The Super Power Saga (Book 3): Fear the Empire

by Jaron Lee Knuth

“You can take these rooms,” he said as he pushed open a large oak door that led to one of the guest quarters.

  Lucy gasped as she walked into the huge room. A massive television was embedded in one wall with leather furniture surrounding it and a fireplace underneath. Across the open floor plan was a kitchen with marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. Artificial window displays showed a snowy forest, as if they were actually in a mountaintop resort. Hardwood floors and brick walls completed the main space, with multiple doors leading into bathrooms and bedrooms.

  “This is all... for us?”

  Andre flipped a switch and flames bloomed in the gas fireplace. “Sure. I don't use it. You'll have to go down to the main kitchen for food, but feel free to grab whatever and stock your own fridge. I can get you some money too if you want to go out for anything specific. I'm not really sure what pregnant women need.”

  Lucy giggled. “Neither am I.”

  “We're sort of new to all this,” Connor said as he smiled at Lucy and pulled her closer. “We really haven't had a chance to just sit down and... relax. I guess we can finally start worrying about her and the baby, instead of just running.”

  “I'm glad to give you a place where you can feel safe. Lucy was always like a little sister to me.”

  “Seriously, Andre. We can't thank you enough.”

  Andre waved his hand, dismissing the idea. “Don't mention it. If you need anything else, just ask Linus.”

  “Who's Linus?”

  Andre pointed at the ceiling. “The lair's computer.”

  Lucy and Connor exchanged confused looks.

  Andre chuckled. “Linus? Do you know anything about pregnancies?”

  The snooty British voice came out of the speakers hidden in the walls. “Sir, I have access to a database of information containing thousands of libraries on every subject known to man. I'm sure I can summon up a few tidbits regarding the gestation period of human babies.”

  Andre shrugged. “He has a bit of an attitude, but unless either of you know anything about programming artificial intelligence, I think we're stuck with him.”

  “And I with you, sir.”

  Lucy laughed. “This is all so crazy.”

  “Being a supervillain has its perks. You'll get used to it.”

  Lucy laughed and shook her head. “I'm not going to be a supervillain.”

  “According to the Alliance, I think you already are.” Then, with a wink and a smile he added, “Besides, I could use a sidekick.”

  “Oh please. I can just imagine jumping around on rooftops with a pregnant belly.”

  They both laughed, but Connor just folded his arms across his chest.

  Andre smirked when he noticed the boy's demeanor. “Being a supervillain isn't that hard, actually.”

  Connor rolled his eyes and walked toward the bathroom. “Yeah. Especially when you have no moral code to be bogged down with.”

  “What was that?” Andre called out to him. “You got a problem or something?”

  Lucy smiled and placed her hand on Andre's chest to stop him from following Connor. “There's no problem. He's just tired. We both are.”

  “Just seems like he could be a bit more thankful for everything I'm handing him.”

  Connor stopped. “Thankful? Look in the mirror, buddy. You won the supervillain lottery. You've been handed everything you could ever want... and yet you still go out in a costume and murder people. For what? The thrill of robbing banks? You want to get on TV and make a name for yourself, is that it?”

  “Connor!” Lucy hissed his named, trying to make him stop.

  Andre just smiled. “I don't know, kid. Why did you become a superhero? Too afraid to use your powers without the government's consent? Or did you just want your own Rainfall action figure?”

  Lucy sat down on the couch, defeated. “Please don't fight.”

  “Are you serious? Do you think what you're doing is brave or something? You actually think you're a rebel, don't you? Like you're standing up to the man or something.”

  Andre shrugged. “It's better than bowing down to him.”

  “You're delusional.”

  “Am I? How did that whole superhero thing work out for you two? Whether you're out robbing banks or not, your old buddies in the Alliance have already declared you two supervillains, and I'm pretty sure those same buddies murdered my friend.” Andre stepped past Lucy and walked up to Connor. “Like it or not, there's not much of a difference between the two of us. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

  Connor shook his head, running his hand over his trimmed hair. “You're probably right about the Alliance, I'll give you that. No matter how bright their costumes are, they don't act much different than the people they hunt. But you're wrong about us. We're nothing like you. That's why we left.”

