Vanguard Prime Book 1

by Steven Lochran

  ‘And you think I’m supposed to just suck it up and be some kind of hero? Something “greater” than myself?’ I cut her off. ‘Well, I don’t want to be a fake! I don’t want to pretend to the world like I’m a hero! Because I’m not. Look what I did to those people! And imagine if it all happened again. Imagine if it was in the middle of a city, while I was trying to save innocent people’s lives. Imagine if it was in the middle of a Vanguard Prime training session. Do you want me standing next to the Major, or the Knight of Wands, and suddenly I explode like a bomb? Do you want me standing next to you?’

  Machina is silent.

  ‘This is a place for heroes, people who put their lives on the line to do everything they can to help others. And it’s all glamorous and cool, and there are supersonic scram jets and warships and supervillains who escape from their inescapable prisons. But at the end of the day there’s also a group of people – innocent people – whose lives were all changed forever because I lost control. Whose lives were changed … because of me.’

  Machina crosses the small space between us. She gently places her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ she says, staring into my eyes. ‘You didn’t know it was going to happen, and beating yourself up about it isn’t doing anyone any favours. You feel bad for what happened to those people? You feel bad for what happened to your dad and the kid from St Christopher’s and all the people at the sports field? Well, you tell me what’s worse. Giving up now and letting all their pain be for nothing? Or showing them that what they’re going through isn’t wasted – that you can control your powers, that you can save lives, and that you can do it for them? No one else can do what you do. And whether you like it or not, you should use that power. Otherwise your gift is wasted. And it is a gift. Believe me.’

  Machina’s words echo in the small space of the elevator shaft.

  For a long moment we look at each other. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe easy again. I hold my hands firm as I look her in the eye.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I say.

  Machina smiles at me, then she strides over to the elevator doors.

  She jams her metallic fingertips in the seam of the doors and with one easy push opens them like she’s tearing apart a cardboard box. Thankfully, the lights haven’t been affected on this level. They hum reassuringly, illuminating the entire corridor.

  ‘I coulda done that,’ I say. ‘In fact, I think I might have loosened it up for you.’

  ‘Are you going to stand around deluding yourself all day, or are you going to come help me save the world?’ she asks as she steps through the doors.

  ‘Be there in a flash,’ I say, switching off my visor’s night vision as I step out of the darkness and into the light.

  As we run down the corridor I tell myself not to be nervous, but every time we near a blind corner I expect the Overman or Cronus or, I dunno, an Imperial Stormtrooper to suddenly come leaping out at us.

  Machina, however, seems to have an unerring sense of where we’re going. At every fork in the corridor she chooses a path without pausing. I just follow, trusting she knows the way.

  My faith in her pays off as we approach a pair of familiar doors. The hallways have slowly changed from the bright, clean corridors of the rest of the ship to the cramped, dark walkways that have crept at the edge of my dreams ever since we first walked through them.

  Machina opens the doors and we’re standing in the cold chamber that is the Gallery. The air stirs differently in here. It’s like the room is breathing. But if it is breathing, it’s a ragged, dying breath. The floors are torn apart, the majority of the glass cells are shattered, and two holes have been ripped through the ceiling.

  The wreckage I can deal with. It’s the bodies that stop me in my tracks, staring open-mouthed. I’ve never seen a dead body before. Now I’m seeing dozens of them. And I even recognise a couple, including Dr Knock, his eyes staring up into nothing. I can hear water dripping in the distance, echoing in my brain. It’s weird, but it makes me think of blood.

  ‘Don’t cry, sonny!’

  There’s a violent sense of motion, a figure slamming against glass, and every hair on my body shoots up in fear as I stumble backwards.

  Spring-Heeled Jack grins evilly at me from within his cell. ‘My poor boy, you look positively petrified! What’s say you let me out of this here cage and we’ll see what we can do to quiet the panic inside your head, eh?’

  ‘Back off, psycho!’ Machina says. ‘We’re not here for you.’

