Generation Next: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  She steeled her aversion away, focusing on Missy. “Whose idea was it to protect The Junction?”

  Monty spoke before Missy opened her mouth. “We chose together.” He draped a possessive arm around Missy. “We're a team.” The superhero nodded sycophantically.

  From one puppeteer to another. That saddened Quinn. “You could protect any major city in America. Why The Junction, Missy?” she added, marking who the question was for.

  After Monty’s approving nod, Missy spoke. “My journey mirrors that of The Junction’s.” She swept an arm at the decrepit buildings around them, many with bustling businesses. Missy smiled with genuine affection. “We can heal each other’s wounds.”

  Quinn rubbed her hands. “You and I watched the comments made by your former teammates.” Yes, the topic was salacious, but the Extreme Teens were part of Missy’s history, and the acrimony would draw in viewers/readers. “Any response?”

  Missy’s face darkened instantly. “Most are correct,” she confirmed, to Quinn’s shock. “I was unhappy, burnt out, and in a bad place. That negativity made me a liability to my team.” She raised a finger, smirking impishly. “But Safeguard still sucks.” That drew snickers from Monty and the three flacks behind them.

  Quinn couldn’t help smiling at Missy’s pettiness. She clearly had no love for her Extreme Teens replacement. Quinn might dig into that further.

  “Speaking of suck…” Missy whipped out her cell, pulling Quinn close. “Let’s do a proper superhero selfie.” Wearing that famous megawatt smile, the teen snapping a few selfies with Quinn.

  Once satisfied with her chosen selfie, Missy posted on social media. Quinn observed in amusement before changing topics. “Jamie Goldstein discovered you. Did she and OWE try helping your issues?”

  Missy shrugged sullenly. “Jamie tried mothering me sometimes.” Her expression tensed. “Mostly, she was another soulless OWE puppet who saw dollar signs instead of children. Johnny Truelove was a dick, but he never lied about what OWE is.” Her blue eyes burned. “The Devil’s asshole.”

  They turned a corner as Missy continued ranting. “OWE controlled us. We never got normal lives. And I know what we signed up for. But that high school prom Blur and I crashed on his sixteenth birthday? He wanted to experience a real school dance. We just work, work, work. If we’re not fighting criminals, its publicity, charity appearances, and OWE TV shows. Then films and music albums.” Missy rolled her eyes, tossing her empty cup into a nearby trashcan. “God, I hated doing those albums.”

  Quinn didn’t blame her. Countless brain cells were lost listening to Missy’s albums for research. But those albums had dominated music charts for weeks thanks to OWE’s promotional machine and Missy’s fanbase, the Missyfits. “Any thoughts on Blur’s message?”

  Missy chuckled, while Monty openly seethed. “I wish L.U.N.A. luck with Luke’s moon-sized ego,” Missy managed between giggles. The sun climbed higher, sparkling off her costume. “I hope the girl realizes that she can keep fucking Blur without letting him ‘rap’ on her albums.”

  Monty and Missy’s cronies burst out laughing. Quinn giggled. She couldn’t help it.

  Then Monty froze, touching his left earpiece. “We got something!” Missy’s eyes gleamed eagerly.

  Quinn glanced between the spouses. “What’s going on?”

  “Seven blocks away,” Monty announced. “Some super whose been menacing store-owners.”

  Missy rubbed her hands together. “Watch me make another asshole famous.” Missy crouched briefly before exploding off the ground in a bounding leap. Landing a block away, she jumped again until she disappeared into the distant clusters of decrepit buildings. Superleaping was one of Missy’s powers, along with enhanced strength, durability, and firework bursts.

  Quinn’s heartbeat quickened. Time to see if Missy could bring it. “Where is the robbery happening?” she asked Monty as he and Missy’s cronies entered the van.

  “Lomata and Main,” he threw back over his shoulder.

  Quinn and Colin exchanged a knowing look before following Monty. The reporter let Colin enter first while she whipped out her phone.

  ME: Lomata and Main.

  By the time she’d entered the car and buckled in, Quinn got a response.

  HeroBoy: 4 minutes.

  Quinn felt relief and disgust. But after how trashed Missy had gotten last night, a contingency was needed. Colin and Shelley sat hunched before two laptops. They had five drones hovering above The Junction. Quinn peeked over Colin’s shoulder at many screens recording Missy’s leaps toward the crime.

