The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath

by Ekeke, C. C.

  Hugo dropped into an alley and rocketed for Olympian World at top speed.

  Seconds later, Hugo braked behind a massive eighteen-wheeler. Yards away was the pillared entrance to Olympus World Theme Park, an amusement park styled after Mount Olympus. Hugo observed the churning humanity in front of a stage.

  A brawny man had mounted Blur, pummeling him senseless. Hugo’s eyes bulged beneath his mask.

  Sentinel in street clothes, his fists bouncing Blur’s head around like a bobblehead. The mountainous Vulcan slung his sledgehammer at anyone who approached. Hugo glanced left. The rest of the Extreme Teams lay strewn across the stage.

  Sentinel was pounding Blur’s face into paste. Flashing cameras, yelling reporters, wailing fans. Chaos.

  He’s killing him! Hugo's heart thudded as he angled to superspeed in and save Blur without exposure.

  Then Quinn climbed onstage. “Stop, Kurt! What would Mikaela think?”

  Hugo gaped. What is she thinking? Sentinel kept punching and pounding, face blank with rage….

  “Get off, Kurt!” The courageous reporter grabbed the large supersoldier by the neck. “Stop this—”

  Sentinel shrugged her off without looking. “Go away!”

  And Quinn went airborne across the stage, shrieking. Gasps shook the crowd. Even Vulcan gawked at his teammate’s mistake.

  Hugo moved before even thinking to run.

  He was onstage half a second later to catch Quinn in his arms.

  Another gasp shook the gathering. Hugo exhaled and placed the reporter down.

  Quinn swiveled her head with wild eyes. Seeing Hugo, she relaxed—then panicked.

  Her expression said everything. Why are you in public?

  Hugo ran for Sentinel, casually yanking him off Blur.

  The supersoldier shouted as he skidded several feet away.

  Sentinel scrambled to a crouch, ready to engage. “Who—”

  Hugo raised a hand, schooling his face into stoic sternness. “Enough!” he bellowed in his deep Aegis voice, praying he didn’t look or sound stupid.

  That broke through Sentinel’s mindless rage. Blur lay coughing up more blood.

  Sentinel paled. Good, let him feel bad.

  Onstage, Extreme Teen members Starchylde and Rushmore recovered first. They scrambled over to their beaten, bloodied leader. Hugo glimpsed over and stifled a shudder. Blur’s face resembled hamburger meat. His breaths sounded like his lungs had been dragged across concrete. But he was alive.

  “Look out!” One reporter cried.

  Hugo frowned, turning right into a sledgehammer to the stomach. White-hot agony exploded through his ribcage. Hugo crumpled to all fours, the wind knocked out of him.

  Vulcan loomed imperiously over the teen. “Foolhardy move!” He raised his sledgehammer.

  And Hugo was in too much anguish to run.

  “Vulcan!” Quinn yelled. “Don’t you touch him!”

  Sentinel hastily clambered to his feet. “Vulcan, stand down.”

  The pair of rebukes gave Vulcan pause, long enough for Hugo’s pain to lessen.

  By Vulcan’s glower, he disliked the mandate. “But this—”

  Hugo rose, almost collapsing from the fiery pain forking down his torso. He grimaced, that pain becoming fuel. He exploded up, headbutting Vulcan’s face. The blow left Hugo seeing stars.

  A cross-eyed Vulcan stumbled back on wobbly legs.

  Hugo snatched the big man’s sledgehammer and spun, smashing Vulcan in the jaw. The blow flipped Vulcan head over heels and on his back.

  The crowd erupted.

  Hugo circled him like a shark, twirling the sledgehammer. Simple breaths were an agony, angering Hugo more. Payback, muthafucka.

  Lifting the sledgehammer high, he rammed it into Vulcan’s stomach with savage force.

  The impact was a thunderclap. Vulcan roared, curling up and away.

  Hugo drove the sledgehammer into Vulcan’s spine, making him scream and arch his back.

  Quinn and the Extreme Teens stood transfixed. Sentinel begged him to stop.

  Hugo ignored him, lost in a red haze. Vulcan tried crawling away.

  He swung again. A crunch echoed across the scene.

  Vulcan’s six-foot-seven frame shuddered and slumped to the floor.

  The Extreme Teens and Johnny Truelove formed a protective wall around Blur.

  Hugo stared at this stupid hammer, still wanting to break something. Bending the handle in both hands, he snapped it in half and tossed the weapon aside.

