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

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  For the next three days, they drove in shifts, trying to push as far as they could, as fast as they could. At first, both Andre and Mickey were surprised at how beautiful The Hive actually was. The roads were nearly empty of traffic besides the occasional semi-truck hauling cargo. They traveled through rolling farmlands being cultivated by huge swaths of people, all working in unison. When they drove through urban areas, everyone seemed to move at the same pace, in perfect order. Rows and rows of people, all moving as one giant body. Yet the more they witnessed the unconscious life, the more disgusted they were by it. It felt fake. Robotic. Like no one they saw was actually human, just a shell pretending to live.

  It made them drive faster, wanting to get through the creepy population as quickly as possible. During the times when they were both awake, they talked and laughed and traded dreams of what they would do once they had a Super Power of Mass Destruction. Mickey was happy being Andre's sidekick, having no delusions of grandeur. He just wanted to be by his side, tagging along on whatever adventure they might find. It was nice having a friend again, instead of a henchman. Someone who joined him, instead of followed orders. Andre had forgotten what that felt like, to have someone watching your back, because you meant more to them than a paycheck or a reward. The grass had always seemed greener, and he had made the best of his time inside The Pit, but he knew this was where he shined. With his friend.

  “D-d-do you really think it will be enough?”

  “Sure. Doctor Chem was a powerful supervillain in his time. We could turn rocks into gold if we wanted to. Retire on that.”

  “That's n-n-not what I meant. Do you think they'll m-m-make us powerful enough to save C-C-Carmen?”

  Andre glanced out his window, toward the eastern horizon, and said, “They have to.”

  There was a moment of silence before Mickey took a deep breath and asked, “W-w-what if she doesn't want to be s-s-saved?”

  Andre glanced over at Mickey and saw the terrified look on his face, like he was scared to ask the question. Andre shook his head, trying to discard the thought.

  “What are you talking about, man? Of course she wants to be saved. They made her marry the Warhammer. Are you kidding me? I just hope we can get to her before she has to...”

  Andre shook his head harder, trying to get rid of the images that flooded his mind.

  “I-I-I don't know, Andre. Maybe it's not so b-b-bad. She gets to live in a c-c-castle and have s-s-servants and stuff.”

  “Just shut up, man. You don't know what you're talking about. Trust me. Carmen would never want that life. She doesn't care about that kinda stuff. She needs our help and we're going to do whatever it takes to save her. It's my fault that Victor...” His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat and said, “I'm sure as hell not going to let the rest of you suffer.”

  Mickey nodded and said, “O-o-okay, Andre.”

  When they reached Rio, they found it deserted. The city had been completely destroyed during the Super Power War, and The Hive hadn't rebuilt it. It was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than hills of cement dotted by iron bars and the occasional faded billboard that had somehow survived the attack. Andre was forced to stop their car near the outskirts of the city when the rubble became impassable. Climbing over the first toppled building, they began the long hike toward the flattened site of what once held the towering statue known as Christ the Redeemer.

  “I heard the old Imperator told The Hive that they couldn't rebuild this city. It was part of the peace treaty.”

  “W-w-why would he do that? W-w-why would he care if they r-r-rebuilt the city?”

  Andre pointed up toward the hill near the coastline. They could still see the base of the statue jutting up from the top of the hill.

  “This was a religious site. One of the old gods. You know how the Imperator felt about that stuff. The guy was more jealous than any girlfriend I ever had.”

  “You only had one g-g-girlfriend.”

  “You know what I mean,” Andre grumbled.

  The climb up the hill was easier. Most of the statue had been knocked halfway across the city. Andre cringed when he thought about the power that the Imperator's son must have had to launch a statue so far with his bare hands.

  “D-d-do you believe the stuff they're saying about C-C-Carmen's dad?” Mickey asked as he stepped around a large block of cement, shaking with every step. “Do you r-r-really think she's the daughter of P-P-Plasmax?”