  Shelley nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Drones are following Missy.”

  Jess put away her cell. “The police are on their way.”

  Quinn pointed at one screen. “There’s the robber.” Panic seized her. “He’s huge!”

  A beastly man erupted out from one of the stores, at least seven-feet-tall, blue-skinned, and built like a brahma bull, showering broken glass in his wake. He shook his wild orange mane free of debris, hoisting a bag of money and goods high. Bystanders screamed and scattered from his monstrous presence. Quinn had never seen him before, but he didn’t look like a pushover.

  Jess was clapping eagerly. “This is so exciting,” she gushed at Quinn.

  Monty gave her a smug nod. “Watch Missy handle this guy.”

  Quinn stayed focused on the screens. Why wasn’t this criminal getting out of dodge? Missy came sailing into the frame, landing on a knee. The impact shuddered the frame a bit.

  A new text startled Quinn from her fixation. She glanced at her cell, shoulders sagging in relief.

  HeroBoy: Here. Let me know when to step in.

  ME: Will do.

  Missy rose to her full height and raised a hand like some crossing guard. Bystanders either gathered around the fringes or exited stores to watch. The likely collateral damage unsettled Quinn.

  ME: If she can’t contain this battle, get those bystanders to safety.

  HeroBoy: Read my mind.

  Quinn half-smiled at Hugo’s composure. She caught Jess eyeing her curiously and stashed her phone to watch the battle.

  “STOP!” Missy’s bellow echoed.

  This criminal, whom Quinn decided on calling Brahma, scoffed, “Eat me, skirt.”

  Missy arched an eyebrow. “That’s Missy Magnificent to you.” Onscreen she appeared fearless before her larger foe. “Return what you stole.”

  Brahma straightened defiantly. “Or what?”

  Missy cracked her neck. “Pain!” She dashed at Brahma, who charged to meet her.

  Quinn tensed. Jess clung to her in scandalized anticipation.

  Before they collided, Missy raised her glowing fists and unleashed a blinding firework blast in Brahma’s face. He staggered back and roared.

  Missy advanced with several cartwheels and backflips, one of her trademarks. A dropkick to Brahma’s barrel chest sent him skidding away.

  Monty fist-pumped as if winning the Superbowl. “See that?”

  Quinn glanced at Colin, who struggled to hide his amusement. “Can’t miss it.”

  Braham popped back on his feet, sneering furiously. “That your best shot, skirt?”

  Missy smirked at the challenge. “Nope.” She sprinted in fast, dodging Brahma’s blows and staggering him with several of her own. But as the battle continued, Missy’s stamina suffered, and Brahma’s punches started landing. An elbow sent her spinning into a car.

  Quinn and everyone in the van flinched.

  “That looked rough,” Colin commented.

  Monty remained unconcerned, jovial almost. “Missy can take it.”

  Missy shook her head, dazed while slowly pushing off the crumpled car. Brahma advanced quickly. “Missy Magnificent?” He snorted. “Try Missy Mediocre.”

  Missy barely blocked Brahma’s first blow. Not the next. His boot cracked across her jaw, spinning Missy around to her knees. Brahma followed up with a punt that Quinn almost felt, knocking Missy into the storefront he’d robbe
d. Luckily, no one was inside. The crowd reacted.

  As Brahma ran into the store, Jess was no longer entertained. “I don’t like this, Quinn,” she murmured.

  “Me neither.” Part of Quinn wanted to give Missy a chance…

  …until the superhero’s limp body sailed out of the store, rolling to a stop several yards away.

  HeroBoy: Missy’s getting OWNED. I need to stop this.

  If Hugo intervened, Missy would survive. But a speedster’s involvement would make everyone think Blur had saved Missy. And Missy’s comeback would be DOA.

  Quinn loathed herself for what she texted.

  ME: WAIT.

  As Missy struggled to rise on shaky limbs, Brahma sauntered up triumphantly. “Can’t believe you led Extreme Teens.” He hauled Missy up by the chin. “Doubt you could lead a prayer group!”

