The Pantheon Saga Books 1-3: A Superhero Boxset

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Covering his tracks.” Therese nodded in slow agreement, looking unsteady on her feet. “He’s desperate now.”

  “No!” Geist refuted vehemently over the comms. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “How?” Clint demanded.

  “Dynamo butchered six accomplices! Kids!” Therese raged, her voice catching at the end.

  Quinn glanced at the grisly scene, then gaped. The apartment doors flew open as a tall, muscular Asian man dressed in t-shirt and jeans entered.

  Therese gasped. “Oh my God,” Quinn breathed, clutching her own chest in recognition.

  “What now?” Geist demanded.

  “It’s…” Quinn struggled to speak, witnessing unabashed horror on the teen’s face. “Hugo Malalou.”

  Therese was transfixed. “He reached the apartment.” Her eyes shone.

  Hugo clutched his head, unable to digest the scene around him. “Holy shit.” He ran to the bodies slumped beside the door he’d burst through. “Gabby…Vargas…Nik…” He moved to touch them only to stumble back in disbelief. Hugo whirled about, searching the apartment until he found Lau.

  “Presley? Presley!” Hugo reached her side in a half-second, on his knees cradling Lau’s ruined body. He cupped her face gently. “Nonono…” The teen gently shook his lover like that would will her to life. “Wake up and heal,” he begged, voice croaky. “Wake up and heal. C’mon.” Hugo leaned his forehead against Presley’s. The shuddering sobs began. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

  Watching that broke Quinn. She sagged against the table and bawled. Therese couldn’t even look. Sounds of her own grief were quiet but audible. That left Quinn as the only witness to this boy’s heartbreak.

  Hugo let go of Priscilla’s chin. Her head lolled back. Hugo's tears streamed as he shook Presley’s body more forcefully. “Heal goddamnit!”

  When it finally reached Hugo that his lover was dead, he stared ahead at nothing. Features collapsing, Hugo pulled Presley’s body against his chest. A low, ragged noise emerged from his mouth, long and overwhelming and awful. Quinn longed to look away. But something in her couldn’t ignore Hugo’s grief, no matter how devastating.

  That guttural noise briefly paused as Hugo drew in breath. He heaved out a wail, bludgeoning every corner of the apartment and the safehouse.

  The video feeds quivered from the force of Hugo’s howl. Objects toppled across the dwelling.

  Wincing, Quinn covered her ears. Therese staggered against the wall for support, pained and clutching her skull. Soon Quinn heard nothing else but that deafening roar of grief.

  Then Hugo finally stopped, burying his face in Presley’s neck. He still trembled, still sobbed, but silently.

  “What the hell?” Clint complained, his voice sounding far away and tunnel-like.

  Quinn shook her head to clear the ringing. “I think that was Hugo,” she replied louder than necessary. This kid had more powers than Baskin-Robbins had flavors.

  “Jesus,” Clint exclaimed. “He’s got sonic screams now?”

  Therese finally faced the screen, eyes watery. “He’s in mourning,” she whispered.

  Onscreen, Hugo let Presley’s body slip from his grasp and slowly stood. His tear-stained face was blank. He looked around the apartment sniffling. Correction, sniffing.

  Quinn frowned, not understanding. “Wha…what is he doing?”

  “Smelling the air,” Clint replied uselessly.

  “I see that,” Quinn snapped.

  Hugo’s blank expression morphed into smoldering hatred. He spun and abruptly vanished, leaving dust and kicked-up papers in his wake.

  “Now he’s gone,” Therese remarked with awe.

  “Dammit!” Geist growled in displeasure. “Malalou’s hunting Dynamo.”

  Quinn exchanged disturbed looks with Therese. “Then…he’ll face the entire Vanguard.” She popped up, realizing how badly that could go for this grief-stricken boy. “Geist. Call Vanguard now.”

  “I know,” the vigilante barked. “I…”

  A blaring alarm interrupted Geist. Red lights splashed over the safehouse room. Quinn threw her hands up. “Now what?”

  “Proximity alarms,” Therese explained, darting around the room. Before Quinn’s astonished eyes, she strapped on her quiver and what looked like a sheathed sword. Therese then grabbed her recurve bow off the table. “An intruder breached security.”

  Quinn frowned, still confused. “Who?”

  “Dynamo,” Clint answered in disbelief. “He found your safehouse.”

