The Pantheon Saga | Book 5 | Absolute Power

by Ekeke, C. C.

  Greyson clenched his teeth and marched alongside Reverb.

  “Is Aegis coming?” Shattershot asked once they stepped out into smoke-clogged air.

  Greyson went rigid. He’d forgotten the proximity from here to San Miguel. “I don’t see why not. Seattle’s on the same coast,” he replied with forced nonchalance, silently praying for Aegis’s arrival.

  “Don’t tell Sentinel,” Reverb concluded, drawing laughs from Shattershot.

  Greyson fake-laughed to not appear out of place as his cell buzzed. Excusing himself, he wandered off to a private corner.

  CIH: I’m here with other Paxton-Brandt assets.

  He smiled. These separations weren’t easy. Greyson texted back.

  ME: I’m in Columbia City.

  CIH: Asher has an idea to decimate the Thrillers here in Seattle.

  Greyson snorted.

  ME: You lost me at Asher having an idea.

  CIH: LOLOLOL!!

  Greyson glanced up from his phone at this who’s who gathering.

  ME: Kinda risky with so many heroes present.

  CIH: Don’t worry. Once the trap is set, you humiliate them here and destroy them back in Shenandoah.

  ME: Works for me.

  From there, Greyson and his teammates went to the heart of downtown Seattle, hazy with dust and smoke, rubble lying in various towering piles.

  Battalion cleared paths for emergency service vehicles while feigning sadness for the cameras. Greyson ignored their vapidity, disintegrating rubble with nuclear bursts to remove obstacles. Reverb bounced atop various concrete debris, breaking them apart. Meanwhile, Shattershot sensed for buried survivors with his empathic talents. Greyson saw how the flashes of pain, fear, or grief affected Shattershot. But he gritted his teeth and soldiered on toward more survivors.

  This was a good man. Far better than myself. But Greyson had accepted being a necessary evil.

  Their shift didn’t end until close to midnight. Greyson was wiped. Some part of him felt good at the lives they’d saved, but that didn’t make the countless dead bodies any easier to swallow.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Shattershot wheezed after they’d retired into their shared motel room miles outside of Seattle.

  Bulldozer and Reverb shared a room, as did Brightburn and Erika.

  Shattershot had a faraway gaze after taking a shower.

  Greyson nodded, also showered and in PJs provided by Seneca International. “There was the San Luis Obispo Quake. Leveled the whole city.”

  Shattershot wrinkled his nose. “Giving birth to a parody of a city.”

  Greyson laughed, glad more people saw San Miguel this way. “Not a fan?”

  Shattershot shook his head vehemently. “Too manufactured and commercialized.” He made a face. “The City of Wonder? C’mon!” The pair laughed heartily. When the dust settled, Greyson had to get Shattershot out of this mess.

  The following morning, Greyson attended a team breakfast. Everyone was exhausted and haunted by yesterday. Per the Seneca brass, Greyson would continue nuking debris in midtown Seattle while the Thrillers built homes on Maury Island.

  “Sorry you’re not included, Levi,” Erika apologized. “But a trainee appearing will confuse the media.”

  Greyson played the gracious teammate. “As long as I can do my part.” Inside, he was bursting with excitement. This must be the sign, he pondered as the Thrillers were driven away toward Maury Island.

  A call from Connie confirmed it. “Everything’s ready, babe. The Natural Born Thrillers will be on Maury Island working on temporary housing. No other heroes but them.”

  Greyson stared up at the barely penetrable sky. No heroes and no civilians put this in his favor. The last thing they wanted was the Thrillers becoming martyrs. “What is Asher’s plan?”

  “Scavengers with powers trying to steal supplies,” Connie laid out. “The Thrillers engage, but the battle gets out of hand and destroys the new housing, with your help.” Her animated voice was so sexy. “We’ll give you the signal. Then you fly over and cause the required chaos.”

  Greyson stared at the phone. His wife’s lack of hesitation was a thing of beauty. With the plan set, he returned to midtown. Today, downtown Seattle’s boulevards were mostly clear, the damaged buildings lining them like hedges. Apparently, several fliers like Lady Liberty had worked through the night removing rubble.

  He regrettably got paired with the Second City Saints and hated them in short order. Being a young team making waves came at the cost of maturity.

  Disgusted, Greyson ambled to an abandoned boulevard. Other than the echoes of the Saints’ sophomoric jokes, this area was hushed besides the whistling wind cutting through the alleys.

