Hero Force United Boxed Set 1

by Baron Sord

  “You sure?” He snorted in disbelief.

  “I’m sure. So relax. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you can make it worth my while to keep my mouth shut.”

  Jeff scowled, “What did you have in mind?”

  “Maybe you can let me do a five page filler story for one of your other books like Mistress Victory or S&M. Put it in the back so I can get some name credit and exposure.”

  Jeff’s scowl melted into a wide smile, “I like your style, kid. You don’t take no for an answer.”

  “Nope.”

  “Tell you what. Gimme your email and I’ll send you two pages of script from the upcoming issue of S&M. You send me back your best work. And I mean your best. If it’s any good, I’ll give it to our inker and put it in the book.”

  Now it was my turn for my eyes to saucer. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as an STD, kid. If you impress me, I will print your art.”

  “And give me name credit?”

  “Of course,” he said, offended. “What kind of publisher you think I am? Some Golden Age asshole who wants to rape his artists over the coals?”

  “Don’t you mean rake?”

  “No, rape. What those bastards did back in the day to their talent is unconscionable. A travesty, if you ask me. Anyway, forget about them. If your stuff is any good, I’ll print it.” We got a deal?” He held out his hand.

  I shook it.

  He suddenly got serious. “Remember, if I hear you went down to Flashbacks looking for Lady Liberty, I promise you, you will never work in comics again. Ever. I know people. I’ll blackball you, kid. Just like that. You picking up what I’m putting down?”

  “I told you man, strip joints aren’t my scene. I’ve never been to one.”

  “Yeah, right,” he chuckled like I was lying. “Just remember what I said.”

  As I walked away from the Crash Comics booth, I was grinning from ear to ear. Little did I know that 2 minutes from now, I would no longer have to draw my dreams of being a superhero with pencil and paper.

  I was about to live them in full CMYK color.

  —: Chapter 6 :—

  Fifteen minutes earlier, Kristy was flexing her fingers painfully when she walked inside the lobby at the other end of the long convention center from where Doug was walking out of the main Exhibit Hall.

  Kristy was looking for the nearest women’s restroom.

  Brock the Crock definitely had a head like a rock, and Kristy wasn’t used to punching people or rocks without pads. Neither were her fingers.

  Ow, ow, ow!

  She rubbed her knuckles, hoping she hadn’t broken anything, and that her hands wouldn’t hurt too much to grab the pole at work come next week. The pole was her specialty. Nobody at Flashbacks could do the gymnastics she could. But she couldn’t do them if her hands hurt.

  Stupid Crock!

  Under other circumstances, she might’ve blamed her K-Cray temper, but not today. This’d been entirely Brock’s fault.

  Kristy sighed when she saw the women’s room was crowded as usual and there was a line going outside. At least Kristy didn’t need to pee. She just needed a mirror. Inside, it turned out there was a line for that too.

  She waited her turn until one of the sinks opened up. She leaned over it and peered in the glass with a grimace, expecting the worst. Not only was her cheek throbbing, but so was the area around her eye. If Brock’d given her a black eye, she would kill him. She couldn’t go to work with a black eye. They wouldn’t let her dance.

  Stupid effing Crock!

  How could she have ever thought Brock was anything other than a bad book cover?!

  Or ever been… in bed… with him?!

  Ew, just Ew!

  He was a disgusting pig!

  Kristy sighed to herself.

  Total. Effing. Mistake.

  She tried to regain her composure and give K-Cray a break.

  At least her Lady Liberty mask would cover any bruising here at the convention. Too bad she couldn’t wear it at work. People would ask questions. The obvious ones.

  Looking at her face in the mirror, she was curious how far the red had spread. Carefully, she tried to peel back the corner of her cat-eye mask while trying not to smudge her foundation. After a few tugs, she realized the spirit gum holding the mask on was still sticking pretty good, so she decided to leave it alone. As long as it wasn’t coming off, it was fine. Hopefully it wasn’t as bad as it felt and her cheek wouldn’t swell and push the mask off the spirit gum before the show was over for today. Whatever. She’d still have to get her makeup kit from her bag in the Crash Comics booth and touch up her face before talking to more fans because Stupid Crock had left a smear.