  It felt like someone had dunked Quinn’s head in ice water. “Shiite!”

  Therese looked furious. “How?” she demanded, pulling on her hood and mask. “I thought these locations are encrypted.”

  “They are,” Clint mumbled. “I’ll try scrambling your location so—”

  Geist steamrolled over him. “No time. Longshadow, get to the bunker. I’ll reach you as soon as I can.”

  Therese grabbed a dumbstruck Quinn by the arm, dragging her from the control room. The reporter stumbled behind Therese as they fled through a narrow corridor. “Move your feet.”

  Quinn’s brain was mush. Too much death and fear. Yet she forced herself to dash alongside Therese. “What bunker?” she asked as they turned right.

  The archer pulled Quinn into a spacious room that looked like a training area. At the farthest end was a round door similar to bank vaults in old movies.

  “The bunker should protect us from nuclear level threats,” Therese exclaimed breathily. She kept glancing back. “Meaning it can hold off Dynamo a while until reinforcements arrive.” Therese led Quinn forward by the hand.

  “He’s almost there,” Clint declared in a panic. “Moving at MACH 2—”

  A distant boom shuddered the safehouse. Then the wall burst apart behind them, dust and debris flying everywhere. Therese yanked Quinn into a crouch to avoid larger chunks of ruined wall.

  Two gleaming eyes pierced through the dust. Quinn’s heart stopped twice. Dynamo emerged from the smoke, a monolith of cobalt and gold armor.

  Therese rose, an arrow notched and drawn in her bow. “Quinn,” she stated calmly. “Run.”

  Quinn stared at the end of the room, seeing no exit besides the locked bunker. She looked back as Dynamo charged. Her heartbeat raced at dizzying speeds. “I’ll never—”

  “Run!” Therese let her arrow fly, striking Dynamo’s shoulder.

  Forks of white electricity arced from the arrow, enveloping the android. His movements slowed and became violently jerky until he collapsed to a knee. His glowing red eyes flickered.

  “I’m right behind you.” Therese whirled and ripped her curved katana from its sheath, a silvery gleam slicing the air. Quinn ran to the end of the room, praying that promise would be fulfilled.

  Dynamo yanked the arrow off of his chest. The forking electricity bathing him vanished. He tossed the arrow aside, staggering forward. Therese cut the distance between them in seconds, stabbing her katana at the android’s head.

  Dynamo moved impossibly fast, grabbing Therese’s throat and hauling her off the floor. The archer choked, dropping her bow and katana to claw at the android’s viselike grip. Dynamo stared with unfeeling eyes. Therese thrashed and struggled, unable to draw breath. Before long, the archer’s face beneath her mask purpled, eyelids fluttering rapidly.

  She’s dying, Quinn realized. I’m next. The awareness was sobering.

  Geist wouldn’t reach them in time. Malalou wouldn’t find them this deep.

  And the Vanguard…they might’ve ordered her murder.

  Despite the fear overwhelming her body, Quinn no longer felt paralyzed.

  After Mistura and those six kids, she couldn’t handle another death because of her. Quinn made her choice.

  “Don’t kill her!” she screamed, dashing forward and waving her arms to grab Dynamo’s attention. “Please, just stop!” Quinn ran out of breath on that last word, anguish stealing her strength.

  Dynamo turned his head s
o slowly, it might've creaked. Red, remorseless eyes fixated on her. Therese wilted in Dynamo’s chokehold, lifeless. Is Therese dead? She prayed not, the possibility a cold knife thrust to Quinn's heart.

  She raised her arms in surrender. “Please,” Quinn begged, so weary. “No one else has to die because of me.”

  No responses from Clint or Geist. Good. That makes this easier.

  Dynamo stood frozen a moment longer, then tossed Therese’s limp body aside.

  The archer lay motionless beside Quinn. The reporter knelt, watching Dynamo as she touched Therese’s bruised throat for signs of life.

  There was a pulse, thank God, plus the rise and fall of Therese’s chest. Delirious with relief, Quinn wept. At least my death saves someone…

  She thought of the loved ones she was leaving. Her parents, her siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends. One by one, she held them close to her heart before letting each go.

  Dynamo approached briskly, almost two heads taller than her. The android mutely aimed a glowing hand at Quinn’s head.

