by Ekeke, C. C.
“Shit.” Hugo whirled on Quinn. “Check your phone.”
She fished her phone out and clicked on the Herogasm app. She gaped.
Hugo beamed. “Tomorrow Man!”
The app video displayed Tomorrow Man soaring into downtown, orange cape fluttering behind him. Immediately, he plowed through The Elite with a flurry of fists. A backhand knocked Thor off his feet. A roundhouse kick staggered big Samson before he back-elbowed Morrigan when she attacked from behind. The Elite were caught off guard and left lying.
For the first time, Quinn was relieved. “The Vanguard might not be needed.”
But Samson recovered, moving alarmingly fast for his size. He bashed Tomorrow Man from behind.
Hugo frowned. “Not anymore.”
And The Elite dogpiled Tomorrow Man, their fists rising and falling. He fought back, swinging reckless haymakers. But the numbers hammered him down.
Quinn squealed as Nike drove a sword into Tomorrow Man’s belly. He dropped to a knee, coughing out blood. The superhero swung feebly at her. Vishnu caught the punch in one of his hands, eyes glittering with contempt.
Apollo’s eyes burned yellow, drilling Tomorrow Man to the pavement with twin optic beams. The hero screamed.
“C’mon,” Quinn whispered hopefully. “Keep fighting.”
Her hope sank watching Thor raised his hammer, summoning a blinding lightning fork down on Tomorrow Man. Then another. Two lightning strikes later, Tomorrow Man lay motionless.
Samson grabbed the fallen hero’s tattered cape, swinging him round and round like a discus. Then Tomorrow Man got chucked into the night and vanished.
Quinn gave a sob. “He didn’t surrender...”
Hugo pointed at a mobile notification. “The Vanguard’s coming.”
Quinn tapped the alert. A new video rendered of the V-Jet tearing across San Miguel’s skyline.
“Good,” she exhaled, Tomorrow Man already an afterthought. Defeating The Elite would definitely repair The Vanguard’s reputation.
Until four lightning bolts split the skies, impaling the V-Jet like it was made of paper mâché. Thor’s handiwork, of course.
Quinn shrieked, hope shattered.
“So not good!” Hugo exclaimed. The V-Jet fell, tumbling and twisting as smoke trailed from the flaming holes perforating its hull. The jet crashed into the Sanya Bellet Tower in a spectacular orange plume. And the building collapsed instantly on top of the V-Jet’s remains.
Hugo watched in blank horror. Quinn didn’t need superhearing to catch the dismay from several houses.
Her mind was a swirl of half-formed nightmares. Sentinel, Seraph, Dynamo, Robbie Rocket, Vulcan, Wyldcat, and Lady Liberty. All were onboard. “The Vanguard could be….” Dead. But Quinn saying the word would make it real. And that truth was too grievous.
Hugo swayed, this close to fainting. Quinn understood why. Tomorrow Man getting defeated was one thing. But The Vanguard?
“Protectorate’s in the East Coast,” he mumbled. “Extreme Teens are filming a movie. Justice Jones, Geist, and Longshadow don’t stand a chance. No California superhero team is close enough…” His eyes bulged beneath his mask. “It’s just me.”
Quinn cringed. Did Hugo even stand a chance? She couldn't bring herself to guess.
He leaned over, sucking in steady breaths. “I should…” Even with his costume and brawny frame, the boy looked terrified. “I need to go.” Hugo straightened up, turning to leave.
Quinn caught his arm, which had to be thicker than one of her legs. Hugo, powers aside, had to realize the danger of facing The Elite. “There are six of them, all as strong as you. Maybe stronger.” Grasping that she might not see Hugo again carved at another piece of her soul. “You could die.”
“If I do nothing, more people die,” he retorted in his Aegis voice. “San Miguel needs me.” Hugo’s expression shifted to stoic courageousness. Whether it was genuine or for show, Quinn admired this boy more.
“Get inside,” he said. “Your auntie and cousins need you.” Hugo sped off before Quinn could blink.
“Stay alive, Aegis,” she murmured, adjusting her windblown shirt and crossing the street.
“Who?” Auntie Lettie angrily demanded from inside after Quinn knocked. “Go get that, Jordana.”
Quinn heard Jordana’s annoyed remark in Spanish, then her sullen footsteps.
The door opened, Jordana silhouetted in the well-lit entrance, long curly hair up in a topknot. “Quinn?” she said, pleasantly surprised. “Hi!”
