by Baron Sord
Contents
Title, Copyright, & Dedication
—: Book 1 : Origins :—
—: Chapter 1 :—
—: Chapter 2 :—
—: Chapter 3 :—
—: Chapter 4 :—
—: Chapter 5 :—
—: Chapter 6 :—
—: Chapter 7 :—
—: Chapter 8 :—
—: Chapter 9 :—
—: Chapter 10 :—
—: Chapter 11 :—
—: Chapter 12 :—
—: Chapter 13 :—
—: Chapter 14 :—
—: Chapter 15 :—
—: Chapter 16 :—
—: Chapter 17 :—
—: Chapter 18 :—
—: Book 2 : Wanted Man :—
—: Chapter 1:—
—: Chapter 2 :—
—: Chapter 3 :—
—: Chapter 4 :—
—: Chapter 5 :—
—: Chapter 6 :—
—: Chapter 7 :—
—: Chapter 8 :—
—: Chapter 9 :—
—: Chapter 10 :—
—: Chapter 11 :—
—: Chapter 12 :—
—: Chapter 13 :—
—: Chapter 14 :—
—: Chapter 15 :—
—: Chapter 16 :—
—: Chapter 17 :—
—: Chapter 18 :—
—: Chapter 19 :—
—: Chapter 20 :—
—: Chapter 21 :—
—: Chapter 22 :—
—: Chapter 23 :—
—: Chapter 24 :—
—: Chapter 25 :—
—: Chapter 26 :—
—: Chapter 27 :—
—: Chapter 28 :—
—: Chapter 29 :—
—: Chapter 30 :—
—: Chapter 31 :—
—: Chapter 32 :—
—: Chapter 33 :—
—: Chapter 34 :—
—: Chapter 35 :—
—: Chapter 36 :—
—: Chapter 37 :—
—: Chapter 38 :—
—: Chapter 39 :—
—: Chapter 40 :—
—: Chapter 41 :—
—: Chapter 42 :—
—: Chapter 43 :—
—: Chapter 44 :—
—: Chapter 45 :—
—: Book 3 : Lady Liberty & Wildfire :—
—: Chapter 1 :—
—: Chapter 2 :—
—: Chapter 3 :—
—: Chapter 4 :—
—: Chapter 5 :—
—: Chapter 6 :—
—: Chapter 7 :—
—: Chapter 8 :—
—: Chapter 9 :—
—: Chapter 10 :—
—: Chapter 11 :—
—: Chapter 12 :—
—: Chapter 13 :—
—: Chapter 14 :—
—: Chapter 15 :—
—: Chapter 16 :—
—: Chapter 17 :—
—: Chapter 18 :—
—: Chapter 19 :—
—: Chapter 20 :—
—: Chapter 21 :—
—: Chapter 22 :—
—: Chapter 23 :—
—: Chapter 24 :—
—: Chapter 25 :—
—: Chapter 26 :—
—: Chapter 27 :—
—: Chapter 28 :—
—: Chapter 29 :—
—: Chapter 30 :—
—: Chapter 31 :—
—: Chapter 32 :—
—: Chapter 33 :—
—: Chapter 34 :—
—: Chapter 35 :—
—: Chapter 36 :—
—: Chapter 37 :—
—: Chapter 38 :—
—: Chapter 39 :—
—: Chapter 40 :—
—: Chapter 41 :—
—: Chapter 42 :—
—: Chapter 43 :—
—: Chapter 44 :—
—: Chapter 45 :—
—: Chapter 46 :—
—: Chapter 47 :—
—: Chapter 48 :—
—: Chapter 49 :—
—: Chapter 50 :—
—: Chapter 51 :—
—: Chapter 52 :—
—: Chapter 53 :—
—: Chapter 54 :—
—: Chapter 55 :—
—: Chapter 56 :—
—: Chapter 57 :—
—: Chapter 58 :—
—: Chapter 59 :—
—: Chapter 60 :—
—: Chapter 61 :—
—: Chapter 62 :—
—: Chapter 63 :—
HERO
FORCE
UNITED
Boxed Set 1
—: Collecting these books :—
1 : Origins
2 : Wanted Man
3 : Lady Liberty & Wildfire
Baron Sord
—: o o o :—
Cover Art by Baron Sord
Copyright © 2019 Baron Sord
All rights reserved.
Hero Force United, its connected characters, and components are trademarks of Baron Sord.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, electronic, internet, mechanical, or otherwise, without the expressed permission of the author, with the exception of brief quotations for the purpose of book reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are a product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
K-1.0a
Join my newsletter here:
baronsord.com/newsletter-hfu-bx1
—: o o o :—
This boxed set is dedicated to everyone who loves superheroes and science.
—: Book 1 : Origins :—
—: Chapter 1 :—
Hanging by one hand, I dangled for dear life from the tip of the Statue of Liberty’s spiky crown.
Hundreds of feet below, a screaming crowd of people gasped with dread.
In my other hand I grasped the arm of a beautiful and mysterious blue-eyed woman who called herself Lady Liberty.
My grip on both ladies was starting to slip.
