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

by C. C. Ekeke

  When the reporter finished, Helena’s mouth hung open. “What. The. Fuck?”

  “Right?” Quinn exclaimed.

  Helena glanced beyond the glass walls suspiciously. “Who else knows?”

  “A few sources.”

  Helena’s eyes gleamed. “Same ones from the Morningstar exposé?”

  Quinn uncurled in her seat, sensing the probe behind her boss’s query. “Yep,” she conveyed tersely.

  Helena’s gaze lingered before she backed down and exhaled. “Wow. How much can you prove?”

  “Hazard's endgame is still unconfirmed,” Quinn explained. “But by Solstice Equity’s land grabs, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Not only that. I searched all The Junction business we have sponsorship deals with. Solstice Equity bought them two weeks after our deals finalized. But they are acting like the original owners are still in charge.”

  “Wow…” Helena’s trim figure sagged in her seat. “And you’re sure Missy doesn’t know?”

  Quinn wanted to confirm. Then she recalled Seraph’s affair with Blur. And Titan’s Boy Scout image being false. “I confronted Missy about the staged fights. Unless she’s a good actor, I’m sure.” Quinn hoped Missy Magnificent was different, flaws aside. “She’s just a damaged girl who fell for the wrong guy.”

  The comment rocked Helena like a physical blow. “I can relate.” Her eyes dulled over.

  Quinn’s heart ached for Helena, but she knew her boss would shut down if she pried further. “Clearly I can’t continue with Missy's profile. What do you want to do?”

  Helena stared at the ceiling for several seconds, then looked back at Quinn with renewed verve. “Get rock-solid proof and write The Junction story. I’ll handle the sponsorships.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.” Helena’s smile was infectious. “You’ve proven yourself constantly. And I trust you.”

  Quinn sprang to her feet, ready to conquer the world. “Thanks, boss!”

  “Please be careful,” Helena warned.

  “Always am,” Quinn called over her shoulder.

  Upon reaching the parking lot, Quinn called Missy. The hero deserved to know everything. “Missy?” she said when the superhero answered. “Where are you?”

  “On patrol with Colin.” Missy sounded blithely unaware. “We’re talking about my foundation’s block party two nights from now. It’s for the businesses damaged from my battles.”

  Quinn almost tripped over her own feet. That has to be when The Junction gets demolished. Dread prickled her flesh. “Let's meet. Alone.” Realizing how panicked she sounded, Quinn calmed herself. “To discuss the block party. Tell no one.”

  “Sure,” Missy answered, a smile in her voice. “I have a house in Morro Bay. I’ll text you the address.”

  After that, Quinn went on a texting spree.

  ME: Get all SLOCO Daily personnel out of The Junction ASAP. Play it cool and go.

  Colin: Done.

  She texted Geist through her encryption app.

  ME: Hazard's attack is in two days. Getting Missy away from The Junction now.

  Missy’s text came with her address. Quinn forwarded that to Geist, then to Helena with a note.

  ME: I’ll be at Missy’s house. Address below.

  A safeguard in case anything happened to her. For some reason, the possibility no longer petrified Quinn. With that, she drove off.

  When she reached Missy’s beachside estate, the superhero was outside waiting in costume. “Hi, Quinn,” she greeted with a hug. “What’s the emergency?”

  Quinn waited until they were inside Missy’s living room. “I’m gonna be blunt.” She grasped the slender superhero’s shoulders. “You’re being played.”

  Missy stopped smiling. “What?”

  Quinn grimaced, hating herself for revealing this. But better Missy heard this from her and not every news network. “Monty has been paying actors to fight you and lose.”

  Missy jerked from Quinn’s grasp. “That’s…not true.” Her hooded costume glittered under the living room lights as her eyes gleamed in outrage. “You’re lying!”

  “I’m not, Missy.” Quinn stood firm. “There's more. He's using you in a scheme to level The Junction, reframe your image so Monty’s superhero management agency gains clients. And to rebuild The Junction into some crime haven hidden in overpriced high-rises.” It sounded insane saying all this. But after the evidence Quinn had seen, her belief remained adamant.

  Missy quivered with fury. “Monty was right. You don’t believe in me, just like everyone else! SLOCO Daily only came to watch Missy Magnificent self-destruct in realtime.”

  Quinn flinched from the accusation. “That’s not true.”

