1999: A Superhero Novel

by Hodden, TE

  “Ah.” Barney cleared his throat. “So…would I want to meet the guy who wore this down a dark alley?”

  Summers shrugged. “She was a Magistrate Enforcer, so I guess it depends what you were doing down the dark alley.”

  Barney looked closer. “These inlays look like a circuit, like… Is this a psychic thing?”

  “We think it was an amplifier,” Summers explained. “It is all theoretical, of course, but there are similarities to items we found in Antarctica. The legends say that her kind had… certain abilities.”

  “Uh huh,” Barney nodded. “Awesome.” He looked around the room, considered the prospects of having to mingle, and came to a very easy decision. “What’s the thing over there, that looks like a staff?”

  “That…” Summers said, in the tone of an expert imparting essential knowledge, “is a staff.”

  Barney wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think it would have a podium to itself if it was just a staff.”

  “Most Martians carried staffs or staves,” Summers explained. “They were a shorthand to your station and influence. That happens to be a rather fine specimen, well preserved. Come and take a look at the gemstone set in the head. If you like psionic circuits you are going to love this.”

  The staff stood in the centre of the display, in a cabinet of its own. The body was six feet of a pale, twisting, knotting material that looked as much like bone as it did wood. The head was sphere of crystal, which contained a swirl of circuitry, whose shape almost looked like a galaxy of stars.

  Barney stared into the crystal. “Who carried this staff?”

  Summers smiled. “We don’t know. It found on one of the undersea excavations, deep in a Pacific trench. We suspect it was a religious icon, but we are pretty much guessing. It is… beautiful though. Don’t you think?”

  “I do,” Barney whispered.

  There were shouts from the hallway, followed by a scream as a security guard tumbled into the gallery, and skidded across the floor. He landed in a dazed heap, one side of his face turning purple from a savage bruise.

  Summers ran over, and crouched by the guard.

  Four men filled the entrance to the gallery. They each wore dark grey overalls, body armour, heavy gloves, stout boots, a balaclava, and tinted goggles. Each carried a heavy calibre sub-machine gun, and wore an electronic device pinned to their breast pocket.

  One of the Four raised his rifle, and pointed it at the other security guards. They lay their guns on the floor.

  Barney closed his eyes. “And to think I could be in a nice sewer about now.” He reached under his cuff to his watch. “Come on buddy. I could really do with some help about now…”

  One of the Four loomed over Summers, and pointed his machine gun at her.

  “He needs help,” Summer said, without looking up from the stricken security guard. “He’s concussed.”

  The barrel of the machine gun was placed against her head.

  Slowly she rose to her feet, and stepped back from the guard. She looked at Barney.

  Barney raised his hands.

  00100

  Melisa Williams stood on the concrete walkway at the edge of the pool. Her body was tensed and taut, threatening to jump at every stray echo, every drip or breath of wind.

  Any hope she had that the sewers would start to smell a little less powerful as she grew accustomed to it, had faded long ago. The putrid air was still as noxious.

  She looked over to the liquid blackness of the schism-way.

  The surface rippled.

  Melisa’s heart pounded in her chest. The back of her neck prickled. She reached out with her aura, and felt a presence approaching from one of the tunnels. It was an animalistic presence, a predator, driven by instinct and raw emotion.

  Melisa backed up to the wall.

  A long shadow stretched down the tunnel.

  The creature stepped into view. It was leathery and prickly, with long, slender, powerful limbs, talon claws, and a serpentine tail. It had a skull-like face with a maw full of needle teeth. It paused and hunched, dropping the dead cat it carried in its jaws.

  Melisa stood still, held her breath, and tried to still her thundering heart.

  The creature turned its head, the eyeless face pointing straight at Melisa, and let out a dry, rasping, rattling breath.

  The air around the creature shimmered, ripples radiating out from the creature across the surface of the pool. Bones started to rise from the water, rib bones, that twisted and danced in the air, aligning like javelins.

