Trainee Superhero (Book One)

by C. H. Aalberry

  I wake up in the cramped delivery pod just as it hits turbulence.

  The whole pod is shaking so violently that I wonder if something has broken. There are no screens in the pod, just little rows of lights above my head. Most are green, but a few are orange and one is red.

  “Is that bad?” I shout, but there is no answer.

  I don’t know if the red light is a problem. I don’t know very much at all, really, except that I wish I wasn’t here and that all this shaking makes me feel terrible. There is nothing for me to do but hold onto the handles as tightly as I can, shut my eyes and hope for the best. I wonder what will happen if I throw up in my helmet.

  The pod bounces and rolls wildly, but there are no alarms. My ride is terrifying, uncomfortable and completely unglamorous, which sums up my life as a trainee superhero so far. My bulky suit of power armor is tight around my chest, but I don’t have time to wonder if that’s a problem before something cracks loudly behind me, and the pod drops suddenly. The lights all start flashing red, and the pod spits me into the sky.

  It’s superhero time!

  I fall awkwardly, spinning in the air until I find some kind of balance. My suit is a dead weight without power or movement. There are no lights in my helmet or on my gloves but surely, surely they wouldn’t just drop me out of the sky without something to stop me.

  Right?

  I tumble clumsily through the air, falling head over heels.

  “Help!”

  I scream until my throat hurts, but I get no answer. I fall through a thin layer of clouds and see the ground racing towards me. The city of Perth was beautiful once, but now it’s a wasteland of ruined buildings and deserted streets filled with rusting cars. I can see black streaks and craters where the first missiles hit, and a huge flat area that looks like glass off to one side of the city. There are trees – mostly dead – and open areas that may have once been parks. There can be no doubt that this is a corpse of a city.

  I wonder what the radiation count is around here, and then I wonder if I’ll live long enough for that to be a problem. It looks like the ground will get me first.

  My helmet beeps and my suit whirs into life as the lights on my gloves start glowing. My body jerks so that I am falling with my feet to the ground and my fall slows. I look up to see a parachute above me. Thank you, unknown technician in charge of parachutes, at least now I won’t arrive as a pancake.

  I scan the ground for a good landing place, but there aren’t many in the clutter and rubble of this ruined city. It doesn’t matter, really, because I don’t know how to control my descent. I can see movement below that must be the aliens, but I can’t see the saucers. I’m still a few hundred meters high, and I don’t know where to land, or even how to land.

  My parachute cords cut and I drop with a lurch.

  “Saucer!” I swear.

  The ground is getting bigger every second and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it. I don’t know how to fly these suits, and I don’t have time to learn.

  “Help!”

  A bright light flashes by my shoulder and a superhero appears. I don’t recognize him, but I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. The superhero reaches out and grabs my arm, moving us until we are face to face, falling together. I can see into his visor; he seems to be shouting at me, but I can’t hear him.

  “…Hold on, kid,” I hear faintly over my radio.

  The world twists and jumps so that I am no longer high in the sky but now only seconds from hitting a skyscraper. I panic and lose hold of the superhero beside me just as he teleports away, and I am alone again. I slam into the side of the skyscraper and into a concrete pillar. The building starts to collapse around me, and I scramble through a rain of glass shards and metal hail. My shield crackles and bursts as I fight my way through to an elevator shaft, force it open and drop through. I catch the cable on my way down and use it to slow my fall.

  I reach the lobby and exit the building as it crumbles around me. I should have been dead, but I’m not. I shake myself free. I’m… fine, surprisingly.

  But I’m also alone again.

  “Hello?”

  The roads around me are lined with dead trees and abandoned cars. The buildings around me are tall and mostly still intact, but their windows are dirty. There is no immediate danger, and the adrenaline rush I felt during my fall is draining out of my body. My legs start shaking uncontrollably, so I drop to my knees and force my visor open. I take a breath of musty air, remember where I am and slam the visor down.

  “This is crazy!” I scream.

  Something moves in my peripheral vision. I spin and find myself facing a scout ball. We look at each other for a second in a strange standoff but I shoot first, a green spark of light that hits the scout right in its center mass. The walker’s laser hits the building behind me, burning through concrete. The scout topples over onto the ground and falls still. It’s my first kill, but I’m shaking too hard to enjoy it.

  I walk over to investigate my fallen foe, stepping over its legs to look at its ruptured head. I’ve never seen a saucer creature so close before, but I’ve read enough to know what to expect. The whole body is a mess of tubes and metal flakes, with no sign of flesh or computer circuitry as we understand them. The aliens have been termed organo-bots by our leading scientists, but we still have little idea of how they work.

  A faint voice mutters over my radio, and I look up to the sky. Nothing. Apparently the saucers block the Super Corps radios in much the same way as they bock civilian signals.