  Hugo met Quinn’s gaze from far across the stage. Knowing how much he’d craved anonymity, so much heartbreak filled that one look from her.

  Hugo was just happy seeing her uninjured. He turned on Sentinel moving toward Vulcan.

  With a burst of speed, Hugo got in Sentinel’s face. The supersoldier backpedaled. Sentinel was never his favorite, but he used to respect this man. Used to.

  “Congratulations,” Hugo growled. “You attacked a teenager on live TV.” He leaned in, underscoring his larger size and two-inch height advantage. “Proud of yourself, hero?”

  Sentinel deflated, looking down in unspeakable shame.

  Satisfied, Hugo backed away to scan his surroundings. Countless reporters barked questions, forgetting the other heroes. Cameras were rolling and flashing. The security guards and barricades barely restrained the sea of rabid fans.

  I’m exposed! Hugo held his battered midsection and winced. Even a light touch ignited pain.

  Sirens neared, which meant Hugo had to leave. “Blur needs a hospital,” he ordered the Extreme Teens.

  Hugo ran from Olympian World blisteringly fast, unable to outrun growing dread.

  Chapter 31

  Hugo leaned back, squirming in discomfort. He was seated in the drab medical wing of Lady Liberty’s lair while Ms. Ortiz’s doctor Oscar probed his shirtless torso with dexterous fingers.

  Zelda, dressed in sweats with her hair up, watched nearby.

  “How’s it feel?” Oscar asked, glancing up.

  Hugo gave himself another inspection. The purple bruises discoloring his six-pack where Vulcan struck had faded significantly. Thanks to his accelerated healing, Hugo was almost recovered in roughly two days. “Still hurts. Wish it’d feel better already.”

  “It’ll feel better when it stops hurting,” Oscar snorted. Zelda guffawed.

  Hugo scowled at them. “Sterling insight, Doc.”

  Thankfully, The Vanguard’s very public implosion and the Blur/Seraph/Sentinel/L.U.N.A love square dominated headlines. But many news sites focused on the mysterious hooded man who’d beaten up two Vanguard members. The scrutiny had made daytime patrols beyond problematic.

  One bright spot included Brent Longwell’s touchdown dance. “Not Tomorrow Man!” he’d gloated over the phone yesterday. “That’s the guy who rescued me from Mr. Quiet!”

  Simon’s reaction was instant and concise.

  Simon: WTFFFFFF?

  ME: Not over the phone.

  Every news pundit agreed that Tomorrow Man and Hugo weren’t the same, exposing the former as a liar and buffoon.

  Hugo coughed out laughter, and his ribs throbbed. “What the hell is Vulcan’s hammer made of?”

  Zelda composed herself enough. “Obdurate metals from Mount Olympus’s fiery depths.” She gave a skeptical eyeroll. “His words.”

  Hugo shook his head, also doubtful. “Bullshit.” Lady Liberty had trained him to take hits from stronger opponents. Still, that hammer blow had nearly caved in his stomach. He hoped Vulcan felt worse. His reverie was disrupted by Zelda snickering.

  “What’s so funny?” he snapped as Oscar applied healing ointment to his abdomen. The aches quickly subsided.

  “The media’s calling you The Hood.” Zelda placed her phone down, openly pleased. “You better go out and correct the talking heads before the name sticks.”

  “Nope,” Hugo threw back, irritated. “Not with OSA looking for me.” He couldn’t risk his family's, his friends' or his ow
n safety.

  Zelda smiled like some evil pixie. “Your choice.”

  “To let Quinn break her neck?” Hugo countered, “and Blur get beaten to death.?”

  Zelda stopped smiling. “True.”

  Oscar took off after he’d finished, leaving the teenagers alone.

  “Wish your mom was here,” Hugo remarked, pulling on a t-shirt.

  Zelda’s eyes shone. “Me, too.” The separation was clearly damaging. “She’d be proud of you.” She eyed him reproachfully. “Except for whooping her old teammates.”

  “Self-defense!” Awkward silence followed. Hugo opened his mouth to talk about Titan, until footsteps approached the infirmary.

  A tattooed building of a man entered in jeans and a leather vest, a blue bandana around his spiky hair. Justice Jones owned whatever room he stepped into.

  Hugo liked Justice, but the timing sucked.

  “Hola, youngsters.”

  Zelda popped up and bearhugged him.

  That made Hugo smile. “Hey. Any news?”

