The Pantheon Saga Books 1-3: A Superhero Boxset

by C. C. Ekeke

  Hugo instantly stiffened down south. It was on. Now what?

  Raphael’s abundance theory bubbled up. If he’s wrong… Hugo banished such pessimism. Digging up some confidence, Hugo strode in Taylor’s direction.

  Ignoring the surrounding chatter, he maintained eye contact while approaching. Taylor’s sharp intake of breath spoke volumes.

  Hugo nodded toward the auditorium—walking past her.

  …and kept walking.

  …and walking.

  …and God, Hugo felt stupid.

  Until hearing Taylor address her friends several feet back. “I gotta…get something. Watch my stuff?”

  Eager footsteps scurried across the pavement after Hugo. Triumph seared through his veins. “That actually worked,” he marveled. Soon after he slid through the auditorium doors, Taylor slinked in behind him.

  Beyond simple hellos and denying the STD rumor, neither Hugo nor Taylor spoke as they entered a vacant service closet holding hands. Slow yet passionate kisses. Hands and mouths all over bare flesh. Lots of flesh. Hugo gladly lost himself in Taylor’s flesh to forget today’s drama.

  When lunch ended, Hugo left the auditorium grinning stupidly. “Exactly what I needed.”

  By the time sixth period ended, Hugo waited in front of school for Simon. Along the way, he received high-fives from several boys. Many also gave him effusive compliments.

  “Thanks?” Hugo replied, baffled.

  Simon arrived, smiling from ear to ear. “Wow, Bogie!” he cried, slinging his headphones around his neck. “Taylor von Stratton?”

  Hugo staggered back. Was there a telepathic super on campus? After Halloween, I wouldn’t be shocked. “How’d you hear about Taylor?”

  Simon scoffed. “From Taylor. She’s bragging to everyone and saying the STD rumor is bullshit.”

  Hugo facepalmed. “Jesus…” Taylor had a bigger mouth than Natalie Rodriguez. Before he could respond, his cellphone buzzed. His “work” cell from Ms. Ortiz.

  Hugo put several yards between him and the school before answering. “Hello.”

  “Superpowered weapons smugglers are on the move outside Sacramento,” Ms. Ortiz declared in her “Lady Liberty” voice. “I’ll need you for this.”

  Hugo stopped abruptly, almost tripping. “Seriously?”

  “Like a major coronary. You ready?”

  “Born ready,” Hugo blurted out.

  “Then get your ass over here, Kid Liberty!”

  Hugo hung up, heartbeat spiking. Not even the sidekick status bothered him. “My first official mission.”

  Simon beamed as he approached. “Holy shit!” He thrust his fists out.

  Hugo, still dazed, bumped both with one of his.

  Simon straightened with concern. “What about dance practice?”

  Hugo shrugged, nonchalant. “Libby and I will handle this in no time.” He scurried across the street toward the mall alleyway. “Gotta go.”

  Simon waved after him proudly. “Handle your business.”

  Hugo stepped deep into the empty alleyway, then rocketed out at insane speeds.

  Chapter 14

  Colin had guys’ night plans with friends, leaving Quinn at the mercy of her slumber.

  She stood on the rocky Rhode Island coast, the blue Atlantic Ocean stretching on forever. The afternoon sun was a golden disk hanging near the skies’ summit.

  Quinn’s attire confused her. A maid of honor dress, dark green and low-shouldered. But whose wedding? Quinn looked to the couple at the altar, and understood.

  Annie Machado in a lacy white wedding dress, the skirt billowing from gentle breezes. Her best friend looking beyond ecstatic standing with a priest and Johnny, clean-shaven and dapper in his tuxedo.

  Quinn turned left. Both the bride’s and groom’s friends and family filled the seats, watching the nuptials with collective joy. She should’ve been happy for Annie and Johnny. Yet worry kept churning, as if she sensed a looming threat.

  A low hum drew Quinn’s attention above. She screamed.

  The goddess fell from heaven, landing in a crouch before the altar.

  She rose, slender and long-legged, sheathed in the golden suit of a hero. Hatred etched her chiseled and beautiful face. Her eyes burned like twin suns, ocean gusts whipping her golden tresses into a frenzy. The wedding audience recoiled. Annie shrieked, clinging to Johnny.