“Jo!” Quinn embraced her, savoring the connection. “I came to see if you all were safe.”
“Craziness, right?” Jordana exclaimed after they drew apart, beckoning Quinn inside. “We’re watching live. The Elite just DESTROYED The Vanguard!”
“I saw.” Quinn locked the door as her cousin babbled on. She followed Jodie toward the noise and illumination in the living room. “Familia! Look who I found?”
Uncle Anthony, Auntie Cecilia, her cousins Rory and Roland, all sat in front of the TV watching The Elite’s path of destruction. Their boisterous greeting was a salve on Quinn's broken soul.
Also present was a long-limbed teen girl with wavy ginger hair, pale and freckled. Quinn recognized Jodie’s friend immediately. “You’re the hugger, right?”
The girl laughed. “Jenny. Hello, Ms. Bauer.”
“We were in my room before this shitshow started,” Jordana explained, gesturing at the TV.
“Jordana!” Aunt Cecilia barked. “Language.”
Jodie flinched. “Sorry.”
Quinn sat between her twin cousins and watched with bated breath. The only thing to do now was hope and pray for Hugo.
Chapter 50
Downtown San Miguel burned, dominating Hugo’s vision the moment he neared the city center. Flashes of energy and lightning pulsed within a corridor a cluster of towers. Then came the thunderous rumbling as buildings buckling under the Elite’s assault.
“Holeeeee Shit,” he exclaimed. Thick smoke and debris rolled through the streets as citizens fled. The stench left Hugo queasy.
To the right, angry orange flames devoured the jagged stumps of two once proud structures. The V-Jet had plowed through one building, debris smashing into a second one. Fire trucks were still blocks away, thanks to traffic congestion. In short, any survivors inside the buildings and the V-Jet could burn to death.
Hugo dashed toward the fires.
The V-Jet smoldered, lodged in the middle of a half-collapsed skyscraper. Hugo ignored the screams, the crackle of people burning alive, and zoomed around the building like Lady Liberty had instructed. He’d wanted to try this trick since their first encounter a year ago.
The flames burned hot, not enough to harm Hugo. He raced around faster and faster to generate tornado-like winds. At first the hungry flames raged higher. Hugo ignored the doubt and kept running. Soon the fire shrank until only embers and smoke remained. He repeated the trick around the second building, snuffing out that conflagration too.
“Yes,” Hugo murmured and braked before the ruins. Hundreds of bystanders stupidly remained to watch instead of fleeing or helping. He disregarded the smattering applause from those realizing he'd squelched the fire. Amid the foul smoke, the V-Jet still glowed near the engines.
Hugo could hear movement inside the downed V-Jet and the smoking building stumps teeming with survivors. And bodies. “They need help…”
Too many bystanders clogged the streets. Hugo was about to shoo them off until noticing several staring up in one direction.
A skyscraper billboard displayed The Elite swarming the Paxton-Brandt business center like a pack of wolves. Hugo physically and emotionally flinched. Samson, a mountain of muscle and power, rammed himself into the foundations of Paxton-Brandt’s tallest building.
Apollo flew above. White-hot solar beams exploded from his eyes, bursting out the opposite side of the second tallest building. Showers of glass, melted metal, and bodies plummeted to the earth.
&n
bsp; Nike cackled while she sliced and diced through law enforcement officers trying to stop them. Her sleek, armored body coiled like a lioness before each eruption of speed and slaughter.
The blue-skinned, four-armed Vishnu looked demented slicing cop cars in half with his chakram discs. Also soaring about was a massive crow, flapping its wings so hard the gale-force winds sent many employees tumbling to their deaths. He didn't know which Elite member that was until it burst into a murder of crows, reforming into a curvy goddess with long jade hair and a supermodel's face. Morrigan, Hugo remembered, and trembled.
“Last chance, Olin,” Thor roared. “Come answer for your transgressions!” While not as tall as Samson, the Norse-style hero was still massive in Viking furs with his shaggy hair and beard, hammer blazing.
Hugo already saw what was about to occur.
Freeing The Vanguard would provide help against The Elite and rescuing survivors. Hugo looked again to the Paxton-Brandt skyscraper, hundreds inside begging for mercy. On the video billboard The Elite gathered to strike, leaving no time for Hugo to free The Vanguard.
Hugo clenched his teeth, weighing his impossible choice. Free The Vanguard or fight The Elite alone.
Thor raised his hammer. Lightning forked down through the weapon into him as a conduit.
