The Super Power Saga (Book 1): Super Powers of Mass Destruction

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  “Mermaid?” Everlast said as he brushed some dust off the arm of his black and blue leather armor. “You mentioned something about getting started? Some of us have other appointments to keep. I'm a popular guy.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course.” Mermaid pushed her long white hair behind her ears and pressed a button on the holographic display, bringing up a grid of photos showing different faces from the Academy of Super Powers. “I've spent the last month combing through all of our possible candidates for inclusion in the Alliance of Heroes, but I'm sure you've all taken the time to read the files I sent you on each candidate.” Her eyes scanned the room, looking for any acknowledgment, but everyone dodged eye contact. “Yes, well, we'll go ahead and skip the utilitarian powers for now. Needless to say, there aren't many, but I've found a few useful people that could do some good if placed in the right domains, so I'm excited for some of the possibilities we're presented with.”

  Mermaid cleared her throat and pressed another button on the table. A single photo of an eighteen-year-old girl appeared.

  “This is Lucy Grae. She's graduating this year from the academy. They placed her in the remedial classes there when she only showed signs of moderately enhanced vision, but in the last year, she has shown an amazing increase in her powers, displaying telescopic and microscopic vision.”

  “So?” Everlast said. “Why isn't she lumped with the other utility powers? I'm sure she could be useful in... what? The sciences? Medical? She definitely doesn't look like the hero type. She doesn't have that... je ne sais quoi.” He flashed a smug grin. “Though few of you do.”

  “I thought the same thing, dear. About her powers I mean, not that other nonsense. But then I had a nice little chat with Spook.”

  Everyone at the table groaned at the mention of his name.

  “That little patriotic creep?” Stiletto said as she blew out a cloud of smoke. “Did he make you pledge allegiance to the flag of the American Republic before you could start?”

  Replica and Everlast laughed, but then Replica shushed everyone and looked around the room nervously. “You guys. Be quiet. How do we know he's not in the room right now?”

  “You better watch out! Spook is always watching you!” Everlast wiggled his fingers in front of him, then he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Not that I blame him. I'd look at me all the time too.”

  “Aw, dude. Why'd you have to say that. Now I'm gonna be paranoid for the rest of the day,” Negaton said as he looked over his shoulder.

  Mermaid cleared her throat again, this time more loudly. “Anyway, Spook shared some interesting ideas of how to use someone like this in the field, and I'd like to take a chance on her. See what Spook can do with her in the training room.”

  “If we put her in the field, that girl's going to be dead within the week,” Everlast said with a roll of his eyes.

  “He's right, Eleanor,” Stiletto said, tapping one of her metal fingernails on the table. “What about Max Von Tellar? Did you try talking to him again? That guy can heal from anything, and he's infertile so the Zharkovs got no interest in him. He's perfect.”

  Mermaid shook her head. “Honey, that freak is more interested in making his weird German snuff films and posting them on the internet for the other freaks than he is in saving the world. Let him kill himself over and over for his fans. I don't want him anywhere near me.”

  “And we're still against my idea of doing some kinda public service thing with some of the prisoners I got locked up in the Pit? I mean, some of these dudes are good dudes that just got into some bad stuff, man.”

  Mermaid looked at the hologram with sympathy. “It doesn't matter what we think, Negaton. The Zharkovs will never go for it. They've got zero tolerance for the illegal use of powers.”

  Negaton nodded his head. “Right on, man. It was just an idea.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” Replica said, popping her bubble gum and slurping it back into her mouth. “I'm bored already. Hire binocular-girl. I don't care.”

  “We need a unanimous vote,” Mermaid reminded them. “All those in favor?”

  Replica lazily waved her hand.

  Everlast rolled his eyes again and said, “Girl's gonna die. You just watch,” but raised his hand anyway.

  “She deserves a chance,” Negaton said as he raised his hand. “Let's see what the little lady can do.”

  Stiletto tapped her fingernail on the table a few more times as she contemplated her answer. “And we're sure the German guy with the healing ability is a no-go?”

