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

by Knuth, Jaron Lee

  “I always wanted to. It felt like it was my... duty to protect people. I am the Guardian of the West, yet all I seem to do is deter. Imperator Konstantin once told me that my only duty was to exist. He said that was what peace meant. There was no need to fight, and that should always be the goal.”

  “But you disagree.”

  He shook his head. “I may be a warrior, but I still want peace. The thing I disagree with is who our enemies are.”

  Carmen's brow scrunched up as she tried to understand. “I don't follow.”

  “The Imperator, my mother, the other Guardians, they are always concerned with the Domini. They think the danger lies within the other domains, the forces of SPMDs that grow there. They make their laws and they enforce their restrictions in order to keep the balance of power tilted in our direction.” He glanced over the balcony to the Earth below them. “But in doing so, they ignore the people. They ignore the very thing we're trying to protect.”

  “And you worry the people will rise against you? You think they'll turn against the Empire?”

  “I don't fear the citizens. I fear for them.”

  Carmen stared at him for a moment, admiring the look of idealism in his eyes before she said, “That's... something a good leader should feel.”

  “Our citizens need to be strong if we are going to build our empire upon their backs. Like the oxen. We must first make sure they are fed, so that they can plow our fields. This is the only way that one day, we will be fed.” He paused and closed his eyes. “My father told me that.”

  Carmen cringed again. It was all too much. Her father had killed his father. And there they were, standing on a balcony together as husband and wife, discussing the world at large.

  She turned away from him, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward him.

  “I didn't mean to offend you.”

  “You didn't. I...” She shook her head, dismissing her own feelings. “I'm worried I offend you. Just being here.”

  He looked truly shocked as his eyes grew wide and he asked, “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because of who my father is. Because of what he did. To the world. To your family.”

  He touched her chin with a single finger, lifting it so she was looking him in the eyes as he said, “You are not Plasmax.”

  She glanced away and said under her breath, “Your mother would disagree.”

  “You are not your father, and I am not my mother. What she thinks does not matter. Just because she believes it to be true, does not make it so.” And then, with a sly grin he added, “That's something else my father told me.”

  “Sounds like I might have gotten along with your father,” Carmen said, smiling back.

  Maksim nodded, acknowledging with some darkness to his voice, “He had his moments.”

  Carmen sighed. “You still have to admit, the fact that I am Plasmax's daughter is the only reason I'm here. Which doesn't fill me with a sense that I belong here. Just because I won some genetic lottery, doesn't mean I've earned my place.”

  “That may be true,” Maksim said, “but it doesn't change the fact that I'm happy you're here.”

  Carmen turned and look up at the giant man, his broadness dwarfing her in scale. She reached out and touched his Guardian insignia, the Warhammer carved into his chest plate.

  “I'm... I'm happy you're here too.” She looked up into his eyes and said, “You might be the only thing I actually like about this place.”

  Maksim nodded, but did not smile.

  “Oh!” Carmen said, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “I didn't mean... Ugh. I'm so sorry. Here I am, babbling on and on, talking so much garbage about your family. I'm not saying they are-”

  “It's okay,” Maksim said, offering her a small smile, though she couldn't tell how genuine it was. “They are my family. I love them. I would do anything for them. But that doesn't mean I am blind to their faults.”

  “Still. I shouldn't lay all of this on you. You don't need to hear every thought and worry of mine.”

  Maksim grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “Carmen... I am your husband. There is nothing in the world that I want more.”

  She felt her breath flutter in her chest. The conviction in his words made her realize it was exactly what she wanted, and possibly needed, to hear her entire life.

  She leaned up and kissed him, grabbing his face with both her hands. Their lips opened, exchanging breath as she pulled away from him. He pulled her back, kissing her again. Their tongues swirled around each other and she needed to push the heat in her body down. It wanted to rise, to lift with her, to explode into the inferno she was feeling. She wished he was truly invincible, so she could show him her true self, so she could let loose the fire that raged inside of her.

  She grabbed onto the edges of his chest plate and tugged him into the bedroom. When she backed into the edge of the bed, she fell backward onto the mattress with a laugh. He stood, towering over her like he was unsure of what to do next. She kept smiling, leaning forward and beginning to unbuckle his armor. He watched with a stunned look on his face as each piece fell to the floor. Then she lifted the shirt over his head, and when his face was revealed again, she kissed him, long and slow. Her hand slid across the blackened skin of his cheek, feeling the hard flesh that had scarred there. Her finger traced the imprint of her own knuckles. She leaned in and kissed the scar, her tongue flicking against it. When her hands reached down for the belt buckle on his pants, Maksim's hand stopped her.

  “Carmen...”

  “Let me.”

  “No. I can't do this.”

  “Why? What's wrong?”

  He shook his head and took a step backward. “Because you are... special to me. I would never hurt you. I would never do this... I would never force you to-”

  Carmen stood up and planted another kiss on his lips, whispering, “You aren't forcing me to do anything.”

  “But my mother-”

  “You aren't your mother.”

  He closed his eyes and for a moment, she saw his weakness. She saw the pain and hurt and fear that this brute of a warrior felt.