  She glares at the settings on Jack’s cell. Thankfully, the glass becomes opaque and his intercom is muted. As disconcerting as it is to encounter him again, it’s reassuring to know he’s still in his cage.

  ‘I have to admit,’ I say, clambering over a piece of ceiling, ‘I wasn’t sure about having your enemies all locked up in the same place as your headquarters. Something like this happens and you’ve automatically multiplied your problem. The bad guys have busted out and they’ve taken over your base of operations.’

  ‘The original thinking was that if there was any kind of incident, you’d already have Vanguard Prime on the scene to handle it. It was meant to be an interim solution until they finished the Box,’ Machina replies.

  ‘The Box?’

  ‘A multi-billion-dollar prison in Utah built specifically for supervillains. It’s due for completion soon. I guess the Overman really picked his moment, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Like he knew or something.’

  We make it to the cell that Machina had shown me only recently, but now feels like years ago. There’s a small, sad figure lying on the ground inside. The only way we know he’s even alive is the occasional tremor that wracks his body. We walk towards the room as quietly as we can, hoping not to startle him.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ a tiny, lilting voice says.

  He’s staring up at us with eyes that are unblinking, eyes that are full of pain.

  ‘I … I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘We didn’t realise. My name’s Sam, and this is … uh … this is Machina.’

  ‘I’d introduce myself,’ Persona says. ‘But I can’t remember my name. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise. Is it okay if we come in?’

  Persona considers this for a moment, before very slowly nodding his head. Machina and I walk into the room like we’re approaching a wild animal.

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause a mess. The Other Man made me.’

  ‘You mean the Overman,’ Machina says.

  ‘Yes. Yes, the Overman,’ Persona nods. He’s holding his mask in his hands. I’m surprised at how normal looking he is. Just a middle-aged man with grey hair like a feather duster and sagging shoulders.

  ‘He made you change, didn’t he? And you didn’t want to? He made you change into the Dragon,’ Machina says.

  Persona shudders. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘He did.’

  ‘None of this is your fault,’ I say. ‘He had a device with him. Something that caused the change. You didn’t have any control over it.’ I say the last part instinctively.

  ‘That thing,’ Persona says, pointing with fear at a metal tube sitting on the floor on the far side of the cell.

  I look at Machina. She nods.

  ‘We’re here because we want to give you the choice the Overman didn’t,’ I say reassuringly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well … I know you were the Dragon. And I know you didn’t like that. But I know you were also Metatron. You were a hero. And I think that was a bigger part of who you really are than the part the Overman made you change into.’

  Persona doesn’t say anything. I keep going.

  ‘The Overman came here and he took a piece of you. He used you. But there’s something you can do about that. Machina and I are going to try to stop him. We were hoping that you would come with us.’

  ‘But … but how?’

  ‘By becoming Metatron again.’


  The idea blossoms inside Persona’s head, his eyes sparking with life.

  ‘Sometimes … when I dream … I remember what it felt to ride the wind, to float high above the city and know, looking down, that it was with my protection, my sacrifice, that people felt safe. That they were free … free to …’

  Just as quickly as the light starts to shine from him, it goes out again. He looks at me, his eyes like prison cells.

  ‘It’s impossible,’ he says. ‘I can’t control it. I don’t have that power. It’s not me. It was never me. It was all just a dream.’

  ‘Power can be a strange thing,’ I say. ‘It can be exciting if you’ve got it, and frightening if you don’t. It’s easy to abuse, and even easier to lose control of. Ever since I got here, people keep telling me I need to be a hero, I need to be powerful, and I keep thinking I should be able to flip it on like a switch.’

  Machina looks at me, clearly unsure of where I’m going with this.

  ‘But I’m learning it doesn’t work like that. Having power, being a hero … I think it’s something you create for yourself. You have power because you believe you have power. You’re a hero because …’

  ‘… because I believe I’m a hero?’ Persona says. ‘It’s not as simple as that. I wish it was.’

  He shrinks back against the floor.

