The Pantheon Saga Books 1-3: A Superhero Boxset

by C. C. Ekeke

“Never,” the speedster hissed, wagging his finger in reproach. “You’ll regret messing with…The Accelerator!”

  “Whoa…” Hugo waited for the punchline. None followed that mustache-twirling intro. “You call yourself ‘the Accelerator?’ On purpose?” He looked at him sideways, laughing. “What kind of lame as fuck codename is that?”

  “Is he joking?” The son of the battered hostage turned to the Accelerator, giggling. “You're joking, yes?”

  “QUIET!” the vibrating speedster roared. His blue eyes burned in outrage. “My nom de guerre isn’t lame!” the Accelerator protested. “I doubt yours is better!”

  Hugo scoffed. “It…” He paused, recalling that he and Simon hadn’t confirmed a codename, which should’ve happened tonight. And a crappy temporary codename announced on the fly might stick permanently. “It’ll be better than yours,” Hugo blurted out.

  “What the shit?” The Accelerator’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You don’t have a codename??”

  Hugo’s cheeks flushed beneath his mask. “It’s a work in progress!” he retorted, growing angrier.

  “Meaning the name you've chosen sucks,” the Accelerator parried. By how his vibrating body shook, he was laughing at Hugo. Just like Brie and her friends earlier.

  Hugo wanted to rip this guy in two. “Says the jackass who calls himself the Accelerator!”

  “HEY!” one of the hostages barked, the wife of the man the Accelerator had tortured. The redheaded woman gestured furiously to her family cowering behind the arguing supers. “Are you two idiots serious?”

  Hugo flinched. He’d taken his eyes off the task. Saving lives. “Sorry.” Trading barbs with some C-List speedster? Not a good look. He centered his stance. “Back to where I stomp on the Accelerator and BRAKE him.”

  “That’s just rude!” The speedster cracked his neck, blurry frame sizzling with white voltage. “Catch me if you can, whoever you are.”

  Hugo bristled. “Oh, it’s on!” He moved, everything around the speedster stretching into shadowy streaks.

  The Accelerator sprinted along the living room walls. Forks of crackling white lightning trailed his fleet-footed wake. Hugo hurtled after him, footfalls tearing chunks of paint and plaster off the walls. The two supers raced round and round the room. Hugo pushed himself faster, exhilarated and brimming with power. The hostages crouched in the room’s center, their terrified postures frozen as Hugo and his foe moved at speeds beyond their comprehension.

  Crappy alias aside, the Accelerator was faster than Hugo expected. Really fast. Whenever the speedster was within reach, he’d pull ahead or zigzag away at the last fraction of a second. Fucker…

  I’m not fast enough, Hugo realized several minutes into racing around the room’s shredded, burnt walls. But he refused to lose again today. Or let this family die.

  Unless… Hugo glanced across the room and grinned. An idea blossomed.

  The Accelerator pulled ahead again. So Hugo made a hard right past the unmoving hostages. As he predicted, the Accelerator’s electric streaks kept circling the walls. “Like I thought,” the speedster crowed, unaware of Hugo’s course change. “Not fast enough, nobody—AHHH!”

  The Samoan tackled him mid-dash, driving his air out in a whoosh.

  Both supers exploded through the living room wall, Hugo hearing the house’s foundations buckle. Hugo tried to restrain the speedster as they tumbled through the house like high-speed wrecking balls. But the Accelerator recovered annoyingly quick, fighting back with rapid-fire punches that broke the sound barrier.

  Each blow stung like blazes, especially one smacking Hugo’s left ear. That pissed him off.

  “Enough of this!” He grabbed the Accelerator’s scrawny neck, planted both feet on the floor, and chucked him javelin-style. The speedster yelped and flailed, plowing through the kitchen wall. Hugo raced past him into a darkened backyard, slapping slow-moving debris aside.

  Stopping several yards away, Hugo waited for the flailing Accelerator to reach him. He discus-spun and drove a fist into the speedster’s abdomen, again pulling his punch. Still, several ribs cracking filled Hugo’s ears, as did the Accelerator’s agonized groan. The impact flung the speedster back toward the house as if struck head-on by an eighteen-wheeler. He rolled several yards, skidding to a halt. The Accelerator was down and out.

  “Too slow, ASS-elerator,” Hugo bragged. His first supervillain, defeated!