  Quinn knew this golden goddess. “Morningstar...” That was the only word she said as Morningstar unleashed a sweeping backhand of light, incinerating every wedding guest. What remained were blackened, smoking skeletons. Another light blast speared through Annie, Johnny, and the priest. They collapsed to the earth in crumbly cinders. All this occurred in seconds, before Quinn could even blink.

  She fell on her ass, scrambling to the cliff’s edge. Morningstar hovered over her triumphantly. She raised a hand roiling with fiery light. “You ruined my life, Bauer. Now I take yours.”

  Morningstar’s hand blazed. Quinn’s flesh boiled, agony devouring her mind as everything turned white…

  …and she awoke shrieking like a banshee. Minutes of flailing terror passed until Quinn remembered where she was. She stumbled out of bed for her kitchen, sweaty and disoriented. After four glasses of cold water, she finally relaxed. Morningstar was locked away in a supermax for life. No one died. Quinn sighed and sank to the floor. Her microwave showed half past five in the morning. Quinn had slept a few hours yet felt wiped. Maybe this support group was a good idea. Annie’s “death” had felt too real. Speaking of which…

  Quinn stood on steadier legs, returning to her bedroom to fetch her cellphone. Annie sometimes got up this early. They hadn’t spoken since their aborted dinner a few days back.

  ME: Hey Giac. Checking in. Wanna rescheduled dinner for the weekend?

  Annie: Booked solid until next week. Sorry. Call you when I’m free.

  That reply came hours later around lunchtime. Quinn frowned at the text. The abruptness and tardiness was unlike Annie, even during a spat. Quinn’s thoughts went to strange places over what was wrong.

  “A few of us have noticed,” her friend, Chantelle, had replied when Quinn called. “Annie’s been ‘off' for months. And her drinking’s gotten worse.”

  Quinn winced. “Right,” she said, cradling her cell. Quinn hadn’t caught anything abnormal, so absorbed with her own career. Annie always worked hard and played hardest.

  Yet now that her best friend was isolating herself from everyone. Worry pressed on Quinn’s shoulders with tangible weight. “What do we do?”

  “Dunno,” Chantelle replied, equally bothered. “I pray she gets through whatever’s troubling her.”

  Unfortunately, Quinn's pitch meeting was in fifteen minutes. She boxed her Annie concerns, getting in business-mode on the elevator to the fifth floor.

  Jensen Clarke, her leggy friend from Digital Marketing, was waiting near the Kennedy conference room. She carried her laptop, rocking a stylish work dress. “Thanks for requesting me on this,” Jensen gushed nervously.

  “Of course, Jenny.” Quinn offered the graphic designer a smile. “We don’t have the project yet. But I take care of my buddies.”

  Jensen looked past Quinn and stopped smiling. “Speaking of buddies…”

  “QB!” Jess Richardson-Palmer scurried up and hugged her, ignoring Jensen. Unsurprising. Ad Sales employees usually treated many outside their department with disdain.

  Quinn eyed Jensen sympathetically while exchanging small talk with Jess.

  What she disliked was seeing Jess’s boss, Dave Packer, trailing his petite subordinate. The Ad Sales VP was barrel-chested with a chubby, ruddy face. Slacks and a button-down white shirt were his usual attire. He brightened seeing Quinn. Usually, his son Scott attended minor pitch meetings. Packer did blockbuster deals. Missy Magnificent’s fourth comeback wasn't a blockbuster.

  “Ready to style and profile?” Packer boomed, rubbing pudgy hands eagerly. “Watch Ad Sales work?”

  Quinn kept her surprise mu
ted. “Can't wait.” She turned her focus to the guests trailing Packer.

  Leading the group was a radiant waifish girl on the cusp of womanhood, flanked by a beefy bodyguard and two manager types with expensive suits. Missy Magnificent was taller than Quinn expected, around five-foot-ten. She looked thin and delicate out of costume. The jeans, sunglasses, and off-the-shoulder tee were casual celebrity chic. Missy's light honey complexion came from a recent Jamaica trip, thick bangs hovering over thin eyebrows. Placing the Gucci shades atop her head, she offered a hand. “Hi, I’m Missy.”

  Quinn shook the teen’s hand heartily. “Nice to meet you, Missy. I’m—”

  “Quinn Bauer.” Missy’s eyes gleamed. “Love, love, LOVED your Vanguard interviews.”

