World Domination

by Steve Beaulieu

  I charged into the chamber and found the sphere spinning at a far more rapid rate than before. The Voltress was inside, but she looked frail and beaten.

  “He-eeelp,” she croaked.

  I walked forward cautiously. Was this another trick? Another of her mind games?

  “Please, help me,” she said, “I can’t stop it spinning. It’s tearing me apart.”

  “You mean like you tore my parents apart?”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “This is the only way. We must start afresh. Anew. The world is too far gone. Even God sent down rains when the earth had grown too wicked. Did he not engulf Sodom and Gomorrah in fire and brimstone? We must…”

  “You’re not God!” I shouted.

  “Where is He then?” She was crying now and I had a choice to make.

  I walked to the place where I knew the forcefield would be. As I suspected, it was no longer active. There was a control panel near the sphere and I made my way toward it.

  The Voltress cried out in anguish. “Don’t touch that!”

  “You want me to help? I’m shutting this thing down,” I said.

  “I will die!”

  “Two birds then.” I wanted her to die. I reveled in the thought.

  “Everything I’ve worked toward…don’t you see? It has to be this way.”

  “People are dying and it’s all your fault. You killed my parents and now you’re killing millions of other parents. Your death, for the greater good. I can handle those odds.”

  It wasn’t easy, but I graduated Yale at six. I found the correct combination of buttons and the machine began to wind down. Her screams began to wind up. I could feel her dying. I drank it in. It was like nectar. Like water on a hot day. Like…cream. It was a beautiful thing.

  I walked to the front of the sphere, watching as the metal bars rotated past my face, one after another, slower and slower until finally, it stopped. She looked up at me with those eyes I’ve had nightmares about for over a decade.

  “You’ve damned them all.”

  • • •

  Maybe I did. Maybe I did damn you all. But here’s the thing…as soon as that sphere stopped its final revolution all of humanity reverted back to normality. But I had trouble remembering what normal was. As I sit here, writing this to you, the American people and the people of the world, I know one thing: Truth is absolute. But perspective determines what you perceive truth to be. And perception is reality.

  I can no long trust humanity's perceptions. My mind was shaken and rattled to its core, but I was able to see past the things projected upon me by another and focus in on truth. I am not a hero. I was a villain for a day. But now I stand as the holder of truth, the keeper of peace and the Lord of the world. You will all do well to remember this. Remember, and obey.

  God bless you, and God bless this United World of the Silver Serval.

  I have your best interest at heart—trust me.

  A Word fromAaron Hall and Steve Beaulieu

  Thank you so much for reading our story. We hope you’ll mention it when you review this book.

  We met at church and decided to team up when we realized that each of us had strengths to compliment the other’s weaknesses. You might say we complete each other! Please don’t say that.

  We love writing and we love Science Fiction. Really…we love anything that tells a good story. We are both huge movie buffs as well as complete nerds. Everything ranging from Aaron’s Steam account boasting over 700 games to Steve’s thousands of comic books, we just can’t get enough of everything you do while living in your mother’s basement. Unfortunate for both of us, Texas doesn’t have basements and neither of us live with mom.

  Aaron Hall was born in 1981 in Fort Worth, Texas. He has spent a majority of his life writing, finding a love of creating fiction at an early age. After spending a decade as

  community journalist, Aaron now works in communications for his hometown municipal government. He loves spending time with family and friends, watching TV and movies, and above all else, his savior and lord, Jesus Christ.

  Steve Beaulieu was born in 1984 in East Hartford, CT. Having spent most of his life in Palm Beach County, Florida, he and his wife moved to Fort Worth, TX in 2012. He works as a Pastor and Graphic Artist and loves comic books, fantasy and science fiction novels.

  He married the love of his life in 2005 and he fathered his first child in 2014, Oliver Paul Beaulieu. His namesake, two of Steve’s favorite fictional characters, Oliver Twist and The Green Arrow, Oliver Queen. His second child is due July 30th, but Steve secretly hopes she will be born a day late so she can share her birthday with Harry Potter.

  You should check out our story Cleanview in the sister anthology to this volume It’s A Bird! It’s a Plane! A Superhero Anthology. You might also like our full length novel Brother Dust: The Resurgence. We consider it a superhero story, even though Brother Dust wears a cloak instead of a cape. It started out as a comic book. You can see some pictures of that here.

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  CHARISMA

  BY TERRY SCHOTT

  CHARISMA

  BY TERRY SCHOTT

  1

  Yesterday I reported that the defensive initiative in the Balewater sector was a success thanks to the combined efforts of Hero and the third Berserker battalion. The troops arrived home twenty minutes ago, landing at Childd’s airforce base. Rather than fly back on his own, Hero rode with the Berserker to spend some extra time with his best friend and battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Rick Hardin. The troops have now reported to the briefing centre. I attempted to get an interview with Hero but was informed that he accompanied the Lieutenant Colonel to visit the Berserker’s wife and newborn baby.

  We extend our congratulations to the happy couple.