  Justice returned Zelda’s hug. “Not much besides The Vanguard’s public apology and a strong warning for you.” He jabbed a thick finger at Hugo. “The US Marines also issued a statement saying Sentinel’s actions don’t represent their values.”

  Hugo cringed, having read that. The backlash against The Vanguard had been global and ugly. And after Sentinel’s and Vulcan’s actions, Hugo felt they deserved every bit.

  “The Catholic Church excommunicated Seraph, right?” Zelda asked, returning to her seat.

  “Sucks to be The Vanguard,” Hugo scoffed. “I heard OWE wanted to sue them for assault. But Blur made them drop it.”

  “Sentinel messed up Blur’s moneymaker.” Justice waved at his own face.

  Watching Sentinel pound Blur’s face into ground beef still haunted Hugo.

  “Vanguard’s still holed up in their headquarters,” Justice Jones went on. “Not much has come out besides Seraph and Sentinel splitting.” He shook his head, half-amused.

  “Beating up the teenager who banged his fiancée?” Hugo snorted. “Sounds like a deal breaker.”

  “I heard Vulcan’s in bad shape.” Jones marveled at Hugo. “Damn, boy! You whooped his ass like he owed you money.”

  Hugo shifted uneasily in his seat. “I owed him an ass-kicking.” Smacking Vulcan around wasn't how he’d wanted to debut in the superhero community, as awesome as it had felt. “And I had good teachers.”

  Justice Jones roared with laughter, slapping Hugo’s shoulder. “I like this one, ZiZi.”

  Zelda grinned at Hugo. “He’s alright.”

  Justice Jones was about to say more, until a buzz from his pocket interrupted. He pulled out his cellphone. “Shiite. Vincent Van Violence is raising hell in Atascadero. I gotta go.” The mountainous biker turned to leave.

  “I’ll help.” Hugo rose gingerly, ignoring his sore midsection. He had business with V3 after their last encounter. “Gimme a minute to change.”

  Justice shook his head. “Uh-uh, youngblood. Heal up first.” He left the infirmary.

  Annoyed, Hugo slumped in his seat. Jones was right. V3 had wiped the floor with Hugo at full strength. Granted, Justice Jones wasn’t as durable and his physical strength was maybe a third of Hugo’s on a good day. But the Outlaw Superhero’s reputation as one of the toughest and most dangerous brawlers in the superhero business was legit. V3 was in for an ass-whooping.

  Zelda watched him with laser-like intensity. “You okay?”

  Hugo wanted to front like his alias being exposed wasn’t bothersome. But mulling over the blowback sent his anxiety into the stratosphere. “People know about me,” he admitted. “I’m freaked out.”

  Zelda leaned over her knees. “Welcome to superhero life. Next time, remember what my mom and JK Rowling said.”

  Hugo frowned. “What?”

  “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Zelda barked.

  Hugo jumped.

  Zelda burst out laughing again, which coaxed Hugo to follow suit. He needed that.

  After both had calmed, Hugo saw his opening. He just prayed he was right. “Zelda…” He fidgeted. “I’m really sorry about your father…”

  Zelda’s face went from shock to confusion to anger in seconds. Hugo braced for a tongue-lashing. Instead, Zelda hunched and ran trembling fingers through her curly hair. “Did…my mom tell you?” she asked in fragile tones.

  Hugo relaxed, openly content. Zelda was Titan’s daughter. “I accidentally found out from my friend, Spencer, during a memory walk.”

  Zelda’s disbelief grew comical. “Spencer Michelman?”

  Hugo nodded. His two worlds colliding was a colossal mindfuck. “We’re kinda dating.”

  A fond smile pulled at Zelda lips. “Spence and her sister were my dad’s goddaughters.”

  Now Hugo was caught flatfooted. “Whoa!” Spencer had said Titan was like family.

  “Spence’s always checking in since Dad died.” Zelda’s eyes shone with tears. “We talk and text a lot and have dinner twice a month. She’s the sweetest.”

  The confession warmed Hugo like a perfect summer day. I’m right about her. “She’ll never admit that.”

  “So true!” Zelda’s cheerfulness dimmed. She started to cry.

  Hugo moved in and hugged her. She clung to him in desperation. Hugo’s eyes watered as he recalled his own father. But he remained strong for Zelda, hugging her as long as she needed.

  An hour later, Hugo returned home by an alternate route. Paranoia or not, he had to be more wary.

  A scan of the house detected Mom upstairs sleeping after another nightshift. Hugo did his best not to disturb her. She’d freaked out enough after the Vanguard fight.