  “It's propaganda bullshit. They found out she had fire powers and figured out a way to use it to their advantage.”

  “But what if it's t-t-true? She n-n-never knew her dad. And he left her all that m-m-money.”

  Andre considered it, but when he looked around at the destruction that Paramount had caused, and then thought about the wasteland he had driven through, he grew disgusted by the idea.

  “If it's true? Then we have even more of a reason to save Carmen. Because if she's the daughter of Plasmax, the Zharkovs probably want to use her as a bomb, just like her father.”

  “You d-d-don't think they'd-”

  “I don't want to talk about it, Mickey. Besides... we're here.”

  They both looked up where the statue once stood, its enormous base sitting empty. Small chunks of rock were scattered everywhere, but the area was devoid of any people.

  “He said it's invisible, but the entrance is here somewhere. Start looking around for clues.”

  They split up, taking opposite sides of the area around the statue's base. Touching walls, searching the ground, and throwing dirt into the air, hoping it would strike the invisible walls. After two hours, they began to lose hope.

  “We can't keep s-s-stumbling around out here. It's almost d-d-dark.”

  “I'm not giving up,” Andre said through his teeth as he climbed over the railing and pushed aside the brush that covered the hill.

  “I'm not saying we should g-g-give up. But-”

  “Mickey!” Andre shouted, waving his hands to call him over. “Look at this...”

  Mickey stumbled over the railing and rushed to Andre's side, zipping through the foliage. When he reached the area Andre was standing near, he looked around hopelessly.

  “I-I-I don't see anything.”

  “Yeah, man. It's invisible. But look at this...” Andre pointed at the trees that were growing nearby. “All of them have leaves growing thicker on one side than the other.”

  “So?”

  Andre rolled his eyes. “So... the illusion is old, man. It was made when this place was still a tourist destination. Back when they would trim these trees, keep them all nice looking. But everything is overgrown now. Except right here.”

  “Okay,” Mickey said. “So n-n-now what?”

  Andre stepped closer to the area, holding his hands outstretched, waving them around to touch something that wasn't there. It only took him a few steps to feel the invisible door.

  “It's here!”

  Mickey rushed over and touched it himself.

  “You f-f-found it!”

  They both searched the door they couldn't see until Andre touched what felt like a handle. With one large heave, it opened, looking as if he had torn a hole in reality. Inside the hole, a staircase led down.

  Andre and Mickey exchanged glances as the smiles grew on their face.

  “You ready for this, buddy?”

  “Let's d-d-do this.”

  Andre led the way, into the black of the stairwell. It descended for what felt like four or five stories, into complete darkness, before Andre saw two red lights on a wall. He pointed them out to Mickey, and they both stepped toward them. As soon as they got near, the lights flashed, filling the area with a red glow.

  “INTRUDER ALERT!” a robotic voice announced.

  Andre squinted his eyes to see past the bright, red light. As he did, he saw two gun turrets turning toward them. He tried to react in time, but even with his enhanced speed, he wasn't quick enough. Luckily for him, Mickey was.

 
; Andre was shoved to the side as the turrets let loose a barrage of laser blasts. Mickey dodged the other way, rolling under the lasers. The turrets followed him, continuing to blast the walls where he had been standing. Andre watched his spastic dance, dodging every blast, but he knew Mickey couldn't keep it up forever. His movements were erratic, and sooner or later he'd move the wrong way. Andre didn't consider his next move before he launched himself toward the turrets. They sensed his movement and one of them turned toward him. His fingers dug into the metal and he tore it from the wall, showering himself in sparks of electricity. As he fell to the ground, the other turret spun toward him, unleashing a hail of laser fire. The blast hit him square in the chest, burning through his shirt and blackening his skin. As it continued to pound against him, he could feel the heat growing and knew he had only seconds before it broke through his toughened flesh. He pushed toward the gun, the lasers continuing to burn into him. When he got within arm's reach, he summoned every ounce of strength he could muster, and slammed his fist into the barrel of the turret. His fist plugged the hole, and as soon as the next blast tried to release, the turret backfired and the entire gun exploded. Andre was thrown across the room, but as soon as the gunfire ended, the red light in the room turned white and a door opened.