  Andre tilted his head. “Oh? I thought you left because they were going to murder your baby.”

  Connor didn't reply.

  “Look, I get it. It's easy to choose a side when you've got no other choice. Why do you think I'm here? I don't have a choice either.”

  As soon as he finished his sentence, something flew past his face. At first, he stepped back, throwing up his hands, thinking Connor had taken a swing at him, but the boy was still standing in front of him, reacting to the movement in the same way. They both looked around, trying to see the source, but they saw nothing.

  “Youhaveachoicenow.”

  The words were nearly indecipherable, and seemed to swirl around the room, coming from every direction.

  “Youhavethepowertochoose.”

  “Linus? Is that you?”

  “I'm afraid not, sir.”

  “Where's it coming from?”

  “Sir, I do believe your guest is the one speaking to you.”

  Another blur flashed across the room. This time even Lucy jumped up and looked around, trying to see the source of the movement.

  “My guests aren't doing this, Linus.” Then he looked at Lucy. “Are you?”

  Lucy shook her head and kept searching.

  There was another blur, but this time it stopped in front of Andre, shaking and vibrating like his vision was unfocused. He reached out, but his hand passed right through the image.

  “Youcanhearme?Youcanhearme?”

  “What is that?” Lucy asked, stepping up closer to Andre to inspect the strange phenomenon.

  “I'mtryingsohard,Andre.Timeismovingagain.Butit'sstillsoslow.Tooslow.Everythingistooslow.I'mrunningoutoftime.”

  Andre reached out again, squinting his eyes, trying to see the blurry image as the vibrating slowed. Moment by moment, it took a more solid shape, slowly forming into the image of a person. As the face began to show details, Andre's heart skipped a beat.

  “Mickey?”

  “Andre?Ithinkit'sworking. Ithinkyou'removing. I think time is moving.”

  The image stopped with one final shudder, and when it did, Mickey was staring back at Andre. Except, he didn't look the same. It was definitely him, there was no denying it, but instead of looking like he was still in his mid-twenties, he now looked like he was pushing sixty. His face was covered in wrinkles. His ghostly white hair hung well past his shoulders. He looked scrawnier than normal, more like bones covered in a paper-thin skin than the lanky boy Andre used to hang out with.

  At first, no one moved, stunned by the sudden appearance, but Andre finally fell forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  Mickey's face looked like he wasn't believing what he was seeing. He reached out and touched Andre's face, slowing running his fingers across it.

  “You're...moving. You're all moving.”

  Andre glanced at Lucy, who had nothing to offer him in reply. She looked just as confused as he was.

  “When your power increased, you just... disappeared.” Andre looked directly into the old eyes of his friend. “Where did you go, Mickey?”

  Mickey tilted his head, considering
the question for a moment before answering, “I went... everywhere.”

  22

  WESLEY

  His hands were trembling as he stood outside the door of Javier's living quarters. When he tried to clasp them together, his entire body shook. It was an uncontrollable mixture of nerves and anger. His emotions were spilling out. Yet, even among the pure, passionate hate that was fueling him, in his mind he knew what he was doing was wrong. Not the act, but the way he was going about it. He should be smart. He should wait until he calmed down. He should meditate on it, come up with a strategy for the best way to accomplish his goal. But doing so would bring him no satisfaction. The hunger that rumbled in his belly wanted only one thing.

  Justice.

  He did not knock on the door. He did not pound his fist to alert his prey of his arrival. He just threw it open, and stepped into the room.

  Javier was sitting on the floor, in front of his fireplace, meditating. A few candles surrounded him, their flames flickering as the beastly man's breath inhaled and exhaled. Javier barely flinched with the sudden burst into his room. He just flexed, pushing his arms outward and exhaling as he opened his eyes.