  “We're sure,” Mermaid said with her hand raised.

  Stiletto let out a sigh and said, “Fine,” before raising her hand.

  “Then we're in agreement,” Mermaid said with a smile. “Someone will need to go to the academy tomorrow and give Lucy the good news. Any volunteers?”

  Everyone stared down at the table, making no movement to offer themselves for such a boring assignment. Mermaid smiled.

  “Fine. I'll go. But I'm not going alone.”

  “Take Replica,” Everlast said.

  “Me?” Her shoulders drooped and she let out a heavy, overly-dramatic sigh. “Why me?”

  Everlast looked her up and down. “Whether you like it or not, those nude pictures of you on the internet are hitting big in her demographic.”

  “Hey!” she said as the rest of the room snickered. “Those are fake! My lawyer is trying to get them taken down, but they just keep popping up.”

  “The point is, we want to get her excited about this, right? Well, you make teenagers excited. Trust me, if I know anything, it's marketing.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Replica popped another bubble of gum. “I guess we're whoring me out now.”

  “While this entire conversation has devolved into something cruder than I planned, I don't disagree with the decision.” Mermaid pushed another button and the holographic display above the table disappeared.

  The rest of the council pushed away from the table with groans and sighs of relief that the meeting was over, but as they stood up, Mermaid waved her finger in the air and said, “Sorry. We have one last piece of news we need to discuss.”

  Replica let out a growl and sat back down. “Ugh. What now?”

  Mermaid took a serious tone and bowed her head a bit. “Imperator Konstantin Zharkov is dead.”

  “Oh dude,” Negaton said. “Bummer.”

  Replica glanced around with confusion. “Isn't that guy invincible?”

  “No one's invincible,” Stiletto said. “Not even me.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Everlast said. “Nothing is going to break this skin. I'm going to live forever. You just watch.”

  Stiletto took a long drag off her cigar, formed her metal hand into a long blade, and as she let out a cloud of smoke she said, “Let's see. You've got unbreakable skin, and my blades can cut through anything. Care to find out who's lying?”

  “While I see you're all heartbroken by the loss of the leader of the world, we do need to find out who's going to attend the funeral. Someone needs to represent the American Republic, and I'd like to send council members.”

  Everlast leaned back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. “I don't attend things. I show up. Late. If you're lucky.”

  “Nice try.” Mermaid tried to hold back a smile, feeling just a little bad about how much she was enjoying delivering the news. “But since you insisted Replica and I take on the boring job of visiting the academy none of you wanted to volunteer for, and Negaton can't leave the Pit, I need you and Stiletto to represent us at the Grand Citadel of the Zharkovian Empire.”

  “You tricked us!” Stiletto yelled, pointing at Mermaid. “You evil b-”

  “Watch your mouth, dear,” Mermaid said with a wink, “or I'll make you wear a dress.”

  4

  HECTOR

  When he noticed a blood stain on the sleeve of his suit, he scraped at it for a second before giving up and returning to his task. He stepped toward the corpse laying in the middle of the war
ehouse and removed the seven throwing knives buried deep in the chest of the body. The paralyzing agent he applied to the blades did its job well, providing him with the opportunity to fire seventeen rounds into the large man's two heads. The man was abnormally large, but Hector's brutality always usurped mere strength. He was willing to go further, push the limits of pain or torture or outdated morality to accomplish his goals. And that was why he would win the war.

  He pointed his watch at the corpse and green liquid sprayed out from a tiny spout. A tiny wisp of smoke evaporated into the air as soon as the liquid landed on the body and it began to disintegrate the flesh and bone. The odor that the acidic concoction gave off was sickly sweet, but he was growing used to it. When the corpse was completely gone, leaving behind an oily stain on the floor, he straightened his tie and stepped out onto the darkened street. A black Lexus was waiting for him.

  “I think it's time to call it a night, Esmeralda,” Hector said as he crawled in the back seat and loosened his tie.