  Seeing a big city reduced to a ghost town, its buildings hollow and cracked open, sent shivers down Greyson’s spine. Sunlight needled through the dirty clouds, walling off the heavens.

  He moved toward a large pile of debris to start disintegrating. Then a whoosh signaled the arrival of a flier, goosebumps prickling Greyson’s skin for some reason. He looked up.

  A lone silhouette hovered high above like some god surveying his realm, tall and well-built and hooded.

  Him. Greyson knew it in his bones. Aegis, in Seattle. Just like his dystopian dream.

  The hero tilted forward and hurtled across the heavens, soiled billows rippling in his wake.

  All Greyson could do was stare. He ignored his buzzing cell, tracking where Aegis landed.

  “Hey,” the deep, modulated voice came from one street over.

  Greyson scurried through a cluttered alley, peeking out the end for a better view. “Oh my god,” he mouthed.

  The Second City Saints resembled children clamoring for a selfie next to Aegis, who was built like a Michelangelo sculpture. That royal-purple costume accentuated his musculature even more.

  One of them, Freestyle, stuck her gloved hand out, batting her eyelashes. “Pleasure meeting you.”

  Aegis shook all their hands and greeted them with kind words.

  Greyson watched the exchange from his hiding place, fixated on the “Shield of Justice.” The cellphone buzzed again, and he ignored it. Being in the same place as Aegis was a coincidence—no, an opportunity Greyson could not ignore. But how? In his mind, he’d already mapped out his attack plan.

  Aegis was the biggest threat. Kill him first. Then slaughter the Second City Saints, keeping the Midwest free of major superheroes. Quick and clean.

  The risk was ridiculous. No plan. No backup.

  Greyson scanned the alleyway for a weapon. Most of the garbage in this alley was useless junk.

  He then spotted a long, metal rod lying a few yards away. Over six feet, sharpened. Normally, a piece of metal like that would flatten against Aegis’s impenetrable skin.

  If I superheat the metal with nuclear energy and tether its gravity to him, Greyson mused, at seventy times above normal? The idea brought a smile to his bearded face.

  Greyson waggled his fingers. The metal rod’s gravity was negated as it floated up. He grabbed the middle of the rod, heart pounding so hard, his chest ached. Greyson’s fist burned with nuclear energy. Before long, so did the metal rod. He let go. The rod floated beside him. This was actually happening.

  He began tethering the searing metal rod’s pull to Aegis, with gravity strong enough to impale his durable body through the shoulder blades. Say goodnight, Aegis…

  The cellphone rang.

  Godammit! Greyson dropped the glowing rod and sprinted back down the alleyway before he was seen.

  Anger roiled as he whipped out his phone. Connie was calling and had left several messages.

  “Where are you?” she demanded when he answered. “The Thrillers are engaging the scavengers!”

  That cut through his rage. He smacked his forehead. The Natural Born Thrillers on Maury Island.

  “Be right there.” He’d have to fly there at top speeds and risk exposing his gravity powers.

  “Do
n’t bother,” Connie interjected dejectedly. “They won. No property damage.”

  Greyson checked his phone, catching a Seattle Tribune notification. In the video he saw the five Thrillers basking in snapshots and cheers from the gathered press. At a glance, he noticed a change. The Thrillers looked and felt like a team.

  Greyson watched Lady Liberty touch down beside Erika and Brightburn, as did Seattle’s top local team, Green Squadron. In the video, Erika seemed winded but content. Even Bulldozer, monstrous in size, was slapping Shattershot on the back.

  And Greyson had only himself to blame.

  Chapter 34

  Someone was calling Hugo’s alias in the cloudy darkness. Everything hurt too much to even move.

  “Aegis?” The voice was clearer. Darkness was replaced by putrid smog hanging low and heavy.

  “Hugo!”

  A shoulder shake jolted him awake. “Whuah!” He sat up, and a hot flash roiled down his spine. His vision cleared to find Lady Liberty beside him. Her red costume was stained from digging through debris. By the luxury homes lining either side of the street, Hugo momentarily thought this was El Marquez. Then his brain caught up. Mercer Island, Washington.

  “Lady Liberty, I…” He hesitated, seeing she wasn’t alone. “Polymer?”

  The ex-Warguard member stood behind her, wide-eyed. “I saw you go down over this neighborhood.”