  He kissed her back and whispered, “You don't have to do this.”

  She undid the string of her dress, letting it slide off her shoulders, down across her breasts, around her hips, and onto the floor. She stepped closer to him, so that her flesh touched his as she spoke.

  “Maksim... I want nothing more in the world.”

  33

  ANDRE

  Every time the two young men entered another room in the lair, they would both let out a long, exasperated gasp, usually followed by some kind of celebration. Every chamber held something new and exciting, something they didn't expect, something beyond their expectations.

  The first few rooms were basic living quarters, but even those were bigger and more luxurious than anything they had ever lived in before. Giant screen televisions, plush leather couches, enormous stone fireplaces, huge kitchens with marble counter tops, and bedrooms that were bigger than their old apartments combined.

  Beyond that were smaller living quarters, most likely for all of Doctor Chem's goons. They were nice, but nothing like Doctor Chem's personal quarters. They had a shared living space with pool tables, poker tables, arcade games, and a cafeteria. Mickey was excited about the video games, but Andre dragged him into the next area.

  There they found the exercise rooms, with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, weight room, dojo, running track, basketball court, gymnastics room, and shooting range. Everything you needed to keep your army of henchman in fighting shape.

  Next they found the library. Descending three stories into the ground, the walls were covered with science manuals and complete collections of dusty old books neither of them cared about, beyond their possible worth.

  After that was the gallery, with white walled rooms covered in fine art and filled with sculptures. Again, the monetary value of everything was the first thing to fil
l them both with excitement, but they found themselves wandering through the rooms, admiring some paintings for their beauty as well.

  A hydroponic garden had fallen into disrepair, with mostly rotted plants, but Andre could still envision the potential the room held. With a little elbow grease from some henchmen, and a lot of money, he knew he could get it back up and running in no time.

  The garage, complete with a hidden ramp to exit the hillside, was full of antique cars, armored vehicles, and sleek sports cars. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it, and Andre in particular couldn't wait to get them all shiny with a nice coat of wax. He found himself getting lost in the dream, no matter how impossible it was, of taking one of the cars through his old neighborhood and letting everyone see what he had made of himself.

  A hangar sat next to the garage, with both a helicopter and a jet. Andre was disappointed at first, knowing he'd never have time to learn to fly, then corrected his way of thinking. Flying the jet himself was no way for a true supervillain to get around. He'd hire himself a henchman that knew how to fly.

  In the costume room, each of Doctor Chem's different outfits throughout his career were displayed in well lit cases, as well as newspapers framed on the walls with headlines about some of his larger capers. Andre lingered in the room, admiring it all until Mickey urged him into the next room.

  They passed through the prison cells, creeped out by the notion that Doctor Chem kept anyone locked up in his lair. Kidnappings weren't out of the question for the old man, and the thought of someone being held underground, in the dungeon-like rooms, was more than enough to send shivers down both Mickey and Andre.

  At the bottom of the lair, they found the vault, locked up with password protection, retina scans, thumbprint detection, and a large combination in the middle. Mickey and Andre were left to only dream about what could be inside.

  But none of those rooms compared to the laboratory. Rows upon rows of tables filled the gigantic room, containing beakers, Bunsen burners, tubes, and microscopes. Bottles of different colored liquids and gels filled shelves, computers lined the walls, and whiteboards were covered in advanced mathematical equations that looked like an alien language to the two uneducated men.

  “This is it,” Andre said, his eyes lighting up at the sight. “Start looking for the doses. He said something about vials. They must be marked or something.”

  They both fanned out, beginning their search on separate sides of the room. They dug into drawers, opened boxes, and pushed aside stacks of paper, combing over every inch of every table and desk. They found plenty of vials and everything was clearly marked. They read out names like Sodium Azide, Acetonitrile, Methanol, Chloroform, Formaldehyde, Dimethyl Sulfoxide, Tetrahydrofuran, but none of it said anything about super powers.

  Hours passed in near silence, neither of them speaking as they hyper-focused on their task. As their stomachs growled from lack of food, Mickey sat down on one of the chairs and threw his arms into the air.

  “This is imp-p-possible!”

  Andre rubbed his forehead, understanding his friend's frustration, but he was still unwilling to give up.

  “We can take a break. We'll get back to it in a few minutes.”

  “A f-f-few minutes? I'm hungry, Andre. And I haven't s-s-slept in two days.”

  Andre sympathized with everything he was saying, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he found what they were looking for. He walked over to Mickey and pleaded with him.

  “Please, Mickey. Don't give up. They've got to be in here. There's still plenty of places to look.”

  “That's my p-p-point. It's been hours and we've only l-l-looked through a third of this p-p-place.”

  “But think about what this means. Think about what we're looking for. This is going to change our lives, Mickey. No more small time criminal stuff. This is going to push us into the big leagues.”

  “Look around! Look at this p-p-place. What m-m-more do we need? We c-c-could live off this for the r-r-rest of our lives!”

  Andre clenched his fists and stared at the floor as he said, “Yeah? And what about Carmen? Sorry, Mickey, but I can't be that selfish.”

