Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  I’m crying in my helmet, which is a real problem; I can’t exactly wipe my face.

  “Epic, make note, I need to find a way to wipe my face. Lasers maybe?”

  Note made. Amelia, I recommend not using lasers to dry your tears.

  “It would be awesome, but yeah, you’re probably right. I should also work on synthesizing a voice for you.”

  Addendum added.

  The plan is simple then: join the Diamondbacks, use them to infiltrate Cat-7, find out what really happened to my parents, make responsible party pay for it. I’m not the government. I’m not a crusader for law and order. I’m a daughter with an astronomically high IQ who wants her parents back. I may have missed out on my childhood, but I won’t spend the rest of my life without them.

  6

  I’m not sure what I expected the facility to look like when Domino handed me the card. A mansion maybe? A sprawling HQ with manicured lawns and gate guards even. I’m sure it’s on TV all the time, but for the life of me, I can’t remember ever seeing it. What I found was a three-story brick building from the 1920’s, a skylight, and helipad. Outside is a modest parking lot with a couple of vehicles in it including a dark red Ford truck that looked well cared for. This didn’t exactly scream superhero HQ. Even the pool in the back didn’t look like anything more special than the Arizona standard. At least they keep it close to the city.

  As I come down to land, the sudden change in position leaves my arms aching. I resist the urge to rub them as I cut out my flight gear and land with a thump on the center of the DB emblazoned on the helipad.

  They have their three hoverbikes parked to one side, a skylight and a large metal door with a keypad next to it. I expected a welcoming committee or something. Nothing. I walk over to the door and hit the buzzer next to it.

  “Yes?” A bored voice asks.

  “Um, Arsenal to see Domino,” I say in my synthesized voice.

  I feel like an idiot saying my name out loud. I know the world of superheroes has flashy costumes and cool code names and I need to get used to it if I’m going to be part of their world, but it still feels silly. People tend to freak out if the guy next to them shoots laser beams out of his eyes and his name is ‘Bob’ and he’s wearing the same clothes they are. The costumes keep everything grounded.

  “Use the button marked ‘office-2’ please,” he says without further explanation. The door opens, and an elevator waits for me. There are five buttons; 2-4 are marked office, then ground floor, and the bottom one is red with no marking and a special biolock next to it.

  The lift shakes and creaks as it carries me down. Underwhelming is the word that comes to mind. Last I looked, the DB’s received almost six million from the state and another four from the Feds, along with however much the private sponsors kicked in. Where is the money? Certainly not in this old, run-down, rickety building. The lift comes to an abrupt halt and the doors slide open. The floor has the kind of short carpet designed for high traffic areas, and the walls are painted with the soothing off-white color no one actually likes. It doesn’t look rundown, but it certainly isn’t ten million dollars nice.

  “Epic, passive sensors on full. I don’t want to show them my active sensor suite unless I have to.”

  Understood.

  There are six doors on this floor. I don’t see any others and the space of each of the offices would account for the total square footage of the building. Are they hiding something underground? The offices are easily the size of my workshop. The first one has Major Force: Team Leader in gold on the door. Team leader huh, he has that painted on his door. Maybe he is more of a pompous jerk than I thought. Too bad about how he looks--those abs alone would make me forgive a lot. I shake my head, no time for that. Only the first three have names; Mr. Perfect and Domino are on the next two. I see she has the corner office.

  Domino does the team’s PR and is the public face. She’s pretty, charismatic, and always seems to have the press on her side. Even when they completely muff it up. It gets me thinking about the environmental toxins Epic warned me about. She must have some sort of empathic influence. Maybe she doesn’t even know she does it?

  Domino’s door opens and to my surprise a blonde woman who looks exactly like her smiles at me.