  I feel a blaze of heat across my back and turn to see a second walker bearing down at me. I shoot out again, and hit it right between where it should have had eyes. It goes down, and I feel pretty good about myself. I think I’m getting the hang of this.

  Then a blast of energy picks me up and throws me down the street, through a glass wall and into a hotel lobby. I slide across smooth tiles right into a huge modern art sculpture. I don’t know what message the artist trying to convey, but he used solid rock to do it. I hit it head first and it feels like I was punched in both sides of the head at once.

  My shields flicker weakly as if they might die. What the heck hit me like that?

  A purple cubetank bursts into the lobby, scattering glass everywhere. The cubetank aims its huge cannon at me as the teleporting super appears in the air behind it. He empties a pair of plasma at point blank range, melting through the creature’s thick armor and right into its core. The cube tank lashes out with lasers, but my rescuer teleports right above it and kills it with another pair of pistols. It drops to the ground, and he flies over to me.

  “Okay, Red Five?” he asks, appearing genuinely concerned.

  His suit is gunmetal grey with signs of wear, and he’s wearing a ragged red coat made of a light material that seems to float in the air. I don’t recognize his costume.

  “Red Five?” he repeats.

  “I’m okay,” I say, and I get to my feet.

  He grabs my arm and peers at something on it.

  “Your shields are low. We better get out of here.”

  The world flashes and warps as we teleport. We land on the top of a tower, my savior with a gun in his hand and me with my stomach in my mouth. I open my visor and throw up, but the superhero doesn’t seem to notice. He pulls a second pistol out, a bulky thing with a single barrel. He’s wearing eight or nine of the big pistols in holsters slung around his waist and chest. They all look well used.

  He flips his visor to talk to me.

  “That thing gave you all six barrels. Frankly, I’m amazed you survived, because most of us wouldn’t have. My name is-”

  A pair of small pyramids with wings strafes our position. My savior teleports behind them and brings them down with two accurate shots. He sheaths the pistols and draws a second pair in like he’s done it a thousand times.

  “-is Bad Day,” he continues, “Never Lies told me to look after you after she heard about this stupidity. Is this real
ly your first time in a suit?”

  I nod, and Bad Day shakes his head in amazement. I flip open my visor.

  “Shouldn’t we keep our visors down for the radiation?” I ask.

  He shrugs, and scans the sky for trouble.

  “Radios don’t work near saucers, so keep your eyes open for signaling flares. We need to keep moving. The others will be at the marshal point. Feeling ready for another ‘port?”

  I’m not, but he grabs my arm anyway and I close my eyes as the world starts to blur. We have moved to a roof overlooking a park. The roof is only a few stories off the ground, and I can see a handful of triclops and scouts pacing through the dead trees below. My stomach twists again, and I open my helmet but I don’t throw up. Bad Day laughs.

  “Teleporting does that to people, so don’t feel too bad. Now, are you ready to kick some ass? I’ll head down, you can shoot from here. Set?”

  “Set,” I say, although I doubt I can hit anything from up here. It’s not like the gloves have an aiming scope or anything like that, so I’ve just been pointing and hoping.

  Bad Day flickers out of view and appears behind a triclops for just long enough to melts its head, then he’s gone again before the other aliens have time to turn. I shoot down at a second triclops and hit it in the leg as Bad Day takes down a pair of scouts. He moves faster than I can follow, and the triclops are too slow to keep up with him. I hit a scout as Bad Day takes out the rest with a few well-placed plasma bolts. I’ve never seen a super fight before, and I’m impressed. The fight is over in seconds, leaving a pile of dead aliens on the brown grass.

  Bad Day appears at my side with a plasma gun in his hand. Its barrel is red hot, so he holsters it carefully and draws a replacement.

  “Get one?”

  I nod.

  “Good man. Shall we go?”

  “I can’t fly yet,” I admit.

  “Oh,” he says, looking surprised.

  I feel stupid, but he just grabs my arm and we teleport to the top of an old church spire, then onto a penthouse balcony and onwards. Each teleport is only a short distance, but they follow each other quickly. It’s not a comfortable ride, because he can’t fly well enough to carry me long distances. We drop and lurch and fall as we move, but I close my eyes, grit my teeth and hold on as my suit bangs against walls and rooftops. After a while it stops, and I open my eyes. We are on a rooftop balcony overlooking a river, and three other superheroes are beside us.

  Firestorm Commando is here in his shiny suit, and I try to avoid him. His polished, colorful armor is classic superhero, but it stands out in this grey and dusty war zone. The other two superheroes are One Trick in a battered blue suit with a silver helmet, and another trainee in a grey suit that looks only a little better than mine. One Trick flicks open her helmet and says a few words to Bad Day, but I don’t hear them because I’m too busy staring at the saucer.