Panicked, Hugo made his choice. Thor drew his arm back to strike the tower. Apollo’s eyes glowed impossibly bright, about to discharge.
…until Hugo launched himself at Thor like a wrecking ball. “ENOUGH!” Hugo’s voice shuddered the block. The collision sent Thor skidding away.
Apollo and the rest of The Elite turned, a scary visual.
Hugo saw himself on giant billboards, a hooded figure in purple and black facing larger-than-life gods.
Was he brave enough? Was he powerful enough to stop them? Hugo silently prayed for both.
Thor climbed to his feet, shaking his bushy head. “Who the hell--?”
“Stop!” Hugo bellowed, hands raised like a traffic cop.
Apollo touched down, pointing in recognition. “The Hood, who beat up Vulcan.”
“And from the clinic!” Vishnu tossed aside a dismembered corpse and smirked at Nike. “Whom you couldn’t catch.”
“Fuck off!” Nike snapped. She advanced on Hugo, brandishing a shiny short sword. “Run,” she warned menacingly. “Or I’ll carve your lungs out.”
“Then I stomp in your skull,” Samson rumbled, his footsteps tremoring across the ground.
Hugo struggled not to retreat.
Morrigan side-eyed her teammates. “Jesus, you two.”
Hugo was grateful one Elite member wasn’t a total murderous sociopath. But his concern rested on Thor, who’d snatched up his hammer and stomped forward.
“Thor!” Hugo said in his booming Aegis voice. “Don’t do this.” The words echoed across downtown, thanks to nearby broadcast billboards.
Thor let out a harsh laugh. “Have you been paying attention, boy?” He jabbed his hammer at the Paxton-Brandt building. “That company stole our lives!”
“I know what they took from you!” Hugo needed no refresher on Paxton-Brandt’s crimes. But reaching The Elite’s humanity could stop more bloodshed. “Look at what you’re doing for revenge.” Hugo gesticulated around. “LOOK.”
The barking demand forced The Elite to survey the carnage littering the streets. Dismembered bodies of police officers and civilians. Shattered glass, building debris, and twisted office furniture.
That reached Thor. Morrigan covered her mouth. Apollo’s golden face darkened. Vishnu closed his eyes in shame. Nike balked.
Samson shrugged his boulder-like shoulders. “Your point?” he grunted.
Thor eyed him reproachfully. “Quiet!”
Morrigan gave Hugo a wounded gaze. “They turned us into weapons.”
Her vulnerability gripped Hugo. “Paxton-Brandt will pay,” he promised. “Not like this.” Hugo couldn’t see Paxton-Brandt escaping justice this time. But The Elite had to stand down. “C’mon,” he pleaded quietly.
Members of The Elite exchanged dispirited stares except Samson and Nike, both still blood hungry. Thor stared at his hammer in muted horror. He sighed and lowered it.
Hugo’s shoulders sagged in relief.
But a growing whomp whomp advanced along the downtown corridor. The vroom of several vehicles neared. Hugo frowned, confused until the first helicopter burst into view, spotlight flooding the scene. The armored vehicles drove on sidewalks around traffic and bystanders. Officers in black tactical gear burst from the vehicles, rifles targeting The Elite.
Hugo swore. OSA and FBI vehicles.
“Hands up!” a voice from the helicopter boomed over a megaphone.
Thor whirled on Hugo. “You played us?” Betrayal laced his voice.
Hugo gawked. “What? No!”
Nike bared her teeth. “Knew it!”
“I’m not with them!” Hugo’s words fell on deaf ears.
Thor jabbed at the helicopters with his glowing hammer. “Destroy them.”
Hugo’s chest tightened in horror. “NO!” He lunged for Thor’s arm.
Samson lumbered up quicker than expected. His gigantic fist struck Hugo’s jaw, pain crackling down his spine. Suddenly, he was flying. A brick wall shattered against his durable frame. Hugo flopped onto asphalt face-first with the worst whiplash ever. The ringing made it hard to hear anything.
“Owww!” Hugo couldn’t remember ever getting struck that hard, even by Lady Liberty or V3. Faraway explosions and slaughter forced him up on wobbly legs. He stumbled through the hole in the wall he’d caused, shaking off the wooziness. His heart plummeted.
Lightning fragmented the heavens, stabbing through armored vehicles. Apollo deftly weaved around a helicopter’s machine gun volleys, and punched through it in a gold-and-yellow eruption.