  “Arsenal, you came! Looks like everyone owes me twenty bucks. Come on in.” She gestures into her office. It’s nice inside. Plush leather couches, a full picture window seated to catch the rays directly, and an entire wall of expensive flat screens. Each one has a different news station, all are muted. I carefully walk to the center of the room and look around. I’m not sure where to sit, when she points at the couch. As I sit she drags a small ottoman over directly in front of me.

  “It’s my secret identity,” she says out of the blue.

  I cock my head to the side.

  “The hair. It’s how I keep my identity secret, and a pair of glasses.” She fishes out a pair of thick black glasses and puts them over her face.

  “Seriously?” My synthesized voice loses some of the sarcasm but she still picks up on it. It’s not possible her disguise could work…

  “You would be surprised. Of course, those who know me well aren’t fooled, but the general public? They aren’t looking for Domino in Kate Petrenelli. Marketing manager by day, superhero by night,” she says with a grin. The ease in which she puts me is almost frightening. However, the moment she started speaking the toxin alarm screams.

  “Domino—”

  “—Kate, please.”

  “Kate, I have an internal air supply, but it’s finite. Can you turn off your pheromones, or is it unconscious?”

  Her eyes grow wide as a saucer. For a second I think she’s going to be angry, then she starts laughing. It’s like bells and chimes--everything she does is perfect. Even without the pheromones, I would like her.

  When she’s done she wipes her eyes, “Yes I can turn it off, let me hit the fan.”

  She doesn’t move but I sense she gives a command because an exhaust fan kicks in from somewhere. Within seconds Epic turns off the alarm. I’m off the canned air for the moment.

  “You know, I’ve talked to a lot of supers and not one of them could ever tell. I forget about it myself sometimes. It’s just part of my power set.”

  I nod, “It’s okay, I didn’t think you were trying to be malicious. I didn’t even know if you were aware you had it.” I say.

  This is getting awkward fast. I want to cross my legs or lean back, but the armor makes the first impossible and the second would have me looking almost at the ceiling. I need to work on flexibility.

  “Epic, make a note to look for ways to make the armor more flexible,” I say to him, not her.

  “Well, I’m glad you came. There’s a lot I would like to show you today if you would like. You can store your armor here, or you can do whatever you normally do with it when you take it off.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me they would want me to take it off. I look down at my legs. Without the armor, I can’t walk. I didn’t bring a wheelchair, not to mention I don’t really want to reveal my face to them yet. If I tell her I need a chair, it will narrow down the list of who I could be considerably. There aren’t a lot of raven-haired paraplegics running around. No pun intended.

  I decide to go with a version of the truth, “The armor requires specialized equipment to put on and take off. I’m afraid I can’t do it anywhere I like,” I say to her. To Epic I say, “Make a note about—”

  Mobile armor removal. Understood.

  I giggle. He knows me well.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I think we can make an exception this one time. Let’s get started.” She pulls out her phone. With a punch of a button, a hologram leaps out in front of me. Smart is an understatement for what I am, and I can’t make a hologram work outside the controlled environment of my lab. She has a mobile one…

  “These are our standard non-disclosure agreements. Anything you see here is for your eyes only. It isn’t to be discussed with an
yone, posted on the Internet, put up on a vlog, or in your diary. Understood?”

  I nod.

  “Sorry hon, I need to hear the words. It cues in on your voice.”

  “Oh. I understand and agree.”

  “Excellent,” she says with a smile as she puts the phone away.

  “Can I ask a question?”

  I know it makes me sound like a child, but I feel like one at the moment.

  “Sure, hon, you don’t have to ask to ask.”

  “Who made the tech you use for holograms? It isn’t commercially available. Heck, as far as I know, there isn’t anyone close to a working version of what you just did.”

  She smiles coyly, the kind of smile that says, ‘I have a secret.’ “Well, if you join the team we can answer that question. Until then you will just have to guess. Now, follow me, please. And no active sensors or we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  I do follow her. If I could get a glimpse of the inside of the phone, even an x-ray, it could give me a clue as to how they have impossible tech. We return to the elevator. I give it a dubious look as she ushers me in. She places her finger over the scanner, “Main hall please.”