  “Please be quick,” she requested softly. The heat from Dynamo’s gauntlet spiked, wafting against her face. By then, Quinn had released her last loved one…Annie.

  She stood up, hollowed out and ready to die.

  Chapter 38

  The City of Wonder rushed past Hugo, an endless tunnel of smeared lights, buildings, and cars.

  Running this fast was a milestone he’d usually celebrate. Tonight, the gaping wound in his heart only left room for revenge. Unshed tears blurred his vision.

  He pushed himself faster, tearing across city streets, nearly plowing into three different cars.

  Hugo’s single-minded obsession was the faint white trail of smoke winding across San Miguel’s skies. All his hatred and grief zeroed in on tracking the motherfucker leaving that trail.

  Snapshots of mangled, charred corpses skipped across Hugo’s thoughts like stones across a pond. The blood pooling around Presley’s ruined body stained Hugo’s clothes and fingers.

  Why couldn’t she heal? The question pounded against the confines of Hugo’s skull.

  Or had the beating been too brutal for her healing factor to keep up? Agony swelled inside Hugo, reliving the gruesome discovery of his friends’ bodies. He couldn't give in to the grief. Hugo clenched his teeth and ran faster.

  His senses stretched around him, hunting the culprit, listening for those jet rockets in the sky, sniffing for pungent exhaust.

  The enemy was near. Hugo made a hard right, nearly colliding into an Escalade turning left.

  The com trail thickened, veering toward downtown’s rundown neighborhoods before plunging underground. Hugo zoomed full tilt into a gaping hole puncturing a derelict street.

  Thick, heady odors mixed with muggy humidity blasted Hugo the moment he splashed down into the sewers. Hugo focused on one scent, sending up sprays of putrid water in his wake. Before him was a maze of claustrophobically narrow tunnels and corroded pipes.

  He turned and twisted superfast in pursuit of his prey.

  Screams reached his ears. A woman several yards away. Down here? Another woman's grunt caught his ears. Then came more noises, something metallic and the crackle of building energy.

  Hugo was still many turns and tunnels away. He ran so fast, his legs began to burn worse than his raw, wounded heart. He tasted heat from an energy blast about to incinerate those two women around the corner…through a brick wall. No one else dies cuz I wasn’t fast enough.

  Hugo banked right, charging into the wall like a missile. The brick wall exploded before him, followed by a few layers of reinforced metal crumpling like foil. Ripping through the last fortification layer, Hugo rocketed into an open chamber. Taking in the whole scene almost stopped him cold.

  A near seven-foot robot stood over his targets, sheathed in sleek cobalt-blue armor. His stench matched Presley’s murderer.

  Dynamo, superhero and member of the Vanguard…the goddamn Vanguard.

  Dynamo had slaughtered Hugo’s girlfriend and her crew. Why?

  Beady, impassive eyes burned bright red as the android raised a glowing gauntlet at two women in some kind of safehouse. One knelt, hands behind her head, sobbing. The other lay motionless, wearing a superhero outfit.

  Dynamo’s head snapped in his direction.

  Hugo didn’t care who this android was. His roiling pain demanded reprisal. “You’re dead!”

  Dynamo aimed its gauntlet at him with startling speed.

  Hugo moved faster, ducking low and burying a shoulder into Dynamo’s torso. The impact rattled Hugo’s bones, but the pain barely registered through his fury. Lifting Dynamo clean off the ground, he rocketed the android through one wall after another, then a few pillars and more barricades and pipes. Trails of jagged debris and ruptured sewage pipes followed their clash.

  The combatants tumbled across the sewers, a writhing tangle of reinforced armor and unyielding flesh. The world spinning and crumbling around him, Hugo unloaded flurries of punches with all his hatred and strength. Some blows missed. Most landed, evident by Dynamo’s featureless face snapping back and Hugo’s knuckles stinging. Hitting Dynamo hurt.

  Beyond caring, Hugo screamed in wordless fury. He didn't hold back, raining down punches with piston-like force to decapitate this fucking android.

  Dynamo had no vocal reply to Hugo’s screams or the clang of fists on metal, concrete walls rupturing before their violent struggle. After weathering Hugo’s onslaught, the android retaliated.

  A kick to the stomach knocked Hugo breathless in a choked rush. He almost forgot the last time he’d felt pain. Really don’t miss it, Hugo grimaced, spinning out of control into the dark. He grabbed for anything to hold on to, but any pipe or concrete crumbled in his superstrong grasp.