  Jan Stexsmall—Military reporter VXNN news

  The elevator door opened and Hero clapped his friend on the back, pushing him forward. “After you, brother.”

  Rick laughed and stepped from the elevator. He ignored the hushed whispers and muffled talking as his super-powered friend appeared behind him. “If you stop to give autographs, I’m not waiting.”

  Hero grinned. “You know I have to give at least a couple. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

  Rick chuckled, turning to see that his friend was already surrounded by a small crowd, pen and paper in hand as he asked a lady for her name.

  Rick turned the corner and made his way to the nurse’s station. The woman at the desk smiled. “Welcome home, daddy.”

  “I told you not to call me that where others can hear, Kay. There will be rumours about us.”

  “As if anyone would believe you’d pick me over your gorgeous wife.” The nurse laughed and shook her head. “Congratulations, Rick. Bexal and your boy are both doing great.”

  Rick felt tears form in his eyes. “I just wish I hadn’t missed the birth.”

  Kay stood and reached across the counter to touch his shoulder. “Duty calls, berserker. You have returned safe and sound. She will be pleased at that. Are you ready to meet him now?”

  Rick smiled and nodded, warm tears running down his cheeks as he followed her down the hall.

  • • •

  “Hey there.”

  Bexal felt a sudden twisting in her stomach at the sound of his voice. She took a moment, her gaze lingering on the baby boy in her arms, before smiling and looking towards the door. Rick’s massive frame filled the doorway. His eyes were glassy, and he was smiling. She could feel his love and felt her stomach tighten again, this time feeling as if she had been punched in the stomach. “Hi, soldier.” She raised her arm and beckoned him closer. “I think someone wants to meet you. Brock, this is your daddy.”

  Rick moved to her side, wide grin and tears streaming down his face. He grasped her hand and leaned over to kiss her forehead.

  Bexal closed her eyes and felt tears of her own. Not of happiness, but shame. I can’t do this, she thought. All he’s ever done is love me, and t
his is how I repay him.

  “Brock.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Oh, wow. Bexal…” He bent down and reached out to grasp the baby’s tiny hand. His large thumb looked enormous in contrast to that of the newborn’s. “He’s perfect.”

  Bexal tried to speak but her voice cracked and all she could manage was a nod.

  “Look what we made.” He reached in and tenderly pulled the child away from her, straightening as he cradled the babe in his arms. “Hello, Brock. I’m your daddy. You’re perfect, aren’t you? Yes, you are. You’re a perfect little man.”

  Bexal’s eyes darted towards the doorway. Hero stood there, arms folded over his chest, muscles highlighted by the skin-tight, black body armour of his costume. He watched the scene, lips pursed together, eyes watching the back of his best friend. After a moment, the super powered soldier’s ice-blue eyes blinked and his gaze slid to meet hers.

  Bexal saw the sadness, the guilt. She raised a hand and covered her mouth, fighting the urge to get up from her bed and try to run away.

  From Hero.

  From her unsuspecting husband.

  From the shame that she had brought to all three of them.

  2

  Bexal heard the crying, but she couldn’t move.

  Two weeks into motherhood and she was totally exhausted. A small voice told her to move—to get up—but the voice was not persistent enough to get results from her body.

  Vaguely, she was aware of movement beside her.

  “You sleep, hun.” Rick’s voice. “I got him.”

  Inwardly, she sighed and allowed sleep to pull her back into its embrace.

  • • •

  Bexal’s eyes flew open and she sat up, fully awake, pulse racing.

  Loud crying sounded from the room next to her. She swung her feet over the edge and began to walk fast. “Oh, thank God, I woke up right away.”

  She rushed towards the nursery. “Stop, hun. I got him.”

  She reached the doorway and froze.

  The baby lay on the change table, arms and feet flailing as he cried. Bexal’s head turned left and then right. She frowned.

  Rick wasn’t there.

  “Rick?” She called out as she rushed to the table, placing a hand on the child to prevent him from rolling onto the ground. “Honey? Where are you?”

  There was no answer.

  She looked down. Brock’s diaper was missing, his little legs pumping in rhythm to his squalls. Bexal’s hand reached down to touch the birthmark on his right thigh. She picked the baby up and held him close as she sank to the ground.

  Then she began to sob.

  • • •

  Base Commander James Arnett reached for his phone and pushed the speaker button. “What’s up, Jen?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t stop him.”

  “Stop who?”

  The door opened and Rick entered, brows were furrowed, eyes hard as he glared at the commander. James recognized the look in his soldier’s eyes and shot up from his chair, standing at attention as he barked a command. “At ease, Zerker!” His voice was hard and swift. “No one brings that into my office.” James drew his pistol, thumbed the trigger back, and aimed at Rick’s head. “Stand down immediately or I will end you.”

  Rick blinked and shook his head. His shoulders slumped and then began to heave as he took gulps of air. Then he dropped to the ground, his knees making a dull thudding noise as they made contact. He bowed his head, breathing still heavy.

