again. Both Stiletto and Everlast will receive the honor they deserve.”
“You brought up your company, MajesTech.”
Esmeralda nodded, happy for the subject change.
“With the recent betrayal by the Neo-Nipponese, some wonder if MajesTech will be able to pick up the slack... to fill the technological hole left by the Oshiros. Are you ready to step up and take on that role for the Empire?”
Esmeralda smiled. “We've always been ready. While we are disheartened by the actions that the Oshiro dynasty has taken, we welcome the opportunity to prove to the Imperator, the Zharkov family, and the Empire itself, that MajesTech is a worthy successor to the Neo-Nipponese technology they've been relying on.”
“But surely you aren't claiming your inventions will be anywhere near as sophisticated as the super-intelligent Oshiros could create. MajesTech isn't set up to manufacture weapons or anything the military depends on.”
Hector was proud of his wife. Her fingernails were ready to splinter the armrests of her office chair, but her face remained resolute. She kept her smile, firm and confident.
“While certain rules and regulations have kept our company from pursuing the same technology that the Oshiros have been creating over the decades, I can assure you that I am more than capable of remaining competitive. We will be meeting with the Imperator very soon to plan out the next stage of our partnership, but I've already begun the transition of many of our factories to handle the newly formed armament manufacturing division. MajesTech will be ready. The Empire will be ready. I can assure you of that.”
The reporter found that to be a wonderful place to end the interview, thanking Esmeralda for her time. Esmeralda showed her out of the office, closed the door, then managed to stomp her feet back over to her desk, even though she was wearing high-heeled shoes.
“This is a mess.”
“I think you handled that perfectly,” Hector said, moving across the room and taking a seat where the reporter was sitting.
“Of course I handled it perfectly,” Esmeralda hissed as she swiped through screens on her MajesTech tablet. “That's my job.”
“So what's the problem?”
Esmeralda stopped, set down the tablet, and looked straight into Hector's eyes. “The problem? The problem is you, Hector.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You escalated.”
“I escalated?”
“Yes. You escalated. And you did it far too quickly. We had a plan. We had a schedule. We were working up to this point. And then you went ahead and jumped seven stages and murdered a second member of the alliance, in broad daylight, and you left his corpse for the media to find.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then slammed the palm of her hand down on the desk and yelled, “What the hell were you thinking?”
Hector loved her. He respected her. But her calculating strategies weren't always the most well-paced. She wanted trial after trial before administering anything in the real world. She wanted mock-ups and previsualizations. She wanted hours and days of observation. Experimentation. Testing and re-testing. But this was not his way. He applied his strategies to real world situations. He used his years of experience to make sure things would turn out the way he wanted them to. He never ran in blind, but he ran in if he needed to. And the way the world was going, he knew they needed to run in.
“We need to act. Now. We're out of time.”
“Out of time? For what?”
“There's a war going on out there. The Neo-Nipponese army is advancing on the eastern border of the Fatherlands. The Guardians are stretched thin. The Zharkovs are scrambling, trying to marry off one son while the rest of their heirs fight a losing battle. The new Imperator is a spoiled brat that's going to run the Empire into the ground through the perfect combination of arrogance and incompetence. This is the time to act. This is the time to move on those caped monstrosities and tear them apart. This is the time to burn the whole damn Empire to the ground.”
“Would you listen to yourself? You sound like some hot-headed teenager, full o
f angst and rebellion, but not much else. Do you have a plan? Do you have a strategy for accomplishing your goal?”
“Of course I do.”
“Yeah? What about a post-war strategy? Let's say you succeed. Let's say you tear the Grand Citadel from the sky and rip the flags from the walls and declare the world free from the tyranny of the Zharkovs. Then what? Haven't you handed the Empire to the Neo-Nipponese? Are we going to pretend the Oshiros are some kind of benevolent force that will treat us all with respect and dignity?”
Hector rolled his eyes, feeling like her condescension was getting out of hand. She was acting as if he was some impulsive idiot who hadn't thought any of this through. He might be idealistic, but that was as close to a fault as he had.
