by Krys Janae
Table of Contents
(Untitled)
~*~
Welcome Home
On Your Guard
Return to Sender
You Again
Under the Radar
A New Contender
Look the Devil in the Eye
Stay Alive
Paved with Good Intentions
The Truth Will Set You Free
Blowback
Assets & Allies
Dangerous Game
Catch and Release
Are you with us?
The Man in Blue
By
Krys Janae
All Rights Reserved.
All the King’s Men © 2018 Krys Janae
Edited by Christa Cunningham
Cover art by TakeCover Designs
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, product names, or featured names are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
With the exception of quotes for the purpose of reviewing this book, this book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher/author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
Published in the United States of America in 2018
Published by Krys Janae
Special Thanks
Megan Thun, for fangirling with me, and helping me along with the initial stages of this story. Thank you for inspiring me to create this new realm for “superheroes”, and always supporting me through the writer woes, otherwise this book/series may not have existed.
My early edit/alpha readers Tracy D. Vincent and Alistar. Your feedback on this helped shape it into what it is today. Thanks for taking the time to read through, and I hope you enjoy how it turned out!
To Christopher Michael, Jason Kyle and Chris Pinheiro, my “bros” in the fandom, for shooting through ideas with me and encouraging me along the way!
Most of all, Christa Cunningham, one of the best friends a gal could ever ask for. Your expertise in pulling what I’m really trying to say out of the crazy nonsense you’ve trudged through is spectacular. Your eye for detail and the flair you’ve added throughout is appreciated. Much love, chica!
Years before the events of this story, humankind evolved into what they called “the Powered” as they derived from the natural course. The Turning described the days that more and more incidents of a genetic evolution showed themselves over the span of a few days, leading to chaos in the streets. Fear rippled out across the Earth, destroying lives, families, and quality of life. The Turning forced the world’s governments to get involved, and the Powered were forced into captivity under the guise of public safety, but their abilities made them nearly impossible to keep confined with the technology of the time. Many from both sides were killed, until a tenuous treaty was reached between the prominent members of the Powered community and the political world leaders.
The Powered community developed a registry to keep the nations safe—at times from its own members—providing limited information into the right hands to ensure no one was harmed with the use of excessive power.
...but even in the right hands, the wrong intentions could mean danger, or even extinction, for the Powered people.
~*~
5 Years After the Turning…
I live in Augusta.
No, not that one. Not that one, either.
Our Augusta was established sometime after those, I’m sure. Augusta is in a state that is riddled with debt. The Blackstone River runs through it, and they say that there are bodies at the bottom of it. But, I wouldn’t dwell on that too much… anyway, just don’t go swimming. Easy. Even with its diverse citizens, it’s quite overpopulated, if you ask me. Ask a tourist about it and they’ll gush about it being the next wonder of the world. Ask anyone who lives here, and they’ll say it’s a gorgeous metropolis full of opportunity. Ask the real people on the ground level in the streets and some might say it’s not as bad as it could be, but it could also be better.
It’s named for its majesty or something. Well that, and our founder, I think? Clarence V. August…
Anyway, you’re not here for a history lesson, are you?
The city isn’t safe as long as people like Alton King are involved in its ‘development’. He’s feeding everyone this bullshit about renovations and bringing a better tomorrow, but what’s another empty promise from another politician? Seems like a fairly standard day in any other city, right?
No.
His “better tomorrow” means he hates the events of the Turning, and the treaty that came after it. The truth is, if he gets what he wants, we’re going to get wiped of the planet.
Our kind. The Powered.
I lost my family because of people like King—or maybe even King himself. I tried to walk away from it all.
…But like that damn cat that lives on your balcony that keeps clawing its way back into your life, I was pulled back and thrown face first into a wall of a mission that I figured would be a one-and-done.
I was wrong.
That’s where this story begins…
Welcome Home
Her breathing was heavy. Panicked. Unstable.
Danika was running for her life, scrambling to get away from whatever hell had been unleashed on her. It looked like a cat, but it stood at least seven feet tall. Still, there was no mistaking the whiskers on its face, and she caught sight of long, clawed fingers. They gripped a large polearm that reached her, even across the great distance between them. She felt the searing pain of the cut, whipped straight across her back just between her shoulders, and it was accessorized with smaller slashes that came in threes around it. The heavy weight of the passenger on her shoulder made each step feel like she was treading through mud, even though she was on a flat surface, on a dry evening.
An ear-piercing screech sounded behind her, as if she’d rattled the cage of a feral panther. No matter, she had to keep moving. She was running out of time.
Just a little bit farther, now… Danika urged herself to press on. It was so close, she could taste it. The beacon over the Alliance headquarters shone just ahead.