  The commander kept his weapon trained on Rick’s skull, blood pounding in his ears from the rush of adrenaline. “Can you understand me, soldier?”

  “Yes.”

  “Again!” He shouted. “With a bigger word or two.”

  “Yes, Commander. I understand you.”

  Seconds passed. Finally, James nodded and holstered his weapon. “Stand up slowly and sit your arse in the chair.”

  Rick stood and moved to the chair across from the commander’s desk. “I’m sorry, sir. I—”

  “Sit.”

  Rick nodded and plopped into the chair, head hanging and gaze downcast.

  The commander sat and counted slowly to thirty. Then he sat in his chair and took a breath. “You mind telling me how you managed to work yourself up into a berserker rage in a non-theatre setting and storm into my office ready to kill?”

  Rick remained motionless.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  James barked out a laugh. “I’m sure you are. That don’t help much though does it?”

  Rick shook his head.

  “I almost had to put you down.”

  “I know.”

  “You were wild, Rick. Bloodthirsty, limb-ripping, wild.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Scared the hell outta me, son.”

  Rick’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  “You already said that.” The commander drummed his fingers against the wooden desktop. “Now tell me what set you off?”

  Rick looked up. The commander could see deep pain in the man’s eyes and felt a twinge of pity. “Listen, I want to help you, Rick. The penalty for losing control and entering a berserker rage in a civilian setting is a bullet in the head. You know that, man.”

  “Yes.”

  “This isn’t you. Your self-control is better than anyone else’s. That’s why you’re the one who trains them. Something powerful has happened to make you lose control of yourself.”

  Rick shrugged.

  “May as well tell me.”

  “The baby.” He looked at his hands.

  “Your baby? What about him?”

  Rick took a deep breath and met his commander’s gaze. “That’s the thing, Skipper. The kid ain’t mine.”

  3

  The elderly woman entered the living room, sat down, and answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Bexal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How is my grandson doing?”

  “He’s…”

  “Honey, you don’t sound right. Is everything okay?”

  “No. No, mom. It’s all falling apart.”

  “Bexal? Please stop crying.”

  “I can’t…I’m sorry…I—”

  Mildred listened to the sobs on the other end of the line and it dawned on her. “Rick found out? Bexal? Did Rick find out the baby isn’t his?” Mildred’s lips pursed together.

  Long moments passed before Bexal could speak. “Brock has a birthmark. It’s very distinctive. Only one other person has it. It’s even on the same place as it is on Hero.” Bexal’s voice cracked. “The upper thighs. I hoped that Rick wouldn’t have seen it on Hero, but I guess that was stupid of me to hope for. They are soldiers and shower together during training. Just in case, I tried to do all the diaper changes. But this morning I was so tired. He got up to help and I wasn’t able to wake up.”

  “I see. And there’s no way it could be explained away?”

  “No, he saw it and knows. He left the baby on the change table without even making sure he wouldn’t roll off.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know, Mom.” There was a long pause. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

  “You’re on an army base, dear. He will come back. At least to collect his things.” There was more crying on the other line. Mildred frowned and sat straight in her seat. “Alright, now.” She hardened the tone of her voice. “That’s enough.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You made a mistake. More than one. You had an affair with your husband’s best friend and then tried to keep it a secret. If it had worked that’s one thing, but it didn’t. Now you have to face up to what you’ve done and move forward.”

  “How?”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Who?”

  Mildred sighed. “Rick. Your husband.”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”<
br />
  “It’s complicated.”

  Mildred laughed. “I’m sure you think so, but it’s time to strip away the drama.”

  There was a pause. “I need him.”

  “Really? Hero won’t welcome you with open arms?”

  A harsh laugh. “He is too busy for a family.”

  Mildred pursed her lips and counted to three before answering.

  “Then you must find a way to make it work.”

  “Rick won’t want to.”

  “Then you move on.”

  “But—”

  “You have a child now, Bex. Time to grow up and do whatever it takes to give him a proper life.”

  • • •

  James frowned. “You’re sure it’s not yours?”

  Rick nodded. “The birthmark gave it away.”

  “Birthmark?” James frowned and then his eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yep. Same place on the leg, just like his daddy.”

  The commander closed his eyes and groaned. He opened them and saw that Rick was watching him. “Rick—”

  “I’m leaving her.”

  James shook his head.

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “I’m sorry, but yeah, I can.”

  Rick frowned but did not speak.

  “You are committed to the unit.” Rick shook his head, but the commander held his hand up. “Your country spent a lot of money and time to turn you into what you are, son—a Berserker. The elite support troops for Hero. And not just one of the troops. You lead them. We cannot lose you. Not now.”

  “He betrayed me.”

  “No, your wife did.”

  Rick’s eyes hardened. Then his gaze became flat and he blinked. “How long do I have to stay with her?”

  “Til your commitment is fulfilled.”

  “Six more years.”

  James nodded.

  “I’ll need somewhere else to stay.”

  “Brother, unit, country. That’s your priority soldier. You hear any mention of wife?”