  Mickey rushed to Andre's side and asked, “You o-o-okay?”

  Andre touched the burned flesh on his chest, looked down at his blackened hand, and nodded his head. “Yeah, man. I'll live.”

  Mickey helped him to his feet and they stepped toward the open door. Lights blinked to life on the other side, one after another, stretching down an open hallway of metal walls and endless doors.

  Andre turned to Mickey and smiled.

  “Buddy... I think we're home.”

  29

  HECTOR

  There was a chill in the night air as the clouds rolled across the sky, blotting out the moonlight. Hector smiled, knowing it was the perfect environment for a stealth attack. With a quick motion of his hand, he signaled for Miguel to follow his lead. They sprinted across an open field, then slid on their bellies into the lake that bordered the air base. The breathing apparatus built into their suits allowed them to slip under the surface of the water and swim toward the fence line. When he peered upward, he could see a single spotlight swinging across the lake, but the rest of them were pointed toward the land, which was the more obvious approach.

  When they reached the fence line, Hector rose out of the water enough to peer through the darkness. He watched a guard pass by, his dog sniffing along the ground. As soon as he was gone, Hector rose out of the water and bolted toward the chain link fence. The laser cutter in his watch made quick work of the thin wire, and Hector was able to bend back a small piece of the fence. He made another signal with his hand, and watched Miguel rise out of the water, carrying the sword they had forged from the body of Stiletto. Miguel dropped to his belly and crawled through the small hole. Hector followed him, then bent the fence back into place, trying to cover up their insertion.

  Once they were on the other side, they ran across the airstrip, toward their destination: a row of military airships. They zigzagged around the wandering searchlights, dropping to their bellies when they needed to blend in with the ground.

  When they reached the first hangar, Hector slammed his back up against the wall, listening for activity inside. He heard the grumbling of voices and made the signal to Miguel that there were three of them. When Miguel nodded his understanding, Hector crept along the wall and lightly placed his hand on the doorknob. He counted down on his fingers, then burst through the doorway.

  The first man was only a mechanic, and nearly dropped the wrench in his hand when he was startled by the sudden entrance. Hector put two bullets from his silenced pistol through the man's forehead, dropping him instantly. Guards on the other side of the hangar looked up when the man dropped, and Hector gripped his pistol with both hands to steady his aim. It was a long shot, but the guard on the right was knocked back, a spray of blood appearing on the wall behind him. The other guard was reacting too fast for Hector to train his sights on him in time, but Miguel already had his pistol raised. Before the guard on the left could lift his rifle, his head was thrown back from the bullet that slammed into his face.

  Hector gave his son a nod of approval, then continued to move, not wanting to waste any time. They crossed the empty hangar and reached the door on the other side. Sitting on the tarmac, two-hundred yards away, was the row of aircraft. Between them and the aircraft, were two military vehicles. Boxy, armored trucks with six wheels. The drivers had them parked in opposite directions with their driver's side windows rolled down. When Hector zoomed in on the vehicles, he saw the glow of cigarettes through the windshields. The guards were sharing a smoke break, talking through the open windows. That was good. They were distracted by their own vices.

  Hector gave Miguel another signal, this time telling him to split up and approach the vehicles from the opposite directions. Miguel nodded, and they both sprinted across the open area. Hector's eyes dashed back and forth, searching the lit areas of the airport for any signs of more guards, but he saw none. His feet continued to pound against the taxiway, pushing him toward the vehicles as fast as he could move. The glow of the cigarette drew closer and closer until he could see the man's face.

  Hector dropped to one knee, brought up his pistol, and fired. The windshield cracked and the man's face exploded. The guard in the other vehicle spit out his cigarette in shock, right before the back of his head caved in from Miguel's shot. Both bodies slumped over in their seats with the engines still running.