  He hated playing the guilt trip on him, especially because he wasn't sure it was true anymore. Since they entered the lair, he hadn't thought about her at all. The life he was picturing didn't include her. He couldn't imagine her next to him, robbing banks and threatening cities to turn over their fortunes. And once he had the means to do all of that, it was all he could think about. But in that moment, he tried to push himself past those thoughts. Whether she thought he was good enough for her or not, she deserved better than where she was. She might always be his ex-girlfriend, but he wasn't going to sit back and let her be held prisoner by the Zharkovs. He might be a supervillain, but he could still be a good friend.

  “You're r-r-right,” Mickey said, his shaking head doing something like nodding. “Sorry. Let's keep l-l-looking.”

  Andre sighed when he realized he was doing it again, taking advantage of his friends, working them like henchmen instead of partners.

  He put his hand on Mickey's shoulder and said, “Tell you what. Go look in the kitchen and see if you can find anything to eat. Doctor Chem must have had some canned food or something. I'll keep looking.”

  Mickey jumped out of his chair with renewed excitement and said, “I'll b-b-bring back whatever I can f-f-find.”

  Mickey rushed out of the room, knocking a cart of glass beakers onto the floor and apologizing before disappearing out the door. Andre turned back to the next desk and started emptying drawers. Mostly, he found stacks of papers covered in scribbles and notations. Once in a while he would find a Petri dish hidden away, or a microscope slide between manila folders, but all of it was pointless junk he would never understand. Locating two vials of liquid among all the scientific excess was worse than finding a needle in a haystack. He tried not to think about the futility of it all, pushing himself forward, onto the next table, the next desk, the next shelf.

  When Mickey returned, he brought with him an armful of packaged MREs. He dumped them onto a table and read off the labels.

  “Meal Ready to E-E-Eat,” he shouted across the room to Andre. “Dehydrated beef t-t-teriyaki.” He grabbed another one and read, “M-M-Meatloaf,” and another, “Lasagna!”

  “Sounds good,” Andre said as his stomach twisted at the thought of food, and he hurried over to the pile of sealed meals. “These must have been for the henchmen or something. Nice find.”

  They both sat down at adjacent tables and dug into the high-caloric dinners, heating them with the Bunsen burners in the room. As the food filled their stomachs, they found themselves relaxing, even laughing together. Mickey yawned, and Andre found his own eyes feeling heavier with a full stomach. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head.

  “Okay,” he said with a defeated sigh. “Maybe we should try again after some sleep. Get our heads right.”

  Mickey shook with even more excitement as he said, “I think you're r-r-right. We can start right away when we w-w-wake up.”

  “Yeah,” Andre said, longingly glancing around the room, knowing his future was hidden in there somewhere. “Let's go check out those bedrooms. I've never slept in a king-sized bed before.”

  They both walked toward the door, Mickey being extra careful not to bump into anything. As they stepped out, Andre reached over to turn off the lights in the laboratory. As he did, he saw a small table next to the door. It was made from a nice, red wood, where everything else in the room was stainless steel. His heart skipped a beat as he reached down, and pulled out the small drawer built into the top of it. Inside, laid a small cardboard box with the word CHEM written on the top with a marker.

  “Mickey,” he called out to his friend, who was already halfway down the hall. “Look at this...”

  Andre picked up the box and lifted the lid, feeling faint as he saw two vials rolling around inside.

  Mickey peeked ov
er his shoulder and gasped, “You f-f-found them!”

  “I just... it was right here. The whole time.”

  They made their way over to the nearest table. Andre set the box down and took out one of the vials. He held it up to the light, peering through the translucent, amber liquid inside. Andre untwisted the cap on the vial.

  “W-W-Wait!” Mickey said, grabbing onto Andre's arm. “Are y-y-you sure about this? We d-d-don't even know if this is the r-r-right one. This c-c-could be anything.”

  “It has to be it,” Andre said.

  “B-B-But you don't know-”

  Andre glared at Mickey, not with anger, but determined conviction as he said, “I'll go first. If it's dangerous, my enhanced body should be able to fend off whatever side effects it has.”

  Mickey opened his mouth to continue his worrying, but Andre stopped him.

  “I know it's dangerous, Mickey, maybe even stupid, but I have to do this. I don't have any choice. Do you understand? Everything I've ever done in my life has led to this. This moment.”

  The fearful look in Mickey's eyes faded away as he accepted the truth of what Andre was saying. He nodded his shivering head, and took a step back.

  Andre gripped the vial in his hand and lifted it to his lips. With one last deep breath, he threw his head back like he was taking a shot of whiskey. The chemical tasted awful, like rubbing alcohol mixed with cat pee. It caused him to gag, but pure conviction forced it down his throat.

  At first, nothing happened. There was no sudden surge of power, no flash of light to let him know he had given himself a Super Power of Mass Destruction. In fact, for a minute, he started to think nothing had happened. Perhaps it didn't work, or had gone bad over the years, or maybe he had drank the wrong vial of chemicals. Then his vision wobbled, turning the world into a flowing swirl. The walls breathed in and out with his own breath. His heart thumped inside his chest, harder and harder, beating against his ribs like it wanted to break through. Every muscle in his body constricted at the same time, causing him to fall onto the floor.