  “I better not have a bruise,” Kristy mumbled to her reflection in the mirror.

  An older woman stood beside Kristy, washing her hands in the sink. She had shiny straight black hair cut in a bob and was dressed as a Vulcan in a classic Star Trek TOS blue dress. The woman said with concern, “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah,” Kristy sighed, eyeing herself in the mirror and teasing her hair to make sure it looked good and hung over her cape like it should. She said, “Just some stupid drama with my ex.”

  “I know how that goes,” Mrs. Spock said sympathetically.

  Kristy turned to her and said, “Do I look okay?”

  “You’re beautiful,” Mrs. Spock smiled.

  “I don’t… I mean, you can’t… Does anything look weird?” Kristy glanced back at the mirror and looked over her throbbing cheek and eye carefully, turning her face from side to side. Hoping she couldn’t actually see anything but not really sure, she turned back to the Vulcan woman and said, “It’s not too obvious, is it?”

  Mrs. Spock narrowed her eyes and looked at Kristy this way and that. She shook her head and said, “The only thing I see is a beautiful young woman.”

  “Thanks,” Kristy said half-heartedly.

  Mrs. Spock smiled at her and said quietly, “Did he hit you?”

  Kristy frowned, “Wait, were you outside? Did you see…?”

  “No,” Mrs. Spock shook her head wisely. “I can just tell.”

  Kristy cringed. “Is it bad? My face, I mean?”

  Mrs. Spock looked again. “Only if I look closely. As long as it doesn’t bruise, no one will notice. If it does, put a little concealer on it until it goes away.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Kristy sighed.

  “You said he’s your ex, right?”

  “Ex, ex, ex,” Kristy sneered. “We’re through. If I ever even see him again, I’m calling the police.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Spock nodded, not looking at Kristy. She examined her fingernails and muttered, “Don’t let him hit you again.”

  Kristy winced, feeling stupid for ever having said yes to Crocky Brock in the first place. If she hadn’t, today never would’ve have happened. Thank goodness Kristy had dumped him before things could’ve gotten any worse.

  Mrs. Spock continued quietly, “No man is worth it. Believe me. It took me thirty years to figure that out the hard way.”

  Kristy melted with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

  Mrs. Spock shook her head, “Don’t you worry about me. Now I know better. It’s you I’m worried about. Don’t make the same mistakes I made.”

  “It was the first time… and the last,” Kristy smirked, disgusted with herself almost as much as she was with Brock.

  “With him or… ever?” Mrs. Spock asked carefully.

  Kristy bit her lip, struggling not to cry. Why hadn’t she seen it with Brock in the first place? She knew better! She’d gone through this effing shit before! Brock was an effing loser! Why hadn’t she said no to him instead of yes the day they’d met? What a mistake!

  Mrs. Spock smiled compassionately at Kristy, warmly squeezed Kristy’s hand with hers, and said quietly, “It can be the last time if you let it.”

  “Yeah,” Kristy nodded forcefully, sniffing
back tears.

  “Do you need a tissue?” Mrs. Spock reached into her Tricorder satchel and pulled out a small tissue pack, plucked out several tissues, and handed them to Kristy.

  “Thanks,” Kristy sniffed and blotted her eyes as best she could through the small openings in her masquerade mask. Stupid effing Crock! Now she had to fix her mascara!

  For the next several minutes, as other women came and went from the restroom, Mrs. Spock stood beside Kristy rubbing Kristy’s back like a loving mother. They didn’t say anything to each other because they didn’t have to. When Kristy finally got herself under control, she nodded vigorously and said, “Thanks, I’m good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I have to get back to work.”

  Mrs. Spock nodded and patted Kristy one last time before winking a smile and saying, “Stick with the nice ones. You can’t go wrong with nice.”

  “Yeah,” Kristy said with a shaky smile.

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.”