Hugo glanced away right. Four brave souls, dead. A growl emerged from his throat. Outnumbered or not, he had to hold the line. He raced toward Thor. Thanks to his ringing ears, Hugo didn’t sense Nike rushing from the left until she tackled him off his feet. Hugo gasped from Nike’s elbow digging into his stomach. They rolled around in a jumble, with her finally pinning him down.
Thor gestured with his free hand. “Kill him.” Samson, Morrigan, Vishnu, and Apollo charged.
Several fists pummeled Hugo in brutal fashion. For a moment, he was that short and skinny boy again, powerless against the bullies beating him senseless. Hugo curled up, shuddering. Then someone grabbed his mask to try removing it. An electric jolt from the costume, powerful enough to fell a bison, had Vishnu yanking his hand back. That jerked Hugo out of his déjà vu, reminding him of the power he possessed.
He elbowed Morrigan in the jaw, headbutting Samson to stagger him back, pounding Apollo’s shoulder blades to loosen his bearhug.
Crouching low, Hugo burst up with fists swinging, throwing his attackers off.
Hugo rose, almost collapsing. Everything hurt. He shook off as much as possible, sizing up his foes.
Thor advanced, twirling his hammer. Apollo floated high overhead. A bloodthirsty Nike crouched with her short swords. Samson cracked his giant-sized knuckles. Morrigan smiled with sinful relish and frolicked closer. Vishnu knelt, ready to toss one of those bladed chakrams.
Six on one. Fear rattled Hugo's spine at these lopsided odds.
Morrigan’s body vibrated, splitting into three Morrigans. Eight against one.
The pain wracking Hugo’s muscles faded. And the ringing had gone, restoring his hearing. No help was coming. Hugo was alone.
As The Elite inched closer with murderous eyes, he knew what needed to happen.
He turned and ran.
From his hiding spot half a mile away, Hugo witnessed shock, anger, or despair from gathered spectators. Some made understanding noises. None were more astonished than The Elite.
Samson doubled over. His laughter was a thunderclap. “He bolted.”
Morrigan’s smirk reminded Hugo of Spencer. “Against us? Who
wouldn’t?”
Under her helmet, Nike looked disgusted. “Coward.”
Thor didn’t join the celebration. “Morrigan. Nike. Keep watch in case he finds his balls.” He then faced his heavy hitters. “Samson, keep ramming the tower. Apollo, superheat the framework.”
Apollo flew higher, hands spread like some preacher. His eyes glowed impossibly bright. “One superheated building coming up!”
Hugo saw his opening. Divide and destroy. With a running start, he sprang into the air—a missile from a cannon. He buried a shoulder in Apollo’s unguarded back. “Miss me?” he teased.
Apollo’s teammates below expressed loud dismay.
The force of the tackle carried Hugo and Apollo toward the Junction in a zigzagging trajectory.
Apollo twisted around, grabbing him. But Hugo wrapped an arm around his throat. When Apollo tried flying them higher, Hugo yanked them down. Tiny veins of traffic below came rushing up fast. The landing hit like an explosion, rattling Hugo’s bones. The depression in the middle of an avenue branched spidery cracks out.
Sparse bystanders in the area knew to scramble for safety during a super vs. super battle.
Hugo struggled to rise and ate a punt to the stomach, the wind dashed from his lungs. He tumbled backward before popping up in a crouch.
Apollo floated over him as if standing on an invisible platform. “You should’ve run,” he fumed. “Now you'll know true pain.”
Hugo rose, confident in the power flooding his limbs. He could take this joker. “Don’t sing it.” He raised his gloved right hand and beckoned. “Just bring it!”
Apollo bristled and dove, flying low to the ground. Hugo ran to meet him halfway. The superhumans collided in a flurry of fists and feet, each giving as much as they took. Hugo ducked and blocked the worst of Apollo’s strikes, especially a nasty throat chop. He barely fought down glee whenever his punches struck that smug, pretty-boy face.
The ground beneath them trembled from the force behind each blow.
Proximity to a superhuman brawl, especially between powerhouses, was hazardous for everyone.
Hugo didn’t have much time before the rest of The Elite found them. But he needed to know Apollo’s strength and fighting style. So Hugo pretended to give ground, staggering from Apollo’s knee strikes. Within a minute he’d figured his foe out. Apollo’s superstrength was immense, a shade under Hugo’s, and he fought well. But he relied too much on that superstrength, making him lazy.