  “Fuck you!” the superhero cried. “No wonder you think I can’t win my own fights. Heaven forbid Missy Magnificent triumphs without the Extreme Teens.”

  Quinn didn’t have time for this. It was only a matter of time before Montgomery Major realized his wife was missing. “Listen to me—”

  The sound of the door opening turned both women’s heads. “Missy?”

  Quinn almost swore, something she hadn’t done in years.

  Montgomery Major moseyed into the living room. His expensive suit looked cheap on that unremarkable physique. Monty's ratty face grew alarmed when he saw Quinn. “What’s all this?”

  “Monty!” Missy launched herself at him with a desperate hug. “Thank God…”

  Quinn’s stomach flip-flopped. The situation had grown critical. “Missy.” She stayed calm, despite her fear. “Please listen.”

  Missy whipped around with a hateful glare. “Get out before I throw you out!”

  Montgomery glanced from Quinn to his wife. “Dearest. What has she done to upset you?”

  Missy started to cry, jabbing a petulant finger at Quinn. “She says all my fights were staged. And that you were using me to level The Junction.”

  Panic fluttered across Montgomery’s face, gone in a flash. But Quinn saw, confirming her suspicions.

  “Sounds crazy, babe,” Montgomery lied smoothly. He gave Quinn a stern look, playing the protective spouse. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Ms. Bauer. This SLOCO Daily profile is over.”

  Quinn knew she’d lost Missy, who stood united with Monty. Until a last-ditch gamble popped into her head. “Would Damián Hazard call this fiction?” she inquired casually.

  That wiped the confidence off Monty’s face.

  Missy grew annoyed by the pause in Quinn’s departure. “Who’s Damián Hazard?” she asked.

  Montgomery ignored her, turning grey. “How do you know that name?”

  Quinn grinned as Montgomery’s resolve crumbled. “I know about Solstice Equity. And Laura Tarsitano from Paxton-Brandt,” she continued. “I know Ivan Oshiro bails out Missy’s opponents and makes them vanish. I know how Solstice owns every Junction business sponsoring Missy’s profile.”

  Missy now looked more confused than angry. “What’s she talking about?”

  Montgomery’s glare turned murderous. “Shut your mouth.”

  Quinn spread her arms, challenging him to try. “Your buddy Damián wants to rebuild The Junction into a crime haven.”

  Montgomery lunged at her. “Shut UP!”

  Missy anxiously dragged him backward. “Monty. That’s not true, right?”

  Montgomery was too shaken to reply. His eyes gleamed with hatred and fear. Of Damián Hazard.

  “Monty,” Missy repeated more firmly, forcing Montgomery Major to face her. “Deny it!”

  “He can’t,” Quinn confirmed.

  Montgomery opened his mouth, trembling. He reached to stroke Missy’s face. “I can explain…”

  Missy clapped a hand over her horrified mouth. “Oh my God.” The reaction was bittersweet, as another person in Missy’s life had betrayed her.

  Missy backed away, eyes alight with such heartbreak it hurt Quinn to watch. “You and your Hazard friend,” she sobbed, “are going to kill everyone in The Junction? Why?”


  “Missy! You’re acting childish.” Montgomery reached for his wife to pull her close, like the property he saw her as. “Calm down.”

  “Don’t touch me!” Missy shoved Monty off, knocking him on his butt. “How could you?” she shrieked.

  Quinn didn’t like how quickly things had spiraled. Missy needed to be far away from her husband before a line got crossed. “Missy. Come with me.” She held her hand out. “We need to tell the police.”

  “No!” Montgomery lurched to his feet, grabbing Missy’s face like he owned it. “Don’t walk away from this. Remember when we first met? When you were in rehab?”

  “He targeted you in rehab, Missy. Manipulated you,” Quinn yelled. “Your whole relationship is a lie.”

  “Don’t listen to that lying bitch,” Montgomery ordered his flabbergasted wife, eyes for her only. “In rehab you told me you wanted to save lives. But the world turned on you. Laughed at you. Like me. That’s why we clicked.

  “The Junction’s demise is our chance to become San Miguel’s heroes,” Montgomery pressed, like he actually loved Missy. No wonder he’d sucked her in. “You and me against the world.”

  “Missy,” Quinn refuted. “You know this is wrong. Once this comes to light and you willingly partook, your career is over.” Her inner cynic wanted to see the worst in Missy. Which was what everyone else would do. She chose to believe in Missy’s inner good, reaching for her. “Now come with me.”