  “Is that how you normally enter a room? You didn't strike me as the type to lack manners, pebble boy.”

  Wesley balled up his fists. “You're going to pay for what you did, Javier. You're going to pay for everyone you've hurt.”

  Javier looked confused as he rose to his feet. “What are you going on about? You look like you're about to cry.”

  It was true. He could feel the tears building in his eyes. He removed his glasses, tossed them on the floor, and wiped his eyes with his bare hand.

  “You hurt her. Why? Just to feel powerful? Just to prove to yourself that you could? Or did she say no to you? Did she refuse your disgusting advances?”

  “What are you talking about? Do you mean Ntombi? I didn't-”

  Wesley opened his hand and released the small nail he had pried from a bench in his room. He mentally thrust the spike across the room, lodging it in Javier's eye. The man screamed out in pain as Wesley dug it deeper into his skull.

  “How does it feel, Javier? Does it hurt? Do you feel weak? Powerless?”

  Javier threw out one hand, his fingers curling and bending with a strained tension. Wesley was thrown against the wall behind him, knocking a painting onto the floor. He was pinned there by Javier's mental power, unable to move. But he didn't need to.

  He focused his mind, ripping the nail from Javier's eye socket, bringing his eyeball with it. Javier screamed again as the eye popped from his face and fell onto the floor with a pile of bloody slop.

  “You little bastard!” he screamed, twisting his fingers again.

  Wesley felt his head pull forward, then slam backward against the wall. His skull impacted so hard, he felt the warm wetness of blood dripping down the back of his neck. Javier moved his fingers again, and Wesley felt his throat constrict. Javier's other hand was covering the hole in his face, trying to stop the bleeding as he stepped closer to Wesley.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing? You blinded me!”

  Wesley choked out his answer. “You've... still got... one eye left.”

  The nail spun around Javier's body before embedding itself into his other eye. Wesley spun it like a drill, tearing through the man's soft pupil like a blender. Javier reeled back, falling onto the floor as he tried to scrape at the spinning nail in his head. It was enough for him to lose his focus, and Wesley dropped to his feet.

  As Javier squirmed and screamed on the floor, Wesley tore the nail from his head again. He could have pushed further, until he hit the man's brain, but that would have been too easy. Too quick. Javier needed to suffer. Just like Ntombi.

  “You're human filth. You know that, right? You're a disgusting piece of garbage that preys upon women. You treat them like they're just vessels for your pleasure. We're supposed to be a family! We're supposed to be working toward a future that's better for the next generation. But you just take and use and abuse. I don't know how Kgosi can't see that... but I do. And I'm going to-”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  Javier flung one of his hands, now covered in his own blood, through the air. Wesley felt the psionic power grab onto his entire body, throwing it across the room and through the glass window that looked out over the mountaintop. He crashed through the glass and tumbled outside, onto the snow-covered rocks that clung to the top of the cliff side. Tiny pieces of the broken window stuck into his skin as he tried to push himself up to his feet. The wind howled around him, nearly blowing him over the side of the cliff, but he braced himself against the cold stone and looked back toward the window he had fell from.

  Javier floated from the window, slowly, but steady. He had his shirt wrapped around his face, two red stains soaking through where his eyes used to be. He slowly lowered his own body, landing softly on the snow, his muscles flexing as he tilted his head, stretching his psionic abilities outward.

  “Did you think taking my eyes would give you an advantage? Did you think harming my physical body would stop me from seeing you with my mind?”

  “No.” Wesley stood firm in the wind, smiling. “I just wanted to hurt you.”