“The Oshiros will be next. Then the rest of the Domini. I will not rest until they all fall before me.”
Esmeralda looked defeated, her head sinking. But then Hector realized it was a look of shame, of guilt, for what she was about to say.
“Hector... you're only one man.”
It struck him like a spear to his chest. Her belief in him had never faltered. She had always put her trust in his plan, because she knew he was the only one capable of accomplishing such a lofty goal. How could she turn against him?
“Have you forgotten everything we've been working for? Have your forgotten the end game?”
Esmeralda shook her head. “That's the problem, Hector. There's no such thing as an end game. The world keeps spinning. People keep living and working and fighting for power. You want to kill the Zharkovs? Great. Then what?”
Hector stood up, defiant and emboldened by the need to defend himself. “I haven't forgotten the future. The future is exactly what I'm fighting for. What I thought we were fighting for. The death of the Zharkovs isn't the end. It's the beginning. It's the beginning of the world finally realizing their gods are fallible. It's the beginning of a new era when the mortals of the world realize they are as powerful as these fools on TV with the bright costumes and sinister code names. When the Empire falls, the people of the world will have to stand up for themselves and take control of their own destinies!”
Esmeralda took a deep breath and asked, “What if they don't, Hector? What if they allow someone else to take control? Someone worse? Do you really want to see what an Oshiro empire would look like? How about those Therian savages?”
Hector's chin raised into the air as he said, “If I can kill the Zharkovs, those fools will fall just as easily.”
“So that's it then? You'll be the world's police? You'll make sure the next leader of the world is compassionate and honest. And if not? One swing of your new sword and everything is fixed? What does that sound like to you, Hector? Are you trying to topple tyrannical fascism... or replace it with your own?”
Hector's eyes squinted. “You can't be serious.”
Esmeralda turned away from him, like she couldn't possibly face the look in his eyes. “I don't know, Hector. Maybe. Maybe not. All I'm doing is asking questions. Questions I fear you're not asking.”
Hector slammed his fist into the desk, denting the thick oak. “This is the only option we have! What kind of world do you want to leave our son with? Do you want him to live under the thumb of the Zharkovs as their family grows stronger and stronger with every abomination they give birth to? Or do you want to leave him a world where he can fight for what's right, a world where the playing field is even... a world where the gods don't trample on the lives of the men and women below them.”
Esmeralda spoke quietly, her voice faint and weaker than Hector had ever heard it before. “I want to leave him a world where he doesn't have to fight.”
Hector let out of a huff of derision. “Who's being unrealistic now?”
Esmeralda spun around, more inflamed with passion. “Am I being unrealistic? With the start of this war in the East, we've been handed an opportunity. MajesTech is about to take over the imperial military's weapon manufacturing. We could-”
“We could what?” Hector shrieked, appalled at where her line of thinking was leading. “Maybe we could fall in line with the Zharkovs. We could take their money like obedient little pets and satiate our growing guilt over the traitors we've become to our own kind by drinking fine Gaian wine. Or perhaps you think we can work the system from the inside. Maybe if we make a few concessions, we can slowly change the course of history. Maybe in a few generations things will be slightly better. Is that it?”
“You're mocking me,” Esmeralda said through clenched teeth.
“No!” Hector said, slamming both fists onto the table, shaking the room. “I'm mocking them. I'm mocking the Zharkovs and the Alliance and the Domini and every single person infected with that despicable disease. I mock them. If you want to damn yourself by joining those I hate, that's your choice.”
“I'm not joining anyone, Hector. I'm trying to point us in the right direction. That's all.”
Hector leaned across the desk and spoke in a quiet, intimate tone. “I've been pointed in the right direction ever since I met you, ever since you showed me the truth about the disease. Why would I change course now?”
Esmeralda shook her head. “I just want to reevaluate our plans. I'm a businesswoman, Hector. This is what I do. MajesTech reevaluates what we're doing every quarter. I think we should look at the changing landscape and make sure our course is still the best.”