  Melisa ran, leaping aside as the spears of bone whistled through the air and shattered on the slimy wall. The creature leapt from the water, and landed on the walkway, its claws screeching against the concrete, its jaws lunging forwards at her.

  With a cry, Melisa kicked the head away, and the jaws snapped closed on empty air. In an instant the scything tail slashed down Melisa, the tip glinting razor sharp in the darkness. Melisa scrambled back, as the tail gouged a deep rent in the wall.

  Melisa stepped back further. In the corner of her eye, she saw the pool rippling again, as another barrage of bones rose up, and pointed at her. The bones whistled through the air. Melisa leapt aside, ducking beneath the bones and jumping down into the pool.

  The creature leapt after her, with a screech. Melisa span into a kick, and slammed her boot into the chest of the monster, holding the snapping jaws back, and thrusting the creature away. The tail burst up out of the water, and caught Melisa’s jacket. It lifted her off her feet, clear of the water, and threw her back.

  Melisa crashed into the fetid water, sinking under the surface. She hit the floor of the pool with a dull thud of pain, and shoved herself back to the surface, gasping for air, the world blurring through pain. The air felt charged, crackling with potential. With horror she realised she was sprawled at the foot of the Schism-Way.

  The creature slammed into her, its claws closing around her arms.

  The moment of the impact carried her backwards, and together they fell into another world.

  *

  Melisa did not land in the swampy sewer water, but on parched and cracked octagonal stones, between which weeds, and thistles grew. Tangled with the creature, she rolled and tumbled, punching, clawing, driving her knees into the thing, to stop its bear-trap jaws snapping closed on her face. Its sickly, rotten, breath was cold against her cheek.

  An armoured, gauntlet, fist reached into the mouth of the creature, and its jaws snapped closed onto the scaled metal.

  The Yeoman heaved the creature and dragged it off Melisa. He threw it aside, and put his hands together. A sheet of flames flashed from his fingertips, scorching the floor. The creature fled, yelping. He offered Melisa his hand. “Are you hurt?”

  Melisa retched, and spat at the floor. “I think sewer water went up my nose. Ewww…”

  He took her hand. There was an instant waft of warm sweet air that fluttered over her. The smell, and taste of the sewer was gone. Her clothes, her skin, and her hair were all freshly cleaned, warm, and dry, with a lingering smell of apples. She touched her hair. “What conditioner did you just use?”

  The Yeoman helped her to her feet. “You need not worry about infections.”

  Melisa took her hand back, and turned on her toes, looking around her. She was stood in a dead city. Pyramid shaped skyscrapers were covered in weeds, being slowly consumed by tangles of vines. The streets were littered with the rusting husks of car-like vehicles, choked by nettles and reeds. The buildings were covered with craters, and the scars of war.

  The sky was the colour of dust, filled by a swollen, bloated, sun.

  Despite the dry, blast furnace heat, Melisa felt suddenly cold.

  The ruins were haunted by the residue of whatever travesty had left it empty, the imprints of thousands of dying screams. Even with her aura closed down, she could feel the cold of the grave, the echoes of untold deaths.

  “What,” she whispered, “happened here.”

  “A war,” t
he Yeoman said. “It must have been pretty bad for the ghouls to come here. They are… attracted to the afterglow of battle, the…”

  “Smell of death?” Melisa straightened her clothes. “Why did somebody want to come to a dead world?”

  The Yeoman tilted his head. “It is difficult to explain.”

  “Oh?” Melisa couldn’t help her voice becoming sharp. “Charlie, I am fed up of this mysterious crap, okay?”

  The Yeoman held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “They came to find something called am Extinction Stone. It is difficult to explain, so I will show you. You should be prepared, it uses incredibly powerful magic, and you may need to shield yourself from side effects.”

  Melisa nodded. “Okay. So, show me.”

  The Yeoman gestured for her to follow him, down a passageway, between two pyramid skyscrapers, connected by several archways and bridges. As they walked, the opened a belt pouch on his armour, and passed her a brown paper bag. “Here, it’s.. quite a walk.”