  He tossed a handful of pebbles into the air, grabbing onto one of them with his mind and shooting it directly toward Javier. The pebble tore through the side of Javier's neck, slicing it open. The man jerked back, but the cut was thin and he was able to react immediately. He thrust his hands forward, grabbing onto Wesley's arms and lifting him off the ground nearly fifteen feet in the air. With a twist of one hand, Wesley's left forearm snapped. The pain was like an electrical surge that fried his mind, causing him to lose control of the pebble. Javier dropped Wesley to the ground again and Wesley's broken arm folded underneath him. He laid there, in the cold with pain pulsing through his body, feeling powerless against the strength of Javier, but all of that frustration only served his anger. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting against the cold air that blew the swirling snow into his face. He saw Javier reach out toward him and he knew he needed to react quickly. One push from Javier's mind and he'd go over the side of the cliff.

  He closed his eyes and directed his mental focus away from the pain and hate that was boiling inside of him. He pointed it at the dropped pebble and nothing else, putting all of his thoughts into that tiny stone. With a guided force he had never used before, he placed the stone where he needed it to be. He did not even consider moving it. His thoughts simply changed from where it was, to where he wanted it to be, and in that moment it moved like a flash of light, from its place in the snow, to the center of Javier's brain.

  Javier's dead body collapsed into the snow.

  Wesley exhaled, and in that breath, all of his anger was released. He was left alone, cold and in pain, with only the howling wind to surround him. He crawled onto his feet and shuffled through the snow, back toward the front door of the temple. With his one good arm, he pulled on the rope connected to the bell and tugged. He rang it a few times before the door was pushed open by Zola. She caught him as he nearly collapsed through the doorway.

  “What are you doing out here? What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

  Wesley shook his head. “I'll live.”

  “Your arm-”

  “Broken.”

  “How did you break your arm?”

  Wesley looked at his feet. “Javier.”

  Zola stared back at him for a moment before she made sense of his answer. “Javier broke your arm?”

  Wesley pushed himself away from her, shuffling his feet across the room, toward the doorway that led deeper into the temple. “It doesn't matter anymore. He won't be hurting anyone, ever again.”

  There was silence for a moment before Zola said, “You killed him. Didn't you?”

  Wesley stopped in the doorway and shook his head. “Javier killed himself, the moment he touched her.”

  As he turned to leave, he could swear Zola was hiding a
smile as she said, “Either way, Kgosi will punish you for this.”

  Wesley knew she was probably right. He had murdered the two men who were the God-King's best hope for creating a new generation of psionics. But it didn't matter. If that generation would have been raised under the rule of either of the Bautista brothers, the family would have been doomed. He knew he had done the right thing. Blood for blood. Justice had been served.

  When Wesley reached Ntombi's room, he knocked lightly with his one good arm. The door slowly opened and Ntombi peeked out, like she was afraid of who could be on the other side. Her swollen eye opened as wide as it could when she saw him.

  “You are hurt!” She threw open the door and ushered him inside.

  “It's okay. I just wanted to let you know... you don't have to be afraid anymore. He won't hurt you. I promise.”

  “What you saying? What you do?”

  She helped him with a piece of cloth she had taken from a basket near the door and tried to make a sling for his left arm. She tied it behind his neck and he nodded with appreciation.

  “I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt you. But he would have never stopped, Ntombi. I had to make sure he couldn't hurt you, or anyone else. I had to put an end to him.”

  Ntombi stepped backward until her back was pressed against the far wall. “You... kill him? You kill Javier?”

  Wesley nodded.

  “No. No, no, no. I tell you not to do this. I tell you he not hurt me!”

  “It's okay, Ntombi. I know you were scared, but you don't have to be scared of him anymore.”

  She slammed her fist against the wall and covered her face, tears running down her cheeks. “I not afraid of Javier. He stink and he rude and he talk bad, but he not hurt me. I know how to handle him.”

  Wesley was confused. He was trying to make sense of what she was saying, still thinking she must be lying, trying to protect Javier so that he wouldn't hurt her again. Maybe she didn't understand what he was trying to explain to her.

  “Ntombi, you don't have to lie for him. I know he was the one who hurt you, but he's dead now. He's gone.”

  “You not listen!” she yelled defiantly. “He not hurt me!”