Hector leaned away from her and said firmly, “It is. Trust me.”
Esmeralda held her head in her hand as if the entire argument had drained her body of energy. “That's not how I work, Hector. You know that. I need logic. I need facts and figures and analysis.”
Hector struck the desk with a single finger. “Fact: You're either with me, or against me. It's that simple.”
Before Esmeralda could reply, the door to the office opened and their son, Miguel, stepped into the room.
“Father? I'm sorry to interrupt, but you're late for our training session.”
Hector held his stare at Esmeralda for a moment before turning to Miguel with a bright smile on his face. “Right you are, Miguel. Let's get down to the training rooms and get started. We have a lot to go over before the next stage.”
“Yes, father.” Miguel grinned, the plan of attack running through his mind, then he turned to Esmeralda and said, “Is everything worked out, Mother? Our trip to the Fatherlands is still on schedule?”
Esmeralda opened her mouth to respond, but Hector beat her to it.
“Your mother still has some issues she needs to work out. But don't worry,” he said, clamping his hand down on his son's shoulder. “We will see our plan to fruition, one way or another.”
11
LUCY
The giant television screen flashed images from the eastern border of the Fatherlands. Corpses littered the roads. Piles of rubble lay where buildings once stood. Robotic creations made their way through the cities, some on legs, some on tank treads, some hovering in the air. Images from the imperial side of the conflict showed the human suffering: the soldiers bleeding in the medical wards, fields of crops burning in the distance, and the refugees streaming across the border. Yet through the horrific imagery, was the state-run media announcing the triumph of the Empire, the supreme power of the Guardians, and the strategic brilliance of Imperator Padamir Zharkov.
“How can you watch this stuff?” Connor asked as he stepped out of her bathroom, his body still glistening with droplets of water as he tussled his dreadlocks with a towel.
“How can you not?” she replied, holding her knees up to her chest on the edge of the bed, peeking over them at the devastation on the screen.
“It's pretty simple actually,” he said with a smirk. “I don't turn on my TV.”
“So you're going to ignore what's happening over there? Do you think if you don't see it, it's not actually happening?”
Connor paused a moment, like he needed to adjust to the sudden seriousness of the conversation. “Lucy, I've seen enough to know what's hap
pening. Did you watch Replica's videos before they were taken down? All these reports are just a reply to her. Now they want to show us what's really happening, hoping that will make us sympathetic to the Empire.”
Lucy kept staring at the TV. “Well, maybe I still need to see more. Maybe I need to see a lot more in order to understand. Like... really understand.”
Connor sat down next to her and folded the towel in his lap. “When did this get so important to you? The war has been going on for months, and you've never mentioned it before.”
“Look at what's happening!” she said, perking up and pointing at the screen. “They aren't giving us the death totals, but you can see the corpses. You can see the cities and towns that are being flattened by this stupid war. People are dying, Connor. Children are dying.”
“I know,” he said, putting his arm around her. “I know. But... what are we going to do? The people who wage these wars, Imperators and Domini and whoever else, they aren't going to stop anytime soon. As long as their greed and thirst for power fuels their decision making, and as long they have bodies – or robots, I guess – to throw at each other, they're going to keep fighting. Sometimes I don't think they need a reason. They just fight to fight.”
Lucy pushed his arm off her shoulder. “And that's enough for you?”
“Define 'enough.'”
“Like... that's enough for you to accept what's happening? You're okay with all this?”
“I wouldn't say I'm okay with it.”
“But you're going to sit back and do nothing. Let other people fight the war, die in the war, and as long as it stays over there, you're fine. You'll go on with your day like nothing happened, like thousands of people didn't die while you ate lunch.”
Connor held up his hands. “Whoa. Lucy. I'm not the enemy, here.”
“Yeah?” Lucy stood up and threw her arms into the air. “Then who the hell is?”
The Super Power Saga (Book 2): Rise of the Supervillains Page 8