  It’s an oval the length of three football fields and stands about six stories high. Technically this size is classed as a small-medium, but that’s hard to remember when it’s floating in front of me. It’s huge, with thick shields and dozens of gun turrets. I can see triclops and other aliens dropping out of hangars in its side. I have always wondered how superheroes bring saucers down, and now I’m about to find out.

  “What’s the play?” asks Bad Day, and I snap back to attention.

  “Distract from here while you and I flank and bomb?” suggests One Trick.

  Bad Day and the other trainee nod and begin to move, but Firestorm Commando orders them down. He opens his visor and scowls at us.

  “We’ll do things my way,” he says. “Red Five and Blue Twelve will start firing and draw the attention here. Bad Day and One Trick will flank and bomb from the side while I cover. Set?”

  It sounds to me like he just asked me and another trainee to distract a whole saucer while he hides and the other two bomb it. That’s not a plan I’m happy with.

  “Cover us while the rookies distract the saucer? You must be joking!” says One Trick with a tone Firestorm Commando doesn’t like.

  Firestorm Commando touches his glove and One Trick tears at the collar around her throat, falling to her knees. Firestorm Commando doesn’t stop the torture until Bad Day lifts a gun and places it against Firestorm’s helmet.

  “Stop that,” he says quietly

  Firestorm Commando laughs as One Trick writhes in pain.

  “If I die, all your collars burst,” he says, “so better do as I say.”

  Bad Day puts a second pistol against Firestorm Commando’s head.

  “That’s a chance I’ll take,” he says.

  I don’t think Day is joking. Firestorm Commando releases the button, and One Trick stops screaming. Firestorm Commando takes off into the air, and Day helps One Trick up and into the air after him. The three experienced supers take off, leaving us two rookies standing on the rooftop. I can hear them arguing as they leave until Bad Day and One Trick fall out the sky together, recover, and continue flying. It’s clear that Firestorm is more than happy to use his power of the shock collars to get his way.

  “What a complete and utter twat,” says Blue Twelve as soon as they are out of earshot, “I can’t believe he’s in charge of anything more important than keeping our armor clean. And that’s a stupid name he has, too.”

  I’m glad I’m not the only one who was thinking that.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  Blue Twelve has a long rifle over his shoulder and a pair of knives in his belt. His suit is battered and dirty, with a long weld down one arm. He sets the rifle on the roof and sights down it. He’s a serious guy, and he doesn’t seem too worried by being left alone.

  “We’ll wait five minutes, and then I’ll start shooting at whatever I can see while you keep the skies clear. When this area gets too hot we fly out and start again, just like in training.”

  Blue Twelve shimmers and fades until his body is invisible against the roof.

  “I didn’t get much training,” I say, “and I can’t-”

  “Above!” Blue Twelve shouts and I see a pair of hooded snakes racing in the air towards us on jets of fire. I take them down, but more are gathering in the air around us until we are surrounded. They take turns dropping down at us, and one pushes me right off my feet with a blast of plasma.

  “They found us too soon!” shouts Blue Twelve, “we need to move.”

  He takes out a snake with a blast that disintegrates the alien into dust, but I can see that his heavy rifle isn’t made for this kind of close work. He drops it and pulls out a pair of long knives. My powerglove does better than he does and I claim another two kills, but then my collar explodes in pain and I double over. The pain is incredible, and the snakes use my moment of weakness to bombard me with blasts. I try to move but can’t, and a snake starts biting my helmet. Blue Twelve hits the ground beside me, a snake wrapped around his neck. He’s stabbing at it with a knife, but it’s too strong for him. I try to blast it, but my power is too low. A snake comes in for the kill and I close my eyes. Nothing happens.

  I open one eye and see a severed snake head lying in front of me. The others are all in pieces on the ground. A superhero is floating in the air before me with his visor open. It’s Past Prime, and he does not look pleased.

  He’s holding a long, thin power sword in one glove and has a huge cannon of some sort mounted on his left arm. The air around him is filled with flying bladed discs slicing the flying snakes into ribbons of metal. These discs are what Bansuri was famous for, and any doubts I had as to who Past Prime once was disappear.

  “I know you are there,” he says, swishing his sword.

  Twelve appears as if stepping out of thin air and slumps beside me. He looks wounded.

  “Our collars activated during an attack,” he says, “and we were disabled.”

  “Accident?” asks Past Prime.

  “No.”