  A sad little smile filled Missy’s face. She took Monty's hands into her own. “You’re right,” she whispered shakily. “I don’t wanna be a punchline anymore. I want little girls to look up to me again.”

  Disappointment struck Quinn with staggering force. She let her hand drop.

  Missy sniffled, turning to Quinn. “But I won’t take shortcuts.” She caught a startled Montgomery by the collar, hoisting him off his feet. Her eyes burned. “You’re not hurting anyone in The Junction.”

  That pleased Quinn so much she almost cartwheeled. But time wasn’t on their side. She marched forward to separate Missy from her husband. “Missy, let’s go—LOOK OUT!”

  Montgomery whipped something from his jacket, slamming it into Missy’s throat.

  Her body went ramrod straight, eyes bulging as if she’d choked on food. Missy collapsed to the floor and convulsed, staring at nothing.

  Quinn watched in horror as Montgomery stood over his wife, a Taser in his grip crackling. “Then you’re part of the world I am against,” he snarled.

  With Missy down, Quinn knew the danger she was in. If that device could take down someone with Missy’s durability, Quinn panicked at the damage that could do to her. She backtracked to the door.

  Montgomery whipped around on her with frightening quickness. “You ruined everything, bitch.” He pounced, stabbing his Taser at Quinn’s chest.

  Despite surging fear, she reacted just like Geist and Therese had taught.

  She darted aside, and Montgomery angrily charged at nothing. Quinn came from the left, driving a hard knee to the stomach, doubling Montgomery over. Then she slammed her elbow into the back of his neck with all her strength. Montgomery’s limbs splayed out awkwardly before he faceplanted.

  Quinn aimed a flurry of kicks to Montgomery’s stomach. That kept him down.

  “I’ll take bitch as a compliment.” She snatched away the Taser and scurried over to Missy. The superhero lay motionless on the floor, eyes rolled back.

  “Missy?” Quinn shook her. The superhero was out like a light. Anger washed over Quinn as she stared at the Taser in her hands. She turned ferociously to jab Montgomery with his weapon. Only for fingers to wrap around her throat.

  Quinn suddenly found herself high off the floor, barely able to inhale with the iron grip choking her out. Staring up at her was a man with sculpted, handsome features. His mouth was a grim slash of disdain, cold grey eyes vacant. The eyes of a killer.

  He was clean-cut, with short brown hair, his three-piece navy-blue suit undeniably custom-made. Despite her oxygen-deprived state, Quinn recognized him from Therese’s photos.

  Damián Hazard.

  Quinn jabbed the Taser at his face. Hazard slapped the device from her fingers effortlessly.

  “Forgive my abruptness,” he said, his mid-Atlantic accent calm and refined. “But if anyone will physically reprimand Montgomery, it is myself.”

  Hazard turned his icy gaze down on Montgomery, who struggled up to a knee. “You said this journalist would be an unwitting asset. Yet she somehow has learned my name and our plans.” The subtle disappointment in Hazard’s voice made it much more chilling. “I will not stomach such liability.” He turned his attention back on Quinn, whose lungs burned from lacking oxygen. “It will truly be a shame to watch the life drain from that face, attractive as it may be.”

  Quinn shivered, knowing she was about to die even as her consciousness faded. A glance at Missy’s motionless form confirmed that. Quinn cursed herself for not texting Hugo. Dark spots bubbled into her vision as she caught Montgomery reaching to Hazard beseechingly.

  “Please, Mr. Hazard,” he begged. “Don’t kill Bauer in my home!”

  Don’t kill me anywhere, she tried saying. But between Hazard’s chokehold and her oxygen-starved brain, Quinn only made an objecting moan.

  Mild offense barely rippled through Hazard. “Do you consider me a savage?” The threat of a smile graced the well-dressed man’s face. “I know exactly where to dispose of our problematic journalist.”

  Quinn never heard the location, because Hazard was squeezing her throat tighter. Numbing darkness soon washed over her head. And she never resurfaced.

  Chapter 43

  “Ooooh, lasagna,” Hugo groaned, crouching on the sidewalk and clutching his blissfully stuffed belly.