  ‘Believe it or not, you do have a hero within you,’ Machina says, looking first at me and then at Persona. ‘And we have a way of bringing him out.’

  She walks over and picks up the Overman’s device. She holds it for a moment, concentrating. It glints in the soft light of the cell, and Persona looks at it with a mixture of fear and yearning.

  ‘How does it work?’ he asks.

  She brings the device closer to him, allowing him to take hold of it. ‘I’ve reconfigured it to the proper settings. You just hold it against your temple and press the blue button on the base. Be careful, though, not to press this button.’ She points to a small red button on the side of the cylinder. ‘It’s the reset switch, and you could potentially lobotomise yourself if you press it. Your mind would be stuck in a feedback loop.’

  Persona grips it firmly in his hand.

  ‘I’d be a hero again?’ he says.

  ‘You can be whatever you want to be,’ I tell him.

  ‘I want to fly,’ he replies.

  He places the device to his temple, closes his eyes and presses the blue button. A charge runs through him, his skin rippling with it. Bones shift place, his hair grows dark and curly. Black wings sprout from his back and black fabric and bronze armour emerges from his flesh. He cries out once, only once, before he falls to the ground, dropping the cylinder.

  Persona is no longer with us in the middle of the cell. Instead, someone else entirely lies in front of us. His breathing’s very faint and for a moment I’m worried he accidentally hit the red reset button. But then his eyes snap open, revealing an electric-blue storm of seething determination.

  ‘Metatron?’ I ask. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Help me up,’ he murmurs.

  Machina and I move to either side of him, taking him by the arms and lifting him to his feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says as he finds his balance. His black wings spread out behind him, revealing a sword strapped to his side. He looks like he just fell from the heavens, an avenging angel sent to earth.

  ‘Do you remember where you are? Do you remember what’s happening?’ Machina asks.

  ‘I remember …’ he says faintly, trying to cut through the fog enshrouding his mind. ‘I remember everything.’

  ‘So then you’re with us? We’re going to take on the Overman?’ All of a sudden I’m not so sure of our patchwork plan.

  ‘We’ll do more than that,’ Metatron says, his voice gaining strength. ‘We’re going to bear down on him with a thousand worlds of righteous fury. We’re going to blow away any chance of defence he believes himself to have, and we’re going to bring him to justice.’

  I swear I hear a choir of archangels singing battle hymns as he speaks.

  And, in awe, all I can think of is a simple, single reply.

  ‘Cool.’

  The Bridge

  ‘Any luck?’ the Major asks via sub-vox.

  ‘I’ve tried pretty much everything I can think of,’ Agent Alpha replies. ‘No matter what form of energy I bombard this bubble with, I can’t break free of it.’

  ‘Gotta keep trying,’ the Major says. ‘Something will work sooner or later.’

  They look silently at each other across the room. The discovery that they were able to talk to one another via their sub-vox link had been a bonus, but any attempt to contact the others had been met with silence. A malfunction with the relay station, the Major had surmised.

  ‘Maybe we’re trying the wrong tactic,’ says Agent Alpha. ‘Maybe there’s another way out of here.’

  Hovering by the ship’s flight controls, the Overman keeps a watchful eye on the navigation display. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he focuses all his concentration on keeping the ship in the air.

  ‘Adam,’ Agent Alpha says, ‘where are you taking us?’

  ‘You’ll know soon enough, Khalid,’ the Overman replies without looking over.

  ‘Afraid we’ll upset your plans if you tell us?’

  The Overman chuckles.

  ‘You think you can goad me into making a mistake, is that it? That I’ll expose some flaw that you can quickly exploit? You always underestimated me.’

  ‘You think so? I always thought we gave you too much credit. You wanted to play at being the omnipotent demigod, the would-be world conqueror, and we indulged you.’

  ‘Indulged me?’ The slightest edge of anger creeps into the Overman’s voice. ‘Was it an indulgence to lock me away in an upright coffin with no human contact? Was it an indulgence being fed with an IV tube?’

  ‘Made you feel dangerous, didn’t it?’