A sense of danger prickled the hairs on the back of her neck, prompting her to duck.
With her arm around the waist of the man over her shoulder, she bent her knees and avoided whatever the hell was thrown at her. She peeked above her, as a spear soared over her with a whoosh. Its blade pierced right through the metal dumpster beside her. It would have kabobbed her and the recruit too, if she hadn’t moved.
Crap.
Flinging her hand out, palm facing her opponent, she released a wave of energy that blew everything back: her enemy, the dumpster containing the weapon, and much of the debris around them. She prided herself on the amount she could pick up on each throw, but instead of gloating now, she turned and took off, refusing to look back. Her goal: to make it inside HQ and directly to the Medical wing. Not only did she need the care, but so did the new recruit.
Danika had nearly rolled her ankle in that last pivot but stopping wasn’t an option. She couldn’t afford the loss of another few seconds that could be used in her efforts to get away.
“Danika, are you there?” It was choppy, but the signa
l came from her communication device.
It took some maneuvering since she had her hands full, but Danika tapped the unit in her ear to respond. “Frost, I need in. Now.”
“Copy.”
She was almost there, and she saw it clearly: the entrance was a red door with a black frame. But there was a barrier up. There was not enough time to disarm it, get through with her package, and rearm it before the beast could get though too—it was just too fast. She needed a different way in.
“Red door’s a no go. Need a single use. Now would be nice!”
“10-4. Almost got it—”
“I don’t have time for almost, Frost, let’s go!”
“There. Northeast corner of the building. Blue.” Frost set up a new point of extraction, a blue rope hanging down the side of the building. It wasn’t the typical, everyday rope. It glowed a brilliant blue, letting Danika know this was her intended target.
When Danika reached it, she looped it around her palm and held on tight. She gave one hefty tug, and it launched her up to the top of the building. It was about a five-story leap, but Danika expertly controlled the air to land safely, especially since she carried a passenger. As she threw the rope down, it disappeared, a matching blue door with a black frame appearing a few feet away. It stood out like a sore thumb on the open rooftop.
She clicked her tongue. “Couldn’t place it against the wall?”
“You’re in a hurry, right?” Frost replied, with the same amount of attitude.
Ugh.
Danika heard footsteps approaching, and that shrill, chill-inducing screech of the metal spearhead as it dragged along the concrete, soon followed.
Gimme a break, it can leap tall buildings in a single bound, too? That’s just not fair.
She couldn’t lose now. She was so close.
The recruit rolled off her shoulder and down into her arms as she gently placed him on the floor, trying not to damage him further since she’d been ordered to keep him unharmed. Minor bruising was easier to explain than a spear through the stomach—so by her estimation she was still in good standing for deflecting the attack from before. What had happened to him before she picked him up was simply out of her control. Once he was settled, Danika straightened out her jacket and turned to face her stalker. She knew that if she didn’t take care of this now, she’d be followed inside. Even the temporary doors took a few seconds to close. She cracked her knuckles and flung her hand at the humanoid-cat, who used its gold bracers in an x-formation to block out the force. It skidded backward, the spear rolling near its feet.
Perfect. Danika grinned, finding the right opening to turn this defense into an offensive attack. She reached into the air as the spear hurtled towards her. Both hands were engaged, one pushing and the other pulling, which was difficult to control at first. Lucky for her, she stopped her off-hand just in time, as it had pulled the weapon toward her, spearhead first, aimed directly at her face. Danika sucked in a breath of surprise as she moved back and away from the spear that was frozen in mid-air.
Here we go.
Danika unleashed a scream as she forced the polearm to flip around. Excruciatingly slowly to her, the Gale spun the weapon the other way, and she pitched the weapon back at its master with both hands pushing out at full force.
The cat anticipated this move and dodged, just as Danika expected it would, and she shifted the trajectory just enough for the spear to pierce into the flesh of its side. The hit forced the creature to stagger back with the momentum, and it tumbled over the railing, into the alley below.
Wonder if it’ll land on its feet…
The door behind her swung open. In that second, Danika realized that the cat, if not mortally wounded from the fall, could return. She also didn’t know whether there were multiple enemies following her; she had to move fast. Once again, she hoisted the body of the recruit over her shoulder and made a mad dash towards the open door. Dramatics were not lost on her as she dove through and was caught by a large man waiting on the other side. Her body collided with his, but he didn’t fall on impact.
She did.
He pulled the recruit’s body from Danika’s shoulder with ease and even reached to catch her before she hit the ground, softening her descent as she fell back into a sitting position against the wall. She kicked the door closed with her foot and watched as it disappeared, revealing the rest of the hallway she’d entered.
“Couldn’t place it against the damn wall,” she muttered, earning no reaction from the gatekeeper.
He had dark skin, from what she could tell as her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in the bunker. Tattoos trailed up and down his entire body—arms, legs, chest…everywhere except his face had ink of traditional tribal designs. Not like those obnoxious popular designs Danika would find in any tattoo shop’s flash, but the Islander kind, that could only be tapped into one’s skin by hand. Danika might have let her eyes linger on his form a little too long, but her excuse would be the tats—much of his skin was exposed after all. He was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts on his towering, muscular form.
It wasn’t ogling, either. She was just intrigued by him, since she had no idea who he was. However, that didn’t stop her from slumping down on the wall like an ill-mannered hobo. “Take him to Aldo.”
*
A half an hour later, Danika had recovered her strength and could stand without feeling like she was going to pass out. The night had taken a toll on her, physically and mentally, and she had decided to stay seated while the adrenaline that had been pumping through her faded. Now she was just stalling. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back. Tattoo Guy (as she had no other name to give him) had carried the recruit down to the Medical Wing, known to most of the team simply as “The Ward”, so she could rest. Her legs didn’t quite feel like they were going to fall off anymore, so that was a good sign. She pulled herself off the ground and dusted off her jacket, immediately regretting the choice to wear her designer leather tonight.
Is that a rip? Not to mention she could feel the draft on her bloody skin through the slashes between her shoulder blades. “Rip” was a bit of an understatement; the back of the jacket was completely shredded. What a waste. Dammit. She shed the once beautiful, premium leather and tossed it into the bin nearby. It wasn’t really her job anymore to collect the Powered in Augusta, but when rumors started circulating about a threat that was out to target and kill them, the compassionate side of her felt like she had to pick up this gig.
Oh, she hated her conscience sometimes.
After wandering the halls in the fortress for a few minutes, she figured out where she needed to go and stopped just outside of the door. Danika heard voices inside the room, or rather one person talking and another making noises in agreement or obedience, but most everything was drowned out by the sounds of a machine whirring and beeping.
It was a good opportunity to light up a cigarette while she waited. She flicked the flame on her favorite lighter and held it to the tip until it caught and crackled alive with a bright orange glow. The old lighter cap let out a clang as it was shut, and she slipped it back into her pocket. The thick stone walls were anything but comfortable, but she relaxed against the one facing the Ward’s entrance with her knees slightly bent and her back flat.
Folks trickled by, which Danika was still not used to; things were so different now. The Alliance was founded right after the Turning treaty was signed, and the HQ immediately became a bustling hub of activity. Unfortunately, they had lost most of their original members over the years. Some had left of their own accord, some went underground and pretended their powers didn’t exist, while those lacking in a moral compass pandered their abilities to the highest bidder. Then there were the ones that were dead. Their numbers were growing again now, but many were green, having never been on a serious mission. Save for a handful of people, the members were too young or inexperienced for field work, just discovering their potential and possessing little to no control over their skill
s.
A couple of these new faces gave her a cursory glance, while the few she’d seen before greeted her in a variety of ways, depending on how she’d treated them in the past. She knew none of them by name. Most of them did the customary head bob, and broke eye contact as not to engage in conversation; then there were the begrudging folks who didn’t care for her renegade ways and just ignored her altogether. Danika didn’t mind the treatment, knowing the age-old saying: you get what you give.
“He’d be dead if you didn’t find him in that dumpster.” Aldo was at the open door. The old man smiled as he leaned against the doorframe. He was wiping his hands on a towel, a musty rag covered in old blood. “Danika Carlisle.”
Danika blew the exhaust from her cigarette through the side of her mouth and away from him.
Because…manners.
“Evenin’, Doc.” she grinned, “I tried to keep him from getting messed up even more… that’s all from the attacker. Trust me.”
“I know,” Aldo nodded. He’d seen what she could do, and the damage on the recruit was nothing like it. “What are they calling you now? Gale Force? The Reckoning? That One Vigilante Girl?”
Danika groaned. She hated titles. “Better than Breaker of Wind. Oh, how Frost liked calling that one out overhead.”
Aldo laughed, shaking his head at the humorous crack at her abilities and the names that came with it. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she did the same to greet him. It’d been a long time since she’d been in the Ward, and as much as she typically avoided getting hurt and being reckless, tonight was an exception. Aldo waved her inside. “Come in, let’s get that back of yours stitched up.”
Danika narrowed her eyes as she pulled another draw from her cigarette before putting it out on her own palm, crushing the butt of it before casting it into the nearby bin. It was a trick that she first started doing in her teens to impress her friends, but now was just a habit. If one looked closely, they would see a faint white shimmer on her palm, evidence of her powers. It was just enough to suck the oxygen from the burning material and render it harmless.