  The elevator starts down. After it hits the basement the ride smoothens out.

  “This part is going to feel—a little weird.”

  I open my mouth to ask her what she means, when my suit’s master alarm screams in my ear. All my passive sensors light up like Christmas. There is an agonizingly long second where I want to respond and give Epic orders, but I can’t speak. A light fills the elevator and then it is gone. The doors open and she walks out, smiling as if nothing happened.

  “Epic, status report, what was that?”

  He doesn’t respond. Oh crap.

  7

  “What just happened?” I ask out loud. My voice always sounds weird to me, but now it’s muffled without my PA. No Epic, no control of the onboard systems. Thankfully the synthsuit doesn’t require an active interface; it amplifies my existing nerve impulses.

  Kate smiles at me from a room that doesn’t belong to the building above. It’s sleek and modern looking. The outside of the lift is a shiny metal with no visible buttons. I walk out into the room and realize this is a cafeteria. Several people mill about, eating and talking, maybe a dozen in total. Some in costume, others in the bright yellow coveralls of Category-7.

  Oh my God, we teleported, that has to be it.

  “Well, I can’t really tell you—”

  “—Unless I sign up. Don’t worry about it. I guess I’m going to have to get used to technology that doesn’t exist, like quantum teleportation.”

  Her mouth drops open and I get the feeling she isn’t surprised often.

  “How did you know?”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you if I sign up.” I keep forgetting to speak louder. My voice ends up being muffled instead of awesome. She nods, her eyes narrow on me as if she is re-evaluating her opinion.

  After a moment she leads me to the room and shows me the large kitchen; it looks like a five-star restaurant with everything I could ever want. There is a long line of food, drinks, even several cooks in the back. Grilling meats and frying potatoes fill my helmet and my mouth instantly waters.

  “This is a lot of food for four people?” I ask.

  She laughs, “Since you figured it out, you should know this is the ultra-secret HQ for the entire western United States. We have six speedsters on the West Coast and they can literally eat a cow after a mission.”

  I nod. This is starting to make sense. Why spend the money individually when you could pool it? All the teams are linked slightly anyways. If not from members, by the fact they’re all state-sponsored militias. My mind reels at the possibility. I start doing the calculations for the amount of energy the quantum teleporter uses. I’m so involved in it I follow her on auto-pilot.

  Epic hasn’t come back and unless they have an Ethernet port I can jack into—I blink a few times. I got lost in my own thoughts and didn’t hear anything she said. Major Force is standing there next to her, in civilian workout attire. He’s a little sweaty and he’s using the towel around his neck to pat himself dry.

  “I’m sorry, I am a little speechless from all this,” I say as an excuse for not responding to whatever question he asked. It is totally not the way his muscles ripple when he moves.

  He smiles. “Listen, about yesterday, I wanted to apologize. I can be a little intense during combat due to my powers amping up with adrenaline, and I can get a little cranky—”

  “—That’s an understatement,” Kate interjects.

  “—No commentary from the peanut gallery, please,” he says with a smile. “Anyway, I’m sorry.” He holds his hand out. I take it and his grip is as solid as he is. He still towers over me, but I regain a little of my respect for him. I’m glad I’m in my armor; I would hate to have him see me blushing. Focus!

  “Well, you know,” I say awkwardly.

  “Okay big guy, let me show the lady around some more before you start scaring her away with your chiseled abs.” He suddenly lets go of my hand and turns away quickly. I catch a glimpse of him blushing. Wow.

  The tour goes on from there. She shows me their quarters, the command center staffed by a dozen workers in Category-7 jumpsuits, and a comm center manned by more Cat-7 employees.

  “I didn’t know Cat-7 was as involved with the teams as this,” I try to say casually.