  Mrs. Spock nodded before walking slowly out of the restroom.

  Kristy checked her face in the mirror one last time and made sure her hair wasn’t too much of a mess. But her eyes were. She looked like a raccoon! Now she really needed to get her makeup kit from her bag at the booth and fix them. It wasn’t too obvious because of her mask and Mrs. Spock’s tissues, but still!

  Stupid Crock!

  Kristy sighed and walked out of the restroom into the crowded lobby.

  It was brimming with thousands of happy and laughing fans.

  Their mood clashed with Kristy’s.

  She needed another moment alone to process her feelings. She wasn’t quite ready to go back and face the masses at the Crash Comics booth. Nobody wanted to see a teary-eyed superhero. She thought about going outside to the concourse for more fresh air, but Brock might be there. You never knew with that ass balloon, did you? Who knew Brock was so full of surprises?

  She still couldn’t believe he’d hit her!

  What an ass!

  An absolute ass!

  Shaking her head, she walked up to the wall of windows facing outside and leaned her shoulder against one of the concrete columns. She folded her arms under her boobs and stared off at the tall buildings in downtown San Diego. Why was it so dim outside all of a sudden? There weren’t any clouds out, and it’d been bright and sunny when she’d gone into the women’s room. Whatever.

  An image popped into Kristy’s head.

  Brock with a big pig head as a crazy chain-wielding biker villain for Lady Liberty to fight. No, chainsaw wielding. And chains. And lots of guns and knives bristling from his motorcycle. He’d even have the wife-beater tank-tee because that’s what he effing was!

  Lady Liberty would totally kick his ass up and down San Diego.

  Kristy grinned at the idea.

  Yeah, that was going in the next issue for sure.

  What would she call him?

  Borky Pig?

  “Definitely Borky Pig,” she snorted quietly to herself.

  It was the least that ham-headed ass deserved.

  Kristy shook her head and sighed.

  Suddenly smiled.

  You know who wasn’t an ass?

  Doug Moore wasn’t an ass.

  Kristy didn’t even know him, but she knew he was nice. For one thing, his art was friendly. It had a kindness to it. Kristy could feel these things. Someone’s art said a lot about a person. But it wasn’t just Doug’s art. Her dancing job had taught her a lot about men, and Kristy knew exactly how to pick out the nice ones from the assy ones, and she didn’t even need drawings to do it. She could see it in their eyes. Except when it came to Brock. No, men like Brock.

  Why him? Why any of them? Why?!

  Kristy shook her head in frustration.

  She couldn’t let K-Cray pick any more men for her. What she needed to do was pick a man like Doug and stick with him.

  Mrs. Spock was right.

  No more Brocks.

  From now on, it was Dougs.

  More Doug Moores.

  Kristy giggled at the thought and genuinely smiled for the first time since Brock had stuck his ass-face in things today and assed everything up.

  She definitely needed more Doug Moores in her life.

  No, she needed to talk to the Doug Moore. They actually had something in common. He wanted to be a comic book penciller. He’d never make fun of her for doing her own comic. He’d already gushed about how good she was. He’d even compared her to Adam Hughes, for goodness sake! She didn’t deserve that, and hearing it had been embarrassing, but Kristy knew that was exactly the kind of support she needed from a man.

  All she had to do was go find him.

  If she remembered right, she’d told him Jeff would be at the Crash Comics booth right now, waiting to talk to him. Maybe Doug was already there.

  Smiling, Kristy was about to turn around to go back into the Exhibit Hall so she could accidentally-on-purpose bump into Doug, but she was stopped by a wave of emotional and physical exhaustion washing over her. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep for a week.

  That run-in with stupid Borky Brock had taken a lot out of her. Her heart, her face, her hands, which were still sore, by the way.

  She rubbed her knuckles gingerly, fearing something was broken. That would be bad.

  If she couldn’t work, she wouldn’t get paid.

  If she didn’t get paid, she couldn’t pay rent.

  If she couldn’t pay rent, she wouldn’t have any place to live.

  Again.

  They’re not broken!