  After several rapid-fire gut punches, Missy sagged in Brahma’s grasp. Brahma barked with laughter and tossed Missy aside like trash. “Better yet,” he continued. “Join the fossils in on that Hero House show.” Brahma strolled toward the fallen hero, taking his time.

  His casual arrogance chilled Quinn. Brahma could finish off Missy anytime he wanted. This was further humiliation.

  Shelley fought back tears. “He’s killing her!”

  Quinn turned to Missy’s husband, who still looked unsettlingly unconcerned. “You need to save her before she gets killed. Do whatever it is you do.”

  Monty glared back in disgust. “Stop doubting her like everyone else.”

  “It’s not doubting,” Quinn shouted, unable to curb her temper. “It’s reality!” This girl might be killed before their very eyes. The Junction residents weren’t going to lift a finger.

  HeroBoy: I gotta do something.

  Quinn typed GO NOW, about to send with a trembling finger.

  Brahma shook Missy’s limp body by the collar. She looked barely conscious, eyes rolling back. “I bet L.U.N.A. would show more fight than your has-been ass,” he snarled loud enough for anyone to hear.

  The comment jolted Missy back to life. She sandwiched Brahma’s face between her glowing hands and oozed rainbows of firework blasts. Brahma’s bellowing agony echoed across the shopping center. The flashing eruption brightened to where Quinn and everyone inside the van had to shield their eyes. The lights began fading and Quinn looked again.

  Brahma lay motionless on the street, his face blackened by scorch marks.

  Missy was on all fours, wheezing but victorious. “That enough fight for ya?” she gasped.

  “Whoa!” Quinn remarked.

  Monty sprang to his feet laughing. “TOLD YA!”

  The van drove to Missy’s location. Dark bruises marred her lovely face, and she walked with a pronounced limp. But Missy appeared heartened by cheers from the locals.

  Monty was at his wife’s side helping her into the van. “Great job. That guy never stood a chance.”

  Missy smiled, despite her obvious pain. One of those two nameless cronies began examining her with medical devices, ID’ing himself as her personal doctor. Quinn would like to see a license. She watched the police cuff Brahma in power restraints before tossing him into their SUV. Concern churned inside her. If not for Brahma’s bragging, Missy would have died. This comeback profile now felt like a terrible idea.

  She tapped Colin’s shoulder. His expression revealed similar worries.

  “Gotta make a call,” Quinn muttered and walked away.

  ME: 5th Street and Bollinger Ave. Empty ice cream shop.

  After texting that, Quinn rounded a corner so her colleagues would lose sight of her.

  She took three steps before a powerful arm seized her waist and zoomed the reporter forward. Quinn’s vision blurred into endless, smeared streaks until everything slowed again. She found herself in an empty, boarded-up store.

  Quinn walked forward, yet stumbled sideways as her equilibrium seesawed.

  Once the room stopped spinning, Quinn wheeled about furiously. “Are you serious?” she seethed at Hugo, who had almost a foot on her.

  He instinctively stepped back, surprise on his strong-jawed face. “You said where to meet. I was just speeding things up.” Hugo grasped his unintended pun. “Ha! Speeding things up…”

  “I…never mind.” Quinn let her anger go, reminded again she was dealing with a teenager despite Hugo’s manly appearance. “Thanks for coming,” she said calmly, “even though you weren’t needed.”

  Hugo grinned. “Sure.” His hair was short like a fuse. He wore jeans and a white/pale blue cutoff jersey that showcased those tree trunks he called arms. “Missy sucked out there,” Hugo remarked. “I mean, she’s lost weight since Titan’s funeral. But Missy has no business protecting anyone.”

  Quinn agreed with him. “She was hungover. That Brahma idiot monologuing saved Missy's life.” Quinn prepared to thank Hugo again and bid him farewell. Now she had to tell Helena about what a mistake this profile was and discuss SLOCO Daily’s next steps.

  But by Hugo’s troubled expression, he had more to say. “Speaking of which, I heard someone feeding Brahma instructions on an earpiece.”

  Quinn frowned. “Really?” Getting fed instructions for a simple store robbery seemed unusual. “What was he getting told to do?”

  Hugo furrowed his broad brow. “Whoever was talking to Brahma told him to stall and ease up his attacks so Missy could recover.”

  Quinn stared up at him for several seconds as her brain processed this. “Wait. WHAT THE…?”