“Move!” I shouted at the distant crowd. If either I or Lady Liberty fell, we would crush whoever we landed on. “Get out of the way!”
It was useless.
The crowd couldn’t hear me over the roar of the black attack helicopter circling the Liberty torch. The sound of its rotors whump-whump-whumped the air.
I shouted, “They’re going to shoot the Miniguns!”
Lady Liberty yelled back, “Don’t they know there’s innocent people inside the statue?!”
“They don’t care!”
“Then we have to stop them!”
“I’m all out of fire power! I don’t have any flames!” I shouted. “There’s nothing I can do!”
Half a dozen high school kids were poking their heads out from the small windows in the base of the crown 20 feet away.
I yelled at them, “Go downstairs and get out of the statue! It’s not safe up here!”
They didn’t listen. They stood where they were and gawked.
A teenage boy with a gold chain around his neck said, “Lady Liberty is fuggin hot.”
The kid next to him wearing a Mets cap said, “I’d do her.”
“Who’s the dude?” Gold Chain asked.
“He looks like our math teacher.”
“Mr. Nelson? Nah. He looks like Mr. Brown.”
“Total douche.”
Both boys laughed heartily
.
To them, this was a movie or a video game. To them, it wasn’t real.
But it was real.
If they didn’t descend from the statue’s head and find cover downstairs, they would get sawn in half by the Miniguns when the chopper made its next pass.
“Get out of here!” I shouted at the boys. “You’re going to die if you don’t!”
They didn’t listen.
The helicopter came around in slow motion.
Both Miniguns were locked and loaded, their barrels already spinning full speed like a blur of black death. The pilot grimaced, ready to squeeze the weapon trigger on his control stick. Any second, those barrels would spit flames and bullets like a roaring dragon.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The craziness on the Statue of Liberty was merely the icing on the cake of craziness I had feasted on for three months straight. Before that, I was a regular guy with a regular job. Being shot at by an attack helicopter wasn’t in my job description. Neither was fighting crime alongside a beautiful woman like Lady Liberty.
Three months ago, I had no idea I would become stronger, faster, and tougher than any man in the history of humanity. I had no idea I would soon be able to do things that defied the laws of physics or bend reality to the limits of my imagination.
Getting super powers will do that to you.
—: Chapter 2 :—
Three months ago…
T-minus six hours until super powers.
“Dude! Wake up!”
Like a mummy rising from the dead, I sat bolt upright in bed and gasped myself awake with a strangled wheeze. My best friend Arnold Beaks hovered over me looking panicked. His eyes were wild with fear behind his eyeglasses.
“What’s wrong?!” I said. “Is the house on fire?! Is there an earthquake?! A gas leak?!” Not waiting for an answer, I jumped out of bed and started flailing around for shoes, my wallet, and my phone.
“No!” Arnold bellowed. “Angelina is outside!”
“Who?!” I paused in mid-search.
“Angelina Jolie!”
I frowned, “What the heck is Angelina Jolie doing in our neighborhood? Isn’t she up in Hollywood or Africa or someplace exotic?” It was now obvious there was no emergency. I sat back down on the edge of my bed to wait for my adrenalin to burn itself off so I could go back to sleep. The dim light coming in from outside said morning was only now dawning, and the sun wasn’t yet up. It had the right idea.
I glared at Arnold.
He rolled his eyes, “Not the Angelina Jolie! Yangelina! You know, Yoga Angelina!”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “Her.”
We didn’t know her real name, but we had been calling her that for years. We frequently saw her walking her dog in our neighborhood. From a distance, which was as close as we ever got, she definitely looked like Angelina Jolie.
I groaned, “I’m going back to bed, Arnold.”
“No! You have to take out the trash!”
“The trash goes out Monday. It’s Friday.”
“So what?! This is your chance to talk to her! Take out the trash and talk to her on the sidewalk!”
“She never talks to anybody, Arn. You know that. She’s always wearing earbuds, and that eye visor of hers. She wears it so you can’t see her eyes,” I said with irritation. “No matter where you’re standing, she moves her head so her visor blocks your eye line. She does it on purpose. She doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“I know, I know! But she’s not wearing her visor now! Or her earbuds!”
“She’s not?” I said with sudden excitement.
“No! Get up already! Now’s your chance!”
In all the times I had passed Yoga Angelina while I was out for a walk, she had never spoken to me. I had said hello twice, but she was a ninja with that eye visor. It and the earbuds were the perfect excuse for her to not reply.
This was a chance I couldn’t pass up.
Third time was the charm, right?
You might be asking yourself why Arnold was telling me to go talk to Yoga Angelina instead of doing it himself. Let’s just say, Arnold wasn’t exactly what you’d call thin.
I jumped up, yanked shorts on over my boxers, and put on the first T-shirt I could find. I wasn’t one of those guys who walked around without a shirt on. It wasn’t to my advantage.
I barked, “Where are my shoes?!”
“You don’t have time for shoes!” Arnold dragged me out of the guest house. “Here! Take the trash can!” He pushed the wheeled trash bin around from the side of the 3-car garage and over to me.