  ‘No, Khalid, it gave me the chance to grow more dangerous. You know what I did in there? I trained, every minute of every day. Lock a psychic in a box and he still has the use of his mind. I honed my powers, strengthened them, sharpened them to the point where I can now levitate an entire aircraft carrier with nothing but a thought! Had you left me in there longer, I might have grown so strong as to knock the entire planet off its axis. And still you would have said you were indulging me.’

  ‘We’ll have to make sure to submit your name for the Olympic weight-lifting team, in that case,’ Agent Alpha says, shrugging.

  ‘You have no idea!’ the Overman says, his voice rising. ‘And it all comes down to the misperceptions you have of me and what I’m capable of. If you had any clue – any – you would never have placed me in the care of that pathetic doctor. I’ve never met anyone so lacking in his own identity, so easy to manipulate! It was from Knock that I learned of the Dragon’s Lair. It was through Knock that I had my device built that would flush the Dragon out of Persona’s mind. It was through Knock that I located Cronus. So don’t look down your nose at me, because I masterminded all of this from a box that kept me from so much as itching my face!’

  With every word, the Overman moves closer and closer to Agent Alpha, until finally he hovers in front of him, face-to-face.

  ‘Do you know the difference between you and I, Khalid?’ he says, low and lethal. ‘You look up when you wish to be exalted. And I look down because I am exalted.’

  ‘No, Adam,’ Agent Alpha replies. ‘You’re what I become if I give in. That’s all. Nothing more.’

  The Overman’s eyes narrow as his anger spills out. The entire bridge rumbles. Agent Alpha does not look away.

  ‘Turn and face me, Overman!’ a voice booms from the main entrance. The Overman spins around. The two junior members of Vanguard Prime – whose names he can’t recall – look as if they’ve just been hit by a spotlight while climbing over a prison wall.

  In front of them stands an angel, his black wings spread out defiantly, his glimmering sword h
eld steadfast in his hand.

  ‘Metatron,’ the Overman smiles.

  ‘For all the sins you’ve committed, Overman, and all the further sins you’re sure to perpetrate, I tell you now: your time has come!’

  We ascend each level of the ship with purpose, heading towards the bridge like a highly trained military unit, rather than the two teenagers and a fictional identity that we really are. Metatron and Machina move so fast, in fact, I have to run to keep up. I’m still having trouble tapping into my powers – after all, I should be at the front of the pack instead of lagging behind – and, right at the back of my mind, I’m scared about repeating my failure in the Red Death simulation. I tell myself to calm down and focus. Between the three of us, we at least have a shot at doing some good, right?

  We reach the hallway that leads to the bridge, where we can hear the Overman’s booming voice. He’s railing at Agent Alpha in that self-important way that supervillains do – well, the supervillains that I’ve seen in movies, anyway. I thought the Overman would be too smart to fall for such a cliché.

  Metatron unsheathes his sword and moves to attack. I grab him by the forearm and shake my head, while Machina opens up a piece of wall panelling and launches a collection of nanobots into the security camera wiring. She nods, confirming that she can see what’s going on.

  She points in the direction of the bridge and signals ‘two’ with her fingers. She then points to the left and holds up one finger. I shrug at her, trying to tell her that I don’t understand a single thing she’s trying to communicate to me. She repeats the gesture, which I piece together to mean that there are two people on one side of the bridge and one person on the other. Just as I start wondering what I’m meant to do with this information, I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

  Metatron is impatiently striding towards the bridge. He obviously has no idea of the concept of stealth.

  I run after him in horror, but it’s too late. Stepping onto the bridge, he spreads his wings wide and shouts at the Overman that his time has come. I smack my hand to my forehead in frustration as the Overman turns to see us in the middle of our rescue attempt. With his cold, sharp eyes and slick blond hair, he looks like a snake prepared to strike. It’s Metatron, however, who lands the first blow, launching himself on the Overman with a trail of black feathers tracing his arc, his sword glowing violently red as he slashes it across the Overman’s force-field.