  I can see the saucer in the sky behind Past Prime. It is huge and threatenin
g, a reminder of what we are fighting, a reminder that we aren’t winning. A light flashes as the saucer lifts a multistory building out of the ground and starts dissecting it with lasers, casting bits off. I’ve heard about this before, but very few civilians have seen it and lived. It looks like the saucer is looking for something, but no one knows what. Saucers have been known to tear apart hills in the same way, or dig out chunks of ground.

  “Bad Day was meant to be looking after him,” says Past Prime, “so where is he?”

  “Day is on bomb delivery. Firestorm Commando insisted. They-”

  The saucer lights up in bright orange light and then explodes into huge pieces that come crashing down to Earth. It’s the largest fireball I have ever seen, with flames reaching up to the heavens as lumps of metal drop down around us. The sound of the explosion is incredible. Blue Twelve and I shelter from the falling saucer, but Past Prime just nods thoughtfully.

  “At least someone has their mind on the job,” he says, “now all we have to do is the clean-up.”

  He grabs my suit and tows me into the air. He flies well, and my weight doesn’t even slow him. Blue Twelve follows us with long jumps between buildings. Our path takes us over a couple of triclops, and Past Prime doesn’t even slow as he cuts them down with his spinning discs.

  “The aliens slow down after a saucer is destroyed, but they can still fight. Hunting the last ones down can be tricky,” he explains to me as Blue Twelve blasts a scout into pieces.

  I’m feeling pretty good: one of the most powerful superheroes of all time is helping me. I take a few shots of my own at a passing scout and hit it square on.

  “Excellent shot,” Past Prime says calmly.

  Oh yes, I’m definitely getting the hang of this superhero malarkey. All I need now is my own codename, and the ability to fly without being a passenger.

  We find the others standing in the ruins of a sporting stadium. The green grass and good memories are long gone, replaced with poisoned soil and rusting chairs. It was quiet, empty. I feel the ghosts of spectators watching us as we land.

  We are just in time to catch the action: Bad Day is crouched down with a pistol in his hand and One Trick is lying beside him.

  Firestorm Commando is floating nearby, balls of blue energy in his hands. He throws a ball at Bad Day who dodges in a blur but doesn’t fire back. Firestorm Commando lashes out with rings of fire, but Day moves too fast to be hit.

  “ENOUGH!” roars Past Prime, dropping me to the ground and dashing between the two arguing superheroes.

  “You? You weren’t meant to be here,” says Firestorm Commando in surprise.

  “No, and you weren’t meant to be trying to get your team killed, but here we are.”

  Firestorm Commando points at me and shakes his head, clearly disappointed that I’m still alive.

  “Him? Do you know who he is? What he has done? The General wants him dead-”

  “-and you want to get back in The General’s good books by throwing a trainee to the aliens without even giving him a fighting chance. You coward,” says Past Prime calmly.

  “Careful, old-timer. One Trick said that, and it didn’t end well for her,” says Firestorm Commando.

  “Coward,” repeats Past Prime.

  Firestorm Commando touches his glove, but nothing happens. Past Prime slashes at the air with his sword, and then sinks the blade deep into the ground. His razor discs gather around him, humming with power. Firestorm Commando looks worried; I would be too, if I was in his position.

  “I wear a collar, but it doesn’t respond to you, son,” explains Past Prime, “so if you want me dead you’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Go ahead and try, I’ll even give you the first shot for free.”

  For a second Firestorm Commando looks like he is considering it, and I am silently egging him on. I would love to see that fight, because there is no way he can take Past Prime. I think the whole team is hoping Firestorm Commando is stupid enough to start something. Past Prime looks serene, but he holds his blade ready for action.

  “He’s too much of a coward!” One Trick calls out from the ground, and I laugh. One Trick is cool.

  Firestorm Commando shakes his head and spits on the ground. He may be a coward, but he isn’t a stupid one. He floats into the air and away from Past Prime and throws a bolt of energy at Blue Twelve, knocking my fellow trainee over and then flying away. I can’t believe I had his poster on my wall for months. It makes me wonder what the other supers are like.

  “What a dolt,” says Prime, “I was truly hoping he would try his luck. Anyway, we still have the clean-up to do, so-”

  A pair of octo-apes falls out of the sky in a wash of flames. The other superheroes scatter, but I’m slow to react and an ape hits me right in the chest. It hammers my head with a mace while simultaneously stabbing me with a long bladed arm. I fight back, but the octo-ape has too many arms and too many weapons.

  “Help!”

  Prime splits it in two with his sword and the parts fall to either side of me. He looks down at me and sighs.

  “Looks like you need a medical team. This is why we can’t afford to get distracted,” he says.

  I try to agree, but breathing is becoming harder and my vision fades. My words get jumbled up as I speak and make no sense. No one cares what I think, anyway.

  Lesson Four: The More You Sweat In Training, The Less You Bleed In Battle