  Hugo gave her an odd look. “The fight was staged,” he confirmed, hands on hips. “If it was real, Missy would’ve been murderized.”

  Quinn felt like she’d been dropkicked in the chest and the brain all at once. No wonder Monty had been so confident, even during Missy’s beatdown. “So…he took the loss to make Missy look good?” Anger chased away Quinn’s shock as she mulled this further. “Was someone feeding Missy instructions?”

  “Nope,” Hugo stated. “I just heard her sucking wind. She could be in on this, though.”

  “Yeah…” Quinn’s voice drifted off. She had no doubt Missy would be in on this. The girl was desperate to prove to the world she could stand apart from the Extreme Teens. But right now, Hugo was the only person who’d heard this for certain. “But I need proof.”

  Hugo glanced at his cell. The teen’s eyes widened for a moment. “I should get ready for school, unless you need anything else.”

  Quinn stared back blankly, then realized today was a school day. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Hugo turned to leave, hesitating. “And that thing I asked for?”

  Quinn needed no reminder. “The bombings, yes.” Teenagers-turned-suicide bombers. She shivered.

  The most recent bombing had occurred near the Old San Miguel Mission. Thanks to Hugo there’d been no deaths or injuries, Quinn knew. “I’ll get you evidence in a day or two.”

  Hugo grinned in response, revealing his sixteen years of age. “Thanks, Quinn. Let me get you back before I go.” He reached for her.

  Quinn backpedaled. “Nope. I’ll walk,” she rebuked.

  Hugo gave her a sidelong look. “Whatever. Later.” One moment he stood beside her. The next, the boy vanished in a gust of air.

  That left Quinn alone with her fears. If Missy and Monty were staging these battles, she had to tell Helena. “I also need rock-solid proof.”

  If someone exposed Missy’s treachery before Quinn, SLOCO Daily could become a laughing stock.

  “And my career will be finished,” she murmured, gripped by dread.

  Chapter 23

  A few hours had passed. And disappointingly, Greyson still lived.

  Meaning, they’re gonna make our deaths prolonged and public. Currently he stood with hands and legs shackled, wearing only tattered pants, sweaty and bloodied. The strange tribal markings still on his chest and forehead had a dim glow. The nourishing energy flowing through Greyson was gone thanks to his dampening restraints. The slashes across Greyson’s back left a
dull burn that kept him from passing out after the adrenaline wore off. He took in his new surroundings, a gilded chamber twice as large as his old St. Louis condo. Patterned walls with buttressed ceilings and gold-laced patterns of ancient Amaranthine glyphs. Even the thick pillars were veined in shimmery bullion. Despite the lavish decorations and cascading sunrays, Greyson felt little warmth. This room was a garish display of affluence, nothing familiar or inviting.

  Probably the point, Greyson realized, glance at the lofty windows. Outside was a perfect view of the red sun sinking into darkening oceans, the horizon between sea and sky stunningly blurred. By the room's appearance, Greyson figured they were at Sunbridge Palace's highest floor.

  The urge to run and leap out from the windows was enticing. Except, several armored guards flanked every window and exit. They’d make him suffer before killing him. Plus, Greyson refused to put his two companions in jeopardy. Rodrigo, also shackled and shirtless, watched Greyson like an overeager puppy. The only other survivor was a svelte woman with a boxy face and a messy explosion of curlicue blonde locks. Greyson never caught her name or saw what her powers were. No matter, since they were probably about to die. “What’s taking so long?” he murmured.

  “You beat Skylord, Ravager, and Scorcher,” Rodrigo gushed in a sharp whisper. His fanboying was disconcerting. “How you do all that?”

  Greyson grimaced, fighting down annoyance. “Not here,” he whispered back without looking.

  That didn’t please Rodrigo. “Yea, here. You never shared how powerful you be.”

  Greyson knew the Amaranthine wouldn’t shut his mouth. “I’m not a bragger.”

  “Sounded like a brag.” Rodrigo nudged Greyson’s arm. “We be at the highest towers of Sunbridge because we’re money, yea.”

  Greyson rolled his eyes. “Or they'll kill us.”

  “Why? Ravager’s dead,” Rodrigo scoffed, fixated on the triumph in his mind. “They need a new champion. Or three.”