  They’ll be fine by work Thursday!

  You can do this, girlfriend!

  All you have to do is get through today. And tomorrow. And Sunday. Then you can sleep until Thursday night. Your hands’ll be fine by then!

  Totally fine!

  If only she could sleep now.

  She was so effing tired all of a sudden.

  Could she just lay down right here in the crowded lobby?

  Take a quick cat nap?

  Could she do that?

  A sudden and powerful yawn overtook her.

  Kristy leaned her head back, mouth wide open as she yawned big and looked up into the sky outside. At that exact moment, the sky went dark, the sun went black, and everything went screaming green.

  She couldn’t quite believe her eyes, but she looked right into a shining green light beaming down from the heavens.

  —: Chapter 7 :—

  I walked out of the main exhibit hall and into the crowded lobby to get some fresh air and sit down for a bit.

  Strangely, the sunlight coming through the curved skylights seemed oddly dim. I randomly glanced up and the sun suddenly went from a blinding ball of light to full dark.

  San Diego wasn’t supposed to have a total eclipse, was it? I thought the next one in the continental US wasn’t for another 7 or 8 years, and it wasn’t supposed to come anywhere close to California.

  Green rays of light exploded out from around the black ball of the sun. Stranger, a green hole burned through the center. That didn’t make any sense. The moon didn’t have a hole in it. But there it was. Assuming this was the moon blocking the sun.

  Was there something wrong with my eyes?

  What the hell was happening?

  The green hole burned brighter and brighter, shining like some sort of interstellar beacon.

  I knew I should look away but I couldn’t.

  I tried to shield my eyes, but I was paralyzed.

  BOOM!

  The explosive sound was like the sonic boom of an F-18 fighter jet ripping through the big lobby from one end to the other, but there was no F-18. Suddenly, the curving glass front walls exploded inward in a hail of jagged fragments.

  I tried to cover my eyes with my arms, but it happened too fast. My vision went entirely green. All I saw was pure color.

  Green.

  Green.

  Green.
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  In some hazy reptilian corner of my brain, I knew I was now blind. Glass shards had severed my optic nerves. The only thing I would ever see from here until eternity was the color green.

  A deafening shriek pierced my eardrums. Before I had a chance to react, it stopped.

  My vision faded back to normal.

  The green light was gone, replaced by normal sunlight. With the exception of the convention center’s softly rumbling HVAC system, all was eerily silent. Oddly, even with the windows gone, the sounds of downtown were distant and faint. Doubly odd was the fact that every single person in the lobby, thousands of them to my left and right, were all laid out on the carpeted floor. None were moving.

  Were they all dead?

  I stood up and bits of glass from my lap pattered to the carpet.

  Beyond me, more broken glass was scattered like deadly snow across the lobby. It looked like a bomb had hit. That begged the question: why wasn’t I dead?

  Or was I?

  Time to investigate.

  I picked my way carefully between the bodies. Peered through the doors for the main exhibit hall. Inside, over 100,000 people were laid out and piled on top of each other.

  What the hell could’ve done this?

  A neutron bomb from the Chinese or Russians? Possibly. Neutron bombs were designed to kill everyone with radiation poisoning while leaving the infrastructure intact. Did that mean everyone inside would die of radiation sickness over the next several days?

  Me included?

  I hoped not.

  More importantly, no bomb would blot out the sun like that. Okay, maybe for a split-second before impact, but that would’ve happened too quick to notice. Nor would a bomb explain the green laser beam or whatever it was. Unless neutron bombs exploded with green light?

  I doubted it.

  Was it a massive solar flare? Unlikely. I had lived through a few and I didn’t remember them turning the sun green or darkening the skies.

  Maybe it was an alien super weapon? Somehow, that explanation made as much sense as anything else. Was it possible that a gigantic UFO had blotted out the sun and shot a beam of green light at planet Earth?

  Perhaps alien landing craft were already touching down outside the convention center, and spindly three-legged alien soldiers with six arms and nine eyes were marching down the streets of San Diego, intent on world domination.