  Melisa opened the bag. Inside were crumbly white blocks of fondant. “Is this more magic?”

  “No. It’s Kendal mint cake.” He gestured to the long passageway. “For energy. You will like it.”

  Melisa tried one of the blocks. It was minty, and sugary. “My hips will not thank you for this. So… is it safe? After that little speech of yours…”

  The Yeoman paused. “The atmosphere is a little thin, and if you were staying a few weeks you might need to worry about the solar radiation, but… other than ghouls, you should be safe enough for a few hours. Melisa, there is something I need to explain before I show you the Extinction Stone.” His voice was soft, but also confident in a way she hadn’t heard him use before. “Could we talk?”

  “We are talking,” she said.

  He nodded. “Before, when I was… evasive. I was not trying to be mysterious. I faced my duties alone for years, and learned the hard way that there are some things that I should be cautious about explaining. Even now, working with somebody I could trust to understand, somebody who grew up in a strange world, with…”

  Melisa laughed. “With all the super weird hero baggage of my family?”

  “Even then,” he said, softly, “knowing I could, has not always felt like I should. My duty is one of secrets. I know it annoys you when I can not tell you everything, but… carrying the secrets can burn at me too.” He turned and looked back. For a moment it seemed like he was staring far beyond the ruins. “When I meditate, I open myself to the tides of magic. It flows through me, and I flow through it. I have sensed disturbances, and visions of things that I need to address… I have seen wrongs to right, omens… ghosts… I have been drawn to where I am needed.” He lay a hand on her shoulder. “This… this was the first time that somebody has reached into the Magic and contacted me. It was something I only ever read about before.”

  Melisa took his hand in hers. The metal of his gauntlet was cold and sharp. “These things are rare then?”

  He nodded. “They require a bond of absolute trust. They are forged between those who are close to others. The kind of close I didn’t think I was capable of. Not back then.”

  “Back then?”

  His head cocked. “Magic and time don’t always flow through each other in straight lines, or in the direction you expect.”

  Melisa shuddered, and snatched her hand back. “Who the Hell are you?”

  He held up his hands. “It’s me, Mel.”

  “No.” Melisa stepped back. “You are not Charlie. He doesn’t call me Mel, and… He doesn’t look at me like that.”

  “Want me to drop the costume, and show you?”

  “No.” She kept stepping back. “Drop the shields on your aura.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” He gestured for her to stop. “I am your Charlie, more your Charlie than you know. Just…listen. Please. The Extinction Stone complicates things.”

  Melisa shook her head. “Where is he?”

  “I am taking you to him,” The Yeoman said. “I just need you to know why you called out to him. Will call out to him. Why you are both here!” He held up his hands. “Wait! The time travel test!”

  Melisa stared at him. Her heart turned to cold.

  “You were six years old,” he said, quietly, but firmly, “and your parents were going to take down Mister Yesterday. Before they got in the time machine, you made your mom promise to have a code, so you would know if she came home it was her. Bubble gum. Dandelion. Yonkers.”

  Melisa’s cold heart turned to flint in her chest. “Why would I ever tell Charlie that?”

  “For now.” He cocked his head. “Although, this time maybe tell me its for now? You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “No.”

  “But…” There was a something about the way he pointed at her that suggested a smile. “You do believe there is a chance, even a small chance, that I’m telling the truth?”

  Melisa nodded. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I can’t talk to him, and my Mel can’t talk to you,” he said. “Misrule came here, and found the Extinction Stone. When it happened to me, we didn’t find out about it until after we were done with the invasion. By then, it was too late to stop her. This time? If you let me show you the stone, you might have a chance.”

  Melisa set her jaw. “Fine. Show me. But I warn you… if you hurt Charlie, the real Charlie, I will¬”

  “Yeah,” Yeoman said, walking on. “I know. Believe me… I know.”

  00101

  Matthew Driver circled over the Atlantic, searching the restless grey-green waves for any signs of wreckage. He tapped his earpiece. “I’m over the last known location of the jet, and can’t see anything. I’m going down, to see it went down to the depths.”