  “He called me.” Lady Liberty helped Hugo up. “Who attacked you?”

  Brief vertigo buckled Hugo’s knees. He sagged against his former mentor, almost collapsing. Once it passed, he straightened and met her worried stare. “Spencer.”

  Lady Liberty’s brow rose. “What?” The word was a sharp slap.

  Hugo scanned his surroundings methodically. “Spencer Michelman attacked me.” Anger refueled his strength. But all these houses were empty. How long had he been out?

  Lady Liberty stayed close as Polymer trailed them. “But your mom said Ezra had her confined,” she muttered.

  Hugo stopped, shaking his head. Spencer was long gone. “Paxton-Brandt freed her and I think captured Dr. Michelman. Now Spence shot me and…” Naked horror swallowed him. “Arclight.”

  Polymer looked confused. “Who—?”

  Hugo blasted into the air. “ARCLIGHT!” His mind was reeling. If J-Tom was hurt or worse…no force on Earth would save Spencer. Hugo floated above the expanse of mansions filling Mercer Island. Panic along with headaches from Spencer’s attack made telescopic vision strenuous.

  He tapped his hood, activating his comms channel to J-Tom. “Jen, where are you?”

  Static answered.

  Hugo’s terror spiked. “J-Tom!” He turned right and left, listening with superhearing for J-Tom’s heartbeat.

  “Bogie!” she gasped from some tiny space flooding rapidly with water. “Help…Please.”

  Hugo whirled in the direction of her voice. A sprawling estate with a pool larger than most apartments. The Arclight armor had sunk to the bottom.

  Hugo zoomed down, punching through the pool, water erupting in every direction.

  Grabbing J-Tom, he exploded through the surface, splashing more water.

  Hugo burst through the screen door of the empty house and laid J-Tom down.

  “Jenny? Jennifer,” Hugo called out. No movement or humming or lit-up sections. Just water sloshing around the insides. The armor was dead. He prayed J-Tom wasn’t the same. Knowing what to do, he pressed a hand on a circular dial of the left hip, then a circular symbol sitting on the Arclight armor’s chest. Hugo twisted them in opposite directions three times. Immediately, the armor slithered off J-Tom like liquid metal, collapsing into a suitcase. Water splashed across the marble floor, right as Lady Liberty landed beside the pool carrying Polymer.

  J-Tom lay on the floor in a black tee and yoga pants, soaked and coughing up a lung.

  Hugo’s joy was overwhelming. “I gotcha.” He cradled her shivering body. “You’re safe.”

  J-Tom clung to him. “Didn’t…koff…activate my…koff…shields,” she wheezed, teeth chattering. “Sorry.”

  If Hugo had found her a minute later…that prospect would’ve been unbearable. He turned to see Lady Liberty and Polymer approach. “She needs a medic. A discreet one.”

  “I’m a medic.” Polymer stood over Hugo like an overeager puppy. “Trained EMT.”

  Hugo still didn’t trust Polymer, but Lady Liberty’s approving nod decided for him.

  Polymer pulled out basic medical tools attached to his belt and checked J-Tom over. Other than red splotches on her back that looked like bad sunburn, she was okay.

  “If that pool hadn’t broken her fall,” Polymer caveated, “this could’ve been worse.”

  “Spencer was here?” Lady Liberty inquired.

  “On Mercer Island,” Hugo stated, vitriol searing away his aches. He held J-Tom closer. “Check the Paxton-Brandt camps.”

  “On it.” Lady Liberty marched out of the house and flew skyward in a ripple of wind.

  “How can I help?” Polymer asked, putting his tools away.

  “Here.” Hugo pressed a thumb on Polymer’s forehead, memory-walking Spencer’s appearance into his mind. Skintight jumpsuit, venomous sneer, and those eyes, dark-blue like bruises.

  Polymer jerked backward, blinking. “How the fuck?”

  Hugo had no time to explain. “Search for that girl near any Paxton-Brandt encampments.”

  Polymer nodded, limbs melting into a ball around his body. Then he bounced outside and over the fence.

  J-Tom’s armor, however, was damaged by Spencer’s blast. At least it could expand over her body. Not willing to risk her safety, Hugo flew J-Tom in her armor back to San Miguel.

  He speed-changed them both into normal clothes at the Clubhouse, then supersped her to Paso. Thankfully, Mom was home.

  “What did you two get into?” Mom fussed over her in the guestroom. Again, no signs of injury. But J-Tom could barely hold her head up, taking the Spencer news way better than expected.