  He looked to the house and recoiled.

  The mansion was ruined, several walls blown out, flames shooting out from the collapsing roof.

  “The house is on fire?” Hugo had totally missed that, consumed with defeating the Accelerator. The family screamed from inside, surrounded by roaring columns of angry flames. Hugo zoomed without hesitation through the inferno where the family lay trapped. Guilt knifed into him. The wife lay limp, knocked out by debris. Hugo barely noticed the heat churning around him.

  “I’m getting you out of here!” he declared in his masked timbre, reaching for all three.

  The man shoved him off. “Them first!” He gestured to his son and wife.

  Hugo didn’t argue, grabbing those two. He ducked, holding them close, and barreled forward. Abruptly, Hugo was outside and dropping the wife and son on grassy earth. They were coughing and covered in soot but unharmed. Thank god. Hugo then noticed a roiling heat much closer than the burning house, on his shoulders and back.

  Hungry flames devoured the top of his costume.

  “SHIT!!” Hugo ripped the shirt off and stomped the fire out. He was now uncovered, except his mask, pants, and boots.

  “DAD!” the son cried, crouching beside his mother. Hugo turned. The house was awash in flames. The father’s screams rang out as if right beside Hugo. He hesitated, debating how to reach the man without burning to death. Now wasn’t the time to try untested speed tricks.

  “SAVE HIM!” the boy yelled at Hugo.

  Run, Hugo, run! The Samoan grimaced, about to charge in.

  A whooshing, violent gale slashed in front of Hugo from above, stopping him cold. The windstorm whipped faster around the burning house into a tornado. Hugo watched, terrified yet fascinated. A quick glance revealed the Accelerator still motionless.

  The whirlwind surrounding the house sucked the angry red flames away.

  Another hero, Hugo realized. Or the speedster’s accomplice. He warily advanced toward the father…

  …and got punched in the mouth at high speed. Hugo’s world became dancing spots and blinding pain. Suddenly, he was skidding across the grassy backyard, slamming against a maple tree.

  Hugo barely felt the tree, which splintered on impact. He worried that his jaw was broken.

  “OWWWW!” Hugo cradled his throbbing, exposed mouth. He groped at his face. SHIITE. Whoever had punched him knocked his mask off.

  Hugo scrambled onto all fours to face this newest threat. And fell on his behind.

  Moonlight gleamed off the twin spikes crowning Lady Liberty’s silver coronet. She floated barely five feet away from Hugo, arms folded.

  Some flying supers never learned how to pose while hovering. But Lady Liberty had perfected various mid-hover poses.

  The “Glorious Glamazon” floated with feet hip distance apart, as if standing on invisible flooring.

  “Oh my GODDESS.” Hugo had never seen her this close, a marvelous and imposing sight. Lady Liberty’s crimson costume looked like she’d been poured into it. And those long legs…Sweet Jesus.

  Thank goodness she’d extinguished the fire with that whirlwind maneuver. Glancing around Lady Liberty’s six-foot frame revealed she’d rescued the father, dropping him besides his grateful family.

  What triggered Hugo’s alarms was the superhero’s imperious glare and his throbbing jaw.

  Now he was furious. Superheroes keep attacking me! Hugo moved to stand.

  Lady Liberty’s eyes abruptly glowed bright red, a reservoir of solar fire primed to erupt. “I’d stay down if I were you.” The blunt, forceful warni
ng stopped Hugo cold. Though bulletproof and flame-resistant, he had no interest finding out if his skin could withstand heat vision.

  “Why did you attack me?” Hugo’s demand sounded trembling, whiny and normal. Mask your voice! He resumed his deep, booming cadence. “I stopped the villain! I’m the hero!”

  Lady Liberty’s brow furrowed in displeasure. “Behold the damage you caused, hero!” She gestured at the devastation behind her. A three-story mansion in smoldering ruins, flipped over cars; a soot-covered family wheezing from smoke inhalation. And the Accelerator lying in a senseless heap nearby.

  Seeing the consequences of his recklessness, Hugo’s boldness withered. How stupid had he been? Titan would’ve been more careful. Titan would’ve stopped the criminals and rescued the innocents with minimal property damage.