  Catherine answered. “At that depth, we will probably lose contact with you.”

  “Understood.” Driver stroked his chin. “Can you guys start a search pattern? Between the satellites, the Manta’s scanner, and your spear, you should stand a pretty good chance of finding any wreckage.”

  “Understood,” Catherine said.

  Matthew tapped off his earpiece, and braced himself. “Okay. This should work, in theory…”

  He wrapped himself in his aura, and plunged down into the waves.

  *

  The lights were spread in a circle on the seabed, as wide as a football stadium, illuminating the barren grey desert of silt and sand without the circle, and the complex network of industrial platforms within. Amongst the platforms was a hexagonal building, with the fortified walls of a bunker.

  A domed energy field encased the whole array, defying the immense pressures of the depths.

  The wings and engine of the plane had been discarded, the body sliced int several section, spread across the platforms, being disassembled by an army of small, centipede-like robots, slicing through the metal with lasers in their maws.

  Matthew touched down on some rocks, and watched the operation in fascination, as the robots cut away the fabric of the aircraft, scanning each part, then discarding it. There robots rummaging through luggage. Then his heart jammed in his throat, as he watched some of the passengers being removed from the aircraft, and scanned by some of the robots.

  The worms placed discs on the heads of the passengers, studied them for several seconds, then discarded the bodies on a waste heap.

  Matthew’s fingers curled to fists so hard they dug into his palms. His jaw set, and a seething rage and horror burned at his heart, making his aura sizzle. He rose up from the rocks and approached the energy field. It crackled at his presence. He prodded it with a tendril of his aura. It was a kinetic field, very similar to those used to seal hangar bays on interstellar ships.

  He adjusted his aura to mask his presence and slipped through.

  The ocean had been drained from within the field. The air was uncomfortably hot, and tasted of ozone, tinged with the smell of hot metal. The robots went about their business, ignoring Matthew.

  Matthew
landed at the entrance to the bunker, and studied the heavy doors. They refused to open for him. He reached out with his aura, and reached into his soul for the strength to prise the doors open. The mechanism wailed in complaint as the thick metal doors juddered apart.

  Within was a single room.

  To one side was a column of light, in which a constantly changing fractal pattern twisted and folded in upon itself. In the centre, taking up much of the space, was a spherical machine, of countless moving parts, that span and rolled, like cogs, as something within took shape, like clay being sculpted.

  “Hello?” Matthew shouted.

  “You,” a voice boomed from the column of light, “are not one of these… humans.”

  “I am called the Praetorian,” Matthew said, approaching the column. “I am this world’s protector.”

  The booming voice laughed. “Oh?”

  “Who am I addressing?” Matthew demanded.

  A swarm of the centipede-like robots slithered and oozed out of the sphere, like a nest of serpents. They reared up and their lasers flashed.

  Matthew threw his aura out as shield, and met the laser blasts, in a flurry of sparks, then swept the robots against the wall and crushed them. “You have murdered hundreds, in cold blood. Why?”

  More of the robots wormed out from the sphere, scuttling quickly to try and flank Matthew, leaping suddenly, their countless legs becoming blades as they span in the air.

  Mathew threw out his aura, but they met it with equal force, hacking and slashing at the shield.

  “Why?” The voice asked. “For the same reason I pluck you apart. To know your people. To know your strengths, your weaknesses, and to deploy the most efficient weapon to cleanse this world.”

  “Cleanse?” Matthew whispered. “That will not be allowed.”

  The pattern stopped shifting. “I will not be stopped.”

  “Who,” Matthew demanded, “are you?”

  The sphere stopped whirring. The many facets of its surface folded open, releasing clouds of acrid coolant mist.

  The machine that stepped from the sphere was almost twice Matthew’s height, and as broad across the shoulders as it was tall. The overlapping plates of armour suggest a body-builder’s physique, with four powerful arms, that ended in clawed hands, a head shaped like an anvil, and legs that suggested cloven hooves. A single red eye burned with malevolent fury.