  The woman that waited for him in the back seat said, “Oh thank goodness,” then pushed a button on the screen in front of her to tell the driverless car to head home, and the Lexus pulled away slowly, inconspicuously. “I surmise from your calm demeanor that you destroyed the disease?”

  “I did. All four arms and two heads.”

  Esmeralda shook her head and snarled her nose as if she smelled something rotten. “And they have the gall to refer to something like that as a super power.”

  Hector removed his armored gloves and scrolled through the emails on his MajesTech tablet, taking note of the arms dealer's name that Esmeralda had forwarded him. It was a good find. The man would be able to provide him with a few items he never thought he'd be able to procure, items that many domains couldn't even get their hands on.

  “Hector?” Esmeralda said as she gazed out the window. “What do you think about the '61 Chateauneuf du Pape for tomorrow night? It's been ages since I last tasted something so delectable.”

  “That's fine,” Hector said as he kept scrolling through his messages. “I need to refill the ammo for my 9mm and the .380. Don't let me forget.”

  Esmeralda nodded, then took a second glance at Hector's tie. “Did that disgusting creature manage to splatter a bit of its blood on you? Don't worry. I'll be a dear and have the maid give the whole suit a good once over.”

  Hector nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Here,” Esmeralda said, handing Hector a glass of wine. “You deserve this.”

  Before he married the woman he loved, before his life changed forever, he never indulged in the finer things in life. Gourmet foods, aged liquors, and designer clothes were never considered. He thought those things would make him soft. He thought they would make him content. He needed to keep his resolve. He needed to stay rigid. He needed to stay angry. But Esmeralda taught him a different way. She taught him the power of stepping out of his life, stepping away from the war, so that he could see things from a different perspective.

  The wine tasted good after the night he had. It settled his nerves and allowed him to decompress. He liked that moment. The moment between completing his mission and arriving back at home. It was a chance, every night, to empty his mind. To stop the calculating behavior, the prioritized list of goals, and the strategizing of his next move. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let the tension he felt in every chiseled muscle release when the breath fell from his mouth.

  As the car continued to weave through the streets of Patriot City, Esmeralda leaned forward and tapped her finger on the control screen, scrolling through a list of radio stations. Music and news broadcasts popped into the speakers for a few seconds before she scrolled to the next, searching for something she couldn't find.

  “You know what I miss?” Esmeralda said, still scrolling. “Baseball. Any sports, really. I would listen to games in the car and close my eyes and I'd swear I could smell the summer air, the hot dogs, the cheap beer.”

  “Back when humans were on the same level,” Hector said, nodding his head in agreement. “Back when physical contests meant something.”

  “Or at least we thought they did. I wonder how many players had the disease? How many of them were hiding super powers?”

  Hector snarled his nose in disgust. “More than I care to think about. And to think we were worried about performance-enhancing drugs.”

  Hector sipped the last bit of Malbec from his glass, rolling it around his tongue, and just as he was considering asking Esmeralda to pour another glass, the Lexus pulled into the underground parking garage of the MajesTech skyscraper. It drove through the entire parking area until it arrived at the entrance to their private stall. The armored doors slid open and the car pulled in. Once the doors sealed behind them, Esmeralda stepped out and Hector followed.

  They both walked toward the glass doors that slid open as they approached. The security guard behind the desk smiled at them and waved.

  “Hello, Hank! How are you this evening?” Esmeralda said with a smile.

  “I'm doing well, Mrs. Majesty. How was your dinner tonight?”

  “Delicious. And how are the kids? Is Penny over her cold yet?”

  The security guard blushed, and said, “Thank you for asking, ma'am. Penny is doing much better. My wife and I really appreciate the doctor visit you set up for us. We insist on paying for-”

  “Nonsense. You tell your wife Delores to make me that peach cobbler you brought in for Jacob's birthday in accounting. That was simply delightful and worth far more than a silly house call by the city's leading pediatrician.”