  Hector and Miguel slipped between the vehicles, making their way toward the back. Hector pointed at the armored doors in the rear of the vehicles, and Miguel took the one on the right. Another countdown and they both flung open the doors at the same time. When the door swung open, it revealed a cramped sitting area for foot soldiers. Four men turned their heads in surprise as Hector emptied his magazine into them. As the last bullet fired, three of the men fell forward, lifeless. The last man gurgled blood from the hole in his throat, struggling to reach for the radio on the wall. Hector reached down, pulled the small blade from his boot, and stuck it into the man's chest. With a quick turn, the man went stiff.

  Hector leaned back out of the vehicle and glanced at Miguel. His son gave him a nod, letting him know he had cleared his own vehicle, and they both turned toward the aircraft. Hector gave him the signal, and they took off running.

  When they reached the first aircraft, Hector unlatched the cargo door, dropping it onto the taxiway. Miguel ran up the ramp, making sure the vehicle was empty. Hector stayed by the door, peering across the open runway, waiting for any approaching vehicles or wandering guards.

  He waited patiently, but his heart was racing. They were so close. Only a mistake could stop them. If he kept his head clear, his mind focused, it would simply be a matter of going through the motions. As long as he moved the pieces when it was his turn, a win would be inevitable.

  “Clear,” he heard from behind him.

  Hector spun around and slapped his hand on the large red button on the wall. The cargo door raised, and Hector made his way to the cockpit. He buckled himself into the pilot's seat and Miguel did the same in the copilot's seat. They both ran through their practiced routine, learned from the hacked operator manual that Esmeralda had procured for them. They flipped switches, turned dials to the correct position, and inputted numbers into the keyboard that sat between them. In mere seconds, lights turned on all over the aircraft and the engines were roaring to life. Hector could hear shouting coming from the headphones that dangled from a hook above him, no doubt confused air traffic controllers in the airport's terminal wondering why one of their aircraft was preparing for takeoff. Hector yanked the headphones from the controls and threw them over his shoulder.

  Out the cockpit windshield, Hector could see the headlights of four military vehicles driving straight toward them. They had
guns mounted on the roofs of the vehicles, and he knew if they got within range, they would never allow the aircraft to takeoff.

  Hector slammed the palm of his hand into the engine lever, and the aircraft lifted from the ground. He pulled back on the control stick and tilted the engines forward. The aircraft's jet engines burned into the tarmac, thrusting them into the air at a sickening speed. The pressure on his chest felt like it was going to break his ribs, but once they reached an altitude that he knew was safe, he lowered the nose of the aircraft and slowed their ascent.

  As they broke through the cloud cover, the night sky appeared in front of them, dotted with a billion stars. It was a beautiful sight, but Hector barely noticed. All he could see was the glow of the Grand Citadel above the horizon.

  “It's almost time, son. Everything we've worked for, every moment we've spent training our minds and our bodies, has come to this. This night. This moment.”

  Miguel nodded. “I'm proud to be at your side, father. I'm proud to witness this moment in history.”

  “Witness?” Hector asked with a smile. “Son, you are the moment. Your name will be etched into history, forever known as the mortal that ended this tyrannical Empire.”

  “Our names, father. We're a team.”

  Hector smiled even larger. “You're very right, son. I couldn't have done this without you. I'm... I'm proud of you. Proud of the man you've become. Proud of the-”

  Hector's speech was cut off when something struck the side of the aircraft, throwing it to the side. Amid the screams of alarms and flashing lights, Hector managed to pull the control stick to the left and balance the craft back out.

  “What was that?” Miguel shouted, searching out the windshield for signs of their attacker.

  “Not what,” Hector said when he spotted the source of the strike. “Who.”

  Flying alongside them was Niko Zharkov, Guardian of the North. He waved his golden hand and pointed down, signaling them to land.

  “It's... it's one of them,” Miguel said through a trembling voice.