  Quinn’s cheeks warmed from the compliment.

  Missy Magnificent had the attractive, heart-shaped face of a nineteen-year-old. But her blue eyes bore the scars of someone who’d grown up too fast too soon. Missy introduced herself to a dumbstruck Jensen. Quinn rolled her eyes, then realized that her friend didn’t regularly meet superheroes.

  Everyone entered the glass-walled room. Missy’s team took one side of the long table, SLOCO Daily on the other. Missy’s bodyguard stood against the wall behind the hero.

  Quinn kept her eye on the entrance. “We’re waiting for one more person.” Jono McGowan was late. But after the Vanguard interviews, Quinn feared he’d try hijacking this project. Like by inviting his buddy-pal Packer.

  Quinn had made a contingency yesterday, just in case.

  “Sorry I’m late!” Everyone turned as Helena Madden powerwalked through the doors. The editor-in-chief donned a simple black turtleneck tee with a maroon leather jacket and white jeans. Her spiky hair was longer than usual. After greeting Missy and her team, Helena plopped down beside Quinn.

  Packer turned beet red. “Helena,” he stated with zero enthusiasm. “I thought Jono was coming.”

  Helena looked over and smiled. “I thought only Jess was coming. What a coincidence!”

  Quinn watched the exchange, secretly pleased when Helena flexed her authority like this. Checkmate!

  Packer nodded with icy courtesy and grunted something quietly at Jess. She popped up and darted from the room. No doubt Jess was fetching a bowl of Packer’s favorite candies.

  Quinn dared not look at Helena or Jensen at the risk of laughing. “Shall we begin?”

  The meeting started with Packer and Helena explaining a SLOCO Daily Sponsored Profile. Jensen showed slides of past sponsorships on the conference room’s massive TV. She sounded nervous but delivered her presentation seamlessly. Jess returned with a bowl of chocolate candies right as Jensen finished. She placed it before Packer, who promptly scarfed them down.

  During the presentation, Missy and her entourage had absorbed everything in blank silence. Now the superhero leaned forward while explaining the “New” Missy Magnificent. “I want the world to see my new mission,” she emphasized. “Protect the Junction’s residents. Which heroes besides some badly dressed vigilantes do anything for them? I want to be their hero. And I will be.”

  Her sincerity was surprising, gripping. Quinn and Helena exchanged an impressed glance. The former replied, “So the angle is your professional and private journey. Showing people your new dedication.”

  Missy nodded in agreement. “Correct.”

  Quinn sucked in a breath, unsure how this next part would be received. But Missy needed to understand this wouldn’t be some positive puff piece. “But if we want this project to work, we can’t just cover Missy’s bright and shiny new path.”

  Missy’s two managers beside her straightened like watchdogs. The hero’s face darkened. “Meaning?”

  “We dig into the negative,” Quinn clarified, fingers steepled. “The partying, the rehab stints, Extreme Teens, the name change, Blur. Your whole story.”

  Helena leaned forward to weigh in. “For viewers and potential fans to really buy your redemption, they have to know everything.”

  Missy wrinkled her nose in distaste. One of her lackeys opened his mouth. She silenced him with a swift hand chop, never breaking eye contact with Quinn. “Anyone with a cellphone can find my Extreme Teens history,” she whined, sounding her age. “Along with my music and TV shows.”

  Quinn expected this pushback. “Tabloid gossip and interviews full of softball questions,” she dismissed.

  “And that cringeworthy self-produced documentary,” Helena added, shuddering. “We want to show our readers a mature Missy Magnificent owning her mistakes and her new mission.”

  This caused whispering between Missy and her flacks. She looked back at Quinn and Helena with a dazzling white smile. “I like it.”

  Quinn wanted to do a touchdown dance but curbed her enthusiasm.

  Packer then spoke. “SLOCO Daily’s writers bring credibility to the table.” He gestured at Quinn down the table. “You know about Quinn’s Vanguard interviews and exposé on Titan’s murder. But she also investigated the Hurricane’s murder and Middle America's superhero scarcity.”

  “Don’t forget her piece covering the Alpha Pack in the Southwest,” Jensen added with pride. Helena, Packer, and Missy stared at her.

  “Sorry,” Jensen said quietly, shrinking in her seat.