  “Guess we should stop her,” she murmured drowsily.

  Once Mom left, Hugo cradled J-Tom like a baby until she snapped out of her stupor somewhat. Hugo caressed the nape of her neck, memory-walking into her and her family building sandcastles at Grover Beach. J-Tom must’ve been eleven by her height with an adorable babyface. Hugo guided her into a deep dream state around that cherished memory.

  J-Tom wilted in his arms, eyelids fluttering in total bliss. Only then did Hugo know peace. He kissed J-Tom’s forehead and tucked her into bed.

  “How is she?” AJ asked once Hugo reentered the living room.

  “Resting.” Hugo wasn’t physically tired. But the last few days had left him spent. He blinked away the mental fatigue. “I’m keeping Jen here until I know she’s okay.” He kissed his mother’s forehead. “Thanks for examining her.”

  “Sure.” Mom’s hawk-like glare followed Hugo when he sat heavily on the couch.

  Hugo’s thoughts revolved around J-Tom. The anguish of almost losing her hurt everywhere.

  “I shouldn’t have brought Jenny. She nearly…” The word “died” caught in Hugo’s throat.

  “Uso.” AJ plopped beside him. “J-Tom looked great from what I saw on the news. But what happened to Spencer?” His eyes darted to Mom and he made a face.

  Hugo stared at nothing. “Lady Liberty is searching.” Spencer out there with Paxton-Brandt’s backing put everyone he cared for at risk—especially J-Tom, Jordana, and Brie.

  The TV displayed the Extreme Teens, Lady Liberty, and Battalion removing rubble and passing out foodstuff to survivors.

  Mom stepped in his line of sight. “This Spencer issue is out of control.” She folded her arms, which meant ultimatum time. “If she knows your identity, so does Paxton-Brandt.”

  Hugo glared up at her, already guessing her demands. Hang up the suit. Not happening. Then Hugo recalled Spencer’s words. Your identities are safe. For now. “I don’t think she’s told anyone.”

  Mom
’s face contorted. AJ gaped at him as if he’d grown a third eye. “You believe that psycho?”

  Hugo raised a hand to calm their understandable fury. “If Spencer had told anyone, something would’ve happened by now.” He scratched his jawline, mulling over what else Paxton-Brandt could throw at him.

  Mom was unconvinced. “Unless they’re waiting for the right moment.”

  “Ms. Ortiz is getting her people to search for him,” Hugo replied. On the flight back home, he’d told Ms. Ortiz everything about working with Dr. Michelman and the retired hero’s disappearance. His former mentor had been rattled.

  Mom relaxed, scratching at her neck. “Hopefully, he’s not dead.”

  Hugo wouldn’t accept that possibility. “I’m going back to Seattle tomorrow. Alone.” No way was J-Tom going near Seattle. Or the field.

  AJ rubbed his own arms. Something was on his mind. “But there are already tons of other heroes over there.”

  “Seattle and Tacoma still need help,” Hugo said. Not returning never crossed his mind, even after Spencer’s attack. He stretched his limbs, catlike. “But I got homework…”

  AJ exchanged a look with Mom. “Oh…” He pulled his phone out. “We saw this.” He played a video on the official Aegis YouTube channel. Haunting visuals of Seattle’s and Tacoma's desolation were prominent during the thirty-second ad. This all came from Hugo’s bodycam footage, sent to Annie Sherwood yesterday. No voiceover, just short sentences onscreen detailing stats about Seattle’s disaster. Hugo’s throat tightened, grief taking him back to the past tragic few days. At the video’s end card were five charities Hugo had recommended to Annie. Damn, his PR Goddess was good.

  Hugo liked the ad, dark memories aside. Hopefully, that encouraged people to donate. “Hey, Mom.” He turned to her. “Don’t you usually work Saturdays?”

  Worry melted off her. “About that…” She wrung her hands nervously. “I got a job.”

  Hugo brightened at the news. “The nurse manager gig?”

  She shook her head, bushy mane swinging back and forth. “Not exactly. It’s a hybrid position. Part-nurse manager and part-philanthropic associate. The hospital was impressed how I connected them with your publicist.” She grinned girlishly. “And moved me on to their philanthropic division. Community outreach. Food Drives. Fundraisers. In a few years, I’ll transition into that full-time.” She spread her arms, clearly anxious for feedback.