  The next thing he knew, Hugo lay knee-deep in some underground sewer river. He lifted his head, spitting out putrid water. He found himself in a wide-open space, poorly lit, a crisscross series of walkways and pipes overhead. San Miguel’s sewer system.

  Hugo pushed upright, drenched and dazed. Regaining his wind, he swiveled his ahead around, heightened senses probing the darkness. Where’s Dynamo? Nothing else mattered except destroying Dynamo. This task's scale dawned on Hugo, a dizzying rush of blood to the head. Hugo quickly got over it, not caring if the entire Vanguard tried to stop him.

  He didn’t have to look far for his target.

  Dynamo hovered over the river, armor glinting, eyes glowing demon red in the shadows.

  Hugo rose and clenched his fists. “I’m ripping you in half.”

  Dynamo, usually a chatterbox on TV interviews, responded with eerie silence. He raised both hands, circles within each palm glowing bright red to discharge.

  Hugo cut the distance between them in half a second. “Nope!” He grabbed Dynamo’s wrists, wrenching them apart to keep its glowing hands away from his face. The android was strong, maybe stronger than Hugo. He struggled to control Dynamo’s arms. Up close, he saw every groove and line in Dynamo’s blue armor, along with dents and crinkles where his blows had struck. For a moment, Hugo also saw Presley’s lifeless eyes staring back.

  “No more blasters for you!” He squeezed Dynamo’s forearms. Durable metal began crunching beneath his tightening grip. The glowing circles in Dynamo’s palms flickered. Tiny sparks shot out from its buckling forearms between Hugo’s fingers.

  Dynamo jerked forward, headbutting Hugo in the nose. The vicious blow staggered Hugo, stars dancing before his eyes. If not for his grip on Dynamo’s forearms, he’d have gone flying.

  Shaking off the blow, Hugo jerked forward with a headbutt of his own, rocking Dynamo backward. The android slammed into a far pillar and slumped onto his behind, showered by an avalanche of concrete.

  Hugo dropped down to his knees, half-concussed by his own attack. He blinked away the pain, undeterred. Time to end this. Hugo hurtled forward, fists cocked—right into Dynamo’s raised gauntlet.

  Dynamo’s blast drilled Hugo’s c
hest, briefly illuminating the dark tunnels. The pain, as blinding as the radiance, turned Hugo’s bones to jelly. Suddenly, he went hurtling sideways through another concrete wall. Lumps of rubble flew everywhere, and Hugo skidded across sludge. A cavernous rumble shuddered the whole network around him, like a giant clearing its throat.

  Hugo rolled and clutched his seared chest. “Owww,” he groaned. His white t-shirt was burnt and shredded, smoke curling from his charred pectorals. Hugo really hadn’t missed intense pain.

  There was little time to recover. He heard Dynamo closing in. Panic cut through his pain. Hugo couldn’t avenge Presley if Dynamo killed him. He fought to get back upright.

  His screaming chest nearly buckled his knees until two red blasts streaked at his face.

  Gaping, Hugo dashed away right before the beams scorched through the muck he’d been standing on.

  Dynamo soared through the hole in the wall, firing relentless salvos of dazzling energy.

  “Shit!” Hugo dodged a thick volley of blasts fired within seconds, almost losing his head. Another blast seared in the direction Hugo ran.

  He braked and ducked, whirling away from the discharge flashing just over his spiky hair.

  Several more blasts fired in furious succession, a fraction slower than Hugo. Clearly, Dynamo was adapting to Hugo’s superspeed, removing that advantage.

  The Samoan zigzagged around each burst...barely.

  He glimpsed Dynamo spread its chest wide, disgorging a thick blue beam after him—slicing concrete like butter. Hugo zoomed around this chamber with a heartbeat racing almost as fast. Despite his obsession to destroy Dynamo, Hugo reached a terrifying truth.

  His opponent, an emotionless murder machine, was one of the Vanguard’s most powerful members. I’m outta my league. Dynamo could kill him.

  Dynamo swung his chest beam in a savage arc. Hugo threw himself out of the way, dodging just in time.

  Have to end this now. He leaped over Dynamo’s chest beam as it swung toward him again. Before Dynamo could adjust its attack angle, Hugo lunged downward with a little thrust to his descent.