  Quinn itched to hide from all this spotlight. She never expected such acclaim from Packer. People had noticed her hustle. “I’m just a journalist doing my job,” she stated humbly.

  Helena scoffed at her modesty. “A very good journalist.”

  Quinn had to look away.

  After that, Jess Richardson-Palmer presented details what sponsors SLOCO Daily could attract. Quinn was impressed. She always considered Jess as Packer’s candy gofer who stole other departments’ developer resources on Packer’s command. Jess was a solid salesperson.

  “Actually,” Missy stated after Jess finished. “I’d like every sponsor to be from the Junction. If I’m protecting their neighborhood, they should reap the financial benefits.”

  The SLOCO Daily team hushed. No one had seen that curveball coming. Quinn doubted Packer knew any small businesses existed in the Junction.

  “Junction businesses lack the publicity,” Jess said girlishly, “or the funds this project needs.”

  Missy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care,” she responded rudely. “I want all-Junction sponsors.”

  Quinn flinched. if Missy got this petulant over sponsors, then her profile could get really unpleasant.

  Jess opened her mouth to speak, but Packer interjected, “Again, that’s great.” He smiled, in advertising agency mode. “But this project needs big sponsors. Or else it’s another interview.”

  And Missy was done. “Your team approached me. Missy Magnificent. I’ll walk away if I’m unsatisfied.”

  Jess turned bright pink. Jensen’s eyes bulged. Packer maintained a jovial smile. But it was obvious his patience for this brat was wearing thin.

  Either way, Quinn could taste the project slipping away. So, she made a hail Mary pitch. “How about a middle ground?” she blurted out, glancing at Helena.

  Missy scratched at her scalp exasperatedly but kept listening. “Explain.”

  Helena spoke. “Half of the sponsors are Junction businesses. The other half, larger corporations.” Exactly what Quinn had been thinking. Then Missy got her wish while the profile still made money.

  Missy had another whisper session with her two lackeys before replying, “I can agree to that.”

  Quinn’s relief was euphoric. “Jess? Packer? What do you think?”

  Trapped in a box, Packer had no other options. “That can work.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t take Quinn’s salvage attempt as a slight. He’d nursed grudges against other employees for far less.

  With that, the plan was for SLOCO Daily and Missy’s lawyers to hammer out the contract. As the room cleared, Missy exchanged contact info with Quinn to start bouncing ideas off each other.

  “Your sidewalk confessionals after Titan’s death convinced me to
take this meeting.” Missy’s charming smile was like warm sunshine. She extended her hand again. “Can’t wait to get started.”

  And like that, Quinn was sold. “Same here, Missy,” she said with a firm handshake.

  Chapter 15

  The fiery sunset outlined the jagged horizon of silhouetted mountains, northeast of Sacramento. In the valley below surrounded by several storage facilities, two factions gathered. They all looked ant-sized this far away.

  All Hugo could focus on was this costume. People would now see him wearing it. He inspected himself yet again, trying to sync his mindset with the Kid Liberty persona wearing white stars around a red waist.

  “Kid Liberty.”

  Hugo wasn’t bothered by the costume’s fit. After a few patrols around San Miguel, the suit moved like a second skin.

  “Kid Liberty.” The voice repeated.

  Hugo knew in his heart that this alias and costume didn’t fit him. Yet here he was, about to debut an alias he disliked. And if Hugo didn’t buy it, why should anyone else?

  “Hugo!”

  Hugo nearly jumped out of his costume. He spun to face his mentor. “Yeahwhathi?”

  Lady Liberty crouched on his left. She resembled an Amazonian sculpture made flesh in her trademark crimson costume, with those long and athletic legs. The superhero’s silver diadem sat atop her brunette mane, twinkling in the fading sunlight. She studied Hugo with concern. “You with me?”

  “Yeah…yes.” Hugo shook his head, realizing he’d zoned out. Remembering he was on a mission with Lady Liberty. “Sorry.”

  Lady Liberty seemed unconvinced, placing a hand on his padded shoulder. “Deep breath.”

  Hugo inhaled, then sighed loudly. That took the edge off his stress. “I’m kinda nervous.”

  Lady Liberty’s smile warmed her features. “We all get nervous, even years into this.” She squeezed his shoulder.

  Hugo stared at her. He’d have thought a veteran like her faced down the worst of the worst without fear. “Thanks for that.”