“It’s half empty!” I said. “And it’s not Monday! This is a terrible idea!”
“Shut up and wheel it out there! Now’s your chance! Go, go, go!”
Arnold’s excitement was catching. I took the trash bin from him and jogged it rumbling down the long asphalt drive toward the house’s main gate.
“This way!” Arnold hissed, grabbing my shoulder. “Out the side gate!”
I spun around, rattling the bin’s plastic wheels. It tipped over on the asphalt and trash spilled out. “Damn it!” I grunted, bending down to pick up the trash bags in a frenzy.
“Get it later!” Arnold insisted. “You’re going to miss her!”
I nodded and righted the empty trash bin and ran across the big lawn toward the side gate. I hardly noticed the dew-damp grass squishing beneath my bare feet.
Arnold was already at the side gate, holding it open for me.
I exploded out onto the sidewalk.
There she was.
Yoga Angelina.
A block away and approaching fast.
Man oh man, was she hot. Total knockout.
Being that it was a balmy San Diego morning in July, her yoga outfit was minimal, skin tight, and showed off a lot of skin. No visor or earbuds, but she was walking her little Yorkshire Terrier. The dog would be a perfect conversation starter.
I loitered on the sidewalk, hoping she wouldn’t figure out my scam. I waited for her to close the gap, my eyes pinned on hers, which were looking down at her dog and not at me.
Look already!
She didn’t. Didn’t seem to notice me at all. Or was pretending not to. But she was getting closer and closer.
My pulse started to race. I couldn’t believe this was about to happen. Finally, after all these years, I was going to say hello to her. With any luck, she might say it back.
“Here she comes!” Arnold whispered behind me.
“Shut up!” I hissed. “I need to focus!”
Arnold chortled, “On saying hello?”
“Yes! Shut up! Hide already!”
Arnold jumped back through the side gate and ducked behind the wall surrounding his parents’ property. They didn’t live here, but they did own the house where Arnold lived and the guest house where I lived.
On the sidewalk, Yoga Angelina and her dog were now a half block away.
“This is it…” Arnold said tensely. “She’s almost here! I can feel it!”
The Yorky suddenly slowed, squatted, turned a circle, and dropped a deuce.
I groaned quietly.
Yoga Angelina pulled a plastic bag from the little dispenser attached to the leash, squatted down, and scooped up the poop.
“Where is she?” Arnold demanded.
“Scooping poop,” I sighed with disappointment.
“What?”
“Be quiet!” I whispered. “She’ll hear you.”
Yoga Angelina knotted the poop bag with practiced ease.
“Open the trash can for her!” Arnold hissed.
“Why?” I mumbled.
“So she can throw out her doggie bag!”
“Good point,” I said, flipping open the lid of the bin. She was welcome to throw her dog poop in our trash any time she wanted. The next thing I knew, Yoga Angelina turned around and started walking away.
“What’s taking so long?!” Arnold whispered.
“She’s leaving.”
&
nbsp; “Go after her!”
“No, Arn. She probably figured out our scam and doesn’t want to talk.”
“So what?! Go say something!”
I pulled the trash bin back through the gate and slammed it shut. “No, Arn. She doesn’t want to talk to me. She’d rather carry around dog poop than talk to either one of us.”
Arnold sighed, “Yeah, yeah.” He knew the score. We were nerds, she was a beauty queen.
“What time is it anyway?” I asked with restrained irritation.
“Quarter to seven.”
“Why are you up so early?”
“I was taking a leak and I saw Yangelina out the bathroom window.”
I smirked, “Are you sure you were only taking a leak?”
“Yes,” he scowled defensively.
“I’m going back to sleep,” I said sourly and marched back to the guest house.
—: o o o :—
“Did you dream about Yangelina?” Arnold said as he walked into the main house kitchen where I was sitting two hours later. The guest house where I lived didn’t have its own kitchen, so I always used this one.
“No,” I sighed, “I dreamed about being a star penciller for Marvel Comics and drawing Spider-Man for a living instead of testing software at YouDoIt for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Comic Con is today.”
“Today is day two,” I added.
Arnold was freshly showered and dressed for work. A baggy oversized polo shirt hung down loose over his ample stomach, gigantic slacks, and tiny loafers. Arnold had very small feet.
I too was showered and dressed in my Star Wars Rock Concert T-shirt and jeans, my official attire for the world famous San Diego Comic Con. I hovered sleepily over a bowl of Lucky Charms and milk at the kitchen table.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” Arnold asked.
I glared at him, “Gee, maybe if I had been able to sleep in this morning, I wouldn’t be late, now would I?”
“Listen to you,” Arnold chuckled. “You’re crabbier than Squidward Tentacles.” Arnold had been a big fan of SpongeBob SquarePants for as long as I’d known him.
“Squidward isn’t a crab,” I grumbled.
“But you are,” he laughed. “How late were you up last night, Mr. Krabs?”
“Too late,” I yawned and spooned cereal into my mouth. After spending all day yesterday at the Con, the residual excitement had kept me up late last night when I should’ve been sleeping.