  The sound of a familiar SUV pulling up grabbed Hugo’s ear. Abby Dunleavy dropping off AJ.

  Anxiety prickling his skin, Hugo opened the door as Abby and AJ neared.

  Surprisingly, AJ stopped to talk. “Can we talk about Olympian World?” he murmured, glancing back at Abby. “After your playdate?”

  Hugo nodded, beyond pleased. A thaw in their cold war. “Abby’s not staying long.”

  AJ made a face but shrugged and trudged inside.

  Hugo closed the door behind his brother as Abby approached, tasty in her skinny jeans and belly shirt. She was sucking suggestively on a lollipop. “Hello, handsome.” Abby grabbed his collar, pulling him close. “Wanna play?”

  For the first time in memory, Hugo wasn’t aroused. He stepped out of her reach. “Did you and Lia make the Brie video that went around school?”

  Abby’s momentary shock vanished beneath feigned confusion. “No,” she lied. “But good on Lia for taking down Easy Breezy.” She giggled.

  Hugo’s disgust boiled over. “You’re lying!”

  Abby gawked. “Excuse me?”

  “A varsity player who was there saw you and Lia carrying Brie out,” Hugo went on, unable to curb the anger.

  Abby studied him strangely, as if knowing she'd been exposed. “Yeah. I helped take that bitch down months ago,” she stated proudly. “Why do you care after how she treated you?”

  Hugo continued asking himself this. He stuffed both hands in his pockets, focused on Abby. “How could you cyberbully Brie, knowing how bad it feels?”

  Abby turned brick-red. “What the fuck would you know about how bad it feels?” she exploded.

  Hugo instinctively backpedaled.

  “I made one mistake,” Abby raged, raising a finger to emphasize. “One! Then I lost Jodie as a friend and get branded Paso High's biggest slut! People still call me Easy Abby, Easy Dunleavy, or Legs! Strangers yelling slut when I’m out with my family?”

  Her voice cracked. “Getting my locker stuffed with condoms. I'm still getting slut-shamed on social media! I almost changed schools because of Brie’s squad.” She air-quoted the last part. “That rotten bitch got what she deserved!”

  Hugo had no comeback. He’d heard what Abby had suffered from Brie’s cyberbullying. But her outburst exposed fa
r more open wounds beneath the surface. Hugo could almost empathize—until thinking of the collateral damage. “And Jordana?” Fear climbed up his throat realizing what almost happened to her. “If she’d attended that party, Brie would've destroyed her!”

  “Jodie was never in danger,” Abby interrupted as if addressing a half-wit. “Briseis was always the target.” Her widening smile became malicious.

  The meaning of her words landed with dizzying impact. “You set Brie up.” Hugo gasped. Lia must've lied to Brie, prompting her to go after Jordana. Then Abby had sprung her trap. “Are you happy?” His voice sounded rough than expected. “Getting revenge?”

  “Yes!” Abby jabbed a dainty finger at his chest. “And who are you to judge, Bogie. Screwing Brie’s ex-BFF. Then screwing me behind Jodie’s back.”

  Her venom left Hugo speechless. He no longer saw a sweet, sexy stunner. Abby’s true self, spiteful and consumed by revenge, was totally unattractive.

  “You and I are done, sexually.” Hugo gestured between them. “You’re disgusting.” And good riddance.

  Abby’s face tensed in pain, and then contempt. “I thought you were different." She scoffed. "Instead, you’re just pathetic.”

  “Nah.” Hugo shook his head, amused. “I can't stand people who become what they hate.” A year ago, he wouldn’t have had the guts to dump a hottie like Abby. Today, Hugo dismissed her happily. “Goodbye!”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Abby turned huffily, only to wheel back around. “Think I’m the only one who wanted Brie cancelled?”

  Hugo rolled his eyes. “Your point?”

  Abby folded her arms, too smug for words. “I played my part to get payback. Lia and Natalie were puppets, as usual.” The sneer in her tone prickled Hugo’s skin. “Your girlfriend was the mastermind.”

  Hugo lurched away from her claim. “Jordana?” Her and Abby had taken down Brie? “That doesn't make sense…”

  Abby laughed harshly. “No, idiot. Your other girlfriend.” Her eyes flashed. “Spencer Michelman.”

  Chapter 32

  “Alrighty!” Clinton rubbed his hands eagerly, surveying the audience behind him. “Ready?”