  “Of course! No problem, ma'am. You have yourself a good evening.”

  Esmeralda smiled. She had garnered the response she wanted. The guard showed pride in the fact that someone so important remembered so much about someone so insignificant. It was a tactic she deployed on everyone. The littlest details were the easiest to remember, and sometimes the most important. That guard would be more loyal to his friend than his boss, and Esmeralda had just become both. Hector loved watching her work.

  When Hector and Esmeralda stepped into their private elevator, Esmeralda pressed the button for the penthouse. The doors opened into the massive home. Esmeralda kissed Hector on the cheek and headed for the kitchen, while Hector retired to the study. A fire crackled in the fireplace, a leather chair sat behind a large cherry wood desk, and bookshelves covered the walls. Hector took off his trench coat and threw it over the back of a chair. He closed the door behind him, opened up the hollow globe next to the desk, and poured himself a drink from the bar hidden inside. He twisted open a bottle of oxycodone and tossed a few of the pills in his mouth, biting down on them with his teeth and turning them to dust before swallowing. He swirled the scotch a few times and took a long sniff before throwing back the entire glass in one gulp. He set the glass on the corner of his desk and stepped toward one of the massive bookshelves.

  The floor-to-ceiling shelves ran the length of the rather large study, filled with a multitude of Esmeralda's favorite books. He ran his fingers across the spines until he landed on the book he was looking for. He pulled out Sun Tzu's Art of War, but only halfway. He led his fingers across the next shelf down until they landed on George Orwell's Animal Farm. Again, he pulled it out only halfway. His hand dropped down to the third shelf, and his index finger fell upon Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. When he pulled this third book out halfway, all three books slid back into the shelf. The entire shelf shifted into the wall, revealing a long hallway.

  Solid steel walls protected this level from any diseased attack, natural disaster, or nuclear war. His heels clicked against the metal as he walked down the hallway and approached a large vault door. He leaned down toward a small lens to the side of the door and allowed the retinal scanner to flash in his eye. When the computer recognized him, the electrified floor remained inactive. The four rotary cannons remained in their hidden compartments in the wall, and did not shred his body to pieces. The turrets
hidden in the roof did not open, nor did they rain hellfire rockets down upon him.

  The vault door unlocked, and when it rolled to the side, he entered his secret command center. A massive bank of computer screens flashed on one wall, each one displaying headlines, social media posts, text messages, and recorded phone calls, all captured from his wiretaps around the world. To his right was a large glass door that led to his training facility, complete with a gym, gun ranges, and sparring rooms. Past that was his medical facility, laboratory, and workshop.

  Standing in the middle of it all, under a single spotlight, was a glass display case. Inside was his old costume, a set of flexible armor with a helm in the shape of a wolf's head. He grimaced when he saw it. He wished it made him feel nostalgic, but the memories that persona brought him were too painful.

  He walked down the hallway to his left and entered his personal arsenal. The walls lit up as he stepped inside, showing off every firearm, blade, club, missile, rocket, explosive, flamethrower, and laser that he owned. He removed every gun and knife hidden under his suit and placed them on the wall. Then he removed his suit and placed it on a mannequin standing against the wall.

  When he finished, he walked back down the hall toward the training room. As soon as the glass door opened, he heard the sound of grunting and fists smacking something solid. When he turned the corner, he saw his son, Miguel, with his knuckles wrapped in white cloth, punching a cement block, over and over. Blood soaked through the cloth.

  “Give me a count.”

  Without hesitation, or a glance toward him, the boy yelled out, “One twenty-three, one twenty-four, one twenty-five,” with every punch he landed.

  “You may stop at two-hundred.”

  The boy continued silently, his eyes drilling holes into the cracked cement as he jack-hammered his fists into the block. The short hair atop his head was dripping with sweat. His arms were skinny, but looked like coils of muscles, braided into pistons of flesh and bone. His eyes were such a dark color brown, it appeared as if they were only pupils, dark saucers that would swallow you like a black hole if you stared into them for too long.