  “They contract with the government to provide the majority of our services, from tech like my phone, to our merchandising. Some of what they do they earns a flat fee from the Feds, the rest is paid by the states and their percent of the merchandising. Last year my collectible figurine outsold everyone’s but Princess Panther.”

  I cringe at the name. She lives in Tampa Bay if I recall correctly. Her ‘costume’ is a bathing suit and I am pretty sure she isn’t much more than a marketing stunt.

  “Do you ever get tired of the code names?”

  She smiles. “You get used to it. Some of us, the ones who are more—how shall I say—pleasing to the eye, make quite a bit of a bonus every month from our toy sales and appearances. It’s even a bit of a competition on the sly.”

  I knew merchandising was a big deal, I just didn’t think it mattered much. Apparently, I have a lot to learn. Good thing for me I learn fast. Learning is good, but what I really need is Internet access to check in with Epic. His emergency protocols probably have him hacking NASA by now.

  I follow her along as I scan for one. This place is a marvel of engineering; it’s obviously underground, but without going active I have no way of knowing much else. She continues the tour to their recreation room. State of the art computer terminals, TV’s with headphones, even cots for sleeping fill the hall. Carlos would love this place. Since this seemed like the time to ask…

  “Do you guys have Internet?”

  She points, “We have all the cool toys. We’re plugged directly into the backbone which gives us incredible speed. Go ahead and look around for a minute. Bear in mind, you get daily access to all this if you join up,” she says with a sly smile. She moves away to speak with a nondescript man who walked in while she was talking. I try to look casual as I check out the computers. State of the art and then some. I had no idea. I thought I would have to work my way to the national team to have this much access. I’m in the heart of the beast. I guess this settles it for me—I’m going to join. Now, I need to let Epic know where I am. It’s easy enough to reach behind and unplug the Ethernet cord from the nearest computer. Once my armor’s electromagnetic field makes contact I have instant access.

  Why are you in Oregon? Epic asks me.

  The suit’s HUD springs to life and suddenly I am back in control again.

  “Epic, I need you to write a quick program to give me voice access to everything. As soon as I let go you won’t be able to connect to me.”

  Wireless?

  “I don’t want to open the suit up to prying eyes.”

 
I need three minutes.

  While he does his thing, I flip through the passive sensors to see what’s going on here. My ECM master alarm blinks to life immediately. Someone is shooting x-rays at me, along with fluctuating magnetic fields, infra-red beams, and a kitchen sink or two. A smile spreads on my face. As far as I know, nothing can slip between the molecular bonds of my titanium-tungsten carbide armor. Nothing. All they will get is an outline. However, I pick up a lot. The air is climate controlled and lacks any impurities, which means it’s likely canned.

  Another man enters the room. He’s wearing a white lab coat and carrying a tablet. He keeps glancing in my direction while I fake my interest in the computer. A radiation warning pops up. Which is odd. If we’re underground the only radiation I should detect, outside the x-rays they’re bombarding me with, would be background.

  “Epic, analyze wavelength.”

  I can’t.

  “Why not?”

  While my passive sensors can ‘see’ it, the wavelength isn’t one I have on record. I cannot tell you what it is, because it doesn’t exist.

  “Damn,” I mutter. The HUD blinks and he notifies me he’s done.

  “Don’t risk detection but learn everything you can about this place.”

  Affirmative.

  I put the cord back in and Epic immediately disappears. His subroutines stay and I have full control. It would be a little less responsive, but it would work. The warning lights die on the ECM, but the radiation warning remains. My curiosity is piqued. The tech I had seen so far was beyond the current commercial ability of any country I know. What is going on?

  “Arsenal, this is Sam Carver. He’s our chief technical officer for the West Coast. And this is Pedric Matahal. He’s the—person behind a lot of our tech, and VP of the company. He’s here visiting. I thought you would like to meet them since you seem interested in technology.”

  Carver tripped all over himself to shake my hand, “It’s a real pleasure to meet you—uh—Arsenal. Can I ask you a few questions about your—uh—armor?”