  The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind. Mister Quiet, aka Mr. Proctor, had been stopped and the kidnapped students rescued. SLOCO Daily revealed an exclusive view into Mr. Proctor’s twisted mind plus glimpses of his underground lair. Hugo had no interest in a closer look at Mr. Proctor. Then there was the guilt over not feeling guilty for his actions.

  “You did the right thing,” Simon, Mom, and Ms. Ortiz had said after he’d told each one.

  Hugo knew that. Then why wouldn’t this non-guilty guilt go away?

  Articles on various news sites spoke of the mysterious hero who’d rescued the students and stopped Mr. Proctor. Some guessed it was an Elite member. Others guessed the Tomorrow Man, whose issued a statement neither confirming or denying involvement. Hugo wasn’t surprised by that thirsty famewhore trying to steal credit. “At least no one suspects me."

  Hugo forced himself upright, just coming from Brent’s wine country mansion. The visit had been half-altruistic, half fact-finding. Brent had discussed his ordeal, including his savior. When he’d confessed to not recognizing the hero, Hugo was relieved.

  Despite getting kidnapped yesterday, Brent brushed off Hugo’s concerns. “Bro, I’m alive. That psycho teacher’s cancelled. And I’m hanging with one of my best friends.”

  Infectious optimism wasn’t the only thing Brent had inherited from his blond, athletic and beautiful parents. The Longwells, both who resembled Vikings, had insisted Hugo stay for lunch.

  “I tried Brent after your call,” Mrs. Longwell had stated, clasping her son’s forearm affectionately. “When he didn’t answer, I called the police. Thanks to you! Lunch is the least we can do.”

  Lunch included the most scrumptious lasagna Hugo had eaten ever. The Longwells would’ve fed him dinner if he hadn’t excused himself, hence why Hugo could barely superspeed let alone walk home.

  Studying the burnt coppery skies, he had an hour and a half before tonight’s dance competition. Hugo planned on attending to support his Fab Phenoms crew, then do a night patrol afterward.

  His pocket vibrated urgently. Fishing out his regular cell, he beamed at the caller ID. “Hey, Jodie,” Hugo had been meaning to call. “Did you and Brie hang at the party?” He wanted th
em to be friends again. Even Briseis deserved a ride-or-die BFF.

  “Didn’t go,” Jordana retorted almost rudely. From what Hugo heard in the backdrop, she wasn’t alone.

  He frowned. “That sucks.” Hugo changed the subject. “I just saw Brent. You visit him today?” Brent had mentioned Jodie stopping over. Nothing more.

  “This morning,” Jodie dismissed. “Come over.”

  Hugo stiffened. His mind danced with chilling possibilities. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. I’ll text my address.”

  Despite his rising worries, Hugo decided to indulge her request. “Okay.”

  He waited fifteen minutes before superspeeding to Jordana’s home in southern Paso Robles, a gorgeous stuccoed house. When he slowed and approached normally, Hugo sensed seven heartbeats. Was one of them Brie? The door opened after one ring. Hugo faced a stout, dark-skinned man, mid-forties, with a full head of salt-and-pepper curls. Mr. Buchanan had a meaty handshake. His cheery face was somewhat familiar besides being Jordana’s dad. “Glad to finally meet you, Bogota. Heard you’re some kind of hero.”

  Hugo gave a nervous laugh as Mr. Buchanan motioned him inside. “Not really.” His superhearing detected Mrs. Buchanan in the study while Jodie’s brothers played the Gods of Vengeance videogame in the living room. “Is Jordana upstairs?”

  The elder Buchanan nodded. “With one of her girlfriends. She’s a popular girl.”

  Hugo fought to keep smiling. “Okay.” He headed upstairs to the room Mr. Buchanan had directed. He heard Jodie conversing with someone familiar. Not Brie. Another relief. So why was she here?

  After he knocked, the door opened to reveal Jordana in a Mets tee and grey sweatpants, curly hair in a ponytail.

  “Hi,” Hugo gave her a hug. His gaze raked over Jordana’s guest. “Hello," he greeted in a stiff voice.

  Jennifer Thomas sat on Jordana’s bed, freckles standing out on pale flesh. The lanky girl wore jeans and an off-the-shoulder black tee, her wavy ginger bob pulled back. She offered a feeble wave. “Hi, Hugo.”

  “What’s this?” Hugo asked, still guarded after Jodie closed the door.

  “Tell him,” she ordered her friend.