  Then again, the Titan that Hugo thought he knew was a fraud. What does that make me? For the second time today, Hugo felt beyond worthless. His gaze fell to the charred earth. A real superhero saved the day. Hugo nearly killed a family. “What are you gonna do with me?” he asked, hollowed out. Hugo pictured a supermax prison, orange jumpsuits, Simon interrogated as an accomplice, Mom’s heartbreak. I’m going to jail…

  “Let you walk away, teeth intact.”

  Hugo looked up in shock. Lady Liberty’s face was a disdainful mask, but her eyes no longer burned. He was baffled but chose not to question this gift.

  “Thank you.” He pushed himself upright and turned to leave.

  “One more thing.” Lady Liberty’s voice stopped Hugo again. He turned slowly toward her.

  “Remember this mercy.” Cold menace laced her words. “And that I’ve seen your face.” She floated to the ground and walked closer so they stood face to face. Hugo had at least three inches on Lady Liberty, but the hero’s goddess-like presence made her seem ten feet tall. Hugo backed away, seized with more terror than he’d ever known.

  “Because if I learn that you’ve gotten the itch to play the hero again, I will hunt you down and deliver you to OSA myself.” The terse promise sent Hugo’s heart leaping into his throat. And by her merciless expression, he knew Lady Liberty meant it.

  “Run along.” She dismissed him with a shooing gesture.

  Hugo zoomed away, a trail of soot billowing in his terrified wake.

  Chapter 27

  “Thanks for coming,” Quinn told her companion. They followed a security guard through a narrow grey corridor past a fifth security checkpoint. “I wanna make sure I’m not crazy for doing this.”

  Creed Samuels gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, you’re cuckoo for cocoa puffs.” He smiled and ran fingers through his long dreads. “That’s why I luv ya.”

  Quinn made an amused face. “How sweet.” The amusement was short-lived. She and Creed had driven over two hours to Kern County’s San Tomas Supermax Prison for Superhumans. In the next few minutes, Quinn would meet the most hated man on the planet. She adjusted her glasses, nervousness tremoring through her. “If there’s a slight chance he’s innocent—”

  “I get it, Ms. Bleeding Heart.” Creed didn’t need an explanation, hence why she’d asked him to come.

  At the end of the corridor, they spotted Veronica Carson. She was pale with fear, pacing about in her unfortunate homely sweater and mom jeans combo. She lit up when she spotted Quinn. “Thank God.” Veronica gestured at the sealed door beside her. “This way.”

  Quinn still couldn’t fathom that they were about to meet Lord Borealis. All because his desperate wife had guilted her into giving the reformed villain a chance. Too late for regrets, Quinn realized. The guard entered an eye scan and thumbprint before the impenetrable door zoomed open before them.

  He sat behind a glass enclosure dressed in white prison garb, wrists and ankles shackled by power-dampening restraints. Two burly guards carrying nonmetal rifles stood on Quinn’s side at either end of the transparent wall. Without his blue armor, helmet, and the billowing cape, he looked like a normal man in his mid-fifties, lean but fit. Silver streaked his curly slicked-back mane. Hard to believe that this was the electromagnetic maniac that had terrorized America for so long. But those hawkish features, the withering glare, and his regal carriage confirmed Lord Borealis’s identity.

  Quinn froze, forgetting momentarily to breathe. Creed elbowing her ribs jolted the reporter forward. Why am I here? The two reporters took their seats as Lord Borealis’s wife made the introductions. “Carmine. Here are the reporters I told you about.” She pointed at Quinn and Creed.

  His dark eyes studied and dismissed Quinn coldly. She shivered.

  “Reporters?” Borealis scoffed. “I see toddlers.”

  Creed frowned. “I know black don’t crack, but we’re not toddlers!” Quinn's scowl silenced him.

  “Carmine, please,” Veronica pleaded, sitting between Creed and Quinn. “They can help.”

  “How?” Borealis lifted his shackled arms, then let them drop on his lap. “Can they liberate me?”

  “They can tell your story,” his wife said.

  Borealis glowered, unconvinced. “Bullshit!”

  The rudeness killed Quinn’s fear of this obnoxious man. “We can leave. Because I have zero reasons to believe you’re innocent.”

  “I am innocent, you pretentious cow!” Borealis snarled.

  Quinn recoiled.

  Borealis’s wife gasped. “Carmine!”

  Creed jolted upright. “Watch it,” he barked, drawing attention from the guards beside the clear wall.

  Quinn grabbed Creed’s arm and yanked him back into his seat. “I got this,” she ordered. His white knight act would only make things worse. When Creed nodded silently, she turned back to Borealis. They couldn’t bring recording or mobile devices due to security issues with Borealis. So Quinn pulled out pen and paper. “You say you didn’t kill Titan?”

  “I didn’t,” Borealis replied adamantly. “Someone framed me. I would’ve said that sooner if Lady Liberty hadn’t broken my jaw.” He seemed quite salty over that attack.

  Quinn remembered and savored Lady Liberty’s fist colliding with Borealis’s jaw. “How do we know this wasn’t a twisted long game? Posing as Titan’s friend to finally kill him?”

  Borealis scowled as if she’d asked a stupid question. “I would’ve told the world, little girl.”

  His open contempt toward Quinn was the final insult. “And the times you tried killing Titan before?” she snapped. “Taking over Manhattan in 2000? Marching on DC with your superhuman army in 2006 to conquer America…again! Trying to control America's nuclear weapons so you could plunge the world into chaos, then take over. The blood on your hands from the collateral damage whenever you fought the Vanguard.” Quinn heard her fury rising as she listed Borealis’s litany of crimes. All that Vanguard research had come in handy. “Let’s not forget you attempting time travel to kill Titan before the nuke struck Alaska. Should I continue, murderer? Because there’s plenty!” Once Quinn finished, Borealis was leaning away in his seat, cowed by his own transgressions. Good.

  Veronica stared at the floor in shame. She knew of her husband’s crimes yet loved him regardless. That was commitment.

  Creed stared at Quinn as if never meeting her before. “Damn, QB,” he murmured. “Time travel?”

  Quinn winced. The time travel incident wasn’t for public consumption.

  Borealis leaned forward, no longer imperious or supervillain-y. Carmine was just another demoralized prisoner. “I see how my denial looks.”

  “Exactly.” Quinn crossed her legs. His sudden humility did little to convince her. “Two years in prison and five years’ probation doesn’t erase your crimes. So again, why should we believe you?”

  “Why indeed. I can tell you what happened.” Lord Borealis let out a world-weary sigh. “The last time I was imprisoned, they had a new way to restrain my powers. My usual associates were either dead or in supermax prisons faraway. This time, I knew it was the end.” His gaze was downcast as a smile pulled at his lips. “But Titan, for wh
atever reason, testified on my behalf at my trial. Even after our two-decade war, he felt I could be reformed under the right conditions. Got me a deal where I served as an informant and helped OSA catch other superhuman criminals. That earned me a commuted sentence after two years.”

  Borealis’s sad, tired eyes found Quinn’s. “Then I was free. Under surveillance, of course. I met this wonderful woman who didn’t care about my past.” Borealis exchanged a warm gaze with his wife. “And my hated archenemy became a friend, checking in to make sure I was adjusting to my new life. Titan was a better man than I’ll ever be.”

  No kidding, Quinn fumed but stayed silent.

  “That night,” Borealis said. “I went to Paragon’s as usual, feeling nostalgic for the glory days.”

  “As an international terrorist?” Creed added. Quinn swallowed a smile.

  Borealis stiffened. “Yes. I got very drunk, did magnetic party tricks for the patrons who kept buying me drinks.” He shook his head as if to jar loose memories just out of reach. “Next morning, I’m on my front lawn, covered in someone else’s blood with no idea how I got home. So I showered, burned the shirt, and acted like nothing had happened. I figured a good Samaritan dropped me off.”

  “Then what?” Quinn pressed, captivated despite her misgivings.

  “OSA, Justice Jones, and Lady Liberty arrived to arrest me,” Borealis replied impatiently. “I didn’t know why. I hadn’t broken any rules visiting that bar, so I defended myself. Then Lady Liberty screamed that I killed Titan, which was how I found out.” Borealis’s eyes watered. “I was gutted.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes. “Save the theatrics for the courtroom.” But she couldn’t ignore the growing uncertainty gnawing at her.

  “I’m not acting,” Borealis pleaded with wavering desperation. That was unlike the commanding supervillain she’d seen for years on the news. “I was framed.”

  “By?”

  Borealis shrugged. “The government? Someone I double-crossed in the past?”

  Quinn steeled herself and the gnawing sensation faded. This felt like a farce. Her anger reignited. “And